waking up and having every thought that

you are enduring an asthma attack…

is not better than folger’s in your cup.

but ten minutes later forcing yourself to breathe and realizing it was just respiratory issues from whatever icky has you in it’s clutches, is reassuring. though it probably was an asthma attack and your willpower just ate it alive.

but, the concept that my willpower DID eat the attack alive is a good one. because i don’t have attacks when i’m exerting myself anymore, the two i’ve had in recent times (relatively recent, within the past eight months) were because i was sick.

which means i can manage to get into the army, because i wouldn’t be a liability then.

or so i shall tell my officer school aspiring self.

i’m in the needs for a good roleplay. colby, colby, where art thou? i want to write something magnificent and magical and dangerous.

little boy

a little boy, aged four-five? ran up and hugged me today.

for no reason. i saw him in the fish hallway, and he looked over at me, and i was waiting for kt and sarah. then i looked back at him && he threw his arms up and sprang over to me and gave me a hug.

his head reached my waist and he had blonde hair, and he let his head rest there for a moment, arms tight around my legs, and grinned.

that boy beamed like i was his favorite person in the entire world.

the entire time, he never made a sound.

but he smiled at me and didn’t let go until his father, who is a teacher, and two other gossiping womenly teachers approached. then he let go of me and beamed again, and i said ‘goodbye,’

and went to english.

2007

:)

my new year has been pleasant. ushered it in with a non-bondage night. went over to stashia’s and ate a yummy dinner in which the courses were…

• ham hammity ham that i actually liked
• cornbake which is crazy shit but amazing
• sweet potatoes the only sweet spuds i’ve ever liked!
• cranberry sauce with real cranberries!
• gherkins which are godly
• veggies with ranch sauce!
• croissants
  
• and more hammity ham.
• and cheesy potatoes!
  

it were yummy, better than fast food which is what was for dinner at tenn’s house. people in attendance were

• heathery-mom-person-who-owns-the-place
• stashiay-it’sherhouseperson
• isaac & jonas -it’s their house even though they’re annoying
• isaac & jonas’s papa
• wesley
• olivia
• tenn!

and woulda been geneva if geneva weren’t a bitch who decided not to come. (i know geneva. kidding.)

and so we played lots of egyptian rat screw and abalone and shit. && wesley stayed until six a.m. when everybody started to go to beds. && olivia destroyed wesley’s hand in ers.

tenn, is that your hairpins?

i’ve taken forever to post this.

scene: dfw airport at approx. 2100.
characters:

• nick l.
• kameron l.
• jimmy w.
• rachel h.
• mohamad n.
• meaghan k.
• hunt m.
• alexander p.
• brianda v.
• teneal m.

action.

we are forced to remove boots, class a jackets, and anything in our pockets to go through security. we are in full class a uniform (and some are in b’s.) i discard jacket, cell phone, wallet and boots, revealing my vividly blue socks which are decidedly non regulation. i am metal free.

i walk through the detector.

it beeps insistently, defying my metal-free countenance.

i walk back. i attempt a pass through twice more.

the oh-so-helpful agent reminds me of my bobbypins in my hair. asks me to take them out. i sigh, offer myself up to be wanded.

mis-take. while taking out my hair would have been an absolute bitch, what progressed was simply ridiculous, even though it was hilarious. i had to stand in the Box which is cordoned off on three sides with those crazy little belts. i had to place my feet on the yellow feets prints on the funny charcoal mat. then i got to walk out of the box to another mat with feets prints. i stood on the feets prints, which made my own feets about two feet apart. i looked straight ahead and i stretched my arms out parallel to the ceiling with palms facing the ceiling. the oh-so-helpful agent wanded me. my ankle beeped- the one with the blouser still on it. she found it and nodded and continued to wand me. my crotch beeped. she said that was the little latch thing and verified it with a pat. she wanded my hair. my hair beeped. my hair has hairpins, not bombs in it.

she wanded me a bit more.

she then patted me down and it was a humiliating, terrible experience. my sergeant was standing nearby waiting for me and the other two criminals! to be set free. she patted my crotch and my breasticles. she did this several times, even though my breasticles never beeped. then she wanded me again and of course the only thing to beep was my hair. she was giving me ridiculous problems.

and when tenn is subjected to ridicule, she says ridiculous things.

especially in response to nick, who chose that moment- when she’s wanding me some more- “so, you think it’s your hairpins, tenn?” most sarcastically. my hair beeps a bit more.

“no. it’s the bomb i’m carrying.”

there were four agents on location; each met my gaze with stony suspicion. all but one regarded me for a moment and just shrugged and looked away, because they know that terrorists would never say bomb in an airport, only distressed fifteen year old girls who are being molested by lesbian agents.

the said lesbian agent stares at me most hatefully.
gives me some more wanding and patting.
says ‘let’s not say that again.’
then requests a private screening.

mr. other agent regards her with a bit of a huh?
and then miss. i want to feel you up shakes her head and says just kidding, let’s just not talk like that anymore.

tenn dresses. it is a slow process.

tenn walks away with her friends, having been molested in full sight of them, her sergeant, and their de facto tour guide whom is showing them to the military place where military people can eat, sleep, watch television, and rejuvenate. at the airport.

tenn has a hell of a story to tell her grandchildren- and to ruminate over with her friends.

tenn later greeted the troops, which was an experience entirely unlike the humor of the BOMB! scenario, and so will be placed in a later post.

fucking hell, man

just nearly got my ass roasted.

you know why you don’t have water on your desk?

or any liquid?

because, it’ll knock over. right after you’re glad you didn’t kill the computer with the stupid new shell you downloaded. you’ll hit it, you’ll watch it spiral on it’s base for a moment, and you’ll watch it hit the desk.

and a roaring tide of water will head in exactly the worst place possible.

betwixt your monitor and the cubby for seedys, it will cascade, a malevolent, churning tsunami.

it will continue, falling past the edge of your desk.

you will stop
stiffen
stare

and proceed to send panicked messages to your stepdad- who’s helping you with litestep- and jacob, who recently told you he made a post.

you will write profanities
but because your dad is in the room over sleeping
you will keep your lips zipped.

your heartbeat escalates as you slowly lean down to check-

because where that water flowed ends exactly where it shouldn’t.

your surge protector.

glowing, humming with a stream of power you take for granted.

you will see your flipflop, discarded carelessly- a habit your grandmother yells at you for with alarming regularity-

just next to the surge protector
right above the free outlets.

you will see the gleam of water…

covering the switch and the end in a thin film of death.

but the outlets are safe.

oh, man.

the outlets are entirely dry.