Katie
12-15-2006, 02:08 PM
but a writing work none the less. It's a short story about life. Laugh along with me.....
Once Upon a Day.
(a small autobiography)
Wake up 6:15 a. m. Lay there for two or three minutes because it’s getting harder and harder to justify waking up in the morning. Christmas carols are playing. Makes me remember I have to go Christmas shopping at some point.
Take the dog out (6:20ish) I don’t know why we have to inspect every single blade of grass when it is 20 degrees outside, but we do. Walk up and down the small strip of land about 20 times. Think about bills that I haven’t paid and what there is to eat.
Time to get ready for work (mom calls and interrupts the process.) I don’t always understand the need to remind me that when she was my age she had two kids and a husband…and that she would not have let the things that have happened get to her. After all, YOU don’t have near as much as I did to worry about. I nod and fight back tears, knowing that me exploding all this emotion is not going to help. Hang up the phone and get back to business. I’m tough, after all, right?
Stare in the mirror at the scars. They look like burns now….like someone held me down and drove a hot iron right through my body….I wonder what that would feel like…if it would feel the same as this…I wonder if it’ll always look like that. Brush, fluff and puff myself into what the company expects me to look like. It’s not me I see in the mirror, but the face of what I have to be. I think about what I want to do with my life. Take one last look at my empty house and close the door. Look around in the parking lot to see what’s stirring. Stray cats blanket the grounds like a gray fuzzy quilt. Poor guys. Hope they have somewhere warm to sleep. I’ll put a bowl of food out for them later.
In the car..on my way (about 7:40ish) Traffic’s not to bad….my friend Skye calls. She’s on her way to work too. Tells me excitedly about feeling her baby kick for the first time. She gushes on and on about being pregnant and how great it is and how great he husband is and how great everything is…but I’m so lucky no one cares what I do. I bite my tongue. She’s the lucky one….she just doesn’t know. I drive by the church on my way in. I’m doing volunteer feed the hungry duty this weekend. I wonder if there will be a big turn out. It’s been cold lately. Thinking of this makes me feel lucky again, too.
At work. Sit in my cubicle. Four tall walls separate me from everyone else. No one would even know if I was here or not. No one would even care. Nothing like big corporate America to make you realize that everyone is replaceable. Conversations include being screamed at by frustrated sales people because of changes, not anything I can change…but I am a convenient target for frustrations. I know I shouldn’t let things like this bother me, but after awhile the personal insults DO become too personal...I was singing along with my favorite Christmas carol (Mary’s Boy Child) but my co-workers said I sounded like the people on the first few shows of American Idol, so embarrassed, I gave up. I’m broke. Go to the vending machine and pray I have enough change to buy a Coke. That’s the first thing in my stomach today. Silly people that think my education gives me a good job. Struggling when you are young is good for you, my dad says. Builds Character he says…I must be a real character. I laugh at that thought and set back to work
Drive home. It’s dark…It’s cold…I wonder what I have to eat at home. My stomach wonders louder. I sing along with the radio, confidant now that no one can hear me but me…and I like singing in my car.
Sit in my car in the parking lot for a minute to see what is going on. My apartment is dark. I can see in the windows. Everything is still so I get out and trudge up the stairs and go inside. “Honey, I’m home!” I mock. Silence greets me. I laugh to myself and wonder what it would really be like to come home to somebody. I shrug and plug in my Christmas lights. Makes the place feel warm and comfy again.
Turn on the TV so there is some noise. Let out my spotted whirlwind of a dog. Sniff every blade of grass again. Everyone says I should get rid of her…she’s a lot of trouble for an apartment…but she is always happy to see me. Why would I get rid of that feeling? She is a good dog. I smile softly at her as she bounces around me in her exuberance. “Silly mutt.” I grin.
Nothin but the TV for company. I have messenger on to see if anyone comes to talk, but most nights it’s quiet. I love talking to people, but my friends just don’t keep the same hours I do. I still love him…and them…but I hate how the silence grates on me. I try calling my mom…they’re out. Just as well. TV’s boring. No one’s around….I’m going to sleep.
The people above me run around like something’s on fire….until it’s all quiet again….sirens in the streets….a car backfired…or a gun…my eyes are heavy….goodnight for now.
Once Upon a Day.
(a small autobiography)
Wake up 6:15 a. m. Lay there for two or three minutes because it’s getting harder and harder to justify waking up in the morning. Christmas carols are playing. Makes me remember I have to go Christmas shopping at some point.
Take the dog out (6:20ish) I don’t know why we have to inspect every single blade of grass when it is 20 degrees outside, but we do. Walk up and down the small strip of land about 20 times. Think about bills that I haven’t paid and what there is to eat.
Time to get ready for work (mom calls and interrupts the process.) I don’t always understand the need to remind me that when she was my age she had two kids and a husband…and that she would not have let the things that have happened get to her. After all, YOU don’t have near as much as I did to worry about. I nod and fight back tears, knowing that me exploding all this emotion is not going to help. Hang up the phone and get back to business. I’m tough, after all, right?
Stare in the mirror at the scars. They look like burns now….like someone held me down and drove a hot iron right through my body….I wonder what that would feel like…if it would feel the same as this…I wonder if it’ll always look like that. Brush, fluff and puff myself into what the company expects me to look like. It’s not me I see in the mirror, but the face of what I have to be. I think about what I want to do with my life. Take one last look at my empty house and close the door. Look around in the parking lot to see what’s stirring. Stray cats blanket the grounds like a gray fuzzy quilt. Poor guys. Hope they have somewhere warm to sleep. I’ll put a bowl of food out for them later.
In the car..on my way (about 7:40ish) Traffic’s not to bad….my friend Skye calls. She’s on her way to work too. Tells me excitedly about feeling her baby kick for the first time. She gushes on and on about being pregnant and how great it is and how great he husband is and how great everything is…but I’m so lucky no one cares what I do. I bite my tongue. She’s the lucky one….she just doesn’t know. I drive by the church on my way in. I’m doing volunteer feed the hungry duty this weekend. I wonder if there will be a big turn out. It’s been cold lately. Thinking of this makes me feel lucky again, too.
At work. Sit in my cubicle. Four tall walls separate me from everyone else. No one would even know if I was here or not. No one would even care. Nothing like big corporate America to make you realize that everyone is replaceable. Conversations include being screamed at by frustrated sales people because of changes, not anything I can change…but I am a convenient target for frustrations. I know I shouldn’t let things like this bother me, but after awhile the personal insults DO become too personal...I was singing along with my favorite Christmas carol (Mary’s Boy Child) but my co-workers said I sounded like the people on the first few shows of American Idol, so embarrassed, I gave up. I’m broke. Go to the vending machine and pray I have enough change to buy a Coke. That’s the first thing in my stomach today. Silly people that think my education gives me a good job. Struggling when you are young is good for you, my dad says. Builds Character he says…I must be a real character. I laugh at that thought and set back to work
Drive home. It’s dark…It’s cold…I wonder what I have to eat at home. My stomach wonders louder. I sing along with the radio, confidant now that no one can hear me but me…and I like singing in my car.
Sit in my car in the parking lot for a minute to see what is going on. My apartment is dark. I can see in the windows. Everything is still so I get out and trudge up the stairs and go inside. “Honey, I’m home!” I mock. Silence greets me. I laugh to myself and wonder what it would really be like to come home to somebody. I shrug and plug in my Christmas lights. Makes the place feel warm and comfy again.
Turn on the TV so there is some noise. Let out my spotted whirlwind of a dog. Sniff every blade of grass again. Everyone says I should get rid of her…she’s a lot of trouble for an apartment…but she is always happy to see me. Why would I get rid of that feeling? She is a good dog. I smile softly at her as she bounces around me in her exuberance. “Silly mutt.” I grin.
Nothin but the TV for company. I have messenger on to see if anyone comes to talk, but most nights it’s quiet. I love talking to people, but my friends just don’t keep the same hours I do. I still love him…and them…but I hate how the silence grates on me. I try calling my mom…they’re out. Just as well. TV’s boring. No one’s around….I’m going to sleep.
The people above me run around like something’s on fire….until it’s all quiet again….sirens in the streets….a car backfired…or a gun…my eyes are heavy….goodnight for now.