The Occasional Girl

Recently I started this new job which requires me to carry a Blackberry around when I’m not in the office. Should the Blackberry ring, I am to listen to whatever troubles our IT specialist can’t solve, and figure out the solution myself. Finding a solution is a very time-sensitive issue, as lots of data has to be cranked out before a certain time each day. It was my first week.

One morning when my girl was visiting, we went out for breakfast. During the drive to the local Burger King, I was explaining to her all the intricacies of my job. For some reason she didn’t want to talk about it, I think it was because of the part where I said I have to be ready to solve problems at a moment’s notice, even if I was having breakfast with her. I told her just to warn her that I might have to take a call, and before I know it, she’s left the passenger seat of my Miata, and is sitting Indian-style on the car’s hood, right where my left pop-up headlight is.

I instantly become worried. It’s not that this teleportation is out of place, but rather I am driving in the middle of a six-lane road going 35mph, and my girl is on the hood. I don’t slow down, but I ease into the right lane and come to a stop at a red light. I am taken aback at how stubborn my girl is and decide not to tell her to get off the hood. She’ll get off once the car starts moving again.

The light turns green and I start moving, but she doesn’t budge. The Burger King is coming up, so I slow to a creep and turn into the parking lot. She doesn’t even budge from her headlight seat during the turn, arms crossed in anger. After parking, she gets off the hood and we walk into Burger King, I haven’t said a word to her since she teleported.

After ordering food and before we pick it up, my mom and grandma walk in the door. This is no coincidence, because I live in Illinois and they live in Georgia. I haven’t seen them in a while either, so we sit together and have our meal. Midway in, my Blackberry rings.

My girl eyes the phone and gives me a look that says, ‘don’t pick it up’. I answer it, and my boss and the IT specialist are on the other line. They tell me xx has happened and it would be good to sit and watch how the specialist deals with this issue, in case I run into it. Furthermore, I am to meet with the specialist sometime this week and have knowledge transfer. He just sent me a link where I can follow all the proceedings.

I tell him that I am at breakfast now, and not near a computer. He tells me not to worry, that he’ll just walk me through it using his voice and we can go over it again sometime when I am in the office. As I am listening in on monologue of altering command files to rerun procedures, the ladies walk out of Burger King. They come towards me, my girl unhappy and my mom and grandma smiling. Following them is a chipmunk.

They stop at one of the trees surrounded by a concrete barrier in the parking lot, not saying anything to me but watching the chipmunk run circles around the tree. We go our separate ways, and my girl is back on the hood of the car. The chipmunk is close too, I just don’t know where. Occasionally my girl looks back at me, never uncrossing her arms.

I always meet her eyes when she looks back at me. She tells me that I betrayed her; I tell her that I still love her, all while my left hand is pressing the Blackberry against my left ear and my mouth doesn’t move. The chipmunk is sick and will die soon, but my girlfriend is never going to get off my hood.

Long after we have parted ways, she still rides on my hood, occasionally looking back at me. Her eyes still tell the same story of betrayal and mine of sadness.  I drive slow and am careful taking turns, so she doesn’t fall; but I don’t tell her to get off. 

Upon a walk
I came across flowers of exceptional beauty
but they were not the flowers of yesterday

She’s a good one. She played her part, even in my dying breaths. Before I take over, remember this, my story does not end sadly. 

There’s only one consciousness I remember, the other ones are just lapses in memory. All inconveniences aside, they look out for the body they’re in, and so do I. What I want is not that the other personalities go away, I have evidence that they’re actually great people, but rather to get to know them. I tried to contact them through leaving messages, but they do not communicate back. A wall.

I see her on a balcony with someone else I know. They are having dinner and enjoying it. I can only watch from afar, knowing that I have lost her. I desperately want to ask her something, but can’t muster up the courage to do so.

The final act is where I see the two other me’s, and we finally recognize each other. Men with guns surround her and two of the other people. I can no longer watch. I show myself to her, and she sees me. I jump from the top, screaming. The men see me and open fire, the other me is being fired at too, and jumps off the second story ledge to join me. I can’t feel any bullets hit me, I am not sure why. We land on the third me, lying down on a metal grating. I see the men with guns unload their clips, first hand. She is with them, but not by choice.

I pan out and view this slowly from third person. 

I don't know how to delete posts. I am blogspot illiterate. Here's a haiku for this:

Illiteracy.

You show me that it's not you,

it is me. Screw you.

Another one for my diarrhea I've been having today:

Oh diarrhea

You keep giving and giving

DIU LE LO MO, FOOL

I COPIED THIS FROM SOMEWHERE BUT THOUGHT IT WAS GOOD

"In an attempt to get people to look into each other's eyes more, the government has decided to allot each person exactly 167 words per day. When the phone rings, I put it to my ear without saying hello. In a restaurant, I point to chicken noodle soup. I am adjusting well to the new way. Late at night I call my long distance lover and proudly say: I only used 59 words today, saved the rest for you. When she doesn't respond, I know she used up all words. So I slowly whisper "I love you" thirty-two and a third more times. After that we just stay on the line listening to each other breathe."

If nobody sees you when you breath, are you really alive?

On Catching Words

There was a man who talked and talked until he had no more words to say. Because of this, he talked more, but said nothing. He did not know the secret to having words to say. The man, like everybody else, had two implements, one on either side of his head, with which to catch words, so that they could later be used. Yet he did not use them.

Soon, everybody started to have no more words to say. As a result, they all talked more, but said nothing. The words that were once said drifted away, off into the distance, and were lost. Nobody had any words left, because nobody had bothered to catch the ones that were said.