The day she died
Mark-
I got a phone call from Miranda. That in itself was shocking enough being that we hadn’t talked in three years, but then she told me J was missing. I felt my stomach knot at the mention of her. We had just recently become friends again, and only wednesday she had sent me an email about how she couldn’t be friends with me anymore if I wasn’t going to be there for her when she needed me. I hadn’t responded, I didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t the fact that I had made contact after three years enough to prove I wanted to be friends?
“What do you mean shes missing?”
“Missing, disappeared, vanished… No one knows where she is.”
“Where are the kids?”
“At home, Mitchell was the closest person to them so he’s on his way.” I despise Mitchell, he’s an ignorant redneck and I could never unstand why J had anything to do with him, much less live with him for 2 years. “So are you coming?” I wasn’t listening and must have missed something.
“What?”
“Are you coming? We have to go talk to her family, see if they know anything.”
“Miranda they hate me, like really, really hate me.”
“Yeah, well, they’ll deal. You know J better than anyone. If anyone is going to find her it will be you.” Flattery, Miranda must be desperate, she doesn’t like me much more than J’s parents.
JJ
I was driving along thinking about Mark, I’m always thinking about mark then felt something and hadto pull off on the side of the road. I had a flat tire. Normally I would just call Mitchell and ask him to come save me… but we had broken up a week before and not on good terms. SO I got out to fix it myself. I grabbed the butterfly knife from the console, I don’t even know why I did it. When I got out I felt someone move up behind me. Without thinking I swung the blade out and slashed. I must have caught him, cause I heard a pained noise. Then I felt something hit me in the back, so I swung out again, and heard a little yelp, must not have gotten very deep. The little cuts make you yelp, the big ones grunt. Then It was like my head exploded and nighttime rose up from my skull and as usual my last thought was about Mark.
Car jackers
We watched her for a week, to be sure we would get her. She drove by herself, usually there weren’t any other people on the roads when she came by. We thought it would be easy. I ended up needing stitches thanks to that bitch. We had our fun though, we got her back… and front. We got her car, her laptop, her purse, and we fucked her everyway we could. That’s what she gets for cutting us.
Mitchell
When I looked ta my phone and saw that it was the kids I almost didn’t answer. It hurt to think of them, much less hear their voices. I might break down if it was willow. Of course it was Miki though and he was freaking out so much I could barely understand him. I finally got him to calm down enough to tell me that his mom wasn’t home. I looked out the bay doors, it was well past time for her to be home. Even if her school had a staff meeting she’d be hom by now, it was dark. I left work and went to the kids. The girls were fine… Willow was cooking dinner and Kessy was watching TV. Miki, however was not alright. Turns out he had every reason to be upset. I called Miranda and Brain first to ask if they had heard from her. Theyboth said the same thing, not since yesterday. I called J’s mom, but there was no answer, so I called the cops.
Police
When we got the phone call, we told the young man that someone has to be missing for 48 hours before we declare them missing. When he explained the situation however, I decided to look into myself. I called her principal and turns out she had left work at 2:30 to head home. Problme was no one knew her exact route. One tacher was able to offer information that she did go down tear shirt road, but after that, she wasn’t sure. I decided to go ahead and submit this as a missing person. I know there are moms out there who just abandon their kids, but my gut told me this was not one of them. The truck was spotted headed to raliegh and it was not being driven by a woman.
Stranger
I was out for my evening walk. I lvoe the way the swamp looks when the sun is going down. I had seen the cops out here earlier, but I thought nothing of it. as I was walking I looked down and saw a badge. it was a cops, but a teachers badge for warsaw elementary school. It showed a female teacher with long hair named Jennifer Love. For some strnage reason I kept it. It felt like it was lost and needed to be found. When I returned home I showed my husband. THe look on his face was pure shock.
“A woman went missing yesterday bu tht name. Her car, and all her valuables int he car were stolen, but she is no where to be found. Where did you find it?”
Police
When I got the phone call from the Johnsons saying they found Ms. Loves name tag, I went out myself. Mrs. Johnson took me to the place where she found it and in the tall grass beside the road I found severalmore items that looked as if they had been on the car, or in the car. THe theives had been careful to remove all the traces of the owner from the vehicle. I had another of those gut instincts and looked out into the water. I picked up my cell and called the paramedics, we were going to need and ambulance.
Intern
When she was brought in we were certain she was dead. Whatever had hit her in the back of the head had crushed part of her skull. She had been lying in swamp water for two days and it had gotten below freezing. Some how miraculously her heart was still beating and her brain was still registering and her lungs were still working. She was in a coma, but she was alive.
Miranda
The doctor had all of us together in one room, everyone but the kids. THey had been left outside in the lobby with the television and stale donuts. The doctors told us that she was awake but that she had forgotten everything. She didn’t understand language, she didn’t remember her name, or how to do anything. But she was awake and they wanted to see if she would remember anyone.
JJ
The doctors began bringing in people. One after the other. They didn’t look real, they looked like dolls or robots. THe first was an older lady, then an old man. THey both looked at me as if I had an answer, but I didn’t even know the question. Then more people came in. A tall man with long hair, a short girl with pretty eyes, another guy who was rather unremarkable looking, tall thin teen with blonde hair. They all looked expectantly at me, but I did not know them and they scared me a little. The door opened one more time. And a guy, not very tall, with dark hair and smokey eyes snuck in. He didn’t look at me like I had the answer, he looked at me like I was the question and I knew he was the answer. I knew the face. even when I was in the darkness I had seen it. when I opened my eyes for the first time today I could still see it. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I reached my hand out wanting him to come to me. He stepped forward and took my hand. A feeling of bliss rolled from his hand to mine. I touched his face and his hair and knew, beyond a doubt, that there was a scar on his shoulder. I touched him there and he smiled. The door opened again, and angry upset voices, voices of children came in before they did. Three children, a tall boy and two small girls came in the room and though I did not know their names, I knew they were mine. I help my hand out to them as well. They ran to the man and I and we all held each other and they cried. I did not know why, but they cried and I just held them and he held me.
April 4 , 2009 Bellview Memorial Hospital
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OB-GYN's have noticed an odd occurance in the past six months. There are less and less female babies
being born. Today, we had our first all male population in the nursey. Not a single mother on the ward
is pregnant with a girl, and all the ones born in the past 24 hours have been male.
2
It was odd when it started. We had all heard the story about the little girl who gave birth at 5
back in the 80's, and everyone thought it was hoax. The town was small and in need of money, in some
third world country, I don't remember which one. We all assumed it was for publicity. But when little
girls began menstruating at 5 years old, and lots of them, en masse! We began to check into things.
Then menopause stopped completely. Women getting older and older and were still able to have
children. The birth control industries stocks sky rocketed. Women were also living longer, which was
great, but the sight of an eighty year old woman giving birth… not something I want to remember. They
were living longer but were in greater pain. Their bodies did not improve, there was still osteoperosis,
bones were breaking during delivery… viagra dropped, completely. It was eventually taken off the
market. All the babies being born though, were male.
Not a single female was born after November 25, 2011. It was my daughter.
So women are a precious commodity. I've read my history and heard the stories, (the old lady
down the street is 115, she has lots of stories,) and I realize that there were times in the past that many
men already thought we were a precious commodity. They tried to "save" women from themselves and
take away womens freedoms, thought we were fragile things that had small minds and couldn't take
care of ourselves. Now there aren't any more women being born, and they don't know what to do.
Some countries took all their women and locked them up together. Treating them like prisoners.
Using them for breeding. One entire countries female population chose suicide over emprisonment…
can't blame them, think I'd do the same. In other countries men, in a rare moment of enlightenment,
have bowed out and have left everything up to the remaining women. I guess they realize the women
will be gone soon, why not let them run things for awhile. In other countries, like here, the governement
has tried to keep things as normal as possible, unfortunatly things are not the same. When I walk doen
the street I feel every eye of every man on me. I don't know if they are waiting for me to die, or sizing
me up to see if it is worth the risk.
The risk, oh yeah, the one really big change since this happened. If any male caught harming a
woman in anyway, emotional, mental or physical, will be put to death immediately. No, I'm not kidding.
Think it's a bit harsh? Well, a friend of mine, Joyce, was in a mentally abusive relationship. He never
once physically hurt her. But one night, after he put her down,for the 500 time, she went into the
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bathroom, grabbed a bottle of pills and swallowed them all. It was the case that made the law so strict.
Now women could walk the streets completely and totally naked with a sign around their necks that
says rape me, I'm willing, and no one would touch them.
You have to have expressed verbal permission from a woman in order to touch her in
anyway.We just get pregnant too easy now, and since there aren't any more of ud being born, only
more of them… well, you get the idea. So after Joyce's case we had a couple of problems. Wives who
wanted to get rid of their husbands, vindictive girlfriends, etc, started claiming mental and emotional
abuse. It was like the salem witch trials all over again. Men were killed left and right until a woman
stepped up and said stop.
Genevieve Porter has been an inspiration to us all. She has lead the way and fought for what
was right for all, not just women. In her anger against women who were needlessly killing men, she
almost got herself killed. Several women convinced their men to attack her. How they did it with the
new law in effect I'll never know. The story goes that these three huge thugs accosted Genevieve late
one night when she was coming out of the University. She was able to not only convince these men to
not attack her, some say with magic, others sex, but she got them to testify that their girlfriends
convinced them to do this. It is obvious to me that these men were quite weak minded, first their
girlfriends, then Genevieve, but it worked. Genevieve had an addendum added to the new law which
read abuse muct be proven basically. I know, it's hard to believe they would ever just take someones
word for it.
I really think the fear of no women, no mothers, no girlfriends, no strippers or porn stars, jst
really, really had these men freaked out. My mother told me that my dad, who had never been very
affectionate, suddenly became the most gracious husband in the world. He waited on her hand and foot
and did everything for her. I think many men were the same way, the old addage, there are more fish in
the sea, didn't hold water anymore.
3
Evie was not crowned last female on the planet immediately. Every country in the world was
watching for a girl to be born. It took about five years before we were told. She knows, she's ten now,
but I still don't know what to think. She will possibly be the last woman on the planet. I'm scared for her
to be on this planet alone with no other women. Nothing but men around her all the time. They've tried
cloning. The process works, but even the cloned women have nothing but male babies, and the babies
are… not right. They are violent, even from birth. It's like they are born ready to attack, the way kittens
are born. Only these children are stronger. They are walking within 4 months of birth, have a very low
intelligence. Basic speech is difficult, and they attack any female in the room, including their own
mother.
Evolution has stopped the female population from continuing and has given us untra-violent
savage males. Scientists are constantly searching for a way to continue the human race, but it looks vry
grim. The average life span of women has gone up to 125. If that is the case, in the year 2036, there will
be only cloned women left on this planet. It is a truly frightening thought. Men will just die off one by
one, and even if Evie were to have a child at 125 (which is possible now) the average lifespan of a man
has not gone up. So by the year 2106, there will not be any humans left on this planet, except savage
feral children bred by scientists from clones.
At first everyone tried having more and more babies, it was the solution that every country
came up with first. Soon we realized that all we were doing was adding to the population that would
have no female counterpart in a few years. Scientists tried to manipulate the dna in the embryo, but
evolution wasn't going to hear of that. Children were born different, but they were still male. The
christians laughed and pointed, and said it was the fault of the scientists and the atheists and the devil
worshippers and we were just getting out dues. It took a while for them to realize they were in the same
situation. That's kind of a slow group at times. I think they thought their God would provide for them.
Unfortunately, he didn't. Granted I think I'd rather not have any females born, than be born into those
groups.
Jo and Lu were bored, I do not know where Jo and Lu came from, they were just there, so I guess this isn't creation from the beginning but it is from the beginning of Jo and Lu's boredom. Jo and Lu were bored, as we have already established, and they sat across from each other. Jo grabbed a handful of itself, (Cause they were neither he nor she), just scooped out of it's hands, and made a man. Lu did the same, but it made woman, you see it one-upped Jo, it was the one-up game. Jo, made a dog, Lu made a cat, Jo made a bush, Lu made a tree… it went on this was for a while, Lu one-upping Jo the entire time. They began to run out of things to make. They sat staring at each other and alternately, back at their creations. Lu opened it's mouth and reached inside to pull out a wet, glowing substance and motioned for Jo to do the same. Lu took both pieces and rolled them together, stretched them out like play-dough (which neither of them had invented yet) and let it fall in a silver mist over their creations. Everything came to life, Lu just grinned. Jo seethed, but did not give up. Motioning for Lu to copy, it reached into it's chest and pulled out a glowing red substance. Jo took both rolled them together, stretched them out like silly putty and let it fall in a red glow over the creation. Some laughed, some cried, so screamed and some froze… Jo had made emotions.
I'm the kind of person who is more comfortable in odd places than "normal" ones. I feel perfectly at home sitiing on this hard industrial tile floor, playing jacks, waiting for the clinic people to call the right name. I don't know why I'm playing jacks, it's just kind of my thing right now, next week it might be something more… normal, for an 18 year old to do… then again, was waiting in an abortion clinic normal?
Maybe I was comfortable because I was surrounded by women who were scared shitless and hating men, or maybe it is the smell of alcohol and pine cleaner, or maybe the symmetry of the not-as-comfortable-as-they-could-be chairs and the posters that let you know it was alright to be a woman.
I heard her named called and I looked over at her stoic face to see if she wanted me with her, she did. I scooped up the handful of metal stars and bounced the ball to catch it and put it away. I walked over to her side and took her hand. I would do anything for my friends. Had this been the fifties, I would have performed the abortion myself if she had asked, even if I had known it was my boyfriends. Of course I didn't know at the time, but it wouldn't have mattered. What would have mattered was the fact that Jada didn't actually like me, but knew a sucker when she saw one. No matter how many times she bailed on me, she knew I would be there for her.
I was raised to hate men, to expect the worse from them, but friends, that was different. I would have believed her if she said he forced her, even if he denied it while hooked up to a lie detector and after given a shot of sodium penthanol.
But I didn't know, I only knew that my friend needed me and I had already been here twice before, so I could help her more than someone else. Obviously the other two times weren't with Jada, she wouldn't have needed me if that was the case. This was her first time, the last time had been with Jenny and the first time I came was for me. Even that wasn't the first time I had been in a clinic, just the first time in this one.
Years ago my mother brought me and I sat in the corner of the waiting room playing with dirty toys while she had her "indescretion" taken care of. She thought I was too young to understand, she evidently forgot that I was reading Shakespeare at 9.
What I didn't understand was why she was getting rid of this one, when you have five kids in the family, what's one more? None of us had the same dad, I think I was the only one who knew who my dad actually was, and that's only because he was still around. What did it matter that it was her brothers? Didn't brothers and sisters do that kind of thing? I was 16 when I found out that no, brothers and sisters were not suppose to do that kind of thing, which was why I had come here in the first place.
I have been told all the reasons why, I have had it explained by social workers, guidance counselors, doctors, lawyers, but I still don't fully understand. My brother and my mom were taken away when all this happened. I lived with my dad now and had for two years. My other brothers and sisters went their own way. They don't talk to me, they say it's my fault that mom and scott are in jail. I didn't mean to, I love both of them.
The social worker keeps telling me that it's ok to be mad at them, but I'm not. It seems to me that if you can't be "close" to your own family how are you suppose to be "close" with someone you don't know? I mean, isn't your family suppose to teach you how to do things and how to love? My home life with mom wasn't perfect, but it wasn't bad either. She was always protecting me from her boyfriends, if they even looked at me wrong, she dumped them. The police and the social worker say that she should have stopped Scott, but I don't think she knew.
Jada was looking at me expectantly, I had zoned out again.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" She rolled her eyes at me.
"She needs your contact information so they can call you when I'm ready to leave." Right, I was Jada's pickup person. I drove her here and would drive her home. Another reason Jada wanted to be my friend, I was one of just a few people at our school who had a car. It made me popular, I didn't like it. I gave my cell number and was told I could leave. I gave Jada a hug and some reassuring words and wondered if our babies would play together when they were both where ever unborn babies go. I hoped mine would show hers the ropes since he was technically older.
I walked into the clinic and was wrapped in that feeling of hatred for all things male that permeated every inch of this place. I pushed through the doors and into the bright southern sunlight and the protestors. I just kept my eyes forward and didn't stop walking no matter what they said to me. I'd already killed my baby years ago and I hadn't really been very upset about it. Even thought I had a high IQ, there were certain things I just didn't get. My truck was parked at the far end of the lot. I didn't want to take any chances that these guys would decide to get violent and beat my truck with their signs.
I stepped up to my Chevy, it was the color of a Pepsi can and sat on weels almost a tall as me… of course I was kinda short. I grabbed the handle, opened the door, stepped onto the running board, hopped inside, and slammed the door closed all in one continuence movement. I don't know why little acts of grace amazed me like they did, but I always felt so exhilirated every time I did that, like I was an acrobat that had just attempted a daring leap hundreds of feet in the air. I looked around for a second, like I always did, and felt at home. It was the only place I felt at home. On the dash sat my monkey, Mark, he watched me drive and laid flat in that weird way all beanie babies seemes to lay, as if they were going to roll over. I had a tiny buddha sitting on the edge in fron of my speedometer. He only covered up the 5, and I didn't think my truck could even go that slow anyway. A necklace my mom had given me hung from my rearview mirror and the seats were covered with an old blanket from my grandmothers house. When she died, my family members squabbled over the few items she had, each trying to get the item worth the most money. I snuck in the house through the back door and stole the quilt. I didn't think anyone would want it anyway. I was old.
I knew it would be a couple of hours before I got the phone call, I wasn't sure what to do. I could go home, dad wouldn't be there, I could have the living room all to myself. I would be able to play my "boring"classical music as dad and Thomas called. My boyfriend and my father were very much alike, they both listened to country and rock, they both watched wrestling on TV, neither of them would even think of picking up a book unless it was the manual for their trucks, neither of them would touch me, and they both slept with my friends.
It didn't bother me. I had no intention of marrying Thomas, I don't even know why I bothered calling him my boyfriend. One day he just said, hey lets be boyfriend and girlfriend and I just said yeah, whatever. Most of the time, that was how I felt about my life anyway, like I really didn't have any control over it. Like moving in with my dad. It just kind of happened. Suddenly I wasn't in my mom's trailer anymore, it was just that simple. I came home from work one time and found my dad and Jenny on the couch fucking. I just walked on by and went and did my homework. If jenny wants to fool around with him, that's her choice. I guess my dad is good looking. He's only about 16 years older than me. My mom was about four years older than him. They talked about getting married, he was the only person I had ever heard her talk about marriage with, but his parents had a fit when he told them. When mom got pregnant, his parents made him help take care of me. They were pretty good people, though they wouldn't have anything to do with me either.
Sometimes I felt like a leper, sometimes a ghost. I was once told that I was very forgettable. It seemed right, even if it wasn't very nice. I think it had been meant as a joke, but it seemed so right, that I never forgot it. So my dad can have sex with my friends and it doesn't occur to him that I might care. My boyfriend won't touch me, he's kinda freaked out about the whole, I slept with my brother for several years thing, but he will sleep with my friends and assumes I don't care. Why would I? Truth is, I don't care. The social worker is convinced that there is soething wrong with me, inside my head, like a sociopath who can kill people and it doesn't bother them, bu mines the opposite. Anything can happen to me and I really don't care. Abortion, rape, incest, deaths… none of it affects me. She sayd it's like I'm dead inside, but I know I'm not dead inside. I feel moved by things, I have ideas, I relish the wind in my face when I drive a motorcycle, I crave the adrenaline when I do something dangerous.
I remember, one night when I was about 7 out neighbor came to the house. She was bloody and crying and half naked. Someone had broken into her house and raped her. They beat her but didn't kill her. I opened my bedroom window and crawled out into the dark. I walked over to her house, in the dark, by myself, with a rapist on the loose. It was the first adrenaline rush I remember having. I walked through her house in the dark, waiting for someone to jump out at me, to grab me an throw me to the floor, to put a gun to my head and dare me to scream. Nothing happened, i went home and crawled back in my window five minutes before my mom came to check on me. She was angry for her friend. I was caught later, when the cops came and saw a trail os small bloody footprints leading to my window. I had stepped in the spot where he had beat her and tracked blood back to my house, in the excitement I was feeling I didn't notice the wetness. My mom almost had a heart attack, I was grounded for weeks until the rapist was caught. I'm not sure, but there were several night before he was caught that I heard something outside my window. I wondered if he followed the bloody footprint as well.
I wasn't dead inside, I was maybe a little too alive at times. Almsot like I was on overdrive, there were moments when I swore I could feel every hair on my body, I could feel the energy around me and the force of nature as it surrounded me. I could smell the grass grow and hear the wetness of the water. I could taste the insects as they flew by and see the inner workings of the universe. Of course I didn't say these things to anyone. I had learned early on not to say "That crazy shit" outloud after I had told my mom that the clouds told me secrets. My mom was worried they would take me away from her. I guess she should have been worried about being taken away herself.
I cranked up my truck and listened to the reassuring deep hum. The vibrations felt good running through my body and the hum calmed me down more than anything. I backed up and and then pulled out into the road. I would say traffic, but you don't have traffic in a town like this, just annoying drivers. I still didn't know where to go. Going home to get comfortable with a good book, some chai tea, and Shostakovich just didn't sound comforting, knowing I would have to get up and come back soon. I never wanted t go see Thomas. He usually found me. I still didn't understand why he dated me when I didn't even like him and he didn't want to touch me. Didn't guys date girls so that they could sleep with them? I would have, not cause I love him but because I will sleep with pretty much anyone if they are interested. I don't do it for attention, or money, though I wouldn't turn the money down if it was offered, I do it, just to do it. It's kind of like research for me. While they are doing what they think they are good at (Which I haven't been able to tell any difference in any of them so far) I watch, and listen, and learn. I learn about the mechanics of sex, I learn about what men think women want, I learn how to move, or what to say to make them think I am having a good time or not having a good time. I play games with them and see if they catch on… they never do.
My social worked keeps telling me that she feels sorry for me because I do this. She sayd it's not the way I'm suppose to be. I think it's just not the way she's suppose to be. I am not trapped by all the rules that she has. I am more free than anyone I know. No one has any control over me and I know this. I am easily manipulated, or so I'm told, but in all acutality, I am allowing myself to me manipulated. I know what's going on. I may not get social rules and standards, but I know when someone is using me. I just don't care. I feel sorry for my social worker. She'll never have the thrill of breaking into a place just to have sex there, she'll never spray paint a mural on the side of a train. She'll never run across the rooftops of downtown, or hang out in the local drug dealers house, or have experiences that will define her as a person, not really. She says I should care about myself more, that I have no respect for myself. She's wrong. She's wrong.
I drove by Jenny's house, but it Thomas's truck was in the driveway. Nope, not going there. I had other friends, but I really didn't feel like going to see any of them. So I drove, into the country, down a dirt road and turn left under the big oak tree. I parked the truck, rolled down the windows and killed the motor. When I laid my seat just right, all I could see was the topr of the turquoise rye, the bright green of the oak leaves and the brilliant blue sky inbetween. I just laid there feeling the wind and looking out the window. This was my happy place. I never brought anyone here. They would ruin it.
See, I knew the social worker was wrong, because I liked me more than anyone. Sure I had depressed moments, more than I wanted to admit at times, and yeah, I had envisioned putting my dads gun into my mouth and pulling the trigger, but I wasn't going to do it. My main reason for not offing myself… It bothers them more to have me alive. if I was dead, it would be too easy on everyone, so I stay alive. But I also like me. I'm not one of these people who fit easily into a mold or category. I'm not easily labeled. I was raised white trash, by a mother who really wanted me to be a star or some kind, and surrounded by people who either couldn't or didn't care to better themselves. I was different, i didn't want to be like them and it seemed, that even the most basic things, affected me differently from them. My brain just didn't work the same, and I was fine with that. I really didn't have any respect for anyone around me. I felt like the guardian or the keeper of all these peple most of the time. I had sex with people just to have sex with them. I was friends with people because they needed me to be there friend. I stayed with my dad because it seemes to give him a purpose. I didn't really have any goals other than I wanted to know more, I wanted to learn more, I just wanted to keep experiencing life and even the social worker with her college degree had stopped experiencing life.
I vowed to myself then and there, that I would not stop experiencing life. I got out of my truck, stripped naked and ran to through the field screaming and dancing. I felt the rye all over my body and knew that this was what life was about, not religion or politics or relationships, it was about experiences. I climbed the tree naked and lay on the branch, not caring about the bugs, and touched myself while staring at the sky between the leaves. I was like having sex with the blueness.
Have you ever smoked pot? Not like you'd answer honestly, people never do. They are either to paranoid from smoking too much and think you're a narc or they want everyone to think they are a goodie-goodie. Either way, I assume that most people have actually done it at least once, especially if they were in college. It's kind of a right of passage in college… I digress…. The feeling you get when you are high, the disconnectedness, the loopiness, the complete lack of a grasp on reality… I feel like that, a lot. Not because I smoke so much pot, though I will admit that I have done it, but because my brain is not quite right.
I've known for awhile that there was something wrong, but I hate the doctor. I refused to go,for years. Finally when I realized I was forgetting how to go places I drove every day, I broke down and went.
Early onset of Alzheimer's… When I was little I thought it was pronounced old-timers, but then again I think everyone did. The doc's said it could be hereditary, that it could be caused by a growth in my brain, or that it could be environmental elements as well. What environmental elements I asked, "Oh, smoking, education, estrogen, aluminum…"
I didn't listen to anymore. My brain went to the aluminum pot that sat in my kitchen cabinet all ding and dented. I'd eaten from and cooked in that pot my entire life. It was my grandmothers and I believe, her mother before her. My parents were "biggering" types and didn't believe in keeping old things around… except once in awhile my dad would get sentimental over some things. The pot was one of them. Even though my mother had bought all new shiny pots and pans we still held onto this one old dented pot and we always cooked rice in it. Sometimes the little field pees that we picked and shelled ourselves would be made in that pot, and I will swear on the good book that they are better when made in that little aluminum pot.
So when I moved out, I was given the aluminum pot, the dented dinged pot, that occasionally served as a drum for my kids when they were little, and sometimes a hat when they were bigger, and I still make rice in it. Occasionally I make field pees that I now buy frozen from the store in it (they are not as good as the fresh.)
Now though, now the pot sits atop my bookcase filed with potpourri. I took it out of the cabinet as soon as I got home from the doctor. The kids thought I was cooking and just shook their heads when I filled it with the sweet smelling stuff and put it on the shelf. Crazy mom, doesn't know what she's doing again. They'll leave it there though. Until we need to use a pot to cook with and I forget why it's up there in the first place and get it down to cook some rice… or maybe some little field pees.
I hear the reassuring whir of the chamber spinning and get into my car. It is a safe ride to work and I win again. I play the odds at times and drive faster than I should. Spinning the chamber, I go to pass a Mac truck, it was a close one this time. pretty sure the bullet was right there. The chamber spins as pull into the parking lot of the middle school. One of these day a real gun will be pointed at my head in this parking lot, those are the kind of kids I teach.
We sit in the meetings watching the "lock down" video and going over the steps if we ever have to have on… again. One gun on campus and two bomb threats. One day this school will finish my game of Russian Roulette that I play every day.
We all play every day. every little thing we do is just another spin of the chamber. The only difference is the size of the chamber for each thing. Smokers have less numbers, race car drivers ever fewer. Then again there are those people who never did anything wrong and their bullet gets them in the temple one night at home walking down the stairs or taking a shower.
It's all just one big game of Russian Roulette.