Sunday, September 04, 2005

It's been one hell of a long week. I don't know how anyone could still be out drinking. There are still so many american kids dying in Iraq. There are so many kids sleeping in shelters from the hurricane. There are so many kids getting drunk at the house across the street right now.
I called three major airlines on Friday afternoon to see if they would be so gracious as to give me a discounted fair to Dallas. I told the people on the other end of the line that if they could get me a ticket for around $200 I would fly out on a red eye and spend my entire labor day weekend volunteering at the Astrodome or at another shelter or anywhere I could help. Making phone calls, handing out food, shovelling shit, I didn't care. It's the least I could do to try. I wanted to do something. To help. And I thought of what a story it would be.

Not a single one of them could help me out. By 10 p. m. I had given up, donated $100 to the Red cross and decided that I'll wait to donate another $100 until I see how high gas prices are really going to go.

Then I thought about those poor kids in Iraq. Imagine all the ones over there who are from Mississippi. From New Orleans. They're so far away and they're fighting for a home that' won't be here when they get back. A home scattered with broken glass, dead bodies and so many excuses.

Then William Rehnquist Died.

Then I realized that somehow I had convinced myself to become a staff writer at the shitty campus paper. So I wrote an article. Because I owe it to every single one of those kids to make the most of living here. To use what I got for free to at least turn a head or two.

Then I listened to my friends whine about how their favorite bar is closing for good this weekend.

Then I felt sick. Sick that this was a pivotal topic. Sick that people make up problems for themselves because when everything is perfect we just cant' accept it. Girls eat then head for the toilet bowl and wonder why they can't look like Gwen Stefani. Boys head to the gym and wonder if the creatine is really working. Because everything is too perfect. When we push the green button on the cell phone it always rings. When we walk down aisle 4 of the 24 hour grocery store the shelves are always stocked with baking goods. When we lock our doors at night we know that no one will get in. They can't disturb us. They can't ruin our perfect little world of distractions. No they certainly cannot. Only we can.

Then I realized it was a tear that had streaked down my cheek, dangled at my chin and flung itself into my fourth glass of whiskey. I watched as the ripples bounced off the outside rim of the glass and danced back toward the center once again.

Then I... You know what I did? I had to reassure myself out loud. I had to hear myself say it. Just to make sure it's all real. It's been one hell of a long week.


Blogger Mo said...

dont forget about "dude, my classes suck" and "dude i got sooooo wasted last night"


10:47 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Just wanted to say that while I kinda dig your writing, most of your commenters are dumb as bricks. Rough.

6:28 PM  
Blogger Sylkk said...

i hear you on that... it has been a hella long week ~

7:59 AM  

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