I guess if I really want to think about it, the truth is, I’ve never been happy. I just don’t know how and I’m really not that great of a pretender. It’s not that I don’t like who I am or loathe my station in my life; I accept my skin and my surroundings. I mean, I do feel bored a lot of the time, but that comes from laziness. Although, even if I did work hard to not be so bored all of the time, I’d get bored with trying so there’s not really any point to trying or not trying. Either way, I’ll end up feeling the same; it’s a Catch-22. I wonder how many people use that literary-reference that haven’t even read the book, let alone ever read any kind of book? Probably, at least, two-thirds of the people that use it have never read any kind of book and at least a third of the people that use it, haven’t read the book but have maybe read the cliff notes. Yeah, that sounds about right.
1 week ago
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Some unrecognizable woman just knocked on my door. Since it’s not even ten am yet, of course I look like shit and under no means want to answer the door to some stranger that has every right to judge me (first impressions) and will probably try and sell me something. I don’t want to be that lady. You know, the angry dirty lady that sits on her ass all day and can’t even seem to untangle her hair. So, since there are windows everywhere in this fucking house, I was unable to move when I heard the knock at the door. I had no choice but to sit on a chair next to the door, holding my breath, so that this woman could not hear me or see me despite the parked cars in the driveway. I have no idea what this woman could possibly want but she knocked for ten fucking minutes. I was so pissed that this woman had the audacity to knock for the standard duration of a quickie. The rule is twice, maybe thrice if you’ve driven a long way. You knock once, wait ten seconds and knock a second time. If you’re there over a minute you seriously send off creepy vibes, especially if you’ve showed up unannounced. So, since this woman pissed me off, I did it right back. It’s the best retaliation any passive aggressive person could do in this situation. I walked in front of the largest window facing the door so that she’d see me walk pass and ignored her last knock at the door. It was a subtle way of saying, “Go away.”
2 months ago
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1 note
THE SELF VS. THE MAN
( second draft, work in progress by sandra amador)
I spent an hour trying to decide if I should shower or not. While I decided, I made a “punx songs” playlist on my itunes that consisted of trendy underground Brooklyn based punk bands. It was just about 2pm before I looked in the mirror and saw that there was no way customers would want to buy books from someone with Eraserhead hair, smeared mascara and pungently reeked of cheap cigarettes and latex condoms. I got in the shower and thought about the different excuses I could give for not going into work. “Honestly, I just don’t feel like dealing with anyone but myself today,” was my favorite excuse. I decided my manager would agree and see it as a formidable justification for calling out of work. After convincing myself of such grandeur gestures, I re-decided that my virtuous excuse would be misunderstood by the enthusiasm that is instilled into the personality of any corporate manager, which is selling customers the fuck out of merchandise. And obviously, the decline in the store’s daily sales results from the lack of my odious presence. As a result, I can comprehend why my manger would be pissed if I didn’t show up to work.
Lukewarm water poured over my head and five minutes later, with my hair unwashed, I turned the water off and stood there, staring at my bare feet. How grotesque! I have fucking dykey-ass Rosie O’Donnell feet! I thought. I grabbed a towel with my eyes closed, wrapped myself in it, and stepped out onto the bathroom floor mat. After a minute of just standing there, the mat became soggy and gross. That’s when I decided to go to work: I need to earn the 25 bucks for a spa pedicure because there is just no way I can continue living in depression with ugly feet. I mean, that’s just grounds for suicide. What else am I supposed to look at when I mope in the shower before work? The tile? No thanks.
Upon accepting the inevitable (that I had to work in a few hours) with the towel still wrapped around me, I walked into the kitchen and poured some ice cubes into a cup. I opened the fridge and poured some 7up half way and topped it off with some Seagram’s Whiskey. I let out one of those moans that is half a groan and half a sigh as my drink made a crackling Rice Crispies cereal sound. When I was a child, the Rice Crispies commercials implied that the crackle was the sound of gossiping effeminate elves. They’d actually show little elves chatting in a young child’s bowl of cereal.
Out of nostalgia and curiosity, I put my ear to the rim of the cup and heard a little elf shout, “stop being such a whiny, dykey footed bitch and get dressed for work!” Naturally, I downed my drink after announcing my preference for the well-mannered Keebler elves.
After a few 7&7s, I was out the door in an outfit that matched my punx playlist. My hair and face looked presentable, I stunk a little like booze but at least I fucking bathed.
4 months ago
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I was a little pressed for time as anyone would be on any given Monday morning. Feeling a little bit sluggish from a busy weekend engrossed with massive consumptions of hard liquor and late night social gatherings, I stood barefooted while looking into my bathroom mirror and noticed that I had buttoned up my shirt unevenly. I let out a heavy sigh that reflected my exasperation from such an elementary error. I grabbed my toothbrush with a lazy wrist and made sure to acquit my liquor breath since the taste of whiskey lingered on my tongue.I stood at the door of my apartment, about to head out to work when my briefcase strap slid off my shoulder creating a loud plop sound. I stood there for a second, not startled in the least. I let my forehead meet with the wooden door. My head began to feel so heavy just resting there that soon my body began to slide down, plopping next to my briefcase. I must have laid there for a good while, at least an hour, staring at my hardwood floor realizing that I was late to work when the answering machine picked up. My assistant was on the phone, confirming my appointments for the afternoon. I ignored the message and crawled back into bed. When I woke up, I walked into the shower clothed and all. I couldn’t tell the temperature of the water as I just stood there letting it wash off the rough weekend. I looked down, noticing the button that fucked up my day and threw everything off. I sighed heavily, peeling my wet clothes off my feeble body and got back into bed.
(This is the first draft of “Off Days and Days Off”)
6 months ago
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1 note
Hi, I’m not exactly sure why I’m writing this message. There are a lot of things that you brought to my life that i’m having a hard time adjusting to without. You know that though and i’m not going to repeat myself for the umpteenth time. I’m doing ok, my face is a lot better. I’ve suffered though vicodin withdrawals, the worst feeling I have ever experienced, but you’ll be happy to know I’ve kicked the habbit. It freaks me out to think about you as it stirs up feelings i’ve never tried to repress before. I never did learn how to get through life without your help and I’m just starting to figure it out. You know me well enough to know how I feel though it’s the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced not having the faintest clue where you are, what you’re doing and how better off you are without me; you are the only person in the world it literally hurts for me not to actively help in any way I can. You are the most independent person I have ever met and it meant something to me when you’d lower your pride and let me help— it’s the closest you ever came to crying on my shoulder. I am doing better though there are still many regrets. I want my best friend back, I realize that I’ve always needed you but you never wanted to need me which left our relationship with you running and me chasing. I’m not sure what love is any more but I do know I’ll never feel that need for anyone ever again. I look at pictures of us at our happiness and I feel the semblance of an emotion that used to thrive. I knew whole heartedly that I would be happy with you for the rest of my life. I guess I’m a better person now that I’ve learned these life lessons but it doesn’t make me happy. I genuinely hope you’re happy and I hope my happiness will soon return to me. It’s greedy but I hope you miss me too.
6 months ago
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