So let me explain you this:

This morning at 5:41 a.m. I was driving in my truck to work. Outside, it is light; however, the large grey clouds are present from the earlier rain and still obscuring the early morning light. There are no other cars on the road.

I don't want to listen to the CD I have in the player, so I switch to the radio. I have six presets on my radio: NPR, 96X, FM99, the Fox, 88.7, and WHRO. The radio is initially on the Fox, but it is playing something I don't like (I haven't cared much for the station since they switched formatting). I go to my first preset, NPR.

NPR is broadcasting a speech; I've come in during the middle of it so I don't know who is making the speech. It sounds like an older woman. Being that this is NPR and that I know the Queen of England was to be making a speech before the UN, I assume that the news is own and that they are replaying the speech.

However, after the current sentence is finished, a second person then speaks.

The plot thickens.

I am confused by the second speaker. The next orator seems to be imitating the Queen, but she is doing so by speaking in a weird sort or mush-mouth, monotoned, mongoloid voice. As much as the Queen sounds clear, crisp, and articulate the second sounds sloppy, slurred, and retarded, barely three notches above gibberish.

I mean that seriously. The second person sounds like she is imitating the Queen but in a retarded person's voice. At 5:43 a.m., I come to the conclusion that NPR is mocking the Queen of England's speech on the value of education and perseverance over hardships. I am blown away at the ballsyness NPR is showing.

After a about 20-30 seconds of intense listening, I realize that the second speaker is actually the first speaker and the Queen is actually the second. The Queen, seemingly, is translating the random slurred syllables into English.

I listen until the end of the speech about a minute later, unsure whether NPR is running a gag-piece on the Queen or if the Queen is translating someone's speech, as it ends to uproarious applause. It does not cross my mind that this broadcast is not about the Queen of England in some way.

The announcer's deep, smooth voice comes over the speakers and annotates the speech. He remarks that Hellen Keller would go on after the speech to fight for rights for the blind for many more years.

Well, that makes sense, I suppose. It beats my other two theories, at least.

I don't truly care about Hellen Keller, so with the mystery solved I immediately go on the preset number two, 96X.

Instantaneous to my pressing the #2 button, I hear "Shush girl; shut'cher lips. Do the Hellen Keller, and talk with yer hips." Cue the chorus to the song. Don't trust a ho.

I don't know if the boys in 3OH!3 have heard Hellen Keller speak, but they are right.

Hellen Keller's speech is very weird and sickly funny. I doubt that I could keep a straight face if I were to talk to her. If you talk like Hellen Keller, then attempt to communicate in other ways.

Also, never trust a ho.

Imaginary father's day

(A very rough and unedited draft of what I image a father's day to be like for a certain gal that I know)

She wonders if she'll call him. Sitting, she stares at the phone. A sensation fill her and the notion come to a head. She reaches for her cell, and presses "Contacts."

Suddenly she realizes she's been tricked by sentimentality from her TV's family dramas that have been playing today. She hasn't had his number for years and years; hasn't had anything except for haunting, distant memories.

When she hears he is coming she runs away. When she thinks of her birthdays she can see him on the floor. Most of the time she tries to forget and block out everything. There are times though when she can’t help herself.

She remembers fun tricks played on her brother, conversations at the dinner table, smiles while walking to and fro the bathroom, stuffed animals as gifts from a window accident, TV shows watched from old couches on sick-days, being tucked in bed with a night light, and singing along to rap radio stations in the car.

She remembers yelling and screaming while she tries to sleep, hitting for small rule infractions or not bending to a stronger will, drugs that leave its user passed out or in a daze, glossed over from any external pleading, absence in most moments that seemed important for other families, and yearning to have a part or to have a piece of normalcy.

Even as a little girl she knew something was wrong. Something was not right. Most little girls never seemed this sad or switched school as much as she did.

She is no longer a little girl.

She's tried to fill the void with about as much as one could imagine. Drawings and half completed comics, sex with boys who mean the world but are all just losers, books and mangas that seem just fantastic enough to balance out reality, drugs and alcohol in amounts that should scream to any observer that she wants out of her own skin, music that span every genre and volume dynamic that is full of cynicism, movies that involve bright colors and sad characters, posters that feature all her heros, buttons that display her longing for childhood, clothes that are shiny and standout, bad relationships with friends, parents, and lovers, short-stories that were always meant to be novels, anime obsessions that help her find others which helps her avoid herself, and a desire for a connection with someone that will make her able to forget the past and accept her actions.

Her actions don’t work, and she grows more alone.

She's a girl with a sad face. She has long, dark brown, and straight hair that is soft and flowing and has a scent that drives anyone familiar with it wanting. Her eyes a deep brown that compel one to look into and see that she has more emotion and feeling than could be found in any other girl. The smile she let loose makes one want to profess impossible promises to her that will take whole lifetimes to achieve.

All the while,

She sits resigned at her chair, shell-shocked from the tide of memories and emotions.

With every intention meant to be good, she is resolute:

Sometimes blood is just too thick to swallow.

Thursday, Dentist

Last Thursday I went to the dentist and learned that my gums had receded 2mm in certain spots. The hygienist assured me for someone who had braces that the recession was not totally uncommon nor was it anything to be particularly alarmed about as long as my gums don't continue to recede. She said this to prepare me for her next statement: "Once you're gums recede, they never come back."

Thankfully, the hygienist didn't try to make the futile effort of conversation as others have in the past, so after her comments both of us had this marginally awkward moment to internalize on our lives; mine went something like this:

My immediate thoughts were, "Well, my gums don't feel freakish or any different than I could ever remember, yet apparently they are, and barring any freak accidents or years of poor dental hygiene, my gums against my teeth won't ever change again." The hygienist was still examining my teeth, so I was unable to get to feel what forever felt like.

Finally, the initial examination was over and a few minutes later, as I liked my gums and felt the contours of my mouth far more intensely than I had ever before, I realized this was the first time someone had ever told me that I would never change or grow beyond where I was at that point. The way something feels now is how it will continue to feel forever. At 19 years old, I am coming to realize that my physical growth is coming to an end. Soon I will only be traveling on momentum rather than charge.

Sure there will be aesthetic changes like weight, muscle, organ, nose, and hair amounts, but structurally I am at my end. I might not have hit peak performance yet, but I'm certainly not far away from it.

While still in the stages of adolescence and having been in it for 7-10 years, all I've known is physical change and growth. The realization that it will soon all be over is scary. I think it is odd since most people seem to be scared of change, yet I'm worried about changing away from change. I'm worried about going nowhere and being stuck without growth.

Of course, this is all just physical growth. I'm not counting mental growth, which I'd say will probably be more personally enriching. I'm also not counting deterioration, which is assuming I'll properly maintain myself and that nothing bad will ever happen to me. (And you know what assuming does, right? It makes an ass out of you and ... ing...well, you in any event.) So in fifty years, when I lick my gums, I'll want them to feel the same because anything else will mean that I've messed up somewhere between now and then.
However, I think this fear can apply to all aspects of my life.

Do I want to feel like I do right now for the rest of my life?

A quick digression about dentist chairs:

While dentist chairs are not uncomfortable, I've never been at ease in one. The factors of just being at a dentist and worried about the diagnosis are not why I am diseased, neither is it the overhanging crane light constantly in my eyes, the lead vest that protects my chest when the x-rays are actually being shot into my head, nor the dried lips from having the hygienist and dentist poke around in my mouth. The main reason for my disease is that I can never anticipate when the comfy chair I'm sitting in is going to suddenly lower me down or spring me up.

And back to the story:

It's a rite of passage to feel this way; I've been assisted by family, friends, teachers, nature, and government, but now all of those hands are letting go slowly, and I will soon be left with nothing to really have as a fall-back option. (So stay in school, kids!) If I’m not content with how I am now, then I am near the end of where I can change easily or make major modifications.

I think the real world is intimidating (I also think that people who use the term real world are condescending pricks even if they are right), but I'd never fully realized that you go into it with what you have and anything you don't have is extraordinary hard to go back and get. People can really only develop and cultivate what is already available to them. Anything I’m unhappy about concerning myself will soon be what I am stuck with if I don’t try and correct it now.

So, I will try to work on everything I am unhappy with; although, I hope I am more successful than Benjamin Franklin.

Then the dentist told me that I had no cavities, I would need my wisdom teeth taken out semi-soon, and he was glad that I was flossing. As his words sank in, he pushed a button and the chair shot me upright.