mymichele's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- New diary rings, bed bugs, and you think you know, but you have no idea I couldn't help it, I had to do it:
I am currently working on the story I'm supposed to be writing, but an urge to go to bed has taken me over, and there's only one thing separating me from going to sleep: the cricket. I saw it a few hours earlier, on the large pile of clothes on my floor. It stared at me, cackling at my obvious disgust. It took me about 30 minutes of figuring out ways of getting it out of my room without touching it, but finally I got the broom out of the closet and swatted it off my clothes. It went flying somewhere, and while I knew it was still in the room, I was confident I wouldn't see it again, alive anyway. That is, until I opened my Barnes and Noble bag to take out my new Elton CD and saw the damn thing sitting in there. I screamed and threw the bag on the bed, and the cricket escaped! I accomplished two things by doing that: scaring the fuck out of my roommate and losing the cricket's location. So now I don't know where it is and I really don't want to wake up with a cricket in my ear. This is real. I'm not making it up. I fear crickets. They are the spider's best friend, as far as I'm concerned. Once I let the cricket in, the spiders will come, and one day I'll wake up and find that I've turned into a giant cockroach. That is a day that I will fear. Okay, so let me give you a peak into my world of gullibleness: I've told this story before, but anyway. A few years ago, BB (Boyfriend Boy) went to an Elton John concert with one of his friends. I was invited, but I went to Austin to visit my brother instead. When I got back, BB told me that I missed a great concert and I wouldn't believe who was there. "Who!" I asked excitedly. "Axl," He said, smirking. "He and Elton sang November Rain and played the piano together." Now, I questioned this. Why would Axl Rose, who lives in obscurity, who hasn't put out a real album in 10 years, come out and sing with Elton John? They did it at the 1992 MTV Music Awards (Good lord, such greatness.. Axl and Elton, together.. how freakin awesome), I know, but that was in 1992. This was in 1998. So in the back of my mind I always knew it wasn't true. But I WANTED to believe it was, I really did. I wanted to think that destiny was somehow keeping me away from seeing Axl live, so I could have stories to tell people. But, alas, BB has confirmed recently that he was, in fact, lying his ass off. He's now lying to the guy he went to the first Elton concert with and saying that when we went last Saturday, we got to go backstage and meet Elton himself! Well golly, weren't we lucky! BB is mean, he really is. He lies to people about things that are really important to them, like Axl. And meeting Elton John would be this guy's, BB's friend that is, wet dream. Elton John is so totally his hero. Anyway, the point is, don't believe BB when he tells you about someone you like, because he's probably lying. And also, the D-Backs beat the Yankees for the World Series. And I can't find myself caring. I kinda wanted the Yankees to win just because they're cool like that, but I also wished failure on them because they've won it so many times. So, hey, D-Backs, good freakin job! I watched Britney Spear's Diary on MTV today. I know, I'm shameless. But it was entertaining, nonetheless. I'm going to bed now, and I'm going to try not the think about the pitter patter of little insect feet on my forehead. And here, for you, is the first part of the story I'm writing. I just started it, so I really don't know what direction it's going in. If you'd like to read it and give me feedback, I'd appreciate it. But you don't have to. And such. ____________________________ I walked down a long hallway, listening to the rain patter on the roof. There were no windows, so I couldn�t see the angry lightening coming down on the cold November horizon. I could hear voices, some were laughing, and some were angry, coming from the end of the hall. Tentatively, I walked to the end of the hall and put my hand on the steel doorknob, daring myself to plunge into this strange, unknown fantasy. Finally, I opened the door. The interior, filled with comfortable sofas and antique clocks, somehow looked familiar to me. I smelled the faint scent of my mother�s perfume in the air, and I smelled the cinnamon rolls she used to make every morning. I looked around at the hordes of people, and after a few minutes of doing so, realized that I knew every single face. They were all people I�ve known at some point of my 25 years, people who in some way had an effect on me, and they all looked the same as what my mind remembered them to be. I saw my first grade teacher, Mrs. Seuss, who was chatting with my basketball coach from high school, Mr. Thomas. I saw my mom talking to the police officer who gave me my first speeding ticket. I saw my dad talking to my best friend from kindergarten, Mandy Rogers, who was a mere 6 years old. As my favorite songs were played on the radio and the big screen TV played my favorite movie, I realized why the interior was so familiar to me. I had walked down the long, dark hall into the house I had grown up in. I saw the lamp I broke when I was 12 and trying to learn how to play baseball, inside the house, of course. I walked from the front room into the kitchen, ignoring the curious looks I was getting from everyone. I knew I had to be cordial, this was, after all, my party, but I found myself to be extremely hungry. My brother�s best friend from high school, Mike, was standing in front of the opened refrigerator when I came into the kitchen. I recognized the scene; it was from a picture that my best friend, Sally, and me had pored over with great interest in our burgeoning teenage days. We had always been a little in love with Mike, who had long brown hair and blue eyes that we would always scream over when we were in the privacy of my room. He was 6 years older than us, the same age as my brother. He looked up from staring at the contents of the refrigerator. �Hey, Sarah! Nice party you have going on here,� He said, taking a bite of the leftover turkey we had in the refrigerator. �Damn, this turkey is good.� �Hi, Mike. You know, me and Sally always had a crush on you.� I giggled like I was 12 years old again. He smiled and nodded. �I know. It was obvious. You were young then, but damn Sarah, you aren�t young now,� he said, giving me a sinful look. I blushed, grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the refrigerator, and went back into the front room. I almost bumped right into Fran Mitchell, my biggest rival. She gave me an evil look and said, �At my dream party, there were tons more people. It was absolutely fabulous, unlike this one.� I laughed. Fran�s obvious snootiness, which had followed me from the time I joined the Orchestra when I was 11 to when I graduated from college, had once bothered me so much that I had run home crying from school, threatening my parents that I would �run far away� if they made me go to school every again. Our paths had always crossed, and always in a bad way. But it did not bother me anymore. I was confident in my abilities, and her obvious jealousy never seemed to get in my way anymore. 10:28 p.m. - November 04, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||