Free write
I have to pee.
Ok. Lets try this again.
I think my ankle might be broken. A hairline deal, something you can only see with xray that slowly decreases your chances of reproducing. I hope I don’t reproduce. My lips burn. Not the good kind of burn either; Chipotle was very disappointing, I must say. Too much rice, not enough cheese. As a general rule, there is never enough cheese. It’s weird listening to the music I used to think was so profound in Junior High. It’s really not bad though. Infinitely superior to “I kissed a girl…and I liked it” or that chick’s other song that was my 24 year old sister’s ringtone for 3 months; you know the one that sounds like a first grade lesson in opposites? Gotta hand it to her for giving the people what they want though. People get opposites. Shades of grey are scary: that’s why Sarah Jessica Parker is always talking about how dying your hair blond/red/turquoise is beautiful, like you are (or some shit), even though everyone knows she gets her professionally done because she has several thousands of dollars per month allotted to her beauty keeping regimen (you’d think she’d be better looking then). My head hurts. My head has hurt for the past 4 days. Every time I chew. But I must eat. Cheese. Rotten Fruit. I don’t want to eat rotten fruit; it’s sitting on the floor of my common room along with disassembled lampshades and chocolate covered pretzels that are 4 months old. I hate my roommates. The one next to my room is always making awkward squeaking noises and speaking like she’s an infant when her boyfriend’s over (I’m talking goo goo gaga, high pitched as prepubescent Hanson) and the other two are always either smoking in the room or chopping raw onions in it. Doesn’t matter what the meal. Breakfast: Onions. Lunch: Onions. Eating Ramen? Add onions. Eating spaghetti? Add onions. Cookies? Onions. Meatballs? Onions. Oatmeal? Onions. Wait? Is it 8am on a Sunday? I know what I should do! I should karate chop onions, then keep the extras in a DRAWER UNDER THE SINK. Like one of those oil based, scented candles, only more organic. I’m in college. I like organic. And green. And breaking other people’s can openers. And never taking out the garbage. It makes me mysterious. Gives the illusion that I have more pressing things to do than be considerate. Like listen to the same Radiohead song over and over again and invite my flamboyant bearded friends to sleep on the couch in only underwear and ski hat. You know, in case it gets cold. Then I can instruct him to leer at the weird girl who is always showering in the morning, eating cereal and mac and cheese, and going to class. She’s weird. Whose pov is this now? Fuck. Today I was washing my face, and I wasn’t sure if all the soap was gone or if it would go in my eyes, so I half blind turned around to get a towel. The wall got in my way. Good. Then 20 minutes later, on the way to rehearsal walking down Spruce, I slid on a piece of black ice, even though we haven’t had any precipitation in days. It was epic; I had a buis egg thing in my right hand, and I was zombily walking on the north side of the street, then my right foot slid forward until the ice ended while my left foot stayed where it was…before the ice. In a fraction of a second, I had gone from walking down the street to being in a full yoga lunge on the sidewalk, without dropping a knee or hand. And my sandwich survived. Then I got to rehearsal, and a girl who needed to drop off her paperwork for Miss Philadelphia (why does that exist?) came in yelling because she couldn’t find a printer open before 10am on a Saturday. She proceeded to throw her blackberry at the couch at full force, and it bounced off and knocked my open water bottle over all over me. My reaction was; “Oh. Good. ” Ricoched? Is that how you spell it? What language is that? I’m tired. My head hurts. I have to pee again.
