August 29th, 2010
I ran my fingers through the bright red streak in my hair. I couldn’t help thinking it wasn’t me. Then I remembered, this was the new me. This was who I choose to be me. Therefore, this was very me.
I left the bathroom and nearly got lost on the way to my room. The yellow on the walls cracked and looked nicotine stained. There were rust colored drops coming from the ceiling that I guess was from the upper apartment’s plumbing. I also noticed there were no curtains on the window, but it was ok because there was a brick wall outside of it.
There was a knock at the door. When I opened the old oak wood that barely passed as a door, a wide lady in a big blue dress, with a stretched peacock tattoo on her forearm stood before me. She spoke with the voice of a 60 year old woman from Brooklyn. “I’m ya new landlord. Ya want something, do it ya self. And no cocaine or alcoholic beverages! No parties. You hardcore kids throw these huge parties and leave the place trashed. This time I’m not toleratin’ it.”
I wanted to agree nicely and convince her I’d be no problem, like the old Victoria would have done. But now I was Seattle Victori..er…Vicky. I was a rough as nails tough-ass bitch. This was my landlord though, so I figured I should be nice. “Yeah, whatever.”
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August 22nd, 2010
“Every one hush up! The test is starting.”
I was sitting at a plain old desk amongst a bunch of other plain old desks in plain old school. The teacher was moving through us, setting a paper on each desk. She had a blank face. No emotion at all, like he was in another place.
My face was blank too. I was too busy thinking of problems that wouldn’t appear on the test. My girlfriend, Stacy, kept springing to mind. She was a cheerleader; that I had no problem with. The problem was her late-night practices, and how she would return sweaty and tired every night. I told myself that I was crazy, that she would never do what I was suspecting, but it still came to mind.
“This test will consist of…” the teacher dully went on.
It wasn’t rational of me to think this way. Or was it? I wasn’t sure. Most likely, this was just nerves. Big test, big worries. The teacher finished passing out the test, mouthing something about stopping when she said to. Or maybe she spoke it. Once again, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about a lot of things lately.
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August 15th, 2010
“Your music is kind of loud.”
“Yeah well good thing it’s MY music huh?”
“He is right young lady; blasting your music is very disrespectful and not everyone around you would like to hear it.”
“Ugh old people!” I hated this stupid bus ride. I was the only one under I was listening to good music, just not from their generation. The lady next to me gave me a sympathetic look and I turned away toward the window. She smelled like lavender and ocean breeze. It didn’t mesh well with my coconut hand lotion.
I pulled out my journal from my near empty backpack and started writing.
I shouldn’t even be on the bus. My dad is sending me to meet my mom again. I really don’t want to go to her though. The way I see it, if she wants to get to know me, she can drive her ass down here.
“You should give your mom more credit” a voice interrupted.
“Excuse me!” I said defensively while slamming my notebook. “Did I give you permission to read this? No, I didn’t, and I definitely didn’t ask your opinion.”
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