I'd be swimmin with the fishes

So it's Valentines Day, and I awoke to this shimmery fish giving me the one eyed stare as if to gloat in the misery that this day, and all it stands for, evokes in my heart. Not that I don't like boys, or love, or loving boys! because those just so happen to be a few of my favorite things. But I simply haven't had much success in said field during my life and valentines day is a keen reminder. Not that constant canoodlers in the lobby don't regularly do the job quite nicely, but I feel it more acutely as I'm gagging over dinner plans and bouquets floating around. But why would my darling roommate Lauren give me a Fish Valentine? oh yes to really rub it in by reminding me of the worst romantic experience of my life. Here is the story:
I'm a happy- go- lucky senior, young and blissfully unaware of that little thing called love. It's a friday afternoon just like any other as far as I'm aware, when I waltz into the orchestra room for band and notice my darling asian son austin teetering towards me like an anxious toddler with a ridiculous look on his face, even more so than the usual gittyness sported by sophomores everywhere. His delight doubled when he found that he was be the first to break the news to me that Spencer, the scrawny clarinet that sat behind us, who focused so hard on his playing that his eyes welled up and his fingers and cheeks turned blue, was planning on asking me to prom. The next hour of my life dragged on, with every squeak from the clarinets behind us like a dagger to my heart. I tried to shake the experience by taking my time talking with friends in the hallways who, after teasing me, cheerfully reassured me that it was an insane rumor that would never be fulfilled. When I finally made home however, to my great horror my sophomore brother, John, seemed to be the spittin image of austin as he rushed out to greet me and say that I needed to go up to my bedroom. In Utah, as if the entire formal dance process wasn't horrible enough, we throw on extravagant asking which then must be returned by an equally embarrassing display to answer. I bounded up the stairs, yelling at John demanding he tell me all he knew, threw open my bedroom door, john on my heels, and to my absolute horror saw in my bed, gigantic dead fish. multiple. dead fish. in my bed.
It gets worse.
In one of the bags (they were, thankfully in ziplocks - which don't really keep out the smell by the way.) there was a paper that said "I'd be swimmin with the fishes if you didn't go to prom with me. -Spencer" NO WAY! Think back - Saved by the Bell - Screech - that is Spencer to a Tee, which I try to explain to John. I also told him how I have never heard this boy say a cohesive sentence and that I firmly believe he is completely socially unaware and should never leave his house, and that I do not think I can bring myself to go with him. John seems to be an extremely good listener at this point, letting me rant for a good five minutes before I finish, but then he really shocked me by simply replying "and come on out Spencer!" No. NO! I thought he was joking for a split second but the blood drained immediately from my face as my closet door swings open and there is spencer. Why didn't John stop me? why didn't spencer come out? WHY was he hiding in my closet and why on earth did he ask me to prom!? I squeak out "what a surprise!" somehow hoping that he hadn't heard my shouts that were probably audible across the street. He sheepishly replied "You don't have to go with me I guess..." but I say "I'd love to!" Ill answer you for real in a couple days. I'm on my way to dance right now. See you later!" and then I ran out of my house and went to dance, 45 minutes early without any dance clothes - the least of my problems.
And so I went to prom with Spencer. And yes, it was the most awkward experience of my entire life, but how could it have been otherwise with a start like that?

and so I shall put this fish on the back of my shelf and continue to try to block this terribly painful memory from my mind

ready, set, go.

"We're going to need three things:
1. A fondue pot
2. A curling Iron
3. And some gumption. /gum - good breath is going to be imperative here."

"oooh! are you canoodling? may I join you??"

Stanley, Phyllis, Kevin.

“What is my perfect crime? I break into Tiffany’s at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No. I go for the chandelier. It’s priceless. As I’m taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It’s her father’s business. She’s Tiffany. I say ‘no’. We make love all night. In the morning the cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico but I go to Canada. I don’t trust her. Besides, I like the cold. Thirty years later I get a postcard. I have a son and he’s the chief of police. – This is where the story gets interesting. – I tell Tiffany to meet me in Paris by the Trocadéro. She’s been waiting for me all these years. She’s never taken another lover. I don’t care. I don’t show up. I go to Berlin. That’s where I stash the chandelier.”

- Dwight K. Schrute

seance

a sad desert flower

planted in a moonlit prism

looking towards the new horizon

failing to see the shackles

are illusion

as the mushrooms

in the garden

go untended

B & T '96

Life is short - you can rest when you're dead

I stared on in disbelief at the line ahead of me, but my growling stomach and the smell of banana peppers mingling roast beef wafting through the air kept me frozen where I stood. As I slid my backpack off my shoulder and settled in for a long, dull wait, the person in front of me turned around and changed those plans, along with the rest of my life, forever.
It asked me how I was doing in a gruff voice accompanied by a harsh spray of spit and a stench of onions and sweat. I don't mean to be rude by referring to this person as "it," but I honestly don't know if it was a man or woman. It's body shape was basically round so as to obscure any hints as to its gender, and the sparse whiskers on it's face could have gone either way.
I replied a sharp "fine" and turned my nose away in disgust, not wanting to strike up a conversation and be seen with it while standing in the cougar eat - a prime mingling location. my shortness however did not deter her as she said that he was doing "better..." Did I want to know? He was doing shifty eyes to make it clear that there was a story to that response, and scooching my backpack a few inches down the line, I realized that the wait would still be a while and my curiosity got the better of me as I asked the fateful "better than...?" She snapped up the bait and took off running with this story:
-You know what happened to Joseph Smith? Well that's the same thing as happened to me last night.
- you...(saw god?) what do you mean?
- first half. not the second half. Mists of darkness, evil spirits, Satan was THERE!
...
...
-wow sounds intense. (looking around - are you guys all getting this?!?!)
- I called the bishop, but he said it was too late to talk. It was about 3 in the morning... but I got a priesthood blessing. and another one this morning. which is the only reason I'm standing here alive now. As soon as i get my sandwich, I'm headin over to have an official intervention with the bishop. And this all goes to show that you can't let your guard down for an instant. I had only stopped listening to church music for about 10 minutes before it seized me.
(i notice the earphone tangled through his hair - she's not making that mistake again.)
We had just reached the counter and he turned to me and said
- but sandwich first. And trust me, I know my sandwiches.
So I say to the lady:
- I'll have what she's having. I mean He's having... umm.. (glanced over, but I don't think it noticed. luckily. No recovering from a gender mixup.)
Well of course it ordered a foot long toasted spicy italian with extra onions as the only vegitable. Hense the breath... disgust. but the story and entertainment ended up being far more valuable to me than the food would have been anyway.
...and this all goes to show - never a dull day at the Y!

this is my life

There is a part of me that remains untouched. It is free from strain of schedule conflicts, finances, and broken shoelaces. Most of the time I share it with people I love, but sometimes I keep it to myself and dance.
- Catherine, from I am Beautiful