imagine...
imagine waking up one morning in your own room, dressed in your own clothes, and lying down in your own bed...you get up, walk to the door, and as you open it, everything outside your room is completely foreign...it isnt your house. the woman greeting you "good morning honey" isnt your mom. the girl who sleeps next door to your room isnt your sister. the walls are a different color, the furniture is placed in different positions- they're not even the same furniture...everything is different DIFFERENT! "what's wrong sweetheart?" the woman asks. she is dressed in your mother's clothes but she does not look like her- not even a bit. "honey you'll be late for school!" you hear a man say. a man dressed in your father's suit and carrying his breifcase. the only thing that comforts you is the fact that the familiar room of yours is behind you. you think to yourself that maybe if you go back in the room and open the door again, everything will be back to normal. so you do exactly that. you run back in, close the door, and open it again- to the same house...a house that you have never seen before. you start to panick. you sense sweat on your arms and on your forehead. your breathing gets heavier and heavier until you cant help it anymore. "WHERE THE FUCK AM I!??????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" you scream in the top of lungs. no one listens. the woman wearing your mother's clother just smiles at you. the man carrying your father's suitcase tells you to keep it down a notch. you get back in your room, close the door, get back in you own bed, close your eyes...and sleep...hoping that you will wake up to normal...but knowing in your heart that nothing will ever be the same.
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today after math tutorials, i called a cab and told them to pick me up in front of starbucks...i walked to starbucks- passed shopper's drugmart, passed the glasses store- i crossed the street and took a seat on the bench. on the bench was written "in loving memory and gregory and anna smith". i sat there for a while waiting for my cab...beside me sat a healthy woman- probably 50 pounds overweight- with a frappuchino on one hand and a cellphone on the other. "so like, does he like miss you?...oh my gosh are you like totally kidding me?...na ah! no way!" the thiry-something year old overweight lady sitting beside me sounded like a moron- dirtzy and uneducated were the first things that went through my mind. as i thought about it and listened some more, i realized that i sound exactly like that while one the phone with my friends...we are so used to judging people off hand before we even look at ourselves... i talk like that- i dont consider myself uneducated, ditzy, or moronic at all. the overweight lady took her drink, her black leather bag, and left- her wedgie looked like it was a mile into her ass- what was she doing drinking a frap? doesnt she know she looks like she has a safety device around her neck- poor girl- i wanted to grab that frap from her hand and safe her- as the lady left, i heard whisteling...it was what sounded like an old jazz song from the 50s- maybe even frank sinatra. i looked around to see what or who was creating that tune- i think it was "fly me to the moon" or something like that. finally, i saw the noise maker. an old man of about 70 walked across the street- he had white heair and was wairing a black jogging suit- typical grandpa looking type of guy. i could imagine him in a lazy boy chair sorrounded by his grandchildren telling them stories about when he was in the war.- his lips were clenched- "fly me to the moon, let me sing among the stars..."- it was frank sinatra. he had his pointer finger up- it was dancing to the song. his head was swaying to the left and then the right. he seemed happy. he seemed content. he seemed to not have a single care in the world. then, i looked behind me and again, i read what was written on the bench- "in loving memory of gregory and anna smith". i wonder if that old man waving his finger and whisteling to fank sinatra with have a bench with his name any time soon. i wonder if that overweight lady will choke on a bagle and find herself with a name on a bench as well. at the end of it all- nothing matters- the cellphone on your hand or the frappuchino you're drinking- ultimately, its about the song your humming, the way your pointer finger dances to the song in your head- its about being content about who you are- not caring that you're some obese lady who sounds like a retard on the phone- but loving and enjoying every single sip of the frappuchino and the clenching of your toes as you lick your lips to the juicy gossip you're hearing. its about being a fat lady on a bench, an old man whisteling to frank sinatra, and a 15 year old girl observing the world around her.
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today after math tutorials, i called a cab and told them to pick me up in front of starbucks...i walked to starbucks- passed shopper's drugmart, passed the glasses store- i crossed the street and took a seat on the bench. on the bench was written "in loving memory and gregory and anna smith". i sat there for a while waiting for my cab...beside me sat a healthy woman- probably 50 pounds overweight- with a frappuchino on one hand and a cellphone on the other. "so like, does he like miss you?...oh my gosh are you like totally kidding me?...na ah! no way!" the thiry-something year old overweight lady sitting beside me sounded like a moron- dirtzy and uneducated were the first things that went through my mind. as i thought about it and listened some more, i realized that i sound exactly like that while one the phone with my friends...we are so used to judging people off hand before we even look at ourselves... i talk like that- i dont consider myself uneducated, ditzy, or moronic at all. the overweight lady took her drink, her black leather bag, and left- her wedgie looked like it was a mile into her ass- what was she doing drinking a frap? doesnt she know she looks like she has a safety device around her neck- poor girl- i wanted to grab that frap from her hand and safe her- as the lady left, i heard whisteling...it was what sounded like an old jazz song from the 50s- maybe even frank sinatra. i looked around to see what or who was creating that tune- i think it was "fly me to the moon" or something like that. finally, i saw the noise maker. an old man of about 70 walked across the street- he had white heair and was wairing a black jogging suit- typical grandpa looking type of guy. i could imagine him in a lazy boy chair sorrounded by his grandchildren telling them stories about when he was in the war.- his lips were clenched- "fly me to the moon, let me sing among the stars..."- it was frank sinatra. he had his pointer finger up- it was dancing to the song. his head was swaying to the left and then the right. he seemed happy. he seemed content. he seemed to not have a single care in the world. then, i looked behind me and again, i read what was written on the bench- "in loving memory of gregory and anna smith". i wonder if that old man waving his finger and whisteling to fank sinatra with have a bench with his name any time soon. i wonder if that overweight lady will choke on a bagle and find herself with a name on a bench as well. at the end of it all- nothing matters- the cellphone on your hand or the frappuchino you're drinking- ultimately, its about the song your humming, the way your pointer finger dances to the song in your head- its about being content about who you are- not caring that you're some obese lady who sounds like a retard on the phone- but loving and enjoying every single sip of the frappuchino and the clenching of your toes as you lick your lips to the juicy gossip you're hearing. its about being a fat lady on a bench, an old man whisteling to frank sinatra, and a 15 year old girl observing the world around her.