Movie Theatre (F/NF)

There were two things Kasey hated in movies, and this film had them both.

The subject of her current irritation was an in-car conversation. She couldn't stand to see the characters looking at each other and not the road, and so Kasey lowered her eyes, fixating on the skull-shaped bubblegum someone had left on the back a nearby the seat . She was often tempted to write the actors of these shows and politely suggest that they could increase the realism of their acting by looking at the road, but she never wrote such letters. Sending acting tips to actors would be rude and precocious, and Kasey was neither of these things. It was, in fact, this very characteristic that led Kasey to this moment.

She heard someone breathe beside her. It was a deep, wet breath, and was much closer to her right ear than was either necessary or desirable. She couldn't feel or smell the breath, and for that she was grateful. Turning her head slowly, so as to not attract the attention of her date, Kasey glared at the boy beside her. He was plump, and even in the darkness she could see the profile of his twisted teeth.

"Gross." She could not help thinking about it. She, herself, did not have perfect teeth, and she certainly didn't expect others too, but severely messed up teeth was the one physical attribute that bugged her, and bugged her this did. She returned her eyes to the screen.

She was not the type to go on a date with someone she disliked. However, this boy (in spite of his ravenous teeth) had so far fallen into the "neutral" category. It was her belief that one did not have to be attracted to someone to go out with them. Attraction could develop, and if a "neutral" boy asked, you should say yes at least once.

He did not know this, but this date had not gone well. She would not say yes a second time.

He had been leaning towards her the entire time—far more that was natural—and despite the fact that she had clearly retreated to the far side of her seat, he now leaned more, allowing his arm to fall onto her chair. It did not touch her. She'd have to remember to thank God for her small frame.

"Wow," she thought. "He really is oblivious to body language." This was the third time this evening he had invaded her personal space, and it was the third time he ignored the obviousness of her reactions. She pulled her feet up onto the tip of her seat, pressing her knees to her chin, and wrapped her arms around her legs.

"Are you cold?" His voice was hickish, and had no element of charm.

Kasey was quick. "No, I like to sit like this." This statement carried no tone of sarcasm, and was technically a fact. She did find that position comfortable, but she had not chosen it for it's coziness. She smiled as she pondered saying "I'm trying to stay away from you," instead. She often thought of the things she should have said after it was too late, but in the end it rarely mattered because, as stated, Kasey was not rude.

In actuality, she was a bit cold. Theaters always left her chilly, but she was far from admitting this to him. She would not take his jacket, and she would most certainly would not give him further excuse to further attempt snuggling with her.

Earlier on that date he kept poking her in her side while they walked to the theatre. She did not giggle, she did not smile, she did not flirt. She had crossed her arms and moved away. Oblivious then as he was in the theatre now, he had taken no notice of her body language and had kept trying to poke her.

Thad been the second instance of persistent personal space invasion on this date. It had also doubled as the point of the date in which she she changed her perception of him. He was no longer a dorky hick who acted a little odd socially because of his lack of self confidence. That would have been forgivable, but, as he continually poked, he had made the transformation into "creep."

Now as she sat curled on the far side of her seat, waiting for the film to end, Kacey was unaware that his creepiest transgression was yet to come. She was, however, completely aware that God had played the age old geenie trick on her: Be careful what you pray for.

"Just a date," she had pleaded. "All I want is to go on a date... it has been so long," and after much patience, He had given her precisely what she had prayed for—just a date. It was a date striped of all positive experience.

Next time, she realized, she would have to be more specific and pray for a good date.

Mistaken Identity (NF)

I don't remember the exact name. It was something that began with a "C," or maybe a "K," but it definitely wasn't "Charlotte." Whatever it may or may not have been, I will assume it was Christy.

"Christy" I stopped. They were clearly talking to me. I Turned were I was standing, halfway up the stairs that led out of the underground parking lot, and looked to see who it was that had obviously forgotten my name. I didn't know them. 3-4 Girls, and I certainly didn't know a single one.

"Christy, I haven't seen you in so long, how are you?" They clearly did not know this Christy well if they were certain I was her. What the hell, I decided to play.

"I'm well, how are you?"

The continued to ask me all sorts of questions... what happened to that boy I dated freshman year (I didn't date anyone freshman year) What "Sue" was up to, etcetera.

I made up answers to all their questions. I had no idea who Christy was. I didn't know who she dated, what classes she was taking in school, or any of it, but it didn't matter. They obviously didn't know either, and if I said that I'd just broken up with a jerk who was rude to my roommates then bygone, Christy had just broken up with a boy who was rude to her roommates.

I wonder if I started any rumors that day. I'm pretty sure I didn't say anything nasty though.

A Compromise (NF)

So once upon a time Carrisa decided to write something every single day... sometimes fiction, sometimes non fiction. I thought it would be good practice for her and hoped she would keep it up. I also thought that It would be good for me to do as well, because I once enjoyed writing ad without practice I have gotten worse. However, I am already easily distracted from work and am trying not to Facebook or blog so much so that I can get more work done on time, and help Brett pack.

So I decided that I would write a bunch of posts today to help keep Carrisa motivated, and to practice a bit for myself, and that I would try to write on the topics somewhat regularly to straighten my brain, but that I wouldn't do it everyday because there are other things that I need to do every day that I am ignoring that are more important. Sometimes my posts would be crappy like this one and not really flow from sentence to sentence, but sometimes they would be me really really trying to make something pretty. Other times it would be somewhere in between and be somewhat thought through and somewhat crappy. What an awesome compromise, the end.

Rising Early to Begin The Journey (F)

Everybody glared as Jonathan stood there, preparing to climb over people in the auditorium to get to the door. Nobody dared rise from their seats when the Queen spoke, but rise Jonathan did. Silence fell, and because of the small size of the auditorium, even the Queen fell silent for a moment.

"Are you okay sir?"
"Yes Your Majesty."
"Why then, pray tell, have you risen from your seat? I have not yet concluded."
"Well, your magesty you just mentioned that we should do what we can to visit our mothers on Mother's Day tomorrow'
"Yes, I did briefly. You are offended by my statement?"
"No, Your Majesty, but my mother lives quite far away and if I leave right now I will only make it 30 minutes before she goes to bed tomorrow."

This Is The Voice of My Body. (NF)

I'd expected my calves to hurt. I'd fought against them for the last few hours reaching Half Dome. Then again, the way back down the mountain had been a nice several hour break for those uphill muscles. But atlas, my calves did not hurt, and as I woke up, curled in my sleeping bag, it was my knees that killed me. Bend, Unbend- it all hurt. I worried about how I was going to manage packing up the tent. Certainly not with Brett's help, his legs had him in agony on the trail far before I was ready to give up.

I wormed out of the tent and hobbled strait legged towards the bathroom. Squatting. Oh hell. Never mind the campgrounds luxurious toilet seat covers, compassionately well stocked, I still had to squat to sit, and as I did I nearly collapsed. I sat a good extra 5 minutes before I worked up the courage to stand up and unbend those knees.

An hour of hobbling around the campground packing up and my knee muscles slowed their complaining. Thank goodness.

A car Ride home, and the knees returned to their wicked ways.

Unpacking and they worked their way soft again. I was going to be all right.

Weeks later and the muscle pain is long gone, but in it's place is an invisible bruise, it surfs above my knee cap. It pounds when I walk, it cringes when I touch, it screams.

This is the voice of my body, and it says "27 isn't 17 is it, dollface?"

Something that Came in a Box. (NF)

{{More or less a true story, quickly written, kind of sloppy}}

"Pope light! it's a Pope light!" Nathanial screamed while Corky pulled him away from the box.

"No Peeking"

"It's too late, I read it... it said pope light.... you got us pope lights!

I hate ruined surprises. We already knew that Corky had gotten us all the same thing for christmas. Nathanial could have at least kept his snooping discovery to his-self.

"I'm so excited for my pope light, " Nathanial cried as if he were 4 (and not 34). "what is a pope light?" I didn't know what a pope light was... a night light? He convinced me to look it up. Surprise was already ruined.

The search came up empty, the best I could find was a reference to some handmade t-shirt."T-shirt? sweet. I can't wait for my pope light t-shirt."

Christmas morning came, and with it came the Pop light. Not a Pope light, but a Pop light., aka. an air popcorn popper.

"I'd have rather gotten a Pope light t-shirt." Oh Nathanial, the ever grateful receiver of gifts.

So it has come to this (F)

Do they want me to develop bulimia? I couldn't believe their audacity. It had been 5 years, 5 whole years, and I thought I had proved myself. I'd been sick for heaven's sake. Sick!

What's more is that they'd all been sick too, and I'd still managed to eat more than the rest of them, and I had only thrown up once. Not twice like Gracie, not 4 times like Norris, not 5 times like Mom, but once. One solitary spew.

But our fevers had now settled, our bugs had passed, and I had lost 3 pounds. They could forget the virus, but they could not forget the 3 pounds. It was the elephant in the room. A little 3 pound elephant, and they wanted me to eat that elephant--right here and now. I was healthy and in control now, but forcing me to eat junk food would only make me relaps.

Grace pushed the cheesecake towards me again. "Just one more piece, Cassidy, one more."

"No thanks," I smiled, "I've had enough for today. It was very good though, you should make it for my birthday."

A normal person would have gotten away with that statement. A normal person could even have said "I'm on a diet," but I was not on a diet, and when Grace spoke with me she didn't see a normal person. She saw anorexia's ghost dancing around me.

"You counted the calories for that, didn't you?" mom stated in half-joke. I rolled my eyes--I wouldn't lie. I counted calories the instant I looked at food. It was not something I thought about, and it wasn't something I calculated. I simply always had a running total in my head, and no amount of re-wiring could change that.

1,257. That was how many calories I'd had today, and 420 of it was cheesecake and a bit of hot chocolate. 1/3 of my diet had been nutrition-less, and if I was going to eat something else, it wasn't going to be cheesecake. If they were so concerned about the 3 lb. elephant, they needed to learn to pick their battles.

"Offer me the leftover chicken or salad." I tested my telepathic abilities on my mother. Telepathy failed, and my mother plopped a slice of cheesecake on my plate.

"Just eat it hun," She smiled at me, then at Gracie, then at the elephant.

5 years... 5 years and 5 pounds above my lowest allowed weight. It took discipline, it took self control, but I had kept myself from even touching my lowest allowed weight. I'd been proud that I hadn't walked the line, that extra 5 pound cushion was all me--not my doctor, not my mother, it was me, and I was being safe.

But there was the issue of the 3 lb. elephant, and the remaining 2 pound safety net wasn't big enough for my family. It took a week for me to loose those 3 lbs., but they'd be damned if if it took a week for me to gain it back. They wanted it now.

I new exactly how many calories it would take this week to gain it back too. I was at 1,257 calories today, and I still had to eat dinner in a few hours. I did not need another piece of cheesecake. I shook my head, "Mom, not today. I'll eat it tomorrow."

She took a spoonful and sighed, "just a bite then?"

"No."

"Just a bite." She was serious now, it was a stand-off. One more bite wouldn't kill me , but I was getting angry. Why couldn't they trust me? I was silent in defiance. "One more bite." She came towards me with the spoon and for a second I was afraid, afraid she might start forcing food down my throat.

"You make me eat it and I'll just throw it up." It was too late, I'd said it.

Mother stared at me, sizing my statement. She knew how much I hated trowing up, but she also knew too well my past commitment to weight loss.

"Threats Cassidy?" she asked, no doubt reminding herself of Dr. Palman's phone number in the back of her head, " Has it really come to this?

Small Regrets. (NF)

With the last restroom 2 hours behind me and with 3 hours left to half dome, I squatted 30 yards from the trail, shorts around my ankles, and my bottom felt even more naked because of the breeze. I would pee like this 5 more times on this 12 hour round trip hike, and each time my mind would return to that one phone call 2 days earlier.

"Do you still want me to get that pee thing"

"You said there are bathrooms along the trail?"

"uh-hu"

"but they will be nasty..."

"Compost toilets."

"Oh, I'll just deal with the toilets and save the money for now."


Toilets... if only there were toilets...

What are You Looking For? (F)

It was the 5th time I had done it since Sunday.

There I stood, in the the middle of the Dining Room, uncertain of which wall to face. I felt my eyes glaze over and shook my head in protest. "Bedroom twice, hall once, kitchen once, and now the dining room." I was not loosing my mind, I knew that, but I was glazing over again. "Damn." I closed my eyes and shook my head again... Contents may settle in shipping.... shake before opening. I smiled, realizing the pointlessness of the motion. I looked down at my feet.

"Remind me again of why we are here?" My feet didn't answer. "Figures."

I started with the wall to my left. I don't know why I chose the wall to my left, but then again, I didn't know what I was looking for either. I scanned the shelves, desk, and floor. Nothing. I turned to my right, repeat, nothing. Right, repeat, nothing. Right, repeat, nothing. Right.... right back where I started. Hmmph.

"Well feet, " I implored, "I simply don't remember why I came here. You are just going to have to backtrack until I figure it out!" Slowly, I retraced my steps, down the hall, around the bend, to the middle of the floor.... and nothing. I slumped into my chair, ready to get back to whatever it was I was doing on the computer before my feet so rudely interrupted me. I put the candlesticks in my hand down so that I could reach for the mouse.

The candlesticks. I wasn't looking for any thing... I was putting away. I picked up the candlestics and walked back towards the dining room.

"Next time," I told my feet, "I'll ask the hands why you brought me here"