What I Heard When I Listened

So this is the worst thing that has ever happened.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything Dad.”

“Yes you did, something about this being the worst thing that has ever happened.”

“Ugh, Dad, can you just get out of my room”

“Sorry, I was just walking by and heard you talking to yourself.”

“DAD!”

“Okay, I’m leaving.”

You see, this is exactly what I mean, the worst thing that ever happened to me. It all started with this dream I had. In the dream a genie came to me to grant me three wishes. I don’t even remember what I wished, but I woke up with a rather uneasy feeling. The next day at school I was telling this girl I sit next to in first period English class about the dream, and she asked what I would wish if a genie really did appear and ask me. Well right at that moment Chad (who I sort of have a crush on, shhh, don’t tell anyone) walked into the room, and he locked eyes on me, and I thought wouldn’t it be great if I could hear his thoughts so I could see if he liked me the same as I liked him. So of course that is what I told my seat mate. Well, I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but then, the next morning, well, yesterday morning, which was also the next morning, the strangest thing started to happen to me, people started acting like they could hear what I was thinking. That’s right, the wish I talked about, well, it happened, sort of, only the wrong way around.

I first realized there was a problem in that same English class. My teacher was droning on about iambic pentameter, and I remember thinking about how bored I was, well the next thing I knew my teacher had stopped class and was staring right at me.

“If you are so bored, Mary, perhaps you should try teaching the class”

So that was embarrassing. And stuff like that just kept happening all day. OMG, I could hardly stand it, I only made it through three periods before I faked a headache and went home. I have basically been locked in my bedroom ever since, trying to keep anyone from hearing my every thought. Oh, and the worst thing, that girl from my English class, well, she wasn’t even there yesterday. Seriously though, what am I supposed to do? Well perhaps…

“Okay” I said to my empty room, “I’ve learned my lesson.”

No response…

“Um, I’ve learned to be careful of what I wish for, and , I guess, try thinking less of myself and more of others, and, um, if I want to know about what others feel, maybe I should ask them?”

Suddenly the house shuddered, the lights flickered, and my Dad ran into my room.

“Mary, are you okay?”

Yes, I thought.

“Mary, are you okay?” he repeated.

Thanks goodness, it worked.

Say Her Name

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

“Julie Anne Martson” my name echoed down the hall toward my room.

Shit, my dad sounded pissed. Ugh, and what a fucking cliché, using my whole name in anger. As he flung my door open, I prepared for his wrath, but instead he burst into my room with a huge smile on his face.

“You’re home from college!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah… Hi Dad,” I said as I stood up from my childhood bed to give him a hug. As he held me in a tight embrace I couldn’t help but wonder if I was the only person in the world who hated my name? I mean I detested it so much I decided to change it when I went away to college. The day I moved into my dorm I told everyone to call me Jay (because the first letter of my name was a J, and I think I heard it in a movie once, and I thought it sounded cool).

Whatever, it was cool! But hen I started dating a guy, and he called me Jay, of course; because that was the only name he knew to call me by, and then a funny thing happened, I started to hate Jay too.

The night after the “I survived my freshman year” celebratory dinner with my parents I called my boyfriend. We were on the phone for an hour, though I was barely able to get a word in edgewise as I listened to him gripe about how much he hated his brother, and how living with his parents again for the next three months was going to be hell for him. Finally he stopped ranting and I started to tell him about the lovely dinner I had just had with my family when he cleared his throat, loudly.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Jay, you’ve gotta stop doing that” he sighed.

“What?”

“Interrupting me when I am in the middle of telling a story.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were done.”

He sighed loudly again, “Obviously I wasn’t done, Jay.” There was a long pause, I decided it was best not to speak, “Well, I guess I we’ll just talk to tomorrow.” And with that, he hung up.

So yeah, I have definitely figured it out, the reason I hate my name is because for the most part, people only say it when they are mad at you. Or at least they only say it when they are mad at me.

I didn’t hear from my boyfriend the next day, but whatever. The following afternoon I went to Jamba Juice to grab a smoothie and who should I run into but my high school crush. He glanced at me as I walked in, our eyes met… my Razzamatazz smoothie nearly melted... and then the most incredible thing happened. He spoke.

“Julie, wow, it’s so good to see you, I was just wondering if I’d run into you this summer.”

Suddenly my name didn’t seem so bad after all.

Systematic Racism

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

It was a late summer morning and I was feeling pretty happy as I cruised down College Avenue with my boyfriend Andy in the passenger seat and his roommate, Brian in the back of my car.  We had the windows rolled down and the music blasting, as we headed to the campus bookstore to pick up our books for the fall semester. I was actually really excited, I was going to be a Junior, I felt like I finally had this college thing figured out. Plus, I was living off campus for the first time. Yup, life was pretty good.

As we turned the corner to campus we were met with a wall of people, freshman, it was move in day. They also looked so young, so scared, so confused. Was this how I looked as a freshman? Impossible.

As we cruised past the dorms, Brian started chanting “fresh meat” under his breath. I locked eyes with him in the rear-view mirror, and he promptly stuck his head out the window, yelling at some poor unsuspecting freshman girl “Hey, go back where you came from!”

I couldn’t believe Brian just yelled that incredibly rude thing out of my car. I am sure he thought it was funny, yelling at a freshman to go home, what a horrible way to welcome someone onto campus, but it was even worse, because the girl was African American. Brian just yelled at an African American freshman, telling her to go back where she came from. I slammed on my breaks and wheeled around in my seat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Brian shrugged, rolling his eyes “what?”

“What! You just yelled out of the window of my car telling that girl to go back to where she came from!”

“So, she’s a freshman, I was just joking around.”

“Dude, Brian,” Andy said, “you can’t just say those things.”

“What?” Brian shrugged again.

“Seriously, Brian, think about it for a minute.”

Brian looked at me, then at Andy, then out the window to the girl who was now walking away from us, and finally it clicked. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah,” I said, “now you’re going to get out of the car and go apologize to her.”

“What, no, I’m sure she knew it was a joke.”

“I’m sure she didn’t. Now, you don’t have to apologize to her, but either way, you’re getting out of my car. If you apologize, then you can get back.”

Brian sat for a minute, before he finally opened the door and slid out of the backseat. Taking a deep breath, he called out to the girl, who slowly turned to face him. He jogged over towards her, they talked for a few minutes, then he sauntered back to the car.

“Did you apologize?” I asked as he hopped into the backseat.

“Yeah, and I get her number, her name is Cheryl and we are going to get coffee tomorrow.”

"Of course you did."

No Longer Alone

Jim died ten years ago, or was it fifteen? I’m not really sure, time slips away like that these days. I suppose it is part of growing old. Jim and I were never blessed with children, which was fine, it wasn’t always fine, but now it’s fine. We had a good life together, just the two of us. And when he died, well, I had a difficult time of it, but I was determined to make it on my own, and I have. All these years, I have made it on my own. Just me, and this house. Jim would have been so proud.

Alas, the time has come that I must admit I can no longer take care of the house alone. I may be proud, but I’m not too proud to know when I need help. Besides, it will be nice to have someone else in this house. Actually, two people, a young couple. Oh no, I am not charging them rent, you see, they are doing me a favor, helping me fix this old house up again. Oh, and maybe, perhaps, someday they will start a family. How lovely to have children running around, filling this house with laughter. I always thought this place was too big for just Jim and I, this place deserves children, it was meant to have children, yes, well, I suppose we already covered that.

So in preparation for their arrival I have decided to move to the attic room. It is only right, this young couple, they deserve the master bedroom. What would a little old lady need that much space for anyway? No, I am fine in the attic, best to stay out of their way. Oh look, here they come now! I will just wait in my little room, stay out of their hair and let them settle in. No need to hover over them. No, that just wouldn’t do at all.

 Oh dear, I meant to come down for dinner and welcome them, but I must have dozed off. What must they think of my manners! Well, I ventured downstairs just after breakfast, and wouldn’t you know it, they had already started to work on the place. I could hear them in the living room, banging away, and, I hope you won’t think too horribly of me, but I couldn’t help but overhear them talking, and the things they were saying… How the house looked as if it had been abandoned at least fifty years! Well, I marched into that room to give them a piece of my mind, and let me tell you, they were so embarrassed to be caught saying those horrible things that they turned sheet white. I did hear them arguing in their room later, something about ghosts, what a nasty thing to say about an old lady. They packed up and left that night, flying out of the driveway like a bat out of hell. Perhaps I am destined to be alone forever/

It's A Trap

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

Nothing is more exciting than working retail, let me tell you. What? Don’t believe me? Oh, I see, you can sense the sarcasm emanating off this page. Well, working retail is exciting, not necessarily fun, but exciting. For instance, you never know what loveliness your next customer might grace you with. There is nothing like the beckoning glow of a retail establishment to draw in all the self-entitled crazies. Oh, it’s not just the customers, either; I’ve had the pleasure of standing behind a cash register with a unique selection of co-workers, like the one who wore short shorts everyday, even though she was constantly getting written up for it, or the one who kept stealing candy bars, and then leaving the wrappers out for the manager to find. He didn’t last long. Or the one who finally decided to get revenge on all of those customers… but I digress, because this story is not about them, well, maybe it is about that last one.

The idea was first discussed at about 11 AM on a Monday morning. I was working at Hertz rental car at the time, and Monday mornings were always crazy. My co-worker Matt’s last customer had just left, after making a bad joke about a Hertz donut (the manager always put out donuts for the customers on Monday mornings, which meant we were blessed with that joke by at least five different customers every Monday…). Anyway, the lobby was finally empty, and we were just about to discuss who got the first break, when the phone rang. Since Matt had dealt with the last customer, I got the phone call, that was the rule. On the other end was our next customer. 10:30 AM reservation, large SUV. I assured her the vehicle was there and ready to go, which, if you have ever seen Seinfeld you would know is not always the case (oh the joy of working for a rental car company).

The customer walked in the door 10 minutes later, Matt was still on his break so she was all mine. I printed up her contract and pulled the car up to the front door for her. As I slid out of the driver’s seat I could already tell something was not right. It was the way she was standing, everything about her screamed unreasonably angry customer. Well, she yelled at me for 30 minutes, accused me of trying to Hertz her (eye-roll), and left without the SUV. The problem? She was going to a Raiders game, and showing up in a 49ers red SUV just was not going to work. Fucking customers.

So that’s when I decided to get revenge. Oh, did I not mention I was the crazy co-worker who devised the customer revenge scheme? Yeah, it was me. So what did I do? Well first… wait, who are you anyway? And why are you asking all of these questions? Perhaps I should speak to a lawyer.

The Standoff

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

There is a mug

There is a mug that once contained coffee, or tea, or hot chocolate, or maybe just water

There is a mug that is sitting on the lip of the dresser, not on my side, not on his

There is a mug that has been sitting on the lip of the dresser for, well, I don’t know how long

The mug has always been on the lip of the dresser, not on my side, not on his

The mug is on the kitchen counter

It is the same mug, the yellow mug, with “The Mystery Spot” written on the side in black

The mug has a chip on the lip, I don’t know how that happened, neither does he

I am pretty sure we bought it that way, or maybe it acquired the chip on the way home

Either way, this mug is not my mug, and it is not his mug

This mug is just a mug, one of the ones we use when our favorite mugs aren’t clean

The mug is still on the kitchen counter.

The mug is still on the kitchen counter, but now it is getting closer to the sink

I am pretty sure, sometime in the last two weeks the mug has moved at least an inch closer to the sink

Did I accidently nudge the mug closer to the sink?

I am now avoiding the mug

Under no circumstances should I touch the mug

Okay, so my pinky brushed against the mug

Okay, so my pinky brushed against the mug and it may have moved closer to the sink

The mug is definitely closer to the sink

Well I feel it is time to let you know that it was not me that used the mug

It was not me that used the mug, I always use my own mugs, not the random mugs

I always use my own mugs, clean them out, and put them away after

So it was not me who used the mug, but who did…

He says it was not him either

He says it was not him and his friends have not been around in over two months

My friends have also not been over for, oh wait

Wait, Lanie was over last month

Lanie was over last month, we went out, she slept on the couch

She slept on the couch, did she wake up earlier than us?

She may have woken up earlier than us

I definitely put out a mug for her, for coffee

She may have used it

She may have used it, then left it on the dresser after her shower, after Andy got up, and she was lounging on the bed with me, discussing, well, I don’t know

FUCK

I am not cleaning that mug

I have already done dishes three times this week

The Cut of Her Jib

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

This was the first time I’d be spending the holidays at home in five years, but I wasn’t looking forward to it.  It’s not that I didn’t love my family, or enjoy spending time with them (though it may seem that way since I hadn’t seen them in so long, but there was a good reason for that, in fact, that reason is connected to why I wasn’t looking forward to this visit). Okay, so the reason I was not looking forward to the visit is because I would be bringing my new boyfriend home to meet the family for the first time. Again, he wasn’t exactly my new boyfriend, we had actually been dating for three years, but to my family he would be new. And it wasn’t really that I was nervous about my family meeting him, what I feared was the inevitable question that everyone would ask… “so, how did you two meet...” ugh! I know it all sounds confusing, but it will all make sense in a minute.

You see, I have been spending the last five years sailing solo around the world. On August 6, 2015 I threw off the dock lines, I followed the coast down to Mexico where I sailed around for a year, getting my cruising legs. Then, after provisioning and waiting for the right weather window, I took off on the passage to French Polynesia. On my little boat it ended up taking me 28 days, but after about 12 days in the middle of the ocean in the tropical heat, well, I started wearing fewer and fewer clothes. Clothing just seemed silly; after all, it was just me and the fish. Anyway by the time I finally spotted land, I had been sailing fully in the nude.

Now here was the problem, my lack of clothing had become normal to me, I didn’t even think about my nakedness anymore. Unfortunately that meant that I failed to put on clothes when I reemerged in society. Yup, that’s right; I sailed into a very packed anchorage completely in the nude. I set the anchor and was pulling down the sails when I heard a whistling from the boat anchored just off my stern. Still completely unaware of my little, uh, situation, a waved and yelled “Howdy neighbor!” The man on the other boat waved back and shouted something I couldn’t quite hear.

“What was that?” I yelled back.

“I said, nice boat, I really like the cut of your jib!”

I was only confused for a moment, and then I realized exactly what he meant. I must have turned ten shades of red. Quickly I hid myself behind my headsail and slinked down through the front hatch without revealing any more of my assets.

Anyway, that man is now my boyfriend, and after the last few years of buddy-boating through the South Pacific with him, I was pretty sure I was destined to tell that story for the rest of our lives.