Shaded (A Story for my Fiction Class)

It was a quiet dream, not like usual. Usually dreams made her jolt up at night and scream at night and kick whatever else was in the bed. The cerulean paint chips clung to the ceiling high above her head, about ten feet. It was the drip drip dripping of the rain, of the tiny droplets of water, that finally put her to sleep. The window bars were tinging with the rain drops. The dropping of the rain into buckets in the hallways. Her lips hurt, they were dry, chapped, sore from licking them over and over and over.
The cerulean paint chips fell with the rain, some fell into the buckets, some fell onto her lips. They stuck to her lips as she tossed and turned and rolled in her sleep. She may have swallowed one. That may have been what was keeping her dreams quiet. She didn’t fight the chips anymore. She couldn’t speak with her mouth full so she couldn’t scream with her mouth full of paint chips.
She was floating slowly down the river, slowly floating with no raft beneath her. No boat supported her, just her scarlet locks and pasty gauze dress floated around her, encompassing her. She saw a boat to her left, some kind of writing was written on the side, it said something. But she couldn’t read it. The petals in her hands became flowers—beautiful golden, emerald, crimson flora, sprouting from nowhere. She had seen these flowers before. Seen them in her room, next to her mirror, her cracked mirror, and she had once held these same flowers in the cerulean room.
He was coming, he was coming to get her out of the river, no longer a quiet dream, the chips cracked in her throat, her gasp cracked in the air, she choked and spattered the chips all around her springless mattress. The river had been so calm, the river had been so refreshing, the river had let her escape, she regained consciousness on the river. He was shaking her, drying her? Shaking her awake. Shoving something else down her throat, more chips, more river matching chips. Pills he called them, her pills. A perfect color.
They matched his pants, the pills, the paint chips, the river. They were the same color. She knew this man, she knew him every night, but she forgot she knew him every day. He told her to forget him so she did, but she didn’t really. He just wasn’t there during the day. She knew to cry now when he came in, when he woke her up, it all started with the chips with the pills. Then something larger, something a bit softer, it hurt more, made her choke more. It wasn’t blue. She wished it was blue, she wished everything attached to this man was blue, just like she was blue by the time the pallid shade dripped, dropped, shot into her throat, washing down the pills, the chips, whatever else had found itself in there.
The sun came up, it was sunny. A shift change, she could hear it right outside her door at the nurses’ station. “Yeah, she thrashes around pretty good every night when she gets her pills, don’t worry about it, she’s just crazy.”
“Sir, are you going to fix that mirror in the room? It could be dangerous to have it in there. She could really hurt herself.”
“Oh, I’ll get around to it. It’s not like she is ever out of bed. She can’t get to it unless she gets the hell up.”
“Sir, the reports say you don’t allow anyone else in her room at night, is that right?”
“Hell no, she’s crazy. I don’t subject my staff to issues like her, even if she can’t talk who wants to be around a nutcase like the thrasher?”
“Well, they’re all crazy, really.”
I’m Not Crazy! She was screaming in her head. Was it making noise, though? Could anyone hear her? Here comes the man with the white pants, maybe he would listen. The room was getting less blurry, surely she could tell this man what was happening. She wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t right. She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she? She had been hurt! She had tried to tell them about the horrible man before she came here. She couldn’t find the right words. Here he comes. She would stand up and tell him she wanted to go home. Maybe, at least he could fix her ceiling. He had food, though, oh, she just wanted something to eat. She reached out to take the tray from him. What was happening? He wouldn’t give her the food! He was pinching her nose and breaking her jaw open. More blue, that’s all there was now. Lucidity was gone. Reality was slipping away, out of her grasp. Damn those white pants, too! Damn those blue pills. What was ringing? What God awful phone was ringing in this God awful place? It was screaming! It was screaming at her head like she screamed for help inside it.
She was turning now, turning over in her bed, twisting the sheets into long ropes, twisting them with her feet, twisting them with her arms, twisting them together with her nightgown. Her colorless nightgown was so light when she slept it might not always be there. But it was there now, wringing her legs together, tying them in knots as much as the sheets were in knots, as much as her stomach was in knots. It was so bright.
This might be a dream too, this room was so bright, there were glints of multihued light bouncing around her head. Up and down it was bouncing around her and her eyes tracked the glints and she was dizzy. And now the cerulean paint chips and the cerulean pills and pallid liquid were done sloshing around in her stomach and up they came. She felt them stick in her throat a bit, one more time, as they exited her body.
She lay in her wet bedclothes, now a pale, acidic yellow. She lay on the mattress spitteling digested tablets, gargling absorbed and mushy paint chips in the back of her throat. Choking, she was choking again, footsteps, usually it was the other way around, footsteps, tiptoes, then choking and the fear. The fear of the dripping liquid that came every night from the man in cerulean pants. Oh God, there, here it is, the phallic hardness slipping down her throat soon it would wash everything back down her throat. But she could breathe this time. She could see things this time. It wasn’t blue. It didn’t shove anything besides itself down her throat, and she could breathe!
She should have thrown it all up a long time ago. The tube came out. S l o w l y the tube came out of her throat. She could see this was not the same kind of tube she had been subjected to before. This tube came in the daytime, and this tube saved her, didn’t choke her. Who was on the other side of this? Someone who would help her. Someone who wasn’t here to hurt her. Someone she could trust.
“Help.” It was a quiet gesture but the woman in green heard her. Just the one word, but it got her changed and got her bread.
The sapphire trimmed stars peeked out behind the willows outside her room. She hadn’t had pills since the bright time. And there was a voice. It was down the hall, she could hear the man. The shifts changing again. She was awake this time. Reality was so much different than her dreams. They must be. But then, why did this man sound so familiar to her? The green nurse was talking to the blue man.
“She said a word today, you know”
“Oh?” The man spoke softly and carefully.
“Yeah, won’t be long before she starts telling us what really went wrong with her. Well on her way to recovery she is. That guy ought to be hung for raping her and putting her in this state!”
“Isn’t that delightful,” there was a strain in the man’s voice. Was he her doctor?
She settled down into her clean bedclothes on her old mattress, ready to face whatever dreams may come.
“Well goodnight sir.” The green woman was leaving? She couldn’t just leave now.
“Yes, goodnight Margene.”
Footsteps now. Tiptoeing footsteps. And she was afraid. This is just as she remembered and this was no dream. There were no chips in her mouth, she could keep it closed on her own. There was no dripping to distract her. There were no pills to keep her quiet. Tip tip tip toeing outside. It was the man in blue.
“So Perdita, I hear you speak now. How unfortunate for you and your family.”
“Help!” She screamed this time. She screamed at the top of her lungs. “HELP! Help…” Her request died off as her air supply was suddenly gone. Her hands were being wrapped. Her feet were being twisted together. The cotton of the bedclothes and the cotton of the man’s pants were chaffing against her skin. Her mouth was full again. No pills, no paint chips, but a long, narrow tube. Warmer than the one earlier today. This one cut off her breathing. This tube turned her blue, a cold blue.
She turned her eyes one last time to the broken mirror. Confused, lost, unbreathing, she lay still.
The morning nurse came in to do her rounds and as she walked past the typically silent room there was a drip, drip, dripping. The green woman walked in. The drip, drip, dripping of the ruby liqueur splattered onto the linoleum. The bed sheets tangled from the bars on the window to around her neck. A piece of broken mirror in her wrist. The nervous nurse hurried to tell the off-duty doctor.
“Oh, how unfortunate for her and her family.”
“Yes, sir. But there is mirror in her wrist!”
“Must not have been quick enough for her.”
“But sir, you said just yesterday she didn’t move out of her bed.”
“From one extreme to the other I suppose.”
“I very much doubt that, Sir.”
But now she was floating. Down the river she was floating, arms folded across her chest, under the balconies and under the willows, she floated in her fair, linen gown, previously unnoticed. Previously lost. Her dream was the only reality she needed. The cause of her broken screams no longer weaved its crippling pattern into her eternal tapestry.

How Long?

Another night I can't sleep. Water overflows the floodbanks and streaks my face. At least I washed it and there aren't black mascara marks. What is this? Is it stress? fear? anger? sadness? How did I get here? How long does it take to get back?

Everyone is asking me if I am going abroad next year. No, I'm not. I couldn't get the application in on time. Why not? Oh my dad died. I hate saying that. I am not looking for sympathy when I say it and that's what it sounds like to me. But what's worse? Family issues sounds like something that requires therapists and medicine. Saying I was gone for three weeks out of the semester doesn't make any sense either and it leads right back to the truth. My dad died.

I hate talking about it. I hate not talking about it. I can't watch movies where people die without bawling for the next three hours. When I hear about people dying, I want to bawl for three hours. I don't want to be around anyone that drinks. I don't want to spend my time with people who have addictions. I don't know if it is because it makes me angry that they waste their time, money, efforts, love on things that will never give anything back, or if it reminds me of my dad too much to accept at this point.

I think about him every day. I wonder if he's happy. I wonder if he misses me as much as I miss him or if he can see me. I don't konw if I feel guilty for not talking to him before he died or if I am angry that he put me in the position to have to choose college or talking to him.

I want to know so much about him. There are so many questions I never got to ask him. I miss his laugh. I can hardly remmember it. I want to hear his laugh. I remember his smile--his sober smile. I can hear his voice on recordings, but I want to hear his laugh! He was the funniest guy I have ever met...granted I was partial to my dad's sense of humor, but He could make me laugh at the dumbest things. We had dreams of opening a restaurant one day. Maybe it was just one of those things we talked about, but it meant something to me.

He saved every card I ever gave him. He saved every note I ever wrote him.
I want him back. How long does this last? How long does it take before it quits hurting so much to think about him. How long do I have to wish that I could talk to him before I finally understand that I can't? How many typical twenty-somethings do I have to alienate before I get over my fear of people drinking? How long will it be before I can have fun again? How long will it take me to find out who I am without my dad? It doesn't matter how big or little a role he played in my life, he was still out there, and in many ways still a part of my life. Now he's gone. Now what do I do, and how long will it take me to figure it out?!

People try to tell me there is no heaven. I hope with all my heart mind and soul that there is a heaven. I want my daddy to be there right now. If you don't think there is a heaven, don't tell me. For God's sake I will not debate religion with you. I need to believe what I believe to keep me from breaking down. Don't tell me there's no heaven. I don't care what you believe.

Maybe I need my own twelve step program to figure out just how long it takes to be normal.

What a day

Okay so my intention this weekend was to get my Philosophy paper done on Saturday so I would not stay up all night Sunday doing it for its Monday due date.

You know what they say about good intentions...

So I had room draw today which is extremely stressful if you have never been through such a thing. As I had not until today (lived off campus last year and they don't make you do room draw in such situations). So, you get your "randomly assigned" room draw number like five months in advance so you have plenty of time to freak out about how many people in your year have better room draw numbers than you and what the odds are of getting a single. Then a week in advance they post the floor plans in a scary, psych ward-like hallway and every one's names on a list that is very difficult to read. There are the actual room draw numbers, then there are the numbers of how many people there are, then there are the numbers of what year someone is and it takes the whole week to figure out exactly what this frigin thing means.
So finally it is room draw day and you show up on time in a packed room with the floor plans on the walls and all your planning goes out the windows because all the good rooms are taken. Duh, why should you expect anything else? And on top of this, there are student helpers coming in and checking off rooms that are taken by previous students and this supposedly happens in "real time..." But you still have a decent shot at getting a decent single, so now you just sweat it out for another forty five min until they call your number. Then you go into another room full of sweaty college students still hung over from Saturday night's Underwear Ball, get your sticker, then try to find somewhere to put it on the floor plans in that room. Walk out of the room through the exit door, end up outside, and wonder what the hell just happened and where am I living next year?

So after that stress, I got home and had an email that my professor wanted a paper that was supposed to be due Tuesday...TONIGHT. So I quick write that paper. It's a rough draft so no harm done if it is terrible but still, it was seven pages of stream of consciousness about a murder in a psych ward. (reoccurring theme in my life right now...psych wards???)

Watched Amazing Race and was very critical of everyone.

Couldn't get people to stop talking to me online and on the phone. "Are you watching the Amazing Race?" I WAS DAMN IT BEFORE YOU CALLED AND INTERRUPTED --WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?!?! ...aka.. "Yeah, what's up?"

So then I realize that I have not received my Rosetta Stone which I was supposed to have received about three weeks ago. Call the company. They can't find my order. Call my mom. Her card had not been charged. Call the company. Reorder Rosetta Stone. Thank Rahim and get my order number so I can track it this time.

It is now 9:10 pm and I still need to finish my Philosophy paper. Only Six Pages to go....too bad this one can't be stream of consciousness.
Damnitdamnitdamnit.

Summer Top Ten

Top ten things I am looking forward to this summer!!

1. Spending a couple of months in California with my family. Relaxing, working, and reconnecting!

2. No classes!! I am in desperate need of a break that does not leave the threat of imminent return hanging over my head. I am tired of classes, homework, and papers. Check please?

3. Related to number one...getting out of the Midwest... I need a fresh outlook...hopefully two months will be enough :-)

4. Warm weather. No matter where I am I will definitely be enjoying the sunshine. I have missed it dearly.

5. Learning Spanish. Got Rosetta Stone coming in the mail...excited to try this baby out!

6. Getting a tan. I'm tired of fake baking, give me some REAL vitamin D

7. Big Brother. It is just not summer without my favorite television show ever!!!!!

8. My Birthday!!! Okay, so it's not really a big one but I will officially be able to say, "that happened like 20 years ago" and I will have been alive.

9. Learning something new. It never fails, summer is a way better time to learn things about yourself than during the school year.

10. Roadtrip with whoever is brave enough to drive with me to California! Sure it's a long and boring drive, but it's still a roadtrip!!!!!

well it's been a while

I have been super stressed and busy so I have not had time to post and even when I did, I felt I didn't have a long enough story to tell.

I still don't.

Hopefully will update soon.

:-D

It's all about perspective

At the end of last year, I decided I was going to live in an apartment off campus so I set out and found a cute little studio that had low rent and no heating/water bills. Just internet and rent for this little apartment that allowed animals and was easy to take care of.

So over the 10 months I have lived here, a series of things have gone wrong...multiple times. For example:

• No hot water in the mornings because the hot water heater had a leak. It took them four times before they finally plumbed me into a different water heater.
• No electricity because my whole apartment is on one circuit and plugging things in blows the switch
• No heat, even though I was supposed to get a brand new heater and air conditioner last spring about a week after I moved in, I did not get any heat until mid-December when it was already freezing. I had to use heated blankets and space heaters, which of course blew out my circuit.
• Wires that hang out of the ceiling where a new light was supposed to be installed before I moved in.
• A hole in the wall where the new heater/air-conditioner was supposed to come into that I have to cover with a pillow because it is right above my head as I sleep and it is very cold!
• A bathroom door that is a pain to shut and get out of in a hurry.
• A bathroom thresh-hold that pops right out of the floor and stabs my feet.
• A screen door that gets blown open by the wind even though it is latched because it is so cheap and thus gets highly damaged (if that comes out of my deposit, I will raise some hell).
• Blinds that my cat tore down (okay, this one can come out of the deposit) but it has been over three weeks since I asked them to come look at them and replace them.

And other great little amenities like a tiny sink that is smaller than a bread box. A shower head that screams because it is made of plastic. A bathroom cabinet that is rusty. A closet doorknob that does not work well.

Despite all these things, I figured that most of the kinks had to be worked out by now, and was kind of sad to have to be leaving to two and half months. All in all, I have it decorated just the way I like it, it is private, I have my own stove and my own shower, the Internet is always fast because there are not three thousand people on at once, my closet is huge, there are shelves that store my clothes just the way I have always wanted to store my clothes. It really is a great little place, I figured. Impractical to keep, though, since I do not plan on staying in College Town over the summer, but maybe there would be some way I could work it out....

Then I got an email from my property manager. She informed me that they were going to start showing the apartment (two months in advance!!??!!) which means I have to keep it clean for two and a half months. She said I could of course re-sign the lease if I wanted to but the rent would go up $100.00. I quickly went from being sad they were showing it to other people because I kind of wanted to keep it to thinking "Hell no, I'm not paying $100 more a month for this shit hole!!!"

It's really all about Perspective

List of Lists

It has been about...oh, forever since I have posted. Things have been insane with homework and work piling on. I seriously can't wait for vacation! So, in order to make a post that isn't whiny and/or boring, I will post a list. Because I could not think of one list I would like to post, I am going to post a list of lists that I thought of making and the number one of that list.

1. Fears--Falling into a pit of Spiders

2. Bad Habits--Biting my nails

3. Greatest memories--A night with all my friends at my house and some how a food war got started with chocolate and peanut butter. It was everywhere! But it was a blast making the mess! And luckily cleanup was pretty easy because it was mostly all over the people.

4. Types of People I don't like--Untrustworthy Liars

5. Celebrities I don't like--Ashton Kutcher. He came to my school and he was a pompous tool.

6. People I would like to meet--Plato

7. Stupidest Quiz Questions--What is your favorite color? Because really, what does this have to do with anything?

8. Coolest Jobs--Owning and running a successful ranch that you could do archeological digs on too.

9. What I spend money on that I shouldn't--Decorations...But I love things to be PRETTY!!!

10. Thing I want most--To be successful enough to have time to relax and reconnect with my immediate and extended family.

At some point in time I may or may not complete these lists, though if there is one you are particularly interested in or something you think I should make a list of, feel free to tell me!

:-D