The Girl is tired of going to the doctor. Now the Doc has discovered hypoglycemia and ordered more tests. The good that comes of that? Well, now we know and prescription appetite suppressants. The Girl is a firm believer in better living through chemistry.
Yesterday, The Girl and The Boy ran errands. Running errands with Him makes Her feel like part of a team. Very normal. And normal is the way She has always wanted to feel. So while they were walking around Home Depot and the bank and the grocery store, no one noticed Her. She seemed like anyone else to everyone else. Her deepest fear has always been that people could look at Her and tell She was different from them. She always imagined that She wore a scarlet "w" for weird. But She must not. No one in the produce section noticed. The checkout guy rang up her coax cable without staring.
She loves the Boy for many things. But his ability to blend in is one of her favorites.
The Girl is invisible. The Girl is happy.
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Once again, the Girl is awake in the middle of the night. She has never been much of a sleeper. But just because She can't sleep, doesn't mean She doesn't want to sleep. She feels jangle-y, a low and steady hum emanating from the Girl herself keeps her awake.
This week has been eventful in an uneventful way. The Dr. hopes that She nicked a nerve rather than a tendon. He put her on steroids to speed nerve regeneration. Not working.
Harley started school this week. Her first lesson? City Bus 101. Harley had never ridden the bus. The Girl didn't own a car until She was 29. Bus riding is something She knows something about. They caught the bus, rode to the University of State (US), found Harley's classes, and then rode the bus to the mall. They hung out with David and then rode back.
Riding the bus brought back memories for the Girl. Some good and some bad. For a very long time the Girl was very poor. Not poor they way She is now (do I see Cher or go to Disney? I can't do both), but genuinely poor (do I eat or pay the utility bill? I can't do both). She spent years right on the edge of desperation and even fell off a time or two. She lived in one room of a huge, old Victorian for years. There were anywhere from 11 to 15 other people living there at any given time. All of them in the same boat.
She had no TV, no phone, no car, no radio. She sold her plasma, volunteered at the dental school to get her teeth cleaned. She once stole a can of tuna and shared it with her cat.
That said, that time in her life was also one of the happiest. When you have nothing you have nothing to loose. She hadn't signed any contracts then , professionally or privately, and so could leave, her job or her lover, when She chose. All of her time was her own. She went to the library. She paid for one movie and snuck into every movie playing that day. She hung out at coffee shops and used book stores. She volunteered at the soup kitchen, because it reminded her that She didn't have it so bad. She visited consignment shops, trying on vintage dresses. She visited various churches, trying on different gods. She overcame her fear of the dark. She made good friends. And let them slip away, because she wasn't holding on to anything. She couldn't afford to.
She does, however, remember one friend. A boy, he had dark, curly hair and wore thick square glasses. He was handsome in a smart, quiet way. He lived in the room next to her in the big house. Most of the time all the conversations there were about food, because it was so scarce. Often one housemate would steal food from another. The Girl would come home to sometime find her food missing and go to bed with nothing to eat. One day this boy (was his name Dave?) received a package from his grandmother. The Girl laid it on his bed when the UPS guy delivered it. She had forgotten all about it when she heard him calling out for anyone who was at home to meet him on the front porch. She, a stripper named Alicia, and a guy the Girl had never seen before sat out on the wide front steps of the house, curious. Out Dave came, carrying a plate heaping with avocados! He passed the plate around and the four of them ate and talked and laughed. It was a beautiful day, hot but not sticky. A breeze whipped around the house to cool them and chase away the flies. Sunlight freckled the steps and their faces after passing through the pear trees in the yard.
That was over 15 years ago and the Girl can still vividly recall that meal and the dark haired boy's act of selflessness.
This week has been eventful in an uneventful way. The Dr. hopes that She nicked a nerve rather than a tendon. He put her on steroids to speed nerve regeneration. Not working.
Harley started school this week. Her first lesson? City Bus 101. Harley had never ridden the bus. The Girl didn't own a car until She was 29. Bus riding is something She knows something about. They caught the bus, rode to the University of State (US), found Harley's classes, and then rode the bus to the mall. They hung out with David and then rode back.
Riding the bus brought back memories for the Girl. Some good and some bad. For a very long time the Girl was very poor. Not poor they way She is now (do I see Cher or go to Disney? I can't do both), but genuinely poor (do I eat or pay the utility bill? I can't do both). She spent years right on the edge of desperation and even fell off a time or two. She lived in one room of a huge, old Victorian for years. There were anywhere from 11 to 15 other people living there at any given time. All of them in the same boat.
She had no TV, no phone, no car, no radio. She sold her plasma, volunteered at the dental school to get her teeth cleaned. She once stole a can of tuna and shared it with her cat.
That said, that time in her life was also one of the happiest. When you have nothing you have nothing to loose. She hadn't signed any contracts then , professionally or privately, and so could leave, her job or her lover, when She chose. All of her time was her own. She went to the library. She paid for one movie and snuck into every movie playing that day. She hung out at coffee shops and used book stores. She volunteered at the soup kitchen, because it reminded her that She didn't have it so bad. She visited consignment shops, trying on vintage dresses. She visited various churches, trying on different gods. She overcame her fear of the dark. She made good friends. And let them slip away, because she wasn't holding on to anything. She couldn't afford to.
She does, however, remember one friend. A boy, he had dark, curly hair and wore thick square glasses. He was handsome in a smart, quiet way. He lived in the room next to her in the big house. Most of the time all the conversations there were about food, because it was so scarce. Often one housemate would steal food from another. The Girl would come home to sometime find her food missing and go to bed with nothing to eat. One day this boy (was his name Dave?) received a package from his grandmother. The Girl laid it on his bed when the UPS guy delivered it. She had forgotten all about it when she heard him calling out for anyone who was at home to meet him on the front porch. She, a stripper named Alicia, and a guy the Girl had never seen before sat out on the wide front steps of the house, curious. Out Dave came, carrying a plate heaping with avocados! He passed the plate around and the four of them ate and talked and laughed. It was a beautiful day, hot but not sticky. A breeze whipped around the house to cool them and chase away the flies. Sunlight freckled the steps and their faces after passing through the pear trees in the yard.
That was over 15 years ago and the Girl can still vividly recall that meal and the dark haired boy's act of selflessness.
