PRIVATE CONVERSATIONS IN PUBLIC PLACES

My life is a dirty rug. An insurmountable collection of miscellaneous riffraff suspended by its fiber prison walls. The individual fibers are stained with careless drips and drops of cheap red wine and black cherry hair dye.

Mara derailed my train of thought. Suddenly, the buzzing chatter of the bistro resumed. Glasses clanged and laughter rang a little too loud for my taste. Oohs and aahs echoed from the other side of restaurant as a large party admired the birthday girl unwrapping her gift. The maître d' glided past me, lightly fanning some air to my face.

"I'm sorry--what?" I snapped my attention back to her. She was growing weary and impatient with me. I could tell.

She looked down at her bowl and began to trace swirls through the bisque. "Nothing."

I'm here. I'm present. Stay focused. "Please tell m--"

"I--I'm in love with you!" Mara blurted out. "Okay? I love you." She slowly sunk back into her seat and calmed her breathing. She was waiting for me to react.

I couldn't. I sat there frozen. Instead, I began to replay everything over in my head.

Back when we first met working together at that crappy cinema in the mall. We took turns toying with Jeremy G. at the concession stand. Poor Jeremy. I never knew his last name. The movie theater rarely printed full last names on our tags. Talking shop there always seemed like a high school gab fest. Allison W. had it out for Sandy M. because Marcus K. was taking his sweet time with her when they serviced a theater after showtimes. And so on and so forth.

Then there were those times when Mara and I would get early shifts. On those days, we left our uniforms at the cinema and changed into street clothes. Mara rocked the boho chic. Beautiful, flowing maxis. Loose, off-the-shoulder crop tops with high-waisted ripped shorts. Floppy hats with braided ties. Meanwhile, I dawned what I called the "lazy Old Navy". Solids. Occasional plaids. Cardigans and ballet flats galore. Skinny jeans in fifty shades of same. Next to Mara, I felt like the designated ugly friend.

But she never once made me feel that way.

We often shared dressing rooms, snapping photos of one another so we could compare our mirror selves to our camera selves. They are not the same, you know.

My thoughts spun faster and faster, becoming a flip book of signs I've ignored during our long, intimate friendship. It explained a lot.

Fuck, it explained everything.

"You're kind of leaving me hanging here," Mara sighed, but forgiving me for it. "I know it's a lot to take in." Her voice cracked. "I'm sorry."

"No, no. Don't be sorry." I shook my head. The gears slowly started turning, trimming off the excess rust that had built up over the years. "Mara, I just don't know what to say."

"So now you can safely assume that I'm a lesbian," she leaned back and folded her arms. She was still Mara.

I played along. "Or you're bisexual."

"Indecisions, indecisions." Mara smiled, then broke into a fit of giggles. "I want to tell you more about it. But maybe later? I know you're still processing it in your head."

"I'm sorry--what?" I pretended to space out.

She rolled her eyes at me and rediscovered her bisque. I sipped wine and watched her. How do I feel? What's it like sustaining a relationship with a woman? When the fuck is the waiter coming with our salads? I need something to pick at.

Mara tucked her sandy hair behind her ear away from her face, still fixated on clearing her bowl. At 5'6" with long legs and a slender build, she was unstoppable. I used to lie on her floor and have her pull me from my ankles to stretch my body so we could match. That was all for fun, of course, and more often than not it was inspired by drug-induced conversations. Laid back, carefree, with no strings attached. Men often twisted their necks for a second look and risked the scowling aftermath from their wives and girlfriends. She barely noticed, but I would.

"I need to drink a whole bottle of wine tonight." She rested her chin on her hands and stared at me.

"Oh, Mara..."

"To reward myself for coming out and telling you!"

I watched her for hints of how she truly felt but couldn't gauge. "Fucking waiter forgot our salads."

She looked around the bistro. "Maybe we can take this as a sign and just get the bill. I'm serious about the wine."

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Fiction

THINKING

At the OC Fair with empty wallets.

It's been a while since I've written. So I'll start this post with a dapper photograph of a group of people in their twenty-somethings standing in front of a large, wide-ranged ferris wheel. Just a group of toothy smiles, arms around shoulders, and girly lean-in/lean-back poses. What you wouldn't see here are the two black guys who were obviously in a relationship and oblivious to their surroundings. It took a while for us to lean over to the right so they wouldn't be included in this gem.

I'm running on two hours of sleep because I had a night's worth of teeth pain from a prescribed gel. Thanks, dentist. Should've known you weren't a real doc. I kid. He's a kind, Korean seoul. Only when I did doze off for those two precious hours did I have the worst nightmares.

I shook myself awake in a small, muffled cry and my boyfriend wraps his arms around me. "Don't worry...I'm here." I opened my eyes in the dark, and without turning, replied, "But my nightmares were about you." I smiled as he apologized.

I've been feeling at ease lately. It usually happens when I compare today to the same day one year ago, and also a year before that. I've improved quite drastically since last year. A year ago today, I was living in an over-priced apartment complex with too many amenities no one had much use for. I was working in an office to contribute solely to my savings, but not so much my character. And I was a day away from breaking it off with a temperamental and emotionally unstable ex. My skin condition, one that I've been struggling with for about 7 years to that date last year, was in a full blown outbreak. And I was unhappy about a lot of things. Waking up feeling guilty, like I was disappointing someone out there, at any given time.

I think back to the present date and think of where I'm living. My rent's been reduced by about 50% since that luxuriously unnecessary sublet. I work on my own doing graphics with a regular 8 to 5 schedule, getting paid as a freelancer. I'm in a wonderful relationship with someone I plan on spending the rest of my life with. And my skin is doing absolutely swell. No outbreaks since the year prior. I'm making it a weekly habit of spending some time with friends, trying to find a workable balance between obligations and spontaneity. And I've dropped that concern for the invisible nobody who I seem to work for every day to impress. Life is easier. Better. There are more possibilities and everything that is supposed to come is approaching rapidly. Like an express train running late.

It's kind of strange to see what drives people. I look at some of my friends, and see that many of them are not looking to settle down anytime soon. This is myself included, for at least another 5 years. By that, I mean I'm not really looking to pop out any kids and adorn myself with guilty pleasures while I'm on maternity leave. I'm not planning on resorting to daytime TV to curb my boredom. I don't want to purchase real estate just yet. On my phone, I have a list on my Notes app. It reads "Goals for 2013." I've got 8 things on that list, and I've accomplished 5 of them already. 3 of which I cannot, as they were dependent on a path that I have not gone down.

There are times when I sit back and think to myself that this is some of the best times for me. I'm young, there are still possibilities, and I haven't made any concrete decisions that I will have to stick to for the rest of my life.

Are you doing what you want? If not, can you change it? I always try and devise a plan for little things I contemplate on doing. They're usually monumentally life-changing, but I play with the idea and begin to construct a possible strategy. There's always a path to it. It just takes some adjustment to make it seem more possible.

I'm getting too preachy here for my own good. It's just a moment of reflection. I'm sure I'll get sarcastic and dry-witted sometime between now and the next time I come back to write and ramble.

Until then, find whatever it is that you're looking for.

RAMBLING

Cue the title theme for The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. The ceiling fan on one click of the pull switch. Slower with two clicks, slowest with three. On the television, Gollum raises a live catfish to his mouth, gushing with blackened saliva.

George picks away at a leftover bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos, engrossed in the film. I lie back and watch the ceiling, shadows rapidly stretching across from the fan blades. I used to throw beanie babies at my ceiling fan to see them crash and spin out from impact.

He takes a break from pouring the red hot crumbs into his mouth and I peer up at him, a suspicious child.

The Perfect Intoxication. I'd like to think I achieved one of very few in my lifetime, on this night. It's an accumulation off my things. First, the atmosphere. My friends, the people whom I find familiar, pleasant, and comforting. Check. Second, the day after. I have absolutely nothing to do and all day to do it tomorrow. Admit it; sleeping in is pure joy. Check. Third, the substance. Both good in options and taste. Check. Mix well with timed consumption and I have successfully acquired The Perfect Intoxication.

There were talks of impulsive decisions that were ridiculously impossible to the naked eye. But doable. That's the beauty of it. "Let's go to Vegas right now, actually." I don't remember who brought it up. It sounded like a good idea. In the fit of a game of Apples to Apples, priorities came down to visiting Disneyland. No longer any parents to consult with, but instead our own financial consciences.

Growing up. The shift of the wicked scales between time, energy, and money. You can only pick two at a time.

It's 4:51 am. I'll just leave it at that and go to sleep.

MONTHLY

January.

Cold weather, heavy jackets, and wishful thinking.

February.

Valentine's, lover's birthday, and indulgences.

March.

Spring, bad news, and Portland travels.

April.

Commutes to LA, crashes, and mental breakdowns.

May.

Pursuits, maturity, and experience.

TGIF

While I spent the first portion of my day installing apps on my boss's Android because our network was down, I also began learning an editing program from a 500-something page book. There are two books in total. Would anybody like to keep tabs on me and force a submission deadline of notes I've gathered while reading through software text? It'll really help me push through both textbooks. Pretty please?

"Pretty please?"

If I just said "Please?", would it risk getting overlooked or dismissed because it wasn't pretty? What am I supposed to say if it wasn't a pretty request? "That please...has a nice personality." When did asking for a favor turn into a visual description of Please's aesthetic appeal? Not only is it pretty, but it can also be topped off with "a cherry on top." Now I've turned this request for a favor into a dessert. How much sugarcoating does one really need to get shit done?

I've done all the work I had to wrap this short work week up. Here's to airplane travels with a group of friends tomorrow. Oh, boy. I can't wait to walk barefoot through airport security looking like crap. If I were a celebrity, I'd hate being photographed in the airport. You're jet lagged and hungry for painfully overpriced airport restaurant food while a handful of strangers entice you with questions and words.

A few weeks ago, I received some bad news that pretty much left me devastated. After crying about it for a couple of hours and seeking solace from a few close friends, I got over it and began rummaging my brain for a good plan to rebuild what I thought was lost. I've learned many times around by now that nothing can really break a person. Unless a body builder comes over and snaps me in half. I guess that could really break someone.

I think what really scares me about the future is the uncertainty. If the allotted time spent on thinking about the past, present, and future was presented in the form of a pie chart, the future pretty much makes up the entire body of Pacman. The area where his mouth opens makes up the times I've thought about both the past and present. I really ought to sort out my priorities. I'm dedicating too much of my happiness on things that cease to exist and more than likely will never happen.

Listening to: Regina Spektor - "Laughing With" (Live Version) 

RELIGIOUS MUMBO JAMBALAYA

I know I'm officially a Mac user when I try for the Alt + A to Select All.

I don't know why I started off with that.

Yesterday, a friend of mine texted me about her annoyance with some Facebook friends on a feed complaining about the possibility of schools introducing sex education at an earlier age. Friends who happen to be the same as she (about 23). "Can anyone see the irony in that?" she texted. Why yes, friend. I can.

Earlier today, I read about a Texas state rep who recently filed a resolution to implement the inclusion of God and the Ten Commandments into the state's public schools. Phil Stephenson, I believe.

Religion is such a touchy subject. Touch, touch. Poke. You never know who you're going to offend or what friends you're going to lose with the statements you make. But I mean, as insignificant of an individual as I am, I guess I can just sit in my own little corner and quietly sort through my thoughts on the matter.

I don't really know why the push for religion is a priority, given the current circumstances that the nation is in. There are more pressing matters at hand, in my opinion. The economy could be - could be - a pretty big one. You know, could. Globalization has been opening up access to a new pool of workers who are able to work for significantly less pay than Americans. Middle-wage paying jobs are now offered overseas, and corporations are growing more profitable because they do not employ as many people as they used to. The financial wellbeing of the senior management and owners are being ensured at the expense of average employees. Tax policies seem to favor investors and high-wage earners. This isn't anything new; the employment rate is at an all-time low within the past thirty years. I don't even know if Stephenson's proposal will actually provide measurable results in bettering the nation, let alone the state of Texas.

But to what purpose does it serve to include the public acknowledgement of God in the state's public schools? I thought the public acknowledgement of God was made clear from the many, many many times in demonstrations, boycotts, pamphlets, television syndications, holidays, the bottom of my In-N-Out cup, small booklets passed out on the corners, organized groups, publicized fits of outrage...fuck--Church? Forgot about that one. I have friends who are religious. But those closest to me believe and feel as they wish, and allow me to do the same. I don't really feel threatened by those who propose similar resolutions as Stephenson's, because this world is progressively growing. The vast majority, compared to past centuries, have grasped the ability to reason. Surely they won't take a big, fat step back and call takesies backsies on what the Supreme Court already ruled against years ago.

The primary purpose of school is to educate those attending. You'll open up a big can of worms by advocating to support prayer and display of any religious citations on public schools. To specify, WHAT religion? There are too many versions that will probably demand the same acknowledgment. Which version is right? Surely not the one you believe in? How convenient. And don't call me Shirley. #snuckinanairplanereferencerightthurr

It's actually the conduct of the believers that leave such a bad impression on the idea of religion itself at times. I always thought that religion existed as a form of spiritual support, to better oneself in ways they wouldn't have been able to without. Maybe I'm wrong, but strong believers who remind me as to why I should convert make me feel as though religion is an inevitable disease. I would like to think that those who truly believe their religion to be right can give it enough faith to spread to willing believers, not resisting skeptics. Before asking non-believers if they can change their entire basis of reasoning and insight on existentialism, ask yourself if you are capable of doing the same.

I don't mean to sound as though I am attacking the idea. It's only those who try to shove it down my throat that really make me see the corruption behind it. I don't mind coexisting, because there are many different paths that an individual can take to find guidance and ways to improve as a person. I happen to have taken a different route. It is extremely hard for me to listen in on arguments from someone who disagrees with something that goes against the Bible, but doesn't adhere by its teachings entirely. Pick and choose, if you wish, but please allow others to do the same.

I think the Bible is a rulebook enforced for those who accept the legitimacy of its teachings. It doesn't apply if you don't see the value in it.

And I'm not even mad or anything. I'm just, you know...sitting here. Having eaten my Lean Cuisine too quickly and all.