My day dream bubble bursts when my supervisor plops another load of paperwork next to me. This is my adult fortress in the land of dead trees and paper cuts. I look out my window staring at the pigeons soaring from building to building. I could grab my chair, smash the glass window to pieces and jump in hopes to soar with the pigeons on their journey for crumpled bread and forgotten french fries on the side walks of Los Angeles.
Sometimes I attempt to swim in the tumultuous tide of all my thoughts only to be lost at sea. My savior is a tossed life saver in the form of a glass of red wine. This is the only way to keep my thoughts at bay.
- Current Mood: pensive
- Current Music:city and colour
We worked closely together in a make shift mail room in a hospital. You could always tell how cheap the walls were because every time you opened the door to enter, you would be hit by a wind that smelled of drywall. You would open yourself to a room with mail strewn all across the counter tops. The overflowing mail was not due to a constant overwhelming flow of work. No, it was a facade, strategically placed to paint a picture of productivity.
He was 6'0 feet tall, with an Afro fade that typically had a pick fluffed in it. He routinely wore grey polo shirts that stretched around his large belly, tucked into his black slacks. When he talked, he would occasionally flinch and rub his nose. This is how I met him and this is how I will remember him fondly.
When we first met, he was tasked with training me. I was so young, filled with energy and eager to work. I would take names home and memorize where the mail needed to be placed in the slots. He taught me about God, politics and blacksploitation. The most important lesson I learned from my friend was how to relax. Early on, when he trained me my routine route around the hospital, he would intentionally derail us both to an old break room that was formally apart of the inpatient operating unit. I, being the straight edge young woman, would experience immediate panic at the idea of doing anything unrelated to our duties. My friend would look down at me, (since I'm only 5'3), and say, "Girl, we're working, we're working," as he grabbed a cup of coffee and shuffled through a box of old donuts left behind by staff that had left for the day. "Sit down girl, sit down, we've been working hard," he would tell me. I wasn't sure if he was trying to persuade my uneasy/tense personality or justify to himself what we were doing. I never pictured myself sitting down in a darkened O.R. break room eating stale donuts and sipping on luke warm coffee from a styrofoam cup. But that is just what we did, and it happens to be some of my sweetest memories with that man.
Even now it's hard to know where to place the anger. We worked for the same company for many years and I was eventually promoted. I don't know if it was the job, or my friend who were responsible for my pre-mature gray hairs. Maybe it was a little of both. We managed to make time together, stolen moments here and there.
There were times when I was relieved to not work with him for eight hours. It became somewhat draining to check the cupboards and the other usual hiding spots, but the day I received the call at my desk, I knew deep down, it was the beginning of the end. I suppose that is why I spent most lunch breaks with him in his hospital room. The first to go was his right big toe. Next, months later, his right foot.
When he laughed, he laughed loud and his whole body shook. We made such a great pair because he loved to talk and I loved to listen. The both of us had the same crass and dirty sense of humor that we could only get away with in a small mail room fit for two.
Everyone in the hospital knew who he was. Everyone loved him. Everyone could feel his absence. If he wasn't the person delivering the mail, someone would immediately inquire about him. Over time I moved on and began working for another company. We stayed in touch over the phone, but one day the phone calls stopped coming and I had been to pre-occupied with my life to notice.
Until the phone range.
It's a Wonderful Life played in the background. My family's house smelled of clover and ginger snap cookies. When I answered my phone, all I could think to do was to sit down. A flood of images in my minds eye angered me. Cupcakes, snickers bars and soda bottles. There was only so much of my time I could monitor the man.
He died of a heart attack, but in my gut, I felt it was suicide.
- Current Location:In a Cloud
- Current Mood: pensive
- Current Music:Bon Iver, Nick of Time
It has been quite some time since I have practiced sketching. There was a great interview with Charles Dance. Unfortunately, I did him no justice. He's an actor that seems to ooze an aristocratic air. Dance looks like a hobo the way I drew him. Between work and school my ambition to become a better artist is getting lost in the mix of things.
- Current Mood: blah
- Current Mood:artistic and anxious
- Current Mood:determined
- Current Mood:exasperated
- Current Music:Skinny Love Bon Iver
- Current Music:Interpol
No one ever mentions the "testy three" stage, and at five, kids act like teens.
- Current Location:Home
- Current Mood: amused
- Current Music:A whole new world
Within five years, I will have my degree, no compromises.
- Current Location:Home
- Current Mood: discontent
- Current Music:The Lumineers