Got to See a Woman About a Horse

Got to See a Woman About a Horse

I know this isn’t professional writing. I know that there will be no plot to this particular entry, but I must tell you, that I am excited.I am excited because, after an extended period of time trying to look for a horse, and reaching out to people trying to sell them, I am a few simple steps away from maybe, possibly, having a horse again. His name is Michael. I have not seen him. I have to wait two days to see him. All I know is that he is a thoroughbred, 16 hands tall, and 14 years old. The last couple days I have been playing phone tag with the current owner, and a few short hours ago, I had given up the idea, and washed it to the back of my mind. I do that a lot with things. I am belligerently excited right now, and I am trying to stay realistic.

I have always had horses around. I grew up riding my big sister’s childhood horse, and when my big brother moved out, I got Baby May as a grumpy fat hand me down horse. Her demeanor of indifference was endearing, and her ability to get stuck in the most horrifying of places (I once got a 6am call from my dad after he had surgery. Baby May had laid down behind the barn, and on trying to get up she had kicked through the back wall, and two windows that were leaned up against it. She got out of it fine, aside from a couple superficial scrapes on her leg, but it scared the hell out of my sister and I.) was actually comical after the fact.Last winter I lost her, unexpectedly, after all the times I thought she was a goner. Who would have thought that old age would get her in the end?

When I was a kid,I would ride my sister’s horse Windy around in circles in the corral. When my parents would fight, I would crouch down on her back, my face inches away from her mane, and tell her that we would run away together,that she shouldn’t be sad.I’d tell her I was sorry about the yelling.I was a lonely kid.Emo thoughts…moving on….So, in conclusion, really stoked, scared that I may fall off while test riding him and break my leg, excited and hope he likes me, and hope he doesn’t run away or get stuck in a fence, or beat up my dad’s horse, or run away and get hit by a semi if I get him. Super stoked in the most realistically unrealistic way ever.Yay.

Self Aware

Self Aware

Every morning when Alice woke up, it was the same day over. She would sit up straight in bed at the razor sound of the alarm, and find herself looking at the empty space beside her bed. She ate breakfast alone, munching and reading the back of the cereal box. She was permanently on a diet, and had mantras about self-control to use for trigger foods she had learned from diet books. All the same, she always ended up with a bear claw along with her morning coffee she picked up from the shop, located in the ground floor of where she worked.
When she arrived at her desk, head buzzing with a sugar rush, she would tuck her hair behind her ears, and slide the headset on. She began her day this way, and lived her life this way. Her parents were in another state, and she never spoke with them. She had no friends and no siblings. It was as if she had never really been there, as long as she could remember.
At night, she would walk home, and stop by the grocery if she needed something. Sometimes, she would get herself a sushi roll, and tip the short man behind the counter for a fresh roll. Then, she would go home, practice whatever workout routine she had purchased from late night infomercials, and fall asleep with the TV on, before resuming her life again the next morning. This was Alice’s existence.
If someone asked her if she was happy, she would present a half-smirk, and nod, then put her head down, and go back to what she was doing, indifferent to further communication. Nobody knew she was a robot. Not even Alice. She never wondered why her life was always the same, she always felt the same emotions, in the same order, every day. She didn’t know that her memories were mostly programmed into her, and that she was not as old as she thought she was. She was never bothered by much but her weight. That, and the empty space in her bed. It never occurred to her why that space bothered her or even to ask why. She had never been programmed to seek human interaction for non-functional reasons, and loneliness was not a concept she understood. There was no reason for even the momentary pause she took ritually every morning. All the same, there it was.
Alice awoke one Thursday morning to the sound of the alarm. Outside, rain crawled down the pane glass windows of her apartment, and the darkness was lingering longer with the coming cold weather.She sat up in bed, and looked over to her side, just as she always did. Her customary seconds to pause were almost over, her inner clock would soon move her to the closet and her clothes. Then Alice did something new. She began to cry.

Optimism

Optimism

Love stories can’t always end well, but you don’t always get to see the happy beginning. Sometimes, you only get to see the bad ending, and in doing so, you have to follow the story backwards, and find your happy ending in the optimism of the beginning.

Let’s go back, long ago, not so long in years, but in miles, feelings and technology, a girl in pedal pushers  working as a curb hop,will meet a boy with slicked hair in a convertible.The town they both live in, is divided quite literally by a set of heavy train tracks. Heavy because, it separates the town in financial and class status, and both of our subjects live on the wrong side of it.The girl is painfully shy with red hair, and the boy is outspoken, and seemingly self assured.

Overloaded with orders, and obviously frazzled, the girl is working after school. A car pulls up that she has seen around, but her aunt takes the orders from the cars, and collects the money. Her aunt Betty is fat. Her chubby face, which is caked in makeup, is framed by bleached blonde hair, cut badly in the latest bob. Betty’s husband cooks in the cramped kitchen of the drive in.Being that it is already afternoon, he’s almost as drunk as he needs to be to take some money from the till, and leave with a flourish of cussing and a slamming of the drive-in’s back door.The girl tries not to think of this as she gathers the food and drinks from him onto her tray.The car full of older boys, much older than her, looms, and she is overcome with nervousness, as she usually is. The driver is handsome, and the boys with him,crowding the car are loud and laugh heartily.She walks up to them shakily, and begins handing them food with her head down. Using one hand, she holds the tray, while she tries to get a lanky boy in the back’s attention to take the next to last shake from the tray. The driver’s chocolate shake alone, totters precariously there on the yellow plastic tray.

“You’re going to drop that.” The driver of the convertible says.He has seen the girl around before, usually alone, walking to work or school. She wears a Chinese print jacket sometimes, he’s noticed,but this is his first true words to her. The girl glances up from what she is doing, still trying to get the thick headed boy in the backseat’s attention silently. She realizes he is right,and attempts to adjust the tray one-handedly. The tray tips with the action, spilling the driver’s shake directly in his lap. The girl’s face flushes with embarrassment, and she rushes into the building for napkins, not saying a word. The car is filled with laughter, as the boy opens the massive driver door and slides out, trying to slick the cold chocolate off his jeans. The girl reappears quickly, and yelling can be heard from behind her as she closes the building’s door, her shoulders slumped. She hands the boy some napkins in a wad, and he smiles at her, beginning a conversation, that slowly, she contributes to, until she feels a little less nervous. As she begins to answer his first questions,we can see they are both smiling now, and we can tell, there’s just the slightest spark between these two.Is that Perry Como on the radio of his convertible?We can’t be sure , because you and I can hear the sound of an alarm going off. Our time is up here, and we have to turn from chrome and chocolate shakes,pedal pushers and slicked hair.It’s time we returned to the present.