One night i woke up..I was freezing I noticed I forgot to close the window before I went to sleep..the window is high and
you need to stand on something to reach it there was a wooden box already so I stood on it and reached for the handle of the window when suddenly a voice of a woman whispered to me behind my head..I was so scared..Im sure it wasnt the radio or television dowstairs because that night I stayed in the house on my own...Im so scared to sleep beside that window again ...
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Sunday, May 24, 2009
TATTOO NIGHTMARE
I write this quickly, while losing my memory. Call it a desperate attempt to get something into the public record -or at least some sort of hope that I'm living a nightmare and will soon, awaken. My name is Tom, I grew
up in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, and am forty years old.
When 'they' became obvious to me is still uncertain. For argument's sake, let's just say I was around 8 years old. In the two caste system of the sixty's, us normal people always noticed the tattoo on the right wrist of the other caste. We called those with the tattoos - 'Tats' - and we stayed away from them knowing that they were different. Jealousy always played a major role and I can remember some of my public (elementary) school experiences involving the Tats. Just give me two minutes alone with one! But I know, that was not possible, the two castes - n e v e r - mixed.
Oh, and their tattoo was uuugly. I mean it was as if they were wearing a watch band. Solid black, one inch thick around the entire right wrist. I didn't know, couldn't know, or even imagine, that my jealousy of the Tats was just beginning. You see, I was 13 now and a new 7th grader. Forget the baby stuff of elementary school, I was now noticing girls! The Junior High was a great place. Girls, sports, girls, and other opportunities were available for any handsome young man, like myself. The only
problem for me (and my normal friends), was that work and grades came - absolutely first. The teachers made sure we understood this and the Superintendent of schools would fine our parents heavily if we even thought about failing. Then, of course, there were the Tats.
What a life! They still had no exams. They would all flirt in the hallways and the boys and girls would be making-out like there was no tomorrow. In the few cases where we tested together, the Tats always seemed brighter. No homework, no studying, how could they achieve these results? Even rarer would be a fight between a normie and a Tat. All out of rage I'm sure. I just can't understand why they always seemed to be a step quicker, sharper, or smarter. What really pissed me (and my friends) off was the fact that after one of these fights, the normie was always suspended. You can imagine what his parents would do to him with the fines and embarrassment, and all. I mean, the next day the Tat in the fight would be back in school. His friends and the Tat girls would be laughing. And you call this justice! Is this fair? Do we have equal rights???
That's pretty much the way it ran through Junior High School. I probably, most definitely, had more questions than answers. Even during the summer recess, before stepping up to the Senior High School, was an event. In some cases we appreciated being normies. It was a pleasure to walk the streets of Flatbush. One second you could be passing Macy's, the next second your nostrils would be teased with the unparalleled aromas from the local Kosher Deli. This was, of course, between working two jobs, four days a week. Parents had it much harder, but we were on break. I guess we just did our part to keep society going. Jealousy is a word that just flames out of me. You see, the Tats didn't have to work. They were enjoying the summer as if it were retirement. Oh the arrogant gall. Just when I couldn't stand it anymore I somehow noticed that adults my parent's age hinted moments of respect toward the Tats. In other words, as we passed the Tats on the streets my parents would nod, smile, or tip their hats with courtesy. I mean, can you just vomit? Working my butt off -- for what?
My hands tremble as I recall the 'other' summer happening. My friends and I swore our selves to secrecy. In no way can this be revealed while I'm still alive, but I must, at least for the public record's sake, let you know the truth. My friends and I challenged the Tats to a game of football. Yes, no adults knew of this 'mixed' event, and even the Tats agreed to keep the secret. There we were, in the game of our lives. Us against them, no parents, teachers, or other adults to stop 'the' challenge. Mixed company was taboo but we wanted to kick some butt, if you hear me talking. Our best players were inspiring. I mean, we signed up the entire Ja football team. We knew we would win! Then the game started and when we disguised plays right, only to run left, they were waiting for us. When we adjusted our defense to be waiting for them, they readjusted their offense. Every step of the way we were outplayed. They were the same size as us too, so we can't use that excuse. But late in the fourth quarter, when we were exhausted the Tats seemed to appreciate their youth more. They were happy and getting happier. How embarrassed we were but knew it was our secret. Shut out, outplayed, and out foxed, we left with our heads bowed down in defeat only having, more questions.
After all that, us normies headed to Senior High School with a new air of respect. We still hated the Tats but were at least athletically impressed. Maybe I could answer some questions if I could meet (secretly) with one of the Tat boys I played football against during the summer. Half in shame, and half with curiosity, I walked the hallways of our new school. All seemed about right. My friends and I were there, the two caste system had, an as usual, fifty - fifty ratio, but something just seemed unfamiliar to me. I couldn't find one of the Tats we had played football against last summer. I mean, not one!
One Tat (I secretly talked with) called me a nut for even trying to find the Tats from the past. I guess it's that mixed company taboo thing. Anyway, more questions. How can an entire football team just up, and disappear? Not that high school years were any different than the junior high years. All the pressure was on the normies. Jealously (did I use that word already) still was more present than ever, and life and youth, still belonged to the Tats. Just watching the boy and girl Tats enjoying each others company seemed exaggerated. Summers, work, and future semesters were all identical. No sense to rehash each year. Just look what I said about junior high. It's virtually, all the same.
Then came graduation. My friends, parents, and I were all so proud. I just (in the back of my mind) wondered what happened to the Tats we played football against? Why aren't they here graduating in front of their parents? I still don't like them but I feel as if I'm freaking out or something. Following graduation there was no summer off.
Immediate employment, two jobs a day, six days a week was a necessity for our society to survive. You know by now that the normies shouldered all of the burden, even for the Tats. I had until age 20, to get married and start reproducing. If I could not select a mate in time, one would be assigned. Marriage and starting a family all happened on the weekends. There was no vacation. Do it on your one and one-half days off, we were told. Forgot to mention that we only worked one job on Saturdays. In between having the two or three required children, the normie women all worked one job a day, six days a week. All of this was accepted and I'm not sure why I seemed to be the only one with questions. You can imagined we all worked like dogs. I'll spare you the details of how my wife, children, and I survived. So much pressure and so little time. I don't mean to leave anything out but let me continue on, at least for the public record's sake because I am already losing my memory.
Everything was much the same as I described up until I hit age 39. That morning I arose and as customary on each one of my birthdays, I took a brisk walk around the neighborhood. My bad knee was acting up as usual. Everything was as usual with nothing new. That is, nothing new until I started to open my front door following my walk. I noticed that as I turned the door knob that I appeared to have some dirt (or something) on my right wrist. It was just up the arm from the wrist joint and slightly above the protruding bone about 3 ½ inches from the pinky. I tried to wash it off but could not. It's probable thickness, only 1/32nd of an inch, drawn around my wrist like wrist like a bracelet. Surely worried, embarrassed, and a mixture of emotions attacked me. I was no Tat, but I wasn't exactly a normie anymore either. I kind of wore long sleeves and kept it a secret.
Now you're almost caught up to date. Age 39 came and went, and 40 was upon me. Before leaving my house for my traditional walk, I slowly glanced down at my right wrist. Can you believe that up the arm about one inch from the other slim dark bracelet, was indeed, another matching bracelet? I mean, they seemed to be tattoos. They didn't wash off or anything. My problem is I have too many questions. Do others know about these things? In my prime, 40 and proud! Education, careers, wife, children, all behind me, but what's ahead of me?
Today I found out. It was a year ago I turned 40 and I was thrilled to take my brisk birthday walk. I nervously avoided looking down at my right wrist. Everything was in place. Down Flatbush Avenue, over to Bedford, and past the Flatbush Boy's Club. The pace was great and the air was full, cool, and clean. I even noticed a little spring in my step. You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you that some of the arthritis I had in my bad knee actually didn't bother me as much. On the return trip I passed the P.A.L. and made a longer trip than usual by walking all the way up to Ocean Avenue. All the people seemed as nice as ever, some even more so. All as usual, until I saw a man of about 35 smiling to me while scolding his nervous little son. I remember those words perfectly. The man told his son, "don't worry, he's just a TAT". That second, I looked down to my wrist and noted how the area between the two bracelets was filled in. Dark and black! Yes, I now had the ugly black tattooed right wrist. Horrors I thought, as I somehow suddenly realized, that I just turned 39, again.
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up in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, and am forty years old.
When 'they' became obvious to me is still uncertain. For argument's sake, let's just say I was around 8 years old. In the two caste system of the sixty's, us normal people always noticed the tattoo on the right wrist of the other caste. We called those with the tattoos - 'Tats' - and we stayed away from them knowing that they were different. Jealousy always played a major role and I can remember some of my public (elementary) school experiences involving the Tats. Just give me two minutes alone with one! But I know, that was not possible, the two castes - n e v e r - mixed.
Oh, and their tattoo was uuugly. I mean it was as if they were wearing a watch band. Solid black, one inch thick around the entire right wrist. I didn't know, couldn't know, or even imagine, that my jealousy of the Tats was just beginning. You see, I was 13 now and a new 7th grader. Forget the baby stuff of elementary school, I was now noticing girls! The Junior High was a great place. Girls, sports, girls, and other opportunities were available for any handsome young man, like myself. The only
problem for me (and my normal friends), was that work and grades came - absolutely first. The teachers made sure we understood this and the Superintendent of schools would fine our parents heavily if we even thought about failing. Then, of course, there were the Tats.
What a life! They still had no exams. They would all flirt in the hallways and the boys and girls would be making-out like there was no tomorrow. In the few cases where we tested together, the Tats always seemed brighter. No homework, no studying, how could they achieve these results? Even rarer would be a fight between a normie and a Tat. All out of rage I'm sure. I just can't understand why they always seemed to be a step quicker, sharper, or smarter. What really pissed me (and my friends) off was the fact that after one of these fights, the normie was always suspended. You can imagine what his parents would do to him with the fines and embarrassment, and all. I mean, the next day the Tat in the fight would be back in school. His friends and the Tat girls would be laughing. And you call this justice! Is this fair? Do we have equal rights???
That's pretty much the way it ran through Junior High School. I probably, most definitely, had more questions than answers. Even during the summer recess, before stepping up to the Senior High School, was an event. In some cases we appreciated being normies. It was a pleasure to walk the streets of Flatbush. One second you could be passing Macy's, the next second your nostrils would be teased with the unparalleled aromas from the local Kosher Deli. This was, of course, between working two jobs, four days a week. Parents had it much harder, but we were on break. I guess we just did our part to keep society going. Jealousy is a word that just flames out of me. You see, the Tats didn't have to work. They were enjoying the summer as if it were retirement. Oh the arrogant gall. Just when I couldn't stand it anymore I somehow noticed that adults my parent's age hinted moments of respect toward the Tats. In other words, as we passed the Tats on the streets my parents would nod, smile, or tip their hats with courtesy. I mean, can you just vomit? Working my butt off -- for what?
My hands tremble as I recall the 'other' summer happening. My friends and I swore our selves to secrecy. In no way can this be revealed while I'm still alive, but I must, at least for the public record's sake, let you know the truth. My friends and I challenged the Tats to a game of football. Yes, no adults knew of this 'mixed' event, and even the Tats agreed to keep the secret. There we were, in the game of our lives. Us against them, no parents, teachers, or other adults to stop 'the' challenge. Mixed company was taboo but we wanted to kick some butt, if you hear me talking. Our best players were inspiring. I mean, we signed up the entire Ja football team. We knew we would win! Then the game started and when we disguised plays right, only to run left, they were waiting for us. When we adjusted our defense to be waiting for them, they readjusted their offense. Every step of the way we were outplayed. They were the same size as us too, so we can't use that excuse. But late in the fourth quarter, when we were exhausted the Tats seemed to appreciate their youth more. They were happy and getting happier. How embarrassed we were but knew it was our secret. Shut out, outplayed, and out foxed, we left with our heads bowed down in defeat only having, more questions.
After all that, us normies headed to Senior High School with a new air of respect. We still hated the Tats but were at least athletically impressed. Maybe I could answer some questions if I could meet (secretly) with one of the Tat boys I played football against during the summer. Half in shame, and half with curiosity, I walked the hallways of our new school. All seemed about right. My friends and I were there, the two caste system had, an as usual, fifty - fifty ratio, but something just seemed unfamiliar to me. I couldn't find one of the Tats we had played football against last summer. I mean, not one!
One Tat (I secretly talked with) called me a nut for even trying to find the Tats from the past. I guess it's that mixed company taboo thing. Anyway, more questions. How can an entire football team just up, and disappear? Not that high school years were any different than the junior high years. All the pressure was on the normies. Jealously (did I use that word already) still was more present than ever, and life and youth, still belonged to the Tats. Just watching the boy and girl Tats enjoying each others company seemed exaggerated. Summers, work, and future semesters were all identical. No sense to rehash each year. Just look what I said about junior high. It's virtually, all the same.
Then came graduation. My friends, parents, and I were all so proud. I just (in the back of my mind) wondered what happened to the Tats we played football against? Why aren't they here graduating in front of their parents? I still don't like them but I feel as if I'm freaking out or something. Following graduation there was no summer off.
Immediate employment, two jobs a day, six days a week was a necessity for our society to survive. You know by now that the normies shouldered all of the burden, even for the Tats. I had until age 20, to get married and start reproducing. If I could not select a mate in time, one would be assigned. Marriage and starting a family all happened on the weekends. There was no vacation. Do it on your one and one-half days off, we were told. Forgot to mention that we only worked one job on Saturdays. In between having the two or three required children, the normie women all worked one job a day, six days a week. All of this was accepted and I'm not sure why I seemed to be the only one with questions. You can imagined we all worked like dogs. I'll spare you the details of how my wife, children, and I survived. So much pressure and so little time. I don't mean to leave anything out but let me continue on, at least for the public record's sake because I am already losing my memory.
Everything was much the same as I described up until I hit age 39. That morning I arose and as customary on each one of my birthdays, I took a brisk walk around the neighborhood. My bad knee was acting up as usual. Everything was as usual with nothing new. That is, nothing new until I started to open my front door following my walk. I noticed that as I turned the door knob that I appeared to have some dirt (or something) on my right wrist. It was just up the arm from the wrist joint and slightly above the protruding bone about 3 ½ inches from the pinky. I tried to wash it off but could not. It's probable thickness, only 1/32nd of an inch, drawn around my wrist like wrist like a bracelet. Surely worried, embarrassed, and a mixture of emotions attacked me. I was no Tat, but I wasn't exactly a normie anymore either. I kind of wore long sleeves and kept it a secret.
Now you're almost caught up to date. Age 39 came and went, and 40 was upon me. Before leaving my house for my traditional walk, I slowly glanced down at my right wrist. Can you believe that up the arm about one inch from the other slim dark bracelet, was indeed, another matching bracelet? I mean, they seemed to be tattoos. They didn't wash off or anything. My problem is I have too many questions. Do others know about these things? In my prime, 40 and proud! Education, careers, wife, children, all behind me, but what's ahead of me?
Today I found out. It was a year ago I turned 40 and I was thrilled to take my brisk birthday walk. I nervously avoided looking down at my right wrist. Everything was in place. Down Flatbush Avenue, over to Bedford, and past the Flatbush Boy's Club. The pace was great and the air was full, cool, and clean. I even noticed a little spring in my step. You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you that some of the arthritis I had in my bad knee actually didn't bother me as much. On the return trip I passed the P.A.L. and made a longer trip than usual by walking all the way up to Ocean Avenue. All the people seemed as nice as ever, some even more so. All as usual, until I saw a man of about 35 smiling to me while scolding his nervous little son. I remember those words perfectly. The man told his son, "don't worry, he's just a TAT". That second, I looked down to my wrist and noted how the area between the two bracelets was filled in. Dark and black! Yes, I now had the ugly black tattooed right wrist. Horrors I thought, as I somehow suddenly realized, that I just turned 39, again.
. Read More..
grandma, what happened?
i was on the computer and my brother was watching the telly. We thought our mum and dad were out shopping. We then recieved a phone call, from the police, saying that both our parents had died in a terrible car crash. We
were both very upset, but there was nothing we could do. We had to pack our cases and belongings and go and live with our grandma. Our grandad had died, 7 years ago and 3 months. Our grandma had moved into this giant house, right out in the countryside, with no shops or neibours nearby. It was such a long journiy to get there until we arrived. We brought our cases in and grandma opened the door.
Grandma wasn't the most freindliest women in the world, but she did show us to our rooms. They were quite big, but there wasn't much in them. My room had only a bed, a desk and a chair, mirror on the wall, a wardrobe, and a window with curtains slightly ripped. But i didn't care, i was just happy that we were living with someone who would look after us.
Later that evening, after dinner, we came down the creaky stairs. Grandma was sitting in her rocking chair, doing her usual knitting. She had always enjoyed doing her knitting, and had knitted little mittens and scarfs for us when we were babies. They were very itchy but we loved them.
We asked if we could go to the park, so we did. We remembered this place off by heart. We soon reached the park. There were no swings. Or slides. Or see-saws. There
was nothing. Something had taken it's place. It was a graveyard. At first, i thought i was dreaming, but i wasn't. We looked round at all the gravestones, until we reached one. We read who it was: it was grandma.
My brother quickly ran back, to the house. He checked in the lounge. The rocking chair was still there, gently rocking, the knitting stuff was still there, but grandma was gone.
I waited a few more minutes, but my brother never returned.
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were both very upset, but there was nothing we could do. We had to pack our cases and belongings and go and live with our grandma. Our grandad had died, 7 years ago and 3 months. Our grandma had moved into this giant house, right out in the countryside, with no shops or neibours nearby. It was such a long journiy to get there until we arrived. We brought our cases in and grandma opened the door.
Grandma wasn't the most freindliest women in the world, but she did show us to our rooms. They were quite big, but there wasn't much in them. My room had only a bed, a desk and a chair, mirror on the wall, a wardrobe, and a window with curtains slightly ripped. But i didn't care, i was just happy that we were living with someone who would look after us.
Later that evening, after dinner, we came down the creaky stairs. Grandma was sitting in her rocking chair, doing her usual knitting. She had always enjoyed doing her knitting, and had knitted little mittens and scarfs for us when we were babies. They were very itchy but we loved them.
We asked if we could go to the park, so we did. We remembered this place off by heart. We soon reached the park. There were no swings. Or slides. Or see-saws. There
was nothing. Something had taken it's place. It was a graveyard. At first, i thought i was dreaming, but i wasn't. We looked round at all the gravestones, until we reached one. We read who it was: it was grandma.
My brother quickly ran back, to the house. He checked in the lounge. The rocking chair was still there, gently rocking, the knitting stuff was still there, but grandma was gone.
I waited a few more minutes, but my brother never returned.
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The HPV Vaccine
HPV (human papillomavirus) is a very popular sexually transmitted virus, but not exactly the kind of popular that makes you want to be in the "in" crowd. It's believed that 75 percent of the population will become infected with HPV during their adulthood, and studies show that
certain types of HPV infections cause about 70 percent of all cervical cancer., while 370,000 cases of cervical cancer are identified in the United States every year and the CDC estimates that 6.2 million Americans are infected every year. In June, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration approved the first preventive HPV vaccine, marketed by Merck & Co. under the trade name Gardasil. Yay! But wait: Conservative Christian groups have come out in opposition against the HPV vaccine, claiming that a vaccine will only encourage promiscuity and that abstinence is the best way to avoid getting HPV -- and thus injecting a life-saving breakthrough with a virus of its own: life-threatening sexual hysteria. It's too bad: Something called "The Promiscuity Vaccine" sounds like a shot I'd like to get from a naughty nurse, rather than a dose of misinformation from the Family Research Council.
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certain types of HPV infections cause about 70 percent of all cervical cancer., while 370,000 cases of cervical cancer are identified in the United States every year and the CDC estimates that 6.2 million Americans are infected every year. In June, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration approved the first preventive HPV vaccine, marketed by Merck & Co. under the trade name Gardasil. Yay! But wait: Conservative Christian groups have come out in opposition against the HPV vaccine, claiming that a vaccine will only encourage promiscuity and that abstinence is the best way to avoid getting HPV -- and thus injecting a life-saving breakthrough with a virus of its own: life-threatening sexual hysteria. It's too bad: Something called "The Promiscuity Vaccine" sounds like a shot I'd like to get from a naughty nurse, rather than a dose of misinformation from the Family Research Council.
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The Craigslist Experiment Sex Scandal
In September, Seattle resident Jason Fortuny (and a friend) carried a Craigslist thought experiment over into shocking reality. He took a hard-core Women Seeking Men ad from another city and reposted it to see how many replies he could get in 24 hours. Then he published every
single response -- photos, e-mails, IM info, phone numbers, names, everything -- to a public wiki. Then he went public on Jason's LiveJournal page, calling it "The Craigslist Experiment." He got 178 responses, with 145 photos of men -- one respondent used a Microsoft employee e-mail address, another used a usar.army.mil (military) e-mail address -- all sparking huge debates on Internet privacy. Since then, Portland copycat Michael Crook performed the same experiment but took it further, baiting respondents into giving more sexual and personal information. Crook became a troll par excellence by trying to milk his 15 minutes of attention by barraging local Web sites like 10 Zen Monkeys and Web hosting providers like Laughing Squid with bogus DMCA takedown notices related to his image (when they wrote about him), turning sex-baiting into DMCA-baiting -- and now the local Electronic Frontier Foundation is suing Crook for bogus DMCA claims.
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'Girls Gone Wild''s Joe Francis
We all knew that those annoying "Girls Gone Wild" ads we had to sit through while waiting for Stephen Colbert to come back on just had to come from the father of all douche bags, but then this year we found out we were right. Joe Francis, the founder and director of the video
series, is officially looking like the king craziest douche bag of all times. He was robbed at gunpoint and forced to perform in a bend-over-boyfriend extortion video and was arrested on charges of racketeering and drugs. The Los Angeles Times profile in which he publicly sexually humiliated the female journalist on the story significantly raised his douche bag quotient (DQ). And this month, his guilty plea for using underage girls (gone wild with lawyers, natch) got him a tidy little sentence.
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series, is officially looking like the king craziest douche bag of all times. He was robbed at gunpoint and forced to perform in a bend-over-boyfriend extortion video and was arrested on charges of racketeering and drugs. The Los Angeles Times profile in which he publicly sexually humiliated the female journalist on the story significantly raised his douche bag quotient (DQ). And this month, his guilty plea for using underage girls (gone wild with lawyers, natch) got him a tidy little sentence.
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Sex in Space
In space, no one can hear you masturbate. At least that was the theory tossed (ahem) about the Internet and in print this year, especially when Laura S. Woodmansee came out with the well-researched
(and highly amusing) book "Sex in Space." Aside from jokes about getting fluids out of your hair, the choreography of connection and not leaving condoms on the console, MSNBC's science writer Alan Boyle remarked that "new devices and data would be required to hit the zero-g g-spot," and zero-gravity veteran Xeni Jardin got a sex-positive microgravity post going on Boing Boing that garnered comments from pro-abstinence pseudo-Christians as well as hanky-flagging space sluts.
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Sex Toy Bans
Sex toys had a rough year, coming and going. Not only did people freak out about what was in their toys, but legislators had fits so profound about their very existence that it kinda made us all a bit
uncomfortable to associate senators and butt plugs all in one sentence. ... But because they tried -- in some cases, successfully -- to make sex toys illegal in certain states, we have all been forced (with a vibrator to our collective heads) to consider anal beads and politicians in bed together, as it were. But seriously -- healthy, average adult Americans were forbidden their fundamental right to buzzing bunny vibrators and bend-over-boyfriend behind closed doors when a federal appeals court in Mississippi upheld the dismissal of a case challenging the state's sex toy ban. Mississippi joined the ranks of sex-toy hatin' states Alabama, Georgia, Indiana, Texas, Louisiana and Virginia.
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uncomfortable to associate senators and butt plugs all in one sentence. ... But because they tried -- in some cases, successfully -- to make sex toys illegal in certain states, we have all been forced (with a vibrator to our collective heads) to consider anal beads and politicians in bed together, as it were. But seriously -- healthy, average adult Americans were forbidden their fundamental right to buzzing bunny vibrators and bend-over-boyfriend behind closed doors when a federal appeals court in Mississippi upheld the dismissal of a case challenging the state's sex toy ban. Mississippi joined the ranks of sex-toy hatin' states Alabama, Georgia, Indiana, Texas, Louisiana and Virginia.
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Toxic Sex Toys
Sex educators had been making increasing noise all year about the use of phthalates (toxic chemicals) in cheaply made sex toys, but the lube really hit the fan when Greenpeace issued a toxic sex
toy warning based on their investigative report that put those Crystal Jelly Dongs right off the menu. Calling on the European Union to address what they called an "EU sex scandal," Greenpeace requested a ban on the toys similar to one put on children's toys made with the same chemicals -- just like we've proposed here in San Francisco. Blogs responded in kind, with more information on the chemicals and a guide to unsafe sex toys (or two).
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toy warning based on their investigative report that put those Crystal Jelly Dongs right off the menu. Calling on the European Union to address what they called an "EU sex scandal," Greenpeace requested a ban on the toys similar to one put on children's toys made with the same chemicals -- just like we've proposed here in San Francisco. Blogs responded in kind, with more information on the chemicals and a guide to unsafe sex toys (or two).
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Einstein, Sex Fiend
Yeah, he could talk the talk, but could he walk the walk? As it happens, Albert Einstein talked all kinds of smack about his fellow scientists -- and if he ever boasted about how chicks dig physics
geeks or his theory of (his own) relativity to a trophy-drawer of personally collected science-wife panties, he wasn't just pulling another fast equation on y'all. In July, a bevy of Einstein's private letters were unlocked after a 20-year hold, revealing that the king of all high-math nerds had a number of mistresses and numerous sexual liaisons with women who showered him with "affection and gifts."
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geeks or his theory of (his own) relativity to a trophy-drawer of personally collected science-wife panties, he wasn't just pulling another fast equation on y'all. In July, a bevy of Einstein's private letters were unlocked after a 20-year hold, revealing that the king of all high-math nerds had a number of mistresses and numerous sexual liaisons with women who showered him with "affection and gifts."
. Read More..
2257 Raids
The Justice Department added a whole bunch of new age-monitoring regulations in 2005 to their 2257 requirements for pornographers. They added so many, you'd expect them to be done for a while. And because 2257
news died down last year, it's really easy to get lulled into thinking the harassment and shakedowns of pornographers are over. But 2006 has been the year of the surprise 2257 raid for porn film companies. Even though porn is not illegal in the United States and 2257 is For the Children, the laundry list of legitimate businesses on the receiving end of raids this year grew by one more entry this month. In addition to Pure Play Media, Evasive Angles, Darkside Entertainment, Legend, Sunshine Films, Robert Hill Releasing, Sebastian Sloane Productions and Diabolic -- a team of FBI agents conducting 2257 records inspections visited the offices of K-Beech Inc.
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news died down last year, it's really easy to get lulled into thinking the harassment and shakedowns of pornographers are over. But 2006 has been the year of the surprise 2257 raid for porn film companies. Even though porn is not illegal in the United States and 2257 is For the Children, the laundry list of legitimate businesses on the receiving end of raids this year grew by one more entry this month. In addition to Pure Play Media, Evasive Angles, Darkside Entertainment, Legend, Sunshine Films, Robert Hill Releasing, Sebastian Sloane Productions and Diabolic -- a team of FBI agents conducting 2257 records inspections visited the offices of K-Beech Inc.
. Read More..
XXX Goes Down
In March 2005, Sen. Mark Pryor (D-Ark.) and Sen. Max Baucus (D-Mont.) proposed a bill that would require all commercial Web sites with material "harmful to minors" (in other words, sexually explicit content) to
move to a .xxx domain within six months of their bill becoming law. Anyone with a vaguely sex-related Web site instantly felt the first frost of the chilling effects that would come from such an Internet red light district. In a Boing Boing post, San Francisco's Electronic Frontier Foundation staff attorney Jason Schultz said, "Talk about a misguided attempt at Internet zoning ... also has severe implications for filtering as I'd imagine every .xxx domain would be on the universal black list." But by May 2006 the Register reported .xxx dead in the water, and all the sex writers in Blogistan heaved a collective sigh of relief.
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The Larry Wachowski Story
OK, so it wasn't a total secret that "Matrix" co-creator and producer Larry Wachowski was a cross-dresser -- the relationship with dominatrix Mistress Isla Strix was never really hidden, as it destroyed two
-- but the in-depth article in Rolling Stone revealed much more. In "The Mystery of Larry Wachowski," Peter Wilkinson writes: "Leaving Los Angeles, he and Ilsa moved into a $2.7 million home in San Francisco, on a steep hill in the Castro, with sweeping views of San Francisco Bay. (As of last month, work was still under way on an expensive addition to the house, and a sparkling new red Lexus was parked in the indoor garage.) On the transfer deed for the Castro home, the name Laurence Wachowski does not appear. Instead, it's 'Laurenca' Wachowski. And in a judge's order, filed in the divorce proceeding, he is similarly identified as Laurence Wachowski, a.k.a. Laurenca Wachowski."
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Challenging Children With Mystery Stories
Fifth-grade students love puzzles. Ten and eleven year olds are just beginning to leave the safe realm of the basal reader to branch out into sampling various reading categories. Therefore, the puzzle-like form of a mystery story should
stimulate an appreciation and enjoyment of this genre. The mystery story can be an excellent stimulus for utilizing study skills needed to be a good critical reader, such as cause-and-effect, logical deduction, and assessing vital information and facts. These same skills are also valuable in forming a “budding” writer.
This Unit will be an on-going one through the year. First, students will read mystery stories, reporting on them in book reports and discussing them in class in teacher-directed lessons. In the discussions children will be led to discover the “main elements of a mystery”; defining a problem to be solved, looking for clues or evidence, assessing of evidence, and finally arriving at a solution.
In using the main elements to describe the mystery story’s format, the student can be shown how the problem-solving skills of sequencing, analyzing, cause and effect, and the use of logical deduction are used when reading and writing this genre. The final “poetic justice” endings give great satisfaction to a fifth-grader’s sense of “fair play” and innocence redeemed.
As pupils gain more critical-reading skills, they can advance to the reading of more mature stories by authors such as Phyllis Whitney and John Fitzgerald. He wrote The Great Brain series.
In the conclusion of the unit, students will do some creative short-story writing of their own using the mystery story format. In this way, they will have an appreciation for the skills needed to write a “truly good mystery” and, I hope, will have started a life-long love for reading.
For, as Howard Haycraft states in his introduction to A Treasury of Great Mysteries,
. . . people read mystery stories for a diversity of reasons. Some, for the intellectual challenge of the puzzles they present, others for the vicarious pleasure of the chase. Others believe . . . that the vast popularity of the genre lies in the fact that, in a disorderly world, it represents one of the few fixed points of order and morality, where justice may be counted on to emerge triumphant.
This facet of the mystery story definitely appeals to a fifth-grader’s sense of fairness and emerging creative reasoning skills.
Lawrence Trent1, in his preface to the Mystery Writer’s Handbook, states what a mystery story really should contain in its structure. He calls them the “rules of the classic mystery.”
Rule 1: There must be a crime and the reader must want to see its solution, his interest must be aroused and then he must long to see the mystery solved.
Rule 2: The criminal must appear reasonably early in the story. The villain must be evident for a goodly portion of the book.
Rule 3: The author must be honest and all clues must be made available to the reader. The reader must know everything the protagonist knows.
Rule 4: The detective must exert effort to catch the criminal and the criminal must exert effort to fool the detective and escape from him. Coincidence is taboo.
Although these are the devices of the mystery story, they are the hallmarks of all storytelling; the problem, the characters needed to make the reader care about them, the events that occur in their solving of the problem and, in the end, the reader feels a satisfaction in being included in the solution.
The structure of the mystery story lends itself well to teaching children how to write one. Many approaches may be used to introduce a child to mystery writing.
The first, and most important, is to begin reading them. Let a child discover the enjoyment of reading a good mystery story. Some of Phyllis Whitney’s, Elizabeth Levy’s and David Kherdion’s can be used to stimulate discussions and invoke the child into becoming a “discerning” reader.
The Shadow Nose by Elizabeth Levy is a modern story, using an urban setting and basketball as background. The title is a pun taken from the old radio show, The Shadow, and his motto, “The Shadow Knows.” The main character is a boy named after the Shadow, Lamont Cranston. After reading it, the student could be guided to find the clues, asked to write when did you see the solution, and an opinion of the mystery’s title.
For reluctant readers or those more interested in a comic book format, the Hergé series published by Magnet Press would be an interesting starter. Students could read the adventures of TinTin, which are beautifully illustrated in a comic book format.
The plot of a mystery story is most important, and many times the hardest part of the writing. Pauline Bloom2 reminds us that good story structure demands that you not only involve your main character in trouble, but that you resist the temptation to have him work out his solution too promptly and too easily. In good fiction and in good mystery fiction particularly, the conflict must grow.
The process of writing a well-developed mystery then has to be step-by-step. This process is easily understood by young students, as this is how they have been learning so many of their skills up to this point. They can then very readily use this step-by-step process in their reporting of their reading. Who are the main characters? Where are they? What has happened? What is the mystery to be solved? How did they begin? Did you recognize any clues? Did an event surprise you?
When the time comes to introduce students to the writing process, the newspaper can be an excellent starting point.
Headlines could be cut out and the student asked to create a story using the facts needed to answer the 5 W’s: who, where, when, what and why.
Richard Martin Stern3, in his essay on Suspense, writes that “suspense is the stuff of which all fiction is, or ought to be, made.” He adds that plot alone will not make the reader care, characters and suspense are needed. He calls the important words, “intention” and “anticipation”, the positive openings to the rise of suspense in the reader’s mind.
Time is a powerful tool in the producing of suspense. It helps build up to the climax of the story and is a device used in many stories to heighten the suspense.
Sequencing is another important factor in the building of suspense. It helps to walk the student through a recapping of the story’s time elements to see just when events occurred. You can guide the reader to see the building of the story, realize how the pace adds to the excitement and recognize how the author pulled him along to make him keep turning the page to read more. This, Stern feels, is the “essence”. This is suspense—the art of making the reader turn the page.
In planning the story structure, Charting and Clustering are two very useful tools. The student should be shown how important planning is before beginning to write. Charting, a skill which is easily followed by ten year olds, consists of charting out the main facts of the story in a paper.
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stimulate an appreciation and enjoyment of this genre. The mystery story can be an excellent stimulus for utilizing study skills needed to be a good critical reader, such as cause-and-effect, logical deduction, and assessing vital information and facts. These same skills are also valuable in forming a “budding” writer.
This Unit will be an on-going one through the year. First, students will read mystery stories, reporting on them in book reports and discussing them in class in teacher-directed lessons. In the discussions children will be led to discover the “main elements of a mystery”; defining a problem to be solved, looking for clues or evidence, assessing of evidence, and finally arriving at a solution.
In using the main elements to describe the mystery story’s format, the student can be shown how the problem-solving skills of sequencing, analyzing, cause and effect, and the use of logical deduction are used when reading and writing this genre. The final “poetic justice” endings give great satisfaction to a fifth-grader’s sense of “fair play” and innocence redeemed.
As pupils gain more critical-reading skills, they can advance to the reading of more mature stories by authors such as Phyllis Whitney and John Fitzgerald. He wrote The Great Brain series.
In the conclusion of the unit, students will do some creative short-story writing of their own using the mystery story format. In this way, they will have an appreciation for the skills needed to write a “truly good mystery” and, I hope, will have started a life-long love for reading.
For, as Howard Haycraft states in his introduction to A Treasury of Great Mysteries,
. . . people read mystery stories for a diversity of reasons. Some, for the intellectual challenge of the puzzles they present, others for the vicarious pleasure of the chase. Others believe . . . that the vast popularity of the genre lies in the fact that, in a disorderly world, it represents one of the few fixed points of order and morality, where justice may be counted on to emerge triumphant.
This facet of the mystery story definitely appeals to a fifth-grader’s sense of fairness and emerging creative reasoning skills.
Lawrence Trent1, in his preface to the Mystery Writer’s Handbook, states what a mystery story really should contain in its structure. He calls them the “rules of the classic mystery.”
Rule 1: There must be a crime and the reader must want to see its solution, his interest must be aroused and then he must long to see the mystery solved.
Rule 2: The criminal must appear reasonably early in the story. The villain must be evident for a goodly portion of the book.
Rule 3: The author must be honest and all clues must be made available to the reader. The reader must know everything the protagonist knows.
Rule 4: The detective must exert effort to catch the criminal and the criminal must exert effort to fool the detective and escape from him. Coincidence is taboo.
Although these are the devices of the mystery story, they are the hallmarks of all storytelling; the problem, the characters needed to make the reader care about them, the events that occur in their solving of the problem and, in the end, the reader feels a satisfaction in being included in the solution.
The structure of the mystery story lends itself well to teaching children how to write one. Many approaches may be used to introduce a child to mystery writing.
The first, and most important, is to begin reading them. Let a child discover the enjoyment of reading a good mystery story. Some of Phyllis Whitney’s, Elizabeth Levy’s and David Kherdion’s can be used to stimulate discussions and invoke the child into becoming a “discerning” reader.
The Shadow Nose by Elizabeth Levy is a modern story, using an urban setting and basketball as background. The title is a pun taken from the old radio show, The Shadow, and his motto, “The Shadow Knows.” The main character is a boy named after the Shadow, Lamont Cranston. After reading it, the student could be guided to find the clues, asked to write when did you see the solution, and an opinion of the mystery’s title.
For reluctant readers or those more interested in a comic book format, the Hergé series published by Magnet Press would be an interesting starter. Students could read the adventures of TinTin, which are beautifully illustrated in a comic book format.
The plot of a mystery story is most important, and many times the hardest part of the writing. Pauline Bloom2 reminds us that good story structure demands that you not only involve your main character in trouble, but that you resist the temptation to have him work out his solution too promptly and too easily. In good fiction and in good mystery fiction particularly, the conflict must grow.
The process of writing a well-developed mystery then has to be step-by-step. This process is easily understood by young students, as this is how they have been learning so many of their skills up to this point. They can then very readily use this step-by-step process in their reporting of their reading. Who are the main characters? Where are they? What has happened? What is the mystery to be solved? How did they begin? Did you recognize any clues? Did an event surprise you?
When the time comes to introduce students to the writing process, the newspaper can be an excellent starting point.
Headlines could be cut out and the student asked to create a story using the facts needed to answer the 5 W’s: who, where, when, what and why.
Richard Martin Stern3, in his essay on Suspense, writes that “suspense is the stuff of which all fiction is, or ought to be, made.” He adds that plot alone will not make the reader care, characters and suspense are needed. He calls the important words, “intention” and “anticipation”, the positive openings to the rise of suspense in the reader’s mind.
Time is a powerful tool in the producing of suspense. It helps build up to the climax of the story and is a device used in many stories to heighten the suspense.
Sequencing is another important factor in the building of suspense. It helps to walk the student through a recapping of the story’s time elements to see just when events occurred. You can guide the reader to see the building of the story, realize how the pace adds to the excitement and recognize how the author pulled him along to make him keep turning the page to read more. This, Stern feels, is the “essence”. This is suspense—the art of making the reader turn the page.
In planning the story structure, Charting and Clustering are two very useful tools. The student should be shown how important planning is before beginning to write. Charting, a skill which is easily followed by ten year olds, consists of charting out the main facts of the story in a paper.
. Read More..
Friday, May 22, 2009
Catch a Rabbit
The LAPD, The FBI, and the CIA are all trying to prove that they are the best at apprehending criminals. The President decides to
give them a test. He releases a rabbit into a forest and each of them has to catch it.
The CIA goes in.
They place animal informants throughout the forest. They question all plant and mineral witnesses. After three months of extensive investigations they conclude that rabbits do not exist.
The FBI goes in.
After two weeks with no leads they burn the forest, killing everything in it, including the rabbit, and they make no apologies. The rabbit had it coming.
The LAPD goes in.
They come out two hours later with a badly beaten bear. The bear is yelling: "Okay! Okay! I'm a rabbit! I'm a rabbit!"
. Read More..
give them a test. He releases a rabbit into a forest and each of them has to catch it.
The CIA goes in.
They place animal informants throughout the forest. They question all plant and mineral witnesses. After three months of extensive investigations they conclude that rabbits do not exist.
The FBI goes in.
After two weeks with no leads they burn the forest, killing everything in it, including the rabbit, and they make no apologies. The rabbit had it coming.
The LAPD goes in.
They come out two hours later with a badly beaten bear. The bear is yelling: "Okay! Okay! I'm a rabbit! I'm a rabbit!"
. Read More..
run
I was teaching a very basic class in BASIC programming to a group of adults. Adults who have never been around computers before
are very nervous and much harder to teach than children, however I am a patient person so I enjoy their successes.
However, I must share the following:
After putting a short program on the board, I told the students to type "R," "U," "N" and press return to see the program execute.
A hand went up in the back of the room, waving to get my attention, and the person attached to the hand said, "I did what you said and it didn't work." Knowing full-well that all of us make mistakes when typing at the computer, I suggested she retype "R," "U," "N" and press return. A few seconds later, the lady's hand goes up again. "It still doesn't work," she said.
So... I went back to see what the problem was ... only to find that instead of typing RUN, she had typed in the following: ARE YOU IN !
. Read More..
are very nervous and much harder to teach than children, however I am a patient person so I enjoy their successes.
However, I must share the following:
After putting a short program on the board, I told the students to type "R," "U," "N" and press return to see the program execute.
A hand went up in the back of the room, waving to get my attention, and the person attached to the hand said, "I did what you said and it didn't work." Knowing full-well that all of us make mistakes when typing at the computer, I suggested she retype "R," "U," "N" and press return. A few seconds later, the lady's hand goes up again. "It still doesn't work," she said.
So... I went back to see what the problem was ... only to find that instead of typing RUN, she had typed in the following: ARE YOU IN !
. Read More..
YANTRAS & THE BRAIN CIRCUITS
When a sadhaka starts or even aspires to the kundalini he has to undergo a process of mental cleansing. For a modern sadhaka one
wonders what the first niyamas would be. The first is to unlearn normal ways of everyday thought. This would mean immediately plucking out judgmental and analytical thought processes. This would immediately lead on to the fourth brain circuit of sexual thinking. This would also mean meditating at the plateau level for at least 38 minutes everyday. This should be able to generate news ideas.
The sadhaka has to unlearn traditional ways of thinking. The aspirant is given full freedom to let sensations and dreams float through his mind. Gentle spiritual music helps. The physical world is not negated but used to bring energy to all circuits. So physical energy is never negated in preference to mental energy. Tantra realizes that the brain functions mostly with one circuit along with two parallel circuits that are only playing supporting roles. The Freudian thesis of Id, ego and superego also functions in this fashion. So the kundalini yoga or tantra actually support this classification. The fourth brain circuit denies rationality.
If semen is allowed to be expelled, the kundalini is not activated because the loop is then controlled entirely by one sexual circuit. As sexual energy builds, the third brain circuit increases its energy level to maintain control. The third brain circuit opens a pathway to the fifth brain circuit. The semen also opens a pathway to the fifth brain circuit and the two brain circuits working together increase the activity of the fifth brain circuit. The kundalini teacher therefore preserves all these three circuits by rigorous cleaning of the mind through discipline.
The sexual brain however needs to be given full sway for its play within this field of energy. The aspirant therefore visualizes a golden light all around him like a shield. In case of distractions and too much traditional thinking, the aspirant is asked to visualize a mirror-like shield reflecting energy back to the source. This is the correlation between the yantra and the brain circuits. The mantra and the yantra both help in meditation on free energies of the universe with the goal of affecting top emotional and sexual control.
. Read More..
wonders what the first niyamas would be. The first is to unlearn normal ways of everyday thought. This would mean immediately plucking out judgmental and analytical thought processes. This would immediately lead on to the fourth brain circuit of sexual thinking. This would also mean meditating at the plateau level for at least 38 minutes everyday. This should be able to generate news ideas.
The sadhaka has to unlearn traditional ways of thinking. The aspirant is given full freedom to let sensations and dreams float through his mind. Gentle spiritual music helps. The physical world is not negated but used to bring energy to all circuits. So physical energy is never negated in preference to mental energy. Tantra realizes that the brain functions mostly with one circuit along with two parallel circuits that are only playing supporting roles. The Freudian thesis of Id, ego and superego also functions in this fashion. So the kundalini yoga or tantra actually support this classification. The fourth brain circuit denies rationality.
If semen is allowed to be expelled, the kundalini is not activated because the loop is then controlled entirely by one sexual circuit. As sexual energy builds, the third brain circuit increases its energy level to maintain control. The third brain circuit opens a pathway to the fifth brain circuit. The semen also opens a pathway to the fifth brain circuit and the two brain circuits working together increase the activity of the fifth brain circuit. The kundalini teacher therefore preserves all these three circuits by rigorous cleaning of the mind through discipline.
The sexual brain however needs to be given full sway for its play within this field of energy. The aspirant therefore visualizes a golden light all around him like a shield. In case of distractions and too much traditional thinking, the aspirant is asked to visualize a mirror-like shield reflecting energy back to the source. This is the correlation between the yantra and the brain circuits. The mantra and the yantra both help in meditation on free energies of the universe with the goal of affecting top emotional and sexual control.
. Read More..
LOOKING WITHIN
Kundalini yoga is a systematic arrival at one's spiritual goal through observances prescribed in a ritual manner. The first two
limbs of Yoga, yama and niyama form the ground upon which all subsequent teaching is based. This first stage in the practice of the aspirant really focuses his mind on the commencement of personal effort, where the person endeavours to act from all that he understands - and has understood through his past experience - before he is introduced to new teaching, or new knowledge.
The stage called yama and niyama states the first truth about the original Yoga teaching, which is that it is about change of being, and not simply about the acquisition of knowledge. It is about learning to act from the knowledge gained from experience - about each person learning to act from his own individual storehouse of knowledge, through which he makes it truly his own. This is knowledge abstracted from empirical experience about man and his spiritual evolution. In this yoga, the enlightenment or wisdom has to be generated from daily practice and observances whose wellsprings are from within the body and within the mind. External authority or sacred papal commandments cannot command the kundalini. But they have to come from inner discernment, inner understanding, and inner truth.
Yama or niyama are activities of mind, in which a person seeks to discern what is the right goal and what is the wrong expression of it for himself. He peels away before uncovering the kundalini fire, all the dross that has been laid upon the true spiritual nature of man.
In the earliest form of Sanskrit the word yama meant an activity of discernment, and the ability, not only to distinguish right expression from wrong expression, but to have control over all forms of expression that derive from external commands or authority. The abstentions are only part of distancing oneself from the dross external. The five yamas include seeking the motives for a man's actions and the direction of his energy. Through this he realizes the persistence and courage to embark on the self-threatening process of discovery.
. Read More..
limbs of Yoga, yama and niyama form the ground upon which all subsequent teaching is based. This first stage in the practice of the aspirant really focuses his mind on the commencement of personal effort, where the person endeavours to act from all that he understands - and has understood through his past experience - before he is introduced to new teaching, or new knowledge.
The stage called yama and niyama states the first truth about the original Yoga teaching, which is that it is about change of being, and not simply about the acquisition of knowledge. It is about learning to act from the knowledge gained from experience - about each person learning to act from his own individual storehouse of knowledge, through which he makes it truly his own. This is knowledge abstracted from empirical experience about man and his spiritual evolution. In this yoga, the enlightenment or wisdom has to be generated from daily practice and observances whose wellsprings are from within the body and within the mind. External authority or sacred papal commandments cannot command the kundalini. But they have to come from inner discernment, inner understanding, and inner truth.
Yama or niyama are activities of mind, in which a person seeks to discern what is the right goal and what is the wrong expression of it for himself. He peels away before uncovering the kundalini fire, all the dross that has been laid upon the true spiritual nature of man.
In the earliest form of Sanskrit the word yama meant an activity of discernment, and the ability, not only to distinguish right expression from wrong expression, but to have control over all forms of expression that derive from external commands or authority. The abstentions are only part of distancing oneself from the dross external. The five yamas include seeking the motives for a man's actions and the direction of his energy. Through this he realizes the persistence and courage to embark on the self-threatening process of discovery.
. Read More..
UDDIYANA BANDHA
Kundalini yoga offers a great way to train the body for better compliance of muscles including those that are used in the act of sex. The path of
kundalini yoga gets tough along the way as more and more is demanded of your body after the pranayamas and the asanas of the hathayoga. You are required to do the bhandas or the locks. These locks are nothing but special asanas that literally lock the body into certain postures. Of course they are specific for certain pathways and they ensure that your ability to perform sexually is strengthened.
The uddiyana bhanda is a diaphragm lock. Here the yogic practitioner, while sitting in the padmasana position, needs to lift the diaphragm high into the thorax and simultaneously get the abdominal muscles to almost touch the spine. The muscles have to be pulled tight towards the back with the breath pulled out. You should be able to see a cavity forming. This bhanda is said to be particularly beneficial for the heart muscles. What it achieves in terms if the kundalini shakti is that it gently nudges the pranic energy towards the neck.
Now it has been found that this bhanda has more effects than what is visible. It manages to stimulate the tri-axis of the hypothalamic, the adrenal glands as well as the pituitary regions in the brain. This is said to wash you with a benign sense of calm while giving you more control over your body. Of course tantric experts claim that this also gives one a great deal of energy, vitality and a sense of youthfulness - all ingredients of better sex. In the rhythmic laya Yoga, this bhanda is used during chanting and it is said to produce the best results for tapa. That is why you see pictorial representations of the rishis of yore with a caved in abdominal cavity.
. Read More..
kundalini yoga gets tough along the way as more and more is demanded of your body after the pranayamas and the asanas of the hathayoga. You are required to do the bhandas or the locks. These locks are nothing but special asanas that literally lock the body into certain postures. Of course they are specific for certain pathways and they ensure that your ability to perform sexually is strengthened.
The uddiyana bhanda is a diaphragm lock. Here the yogic practitioner, while sitting in the padmasana position, needs to lift the diaphragm high into the thorax and simultaneously get the abdominal muscles to almost touch the spine. The muscles have to be pulled tight towards the back with the breath pulled out. You should be able to see a cavity forming. This bhanda is said to be particularly beneficial for the heart muscles. What it achieves in terms if the kundalini shakti is that it gently nudges the pranic energy towards the neck.
Now it has been found that this bhanda has more effects than what is visible. It manages to stimulate the tri-axis of the hypothalamic, the adrenal glands as well as the pituitary regions in the brain. This is said to wash you with a benign sense of calm while giving you more control over your body. Of course tantric experts claim that this also gives one a great deal of energy, vitality and a sense of youthfulness - all ingredients of better sex. In the rhythmic laya Yoga, this bhanda is used during chanting and it is said to produce the best results for tapa. That is why you see pictorial representations of the rishis of yore with a caved in abdominal cavity.
. Read More..
SECRETS OF THE SAPPHIRE
The Kaula tantra called Brihad Nila Tantra, or the exposition of the Sapphire Blue Saraswati and the Tararahasya or the Secrets of Tara, talk of this Saraswati, the spouse of the creator of the universe or the Brahma-Shakti, or
creative aspect. She is the wife of Brahma and in the Natha Kuala tradition of tantrism a part of Dattatreya who is an amalgam of Vishnu, Brahma and Mahesh. Dattratreya is the patron guru of the Natha tradition. In the Hindu Tantrarajatantra, where Her mantra is given as Om Tare Tuttare Ture Svaha, identical to the Tibetan version, she is called Kurukulla.
Tantric ritual around her abounds because she is considered secret, powerful and immediate in giving boons. She is invoked by tantriks as Nilasarasvati, Aniruddha Sarasvati, Ugra Tara, and Tarini. She is important for the tantric as in the form of Nilasarasvati she immediately bestows the fruit worshipping her on the upasaka as she is the shakti of the alphabet, the Matrika Shakti.
She is important in Tantrik cosmology because mantra, words and music are considered to be the very source of the cosmos. As Matrika Shakti she deludes the entire human race with Her Maya of letters, and words. This has been expressed in a Tantrik form, but, practically speaking, it is sufficient to say that much hypnosis (Maya) comes about through a web of words. People can be killed by the use of the mantra. Thus Her power and place in the Tantrik pantheon is quite justified, and Her mantra is described as a Siddha-Vidya, the cause of Maya and enchantment.
According to the Todala Tantra the sadhaka has to start the Tara ritual by meditating on Tarini, who is visualized as being as bright as the rising sun in the apogee of a sphere of light, a place surrounded by beautiful maidens with fans and bells. He has to meditate on being one with her absolutely absorbed in her surrounded as she is by a gentle zephyr laden with scent and perfume and incense. This he has to do under the wish fulfilling tree that is placed in the center of the island of glittering gems.
With this he enters a realm of magic and high ecstasy before he prepares for the vamachara or the left handed worship of Tarini for supernatural boons including power over people's mind. Therefore this is also called a miracle tantra.
. Read More..
creative aspect. She is the wife of Brahma and in the Natha Kuala tradition of tantrism a part of Dattatreya who is an amalgam of Vishnu, Brahma and Mahesh. Dattratreya is the patron guru of the Natha tradition. In the Hindu Tantrarajatantra, where Her mantra is given as Om Tare Tuttare Ture Svaha, identical to the Tibetan version, she is called Kurukulla.
Tantric ritual around her abounds because she is considered secret, powerful and immediate in giving boons. She is invoked by tantriks as Nilasarasvati, Aniruddha Sarasvati, Ugra Tara, and Tarini. She is important for the tantric as in the form of Nilasarasvati she immediately bestows the fruit worshipping her on the upasaka as she is the shakti of the alphabet, the Matrika Shakti.
She is important in Tantrik cosmology because mantra, words and music are considered to be the very source of the cosmos. As Matrika Shakti she deludes the entire human race with Her Maya of letters, and words. This has been expressed in a Tantrik form, but, practically speaking, it is sufficient to say that much hypnosis (Maya) comes about through a web of words. People can be killed by the use of the mantra. Thus Her power and place in the Tantrik pantheon is quite justified, and Her mantra is described as a Siddha-Vidya, the cause of Maya and enchantment.
According to the Todala Tantra the sadhaka has to start the Tara ritual by meditating on Tarini, who is visualized as being as bright as the rising sun in the apogee of a sphere of light, a place surrounded by beautiful maidens with fans and bells. He has to meditate on being one with her absolutely absorbed in her surrounded as she is by a gentle zephyr laden with scent and perfume and incense. This he has to do under the wish fulfilling tree that is placed in the center of the island of glittering gems.
With this he enters a realm of magic and high ecstasy before he prepares for the vamachara or the left handed worship of Tarini for supernatural boons including power over people's mind. Therefore this is also called a miracle tantra.
. Read More..
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Nila tantra
Called the king of all tantras and the core of the quintessence, the Nila Tantra involves an invocation of the king of mantras, the secrets of
magical restraint. Then comes the Kumari puja, rites of sacrifice (homa), the secret sadhana and mantra, alchemy, preparation of miraculous ashes (bhasma) and everything related to the six magical acts (satkarma).
The rite is to be performed facing north in a cremation ground, meditated on as being like a lotus fibre extending from the base of the spine to the 1,000 petal lotus, like ten million fires, suns and moons. A sadhaka bathes in the morning facing north, and visualizes the guru in the 1,000-petal lotus. He invokes the morning sun. Then the twilight mantra of Tarini, a goddess in one of the avatars of Kali, is recited. The tantric now prepares the secret mantra, purashcharana, and a rosary of human bone.
The scared spot for the rite is the Kamarupa, where the yoni of the goddess fell after being sliced into fifty parts. Next is the kumari pooja where a maiden is worshipped. Before this an offering to jackals is made. Eight Kula trees are worshipped. Wine is consecrated for worship. The six magical acts are now performed. The Maha China karma is performed. Svecchachara, or the path of one's own will is followed. The conjunction of yoni and lingam is the essence of the rite. During intercourse, the partners should mentally recite the Tara mantra. It should be performed in the cremation ground.
The copper yantra for this has the Tara and mahakaal in sexual congress and is smeared with kundagola and svayambhu flowers (menstrual blood) and scents including camphor. The practitioner meditates in the heart on Tarini and then draws her, by using his vital breath, using a flower, into the center of the yantra. She is then considered present in the yantra and different upacharas or offerings are made to her.
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magical restraint. Then comes the Kumari puja, rites of sacrifice (homa), the secret sadhana and mantra, alchemy, preparation of miraculous ashes (bhasma) and everything related to the six magical acts (satkarma).
The rite is to be performed facing north in a cremation ground, meditated on as being like a lotus fibre extending from the base of the spine to the 1,000 petal lotus, like ten million fires, suns and moons. A sadhaka bathes in the morning facing north, and visualizes the guru in the 1,000-petal lotus. He invokes the morning sun. Then the twilight mantra of Tarini, a goddess in one of the avatars of Kali, is recited. The tantric now prepares the secret mantra, purashcharana, and a rosary of human bone.
The scared spot for the rite is the Kamarupa, where the yoni of the goddess fell after being sliced into fifty parts. Next is the kumari pooja where a maiden is worshipped. Before this an offering to jackals is made. Eight Kula trees are worshipped. Wine is consecrated for worship. The six magical acts are now performed. The Maha China karma is performed. Svecchachara, or the path of one's own will is followed. The conjunction of yoni and lingam is the essence of the rite. During intercourse, the partners should mentally recite the Tara mantra. It should be performed in the cremation ground.
The copper yantra for this has the Tara and mahakaal in sexual congress and is smeared with kundagola and svayambhu flowers (menstrual blood) and scents including camphor. The practitioner meditates in the heart on Tarini and then draws her, by using his vital breath, using a flower, into the center of the yantra. She is then considered present in the yantra and different upacharas or offerings are made to her.
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ELEMENTS OF TANTRASHASTRA
Tantrashastra talks of five tattvas or great elements: wine, meat, parched food, fruits & roots and shakti. The three kinds of wine used in
Tantra texts are molasses liquor, rice liquor and the liquor from the Madhuka flower. There are also various other kinds made from the juice of the palmyra and date tree, and known by various names according to their substance and place of production. They are all declared to be equally appropriate in the worship of the god to be propitiated.
"According to Tantra, the use of wine is declared appropiate in the worship of god."
Meat, again, is of three kinds, that of animals of the waters, of the earth, and of the sky. Whatever meat the disciple likes is often the offering. Only male animals should be decapitated in sacrifice. There are three kinds of Fish - Shala, Pathina and Rohita. Those which are without bones are of middle quality, whilst those which are full of bones are considered inferior but are often fried and offered to the Devi.
There are also three kinds of parched food, superior, middle, and inferior. The best offering is Shali rice, white as a moonbeam, or from barley or wheat, and which has been fried in clarified butter. The middling variety is made of fried paddy. Other kinds of fried grain are considered inferior. Meat, fish, and parched food, fruits and roots, or anything else offered to the Devata along with wine are called Shuddhi.
The offering of wine without Shuddhi, or purification or santification, as also puja and tarpana (without Shuddhi), becomes fruitless, and the Devata is not propitiated. The drinking of wine without Shuddhi is like the swallowing of poison. The disciple is ever ailing, and lives for a short time and dies.
Svayambhu and other kinds of flower as well as red sandal paste are also considered important elements. However neither the Tattvas nor flowers, leaves, and fruits are to be offered to the Mahadevi unless purified. The man who offers them without purification goes to hell, according to the texts.
One's own Shakti or wife can be considered the fifth Tattva.
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Tantra texts are molasses liquor, rice liquor and the liquor from the Madhuka flower. There are also various other kinds made from the juice of the palmyra and date tree, and known by various names according to their substance and place of production. They are all declared to be equally appropriate in the worship of the god to be propitiated.
"According to Tantra, the use of wine is declared appropiate in the worship of god."
Meat, again, is of three kinds, that of animals of the waters, of the earth, and of the sky. Whatever meat the disciple likes is often the offering. Only male animals should be decapitated in sacrifice. There are three kinds of Fish - Shala, Pathina and Rohita. Those which are without bones are of middle quality, whilst those which are full of bones are considered inferior but are often fried and offered to the Devi.
There are also three kinds of parched food, superior, middle, and inferior. The best offering is Shali rice, white as a moonbeam, or from barley or wheat, and which has been fried in clarified butter. The middling variety is made of fried paddy. Other kinds of fried grain are considered inferior. Meat, fish, and parched food, fruits and roots, or anything else offered to the Devata along with wine are called Shuddhi.
The offering of wine without Shuddhi, or purification or santification, as also puja and tarpana (without Shuddhi), becomes fruitless, and the Devata is not propitiated. The drinking of wine without Shuddhi is like the swallowing of poison. The disciple is ever ailing, and lives for a short time and dies.
Svayambhu and other kinds of flower as well as red sandal paste are also considered important elements. However neither the Tattvas nor flowers, leaves, and fruits are to be offered to the Mahadevi unless purified. The man who offers them without purification goes to hell, according to the texts.
One's own Shakti or wife can be considered the fifth Tattva.
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Isaac Asimov's Lost Story Of Sex And Telepathic Energy Beings
In 1955, Isaac Asimov wrote "The Portable Star", a story he considered so bad, so sexy, that he forbade it ever being collected or reprinted. For
fifty-four years, it has been forgotten. Until now.
"The Portable Star" is one of only two stories that Asimov refused to anthologize ("A Woman's Heart" being the other), and it is by far the more interesting of the two. For one thing, it's actually pretty good, albeit in a minor sort of way. The story follows the married couples Holden and Grace Brooks and Philip and Celestine Van Horne. Their interstellar vacation is interrupted when their hyperspace drive breaks down, forcing them to land on an uninhabitable, Venus-like planet to make repairs.
They soon find themselves trapped by telepathic energy beings that can control their emotions and prevent them from leaving. Most of the story is a quintessentially Asimov scientific mystery, as Philip has to figure out what would be so beyond the comprehension of these aliens that they would be scared away, giving him and his friends a chance to escape.
That's what's the story is about. But here's how it starts:
If space voyages are "romantic," Holden Brooks was certainly carrying on the tradition when he stepped into the cabin of his best friend's wife, with one straightforward objective in mind.
He did not signal. He merely opened the door and walked in. She was waiting for him as, somehow, he had known she would be, wearing a loose night garment. She held out her arms to him and they trembled slightly. Her dark hair fell below her shoulder, accenting the pale roundness of her face.
Her name was Celeste Van Horne and her husband sat in one corner of the room, idly pinching his ear-lobe.
Holden paid no attention to the husband's presence. He stepped directly to Celestine and placed his hands on her shoulders. She swayed toward him and they kissed violently, longingly, over and over again.
It goes on like that for a while, and then Holden tries to kill Philip in animalistic rage for trying to get in the way, just to complete the whole cuckolding-in-space theme. So like I said, it's your standard, perfectly decent 1950's Asimov short story, except with a sexy sex scene that reads like something out of a third-rate romance novel bolted onto the front of it. And I say that with the deepest respect and love for the Good Doctor – the man is easily my favorite science fiction author of all time. So how did this happen?
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fifty-four years, it has been forgotten. Until now.
"The Portable Star" is one of only two stories that Asimov refused to anthologize ("A Woman's Heart" being the other), and it is by far the more interesting of the two. For one thing, it's actually pretty good, albeit in a minor sort of way. The story follows the married couples Holden and Grace Brooks and Philip and Celestine Van Horne. Their interstellar vacation is interrupted when their hyperspace drive breaks down, forcing them to land on an uninhabitable, Venus-like planet to make repairs.
They soon find themselves trapped by telepathic energy beings that can control their emotions and prevent them from leaving. Most of the story is a quintessentially Asimov scientific mystery, as Philip has to figure out what would be so beyond the comprehension of these aliens that they would be scared away, giving him and his friends a chance to escape.
That's what's the story is about. But here's how it starts:
If space voyages are "romantic," Holden Brooks was certainly carrying on the tradition when he stepped into the cabin of his best friend's wife, with one straightforward objective in mind.
He did not signal. He merely opened the door and walked in. She was waiting for him as, somehow, he had known she would be, wearing a loose night garment. She held out her arms to him and they trembled slightly. Her dark hair fell below her shoulder, accenting the pale roundness of her face.
Her name was Celeste Van Horne and her husband sat in one corner of the room, idly pinching his ear-lobe.
Holden paid no attention to the husband's presence. He stepped directly to Celestine and placed his hands on her shoulders. She swayed toward him and they kissed violently, longingly, over and over again.
It goes on like that for a while, and then Holden tries to kill Philip in animalistic rage for trying to get in the way, just to complete the whole cuckolding-in-space theme. So like I said, it's your standard, perfectly decent 1950's Asimov short story, except with a sexy sex scene that reads like something out of a third-rate romance novel bolted onto the front of it. And I say that with the deepest respect and love for the Good Doctor – the man is easily my favorite science fiction author of all time. So how did this happen?
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Rotting from the inside: sex abuse and the Catholic Church
Catholic sex abuse has a long and ongoing history intertwined with that of religious institutions.
From Ireland to Malta the pandemic
has swept across the world, but its caliber remains veiled from the public eye.
It is almost too soon to give an unemotional response to the revelations of routine sex abuse by appointees, officers, members and employees of the Catholic Church in Ireland.
The Irish Times covers the story honourably, while the Independent seems to minimise the story.
Let's remember that the problem is not Ireland's. It is the church and its many institutions, besides.
Pedophilia runs to the highest levels of society. Five hundred years after the Spanish occupation of the Netherlands, it was the descendent of the Spanish governor, the Duke of Alba, who was fiddling with children in what his family must have considered their hunting grounds.
In Britain, the Chairman of the Board of Deputies of British Jews, an MP now Lord Greville Janner, was named by a boy at a children's home in Leicestershire as a frequent, abusing visitor. The press reported Janner's name, accidentally.
I remembered his name because one of my schoolboy contemporaries, on a trip to the House of Commons in 1977, disappeared for five hours in the company of Mr Janner, who entertained the child in the Commons' tea room. I thought at the time this to be a strange, homosexual oddity. The brief naming of Janner, later expunged from the press, confirmed my suspicions.
The Irish investigation into nationwide, endemic, high-level, child abuse took 10 years to result in a published report. The cost of the investigation has reached €70 million. The establishment, having refused to investigate the case for so long, decided to profit from it. Corruption piled upon abuse.
As one comment to the London Times put it, "Sex Abuse in the catholic church is a misnomer. What is and has been for centuries is the "Systemic Homosexual Grooming" at the root of Catholic theology via Plato, Aristotle, and mainly Greek {Spartan} philosophy.
The church is rotting from the inside out. That is why the cover up term pedophilia is used, when in fact it is pederasty and ephobilia.
Other commentators point out that Malta is another outpost of Catholic sex abuse. I know the Christian Brothers were violent and active in the United States.
That country has other scandals. Unmarked graves at a reform school and no prosecutions?
Child abuse is a merely a decadent pleasure that runs to the top of our societies. It is time for discussion, which is why I devote a small corner of my insignificant site to the topic.
God bless the victims.
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From Ireland to Malta the pandemic
has swept across the world, but its caliber remains veiled from the public eye.
It is almost too soon to give an unemotional response to the revelations of routine sex abuse by appointees, officers, members and employees of the Catholic Church in Ireland.
The Irish Times covers the story honourably, while the Independent seems to minimise the story.
Let's remember that the problem is not Ireland's. It is the church and its many institutions, besides.
Pedophilia runs to the highest levels of society. Five hundred years after the Spanish occupation of the Netherlands, it was the descendent of the Spanish governor, the Duke of Alba, who was fiddling with children in what his family must have considered their hunting grounds.
In Britain, the Chairman of the Board of Deputies of British Jews, an MP now Lord Greville Janner, was named by a boy at a children's home in Leicestershire as a frequent, abusing visitor. The press reported Janner's name, accidentally.
I remembered his name because one of my schoolboy contemporaries, on a trip to the House of Commons in 1977, disappeared for five hours in the company of Mr Janner, who entertained the child in the Commons' tea room. I thought at the time this to be a strange, homosexual oddity. The brief naming of Janner, later expunged from the press, confirmed my suspicions.
The Irish investigation into nationwide, endemic, high-level, child abuse took 10 years to result in a published report. The cost of the investigation has reached €70 million. The establishment, having refused to investigate the case for so long, decided to profit from it. Corruption piled upon abuse.
As one comment to the London Times put it, "Sex Abuse in the catholic church is a misnomer. What is and has been for centuries is the "Systemic Homosexual Grooming" at the root of Catholic theology via Plato, Aristotle, and mainly Greek {Spartan} philosophy.
The church is rotting from the inside out. That is why the cover up term pedophilia is used, when in fact it is pederasty and ephobilia.
Other commentators point out that Malta is another outpost of Catholic sex abuse. I know the Christian Brothers were violent and active in the United States.
That country has other scandals. Unmarked graves at a reform school and no prosecutions?
Child abuse is a merely a decadent pleasure that runs to the top of our societies. It is time for discussion, which is why I devote a small corner of my insignificant site to the topic.
God bless the victims.
. Read More..
Hairdresser turns robber into sex-slave
A hairdresser from the small Russian town of Meshchovsk has subdued a man who tried to rob her shop, and then raped him for three days in the utility room, Life.ru reports.
The incident occurred on Saturday, March 14. The
working day was coming to an end at a small hairdressers, when a man armed with a gun rushed in and demanded the day’s earnings.
The frightened employees and customers agreed to fulfill his demand, but when the shop’s owner, 28-year-old Olga, was handing the money to the robber, she suddenly knocked him down on the floor and then tied him up with a hairdryer cord. The 32-year-old Viktor couldn’t have known that the woman was a yellow belt in karate.
Olga locked the unlucky robber in the utility room and told her colleagues that she was going to call the police – but didn’t do so. When everybody left home, she approached the man and ordered him to ‘take of his underpants’ threatening to hand him over to the police if he refuses to cooperate.
After that Olga raped her hostage for three long days. She chained Viktor to the radiator with pink furry handcuffs and fed him Viagra.
She eventually let the man go on Monday, March 16, saying: “Get out of my sight!”
Viktor went straight to hospital as his genitals were injured, and then to the police.
Olga was resentful when she was taken by the police.
“What a bastard,” the woman said about Viktor. “Yes, we had sex a couple of times. But I’ve bought him new jeans, gave him food and even gave him 1.000 roubles (around $ 30) when he left.”
After that she wrote a notice to the police claiming the man tried to rob her shop.
Both Olga and Viktor may now face prison terms. The woman could be convicted of rape, while the man of robbery.
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The incident occurred on Saturday, March 14. The
working day was coming to an end at a small hairdressers, when a man armed with a gun rushed in and demanded the day’s earnings.
The frightened employees and customers agreed to fulfill his demand, but when the shop’s owner, 28-year-old Olga, was handing the money to the robber, she suddenly knocked him down on the floor and then tied him up with a hairdryer cord. The 32-year-old Viktor couldn’t have known that the woman was a yellow belt in karate.
Olga locked the unlucky robber in the utility room and told her colleagues that she was going to call the police – but didn’t do so. When everybody left home, she approached the man and ordered him to ‘take of his underpants’ threatening to hand him over to the police if he refuses to cooperate.
After that Olga raped her hostage for three long days. She chained Viktor to the radiator with pink furry handcuffs and fed him Viagra.
She eventually let the man go on Monday, March 16, saying: “Get out of my sight!”
Viktor went straight to hospital as his genitals were injured, and then to the police.
Olga was resentful when she was taken by the police.
“What a bastard,” the woman said about Viktor. “Yes, we had sex a couple of times. But I’ve bought him new jeans, gave him food and even gave him 1.000 roubles (around $ 30) when he left.”
After that she wrote a notice to the police claiming the man tried to rob her shop.
Both Olga and Viktor may now face prison terms. The woman could be convicted of rape, while the man of robbery.
. Read More..
Amnesia or Something Else
August 17, 2004. Happy birthday to me.
It was long lonely day for me, August 17, it was my birthday. I woke up, took a shower, got in my uniform, went to school and watched
a movie. That ‘final moments of Jack Stingham’ movie was probably a little too long for me to handle, I fell asleep halfway of it. I should have gone home from school instead of watching a movie. I watched it alone. I have never been that close to my peers, their just there when they need me, but not when I need them. I didn’t mind much though. I can feel the weight of the whole day on my shoulders, I have worn my uniform all throughout the day, and I could already imagine the food in my fridge. I was so damn hungry. It was hard living alone, that day nobody greeted me a happy birthday, except those who seen me and know about it of course. My classmates greeted me, but that’s it. No present, no special dinner, no party, it was and ordinary day. But it was supposed to be special.
I was outside the mall thinking how late I have been outside. Strange stares people make made me feel uneasy. I should have been prepared, one more minute I couldn’t touch my phone from my pocket. It’s not there anymore. Dratt, robbed. What a "happy" birthday this has been.
I rode the bus. I screamed to the old driver to have me dropped off Falcon Street. And as my mind linger from spaces to spaces; I didn’t realize I was already sleeping. A few more moments, I immediately checked if my head was bleeding, that bus driver was a bitch, after having my head bump on the seat in front of me, I shook my head, trying to find out where I was.
"Wake up sonny… we’re already at Portman Street."
"Portman street?! Dammit! Old man, I told you to wake me up at Falcon Street! Not in Portman street! Ugh! Now I have to take another ride back!" I complained after having so much trouble with the old man. The old timer could just look at me with curiosity as I get off the bus.
I looked sideways as I find myself nowhere near my destination. The noise of the people chatting and vehicles honking irritated me. The vague situation made me think for a while. Then I decided I’ll walk back to Falcon Street. With my hands in my pocket, I started walking, kicking every single stone in my way to pass time. I stopped for some drinks as I get thirsty with the few blocks I walked.
"Why did I end up like this? I should considered taking a full 12-hour sleep from now own so I don’t have to fall asleep in the bus. Yawn!" I told to myself out loud. I can see people staring at me like I’m some kind of lunatic. I didn’t bother look at them. I just want to go home that’s all. What a day, first a crappy movie, a stolen cell phone, and now this, great, just great.
Another ride and it will be home sweet home. I took one of my hands off my pocket, stood by the road and waited for my last ride. I thought that by now I’m supposed to be at home, resting my eyes, eating dinner and watching my favorite show. The chilly night made it worse, it was cold. Finally the shuttle arrived and I’m ready to get on.
"Ow!" something hit me. "Sorry. You go first."
"Ow shit! I’m sooooo sorry mister! I really am! Sorry…sorry really! I’m sor-"
"It’s ok really! Hop on the bus, you go ahead.…" talk about noisy.
A girl probably my age, wearing a hooded black and white stripes sweater jacket, converse rubber sneakers and short shorts bumped me, knocking the change off my hand. I had to pick them up, making the bus wait for me. This day couldn’t get any worse. But as I finished picking my items up, I looked up and saw her. She was still there. Did she wait for me? Why didn’t she just get on the bus?
"Uh…you go on ahead. Thanks." I told her trying to be the gentleman that I am.
"You ok? I’m sorry; your money fell because of me."
"I’m fine, thanks."
At least she was nice enough to say that. Some women today don’t even bother looking at you at times like these. The bus honked its horn at us, as we are still outside trying to have a wordless conversation. She went up and had a seat at the back of the bus. The ride didn’t have much people on it, so I picked my favorite spot, the third seat from the last seat at the back. I let my butt had the pleasure of hugging the seat as I give out a loud sigh. I was sleepy, but I knew better, I learned my lesson of course. So I tried my best staying up.
But my eyes got the best of me; I fell sideward as I slowly fall asleep. I thought I’ll land on the cushion beside me, but I landed on something else. The hooded girl that bumped me earlier, was already sitting beside me, I fell on her shoulder.
"O fuck, sorry! Shit, that was the second time in an hour. Sorry miss."
"It’s ok, I’m sorry I startled you. The seat in front smells bad. And people started to board the bus; your seat is the only one free. And you seem to be a nice guy."
Well of course I am, I thought to myself. I know she’s talking at me, but her eyes are looking at somewhere else. She gives me the creeps, she’s weird, no, rather… unique.
"Yeah, sure, my stops not in a few blocks anyway." I said.
"Funny, my stop is just a block away from here."
"Really, I’ll be getting off compound 76?"
"Yeah! Exactly! You live near there? I haven’t seen you before."
"Jeez, I’ve been there for years, I haven’t seen you too."
Our chat continued as our stop came near. And then…
"Where are we?" she said. Her voice was some kind of cute, the likes of what you hear from Korean TV.
"Ugh. Not again! This is the second time tonight that I missed my stop. We’re at 77 now, we missed a block."
"You mean you missed a stop before? Well, at least it’s just a block. We can walk from here. At least I have someone to talk to."
"Yeah, just before I got in this bus, I missed a stop. Well, we better start walking."
It’s unusual for me to have the same situation twice a day, missing a stop. I’m not that hungry anymore, looks like my hunger passed out. We talked our way back to compound 76. We walked the short distance to our home. And finally, we made it. I can already see my house, as we come near, I got my keys out of my bag, and I can see she’s doing the same. I looked at the girl and thought I should say good bye now. But I don’t see her stopping, or even slowing down. I guess I’ll be stopping before she does. Its funny how I never seen her before.
"So, this is my house, I’ll look forward in seeing you again. It’s nice seeing a new neighbor. Thanks for keeping me company." I told her.
"C’mon, stop it. First you told me you haven’t seen me before, now you’re trying to open my own door?"
I can’t really comprehend with what she’s saying. I looked at my house and the door mat that’s usually there wasn’t there anymore. Maybe I really needed sleep. I already forgot about the damn birthday, that damn cell phone, and that damn bus. All of those I’ve already forgot because I’m so freakin’ tired. I couldn’t chat with her anymore.
"What do you mean?!" I asked
"Mister, this is MY house…"
"YOUR house?!"
"Look, I’m not playing games. Have a look at my keys. Here."
What exactly is she saying, HER house?! She handed me a set of keys with funny cute key chains. They looked so adorable they have drawn my attention from what I really need to see. It placed my key and her key beside each other, like comparing two pictures. Of course I can’t tell the difference between the two keys, the one she gave me and the one I’m holding. I looked at her and in an instant she was already sucking a lollipop, how can she eat at a time like this? I asked her to explain. And all she could give me is a weird stare.
"Look, I had enough trouble tonight and I’m really really hungry. If you like I’ll walk you home." I explained to her.
"Your style is original, but can we do this tomorrow?"
"Excuse me? Ok, tell you what, for the sake of you shutting up, we’ll both try our keys, and the one that opens the door gets to have a good night."
"Me? Shutting up?! Why I nev-… Fine!"
I asked her to open the door first, if she fails, and I’m sure she will, I don’t have to waste any more breathe explaining. But the moment she twist the knob, the door clicked open. I was shocked, is she a gang member? Is this one of those new modus operandi? Is she going to pull a knife? I wasn’t scared; she looks frail enough to be standing too long, she couldn’t have a chance to hurt me. So I stayed calm.
"Ok lady! Where did you get a spare key? You’re a robber aren’t you?!"
"I told you, I live here!"
"That’s not possible! Look!"
I took my keys, locked the door again and opened it. As I expected, it opened.
"What?! You’re the robber!" she screamed.
"If I’m the robber, I won’t be walking in with the owner of the house showing her my spare key. Listen lady, it’s either you or me that’s having an amnesia here."
"That’s definitely not me!"
She’s getting angry second by second. Her cool is gone. The long tiring night made the situation worse. When suddenly, the lights inside the house lit, now we’ll be able to find out who’s lying. Who ever recognize one of us, is telling the truth.
"Andy!"
And then I realized something, what a dumbass I was! I was living alone in that house; nobody could have been inside if not me. Who was that person who opened the lights? Was it her accomplice? Am I really going to get? Did they break inside my house even before I got home?!
The door flung open. I didn’t recognize her. She was a woman in her mid 40s; she was pretty, but old enough to be my mom.
What the hell? Who’s Andy? And who’s that woman in front of the door?!
"Who’s that guy with you? It’s late at night and you took your boyfriend with you?! Come in here young lady!" the woman at the front step screamed at the girl beside me.
"Mom! Look! This man is insisting that he lives here! You’ve got-"
But even before the girl, that now I know named Andy, got a chance to finish her sentence, her so-called mom dragged her inside.
"You lay your hands of my daughter you filthy man!" she accused me.
Her mom screamed at me. What the hell is going on? Where’s MY house? Why do I have a spare key of this house if it’s not mine? Where will I sleep? More over, what will I eat? What’s happening, did I just lose? Am I the one having amnesia? Ugh! I’m so damn hungry. What to do? What to do? This is definitely a situation you won’t be calling normal. This is out of this world. Events you can only see while watching "supernatural". It’s my birthday and all I can do is grab the last cigarette I have in my pocket, I lighted it, and as the fire engulfs the tobacco, I suddenly felt sleepy. I looked at my room’s window, well where it used to be at least, that could be seen from the bench I was sitting. The light was on; I could see the girl’s silhouette moving all around. One more minute, she turned off the light, probably hit the sack. I was envious; I have to sleep, but where? Before I could come to my senses, I’m already lying at the bench.
Oh what have I gotten myself into? First the crappy birthday, the lonely movie, the snatched cell phone, the missed stop, and now this? I’m soooo hungry… soo…hungry… so… hun…gry…
…
The next morning I smelled bacon. It woke me up. I can’t believe I fell asleep in the bench without noticing it. I opened my eyes; the thing that I thought was a nightmare was true; I was still in the bench. It was late as I looked at my watch, its 11:30.
"Wake up! You really do have a habit of sleeping do you, first on the bus and then at the bench. No wonder you miss the stops you’re supposed to, not to mention your own house." What the hell?! Someone’s patting my head like I’m some sort of dog!
I smelled a very beautiful aroma. Smells like carnation flowers that used to be placed near the dining table. It was Andy, the girl that took my house. She was wearing her pink pajamas; it made her look so cute. But that’s no time to be admiring the one that took my home.
"Hey, it’s you. Uh, don’t tell me this bench belongs to you too?" I told her. "I’m sorry, I just had a very bad night and it looks like it’s not stopping."
"Eat up, that’s my breakfast, I wanna share it to you."
"You wanna share it to me?"
"Yeah, you told me last night you’re hungry, I can’t imagine where you’ll be getting food since I left you outside last night."
I didn’t say a word; I lowered my pride and started eating the yummy bacon that was on the plate. She was different from last night; she was far more kind than before considering the fact that I tried to break in her house with a rude attitude. And that time she just met me. My heart felt soft on her, I forgot how angry I was.
"Hey, what’s your name?!" Andy asked.
"Drew…"
"Drew huh…"
"What?!" I said while reluctantly gobbling on the crispy bacon.
"You know Drew,"
"Yeah?"
"I haven’t had bacon for a week. I told you I’d share my breakfast; I didn’t tell you to eat it all."
The bacon in my mouth flew out of surprise. I completely forgot that I’m not supposed to eat it. I was so embarrassed of what happened. I can just look at her with huge bulging eyes.
"Ha-ha! Just kidding, there’s plenty of more inside. What to come in at ‘you’re house’"
The sound of sarcasm made me curious. I can see what she’s trying to do. She cute, that’s all I can say, she tried to cheer me up. She only met me but she became friendly all at once. Is she really like this? It made me wonder is that really her house and not mine. I’m scared to come in and see that all my furniture is not inside anymore. And more than that, I’m scared that her so-called mom will scream at me again.
"Andy, right? I’m not really sure but- "
She interrupted me.
"Look Drew, it’s obvious I just woke up." She flips her messy hair and revealed a face different from last night. Damn, she’s pretty even though she just woke up. Her lips are smooth and pink, and her cheeks were red. I looked at her half closed eyes, and her cute nose. Her voice was a voice of early morning maiden, a little grumpy on one side, and a little sweet on the other.
"Hey are you listening?!" she interrupted my gaze.
"Uh, yeah, sorry…"
"I just woke up and it’s already noon, I couldn’t sleep last night. I keep on thinking about what happened. I thought about it and I’m convinced you’re telling the truth."
"You mean that’s really my house?!"
"No dummy. I believe that you’re not a burglar or something. I saw you last night, you we’re sleeping soundly in this bench. You have to admit, what happened last night was out of the ordinary."
Again, she flipped her hair, brushing it upwards since it’s getting on her face. I want to stare at it but she might notice.
"So, I want to say sorry. I want to know what happened."
"Don’t worry about it Andy, from what’s happening now, I misjudge you too."
"Come, follow me…I want to know something."
"Where are we going?"
"Inside…ummm… inside our house."
She said "our" house, that’s like saying we’re living on the same roof. What a funny thing to say. Even though it’s very obvious she lives there, she wanted my eerie sadness to fade and still played the "I still don’t know if it’s your house or mine game". It was pretty.
"But you’re mom." I told her.
"My mom, yeah, she’s the one that woke me up ‘you’re boyfriends outside! Tell him to go home; he even slept outside! Ugh! What a drama king.’ She said. It’s funny actually. She’s off to work and won’t be home until midnight, same time you saw her last night. That’s her schedule everyday."
"Ow I see. Are you really comfortable of letting me inside?"
"Yep! If you’re a bad guy you’ve probably broke in the house last night with you spare key. Knowing that you think this is your house but didn’t come in anyway made me think you’re a good guy."
"Jeez, thanks Andy."
She took my hand and pulled me to their, or our, front door. She grasp my hand, it felt so soft and smooth, I looked at her colorful fingernails, I didn’t notice I was already smiling. She stood by the front door and rang the door bell.
"What are you doing?!"
"He-he, I’m trying to cheer you up."
I don’t really know what she’s up to, but the next thing she does is pushed me inside the house all by myself and then closed the door. She was left outside. I came in, I looked at the interior; it was far more different that I remembered. The furniture were different, my books weren’t in the same place as before. I wasn’t scared, actually I laughed!
Ding Dong! The doorbell was ringing.
"knock knock! Umm… is this where Drew lives?" what a funny thing to do, Andy’s doing something awfully weird. I opened the door.
"Um, yes, actually I’m Drew, what can I help you with?"
"Hahaha! Very convincing Drew!"
She was so funny with what she’s doing. She’s trying to cheer me up considering the fact that she met me in a very awkward way. I gained her trust in an instant. She offered me food which I open heartedly accept.
"Ok, time to find out if you really live here just like you say. I want you to tell me, how many rooms are there upstairs?"
I can see what she’s trying to do. I participated. She’s asking questions to prove my sincerity.
"3! Two at the left of the stair, one with a bathroom, then another room at the right!"
"Woah! Drew! You hit the jackpot! This is weird!"
"Yeah I know. You what’s even weirder? Your room, that’s where my room used to be."
"Really?!"
"Yeah…I saw you last night walking back and fort. Hehe…"
Then I thought about calling home, just in case I was on the wrong house.
"Hey, can I use your phone?" I asked of Andy.
"Great idea, try to find out if anybody knows what happened to you. Hmmm… you do remember a number do you?!"
I looked at their telephone, and then decided it was the best thing to do. I took the handle then first dialed my own number, but even a single ring wasn’t heard. Andy asked me to use her cell phone. She thought there might be a problem in their landline. I used it and the weirdest thing happened. Their own telephone rang. We looked at each other, I was calling their home. What is going on?! What the hell?! We didn’t say a word. The last thing that happened was the most bizarre.
We just stare at each other. It was weird that I dialed my own number but they phone rang. It’s not only their house, but also their number that I know. It’s not the right time to be smiling, but Andy did. The situation is thrilling her, it was exciting for her. my mind was laughing on the inside.
"Andy, I need to use the bathroom for a while."
"(giggles) Oh yeah, it’s over… of course you know where it is. What am I thinking?"
"So you really believe me now huh.. Thanks Andy. Can I use the one upstairs? The one in here has a broken flush; I don’t want to mess up your house. And wiped that smile of your face, you’re creeping me out" But she smiled even bigger.
"Oh, that toilet, my mom had it fixed…before…we…moved…in…"
That hit us both…
"Drew! It’s official!" she jumped out of her chair and in front of me. "You lived here once! Just before we moved in! You’re the previous owner then! That means…"
"I do have amnesia…"
My body fell on the couch as I realize that the last thing I remembered was watching a movie then riding a bus. What happened between those things? When did I lose my memory? How did I lose them? So many questions, so many questions. How long have my remaining memory has took me back to the past? Surely it was way before Andy moved into my house. But why did I move out? I knew this kind of cases. This is the stuff where a person bumps his head then a part of his life is erased only remembering his most memorable day.
"I’m still wearing my uniform, that means I went to school yesterday then lost my memory on the way home. What exactly happened last night?! Damn this is a mess!" I panicked while walking from left to right. Andy doesn’t seem to be disturbed. Her glances followed me wherever I go as if she’s waiting for something.
"Andy, tell me, how long have you and your mother been in this house?"
"About a year now." That’s all she can say. "hmmm… So your memory was lost last night, after doing an ordinary daily routine. Then an event caused you amnesia, and you return way back from the day you still lived here?"
"I think so too. But how did I lose my memory. The last thing I remember was my birthday." I don’t know what question I want to ask first. "When did they first screen the movie ‘final moments of Jack Stingham’?"
"Oh boy! I watched the movie on the first screening too!" she didn’t actually answer it.
"I loved that movie! Especially that part where Jack tries to shake the jet off by improvising the fuel with…umm…with… I can’t remember, it was in August 17, 2004 I think. Last last year."
"Well I remember, ‘I just watched it last night’, it was a can of soft drink. He replaced the fuel with a can of Pepsi." I still have the nerve of paradox
"Oh yeah! Now I remembered. Haha! That was hilarious; the way you said ‘I just watched it last night.’ Though it was exactly two years ago."
"Exactly two years ago. So, I went back all the way from my birthday last last year." I found a simpler explanation for Andy. "My memory since Aug. 17, 2004 up to yesterday was erased. It’s like cutting a part of a string then tying the remaining ends…"
"August 17 is your birthday? That’s tomorrow!"
"You mean today’s the 16th August 2006? Tomorrow is my birthday then!"
"Yeah! That’s tomorrow! You know, the day after today! That also mean that your birthday is the day after this! This is exciting!" what a lunatic. She was excited? For me? "Try calling a friend, maybe they can help you out."
"You’re right!"
An idea came to me. What if I try calling someone and ask for myself, about what have happened to me for the past 2 years, about what have I become. Where did I go last night? Where do live now?
But then, I realized, my phone was gone. Damn. The only thing I remember is Del’s number, and of all the phone number listed on my phonebook, it was only his that I memorized. It’s funny how accurate my memory about Del’s number was, thinking that I just had amnesia. Man, this is like being stick in that "50 first dates" movie.
I got hold of Andy’s phone, I dialed the number. I was hoping he still use it after a long time of being.
"That’s ok Drew, we’ll figure something out." Andy said as she saw my disappointed face. She knew at once that there was no answer, not even a ring. My options are beginning to dwindle.
"*sigh*, look Andy, you don’t have to do this, you don’t even know me, it’s not your job to help me. I should be going. I’ll try to shape this out for myself. You stay here. If I stay here a bit longer, your mom with surely get mad."
"Non sense! I have always dreamed of having a friend with amnesia! Besides, you’re not even sure if you dialed the right number. you’re giving up way too easy"
That statement didn’t really catch my drift. What is she saying? She’s kind of fanatical, in a endearing way. Every second that pass looking at her made my heart squashy, I’m beginning to like her. I’ve only met her for not more than 24 hours and she already became my friend.
"With a friend with forgetfulness, you can become a new you! Get it!? I can be a surgeon if I tell you and you’d believe me. Heheh, though I prefer being myself. Come on, I’ll take you somewhere. I might know someone that can help you. Grab those clothes from the drawer. They’re my brother’s you can use them. You can’t go out wearing your uniform." She’s insane…
She was right. My uniform has the stench of my sweat. I have worn it longer than I’ve met her. I really should mull over changing. She didn’t let me talk. She just hastes upstairs and a few more moments I could hear splashes of water coming from the shower in the bathroom in the second floor. She was taking a bath. Are we going somewhere? She made me wait long enough.
"I’m ready!"
Oh damn shit. I recalled those things that I told myself about Andy being cute. But when she came down, it was far more than that. She was all fixed up. She was wearing pink hooded jacket with blue spaghetti straps inside. She wears a high cut converse sneakers and those cute accessories in her hand. I can only say that she’s unique. She acts so childlike.
"What?!" she told me as I realize I was looking at her without blinking. My stare lasted for seconds, no, more like minutes. She looked at me with a smile.
"is my look weird? Its fine if you don’t like it. I’m comfy this way."
"No! No! Of course not. I liked it. It’s that, you look good on that. Hahaha! What am I saying?"
"Why thanks Drew! My mom thinks it’s a mess. Only few people say it’s cute. One of it was my dad. And my bro’s clothes looks good on you too!"
"Yeah, it’s a perfect fit. So Andy, where are we going?!"
"She again grabbed my hand. We went outside and started commuting. She didn’t tell me where we were going. She just said she doesn’t have class, and we have to hurry if we want to see him. But who’s "him"? I just got a long with her.
She’s kind of weird, she doesn’t know how to cross the streets, and she kept on holding my hand every time. She craved for ice cream but she can’t finish a cone, so she gives it to me. Her shoe laces keeps on untying but she doesn’t even bother to tie them again. She was a real life comedian. She pulled my shirt as we came into a stop.
"Here we are!" she said pointing at a medium sized house. Where are we exactly?!
"Andy? What’s this place?"
"You’ll find out."
Then as she rings the door bell, a few more moments, a lofty slender man with glasses opened the door.
"Andy!" the man called her then hugged her tightly.
"Dad!" the cute Andy hugged him back; her hood fell down exposing her drawn-like little face.
It was her dad. We came in, I introduced myself. Andy told everything that had happened from last night. It’s a good thing her dad’s not as mean as her mom. He understood the situation instantly. Andy left the two of us alone, then prepared a snack for us. Andy was familiar about the house. It seems like she lived there once. But why is her dad not with them. I looked at the house with amazement, and then her father coughs.
"So, you had amnesia huh. But what I can’t think about is why you have a spare key of Andy’s house?" Andy’s dad said.
"I don’t know sir."
I and Andy’s dad talked for a while Andy herself plays with Kitty.
"She’s Kitty. She’s Andy’s dog. Funny huh, Andy named her Kitty when we got her, what a crazy name to give a dog. Andy’s always been like that with her. She spend more time playing with Kitty than playing with real humans. I can’t bare to see her face when her mother objected in bring Kitty along with them when we separated. So I took the dog and care for it. Andy’s my treasure. I was lonely when she and her mother left me." Her dad said.
So that’s their story, they were a broken family. But Andy loved her father I know. But her love to her old man isn’t enough if her parents don’t love each other anymore. Now I can see why her mother acts that way. She might have developed a grudge against men. And once she saw me last night, she got the wrong impression, that’s why she shouted at me. It figures.
But aside from that story, her dad agreed to lend me a room in their house. Her father was a doctor. He said he could help me. And the only cure for amnesia is to wait. Explore places I think I might have been. That way I might be able to remember something. I’ll stay there for the night. I can’t sleep on the bench like I did before. Andy and her dad were so kind. I was so lucky to have amnesia in the right place with the right people.
"So, Drew! I hope you and my dad get along well. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then! Dad, lend him some clothes, I’ll be taking him there tomorrow! Cheer him up a bit I think." Andy told me and her dad.
"Yes dear. That place would probably do the thing." her dad replied.
What exactly is "that" place, where is "there"? I didn’t bother ask for an explanation. It’s obvious they won’t tell me anyway. I and Andy’s dad gave her a ride home. Then it was his dad and I left on the apartment. We chat for a little bit since we aren’t that sleepy yet.
"So Mr. Cuthburt, why did you and Andy’s mom on bad terms?!"
"Call me Johnny, Andy calls me that when no one’s around." What a cute father-daughter relationship they have. "Well, I wouldn’t call it bad terms. You see, I have always spoiled Andy, and her mom objects that. When she was in high school, her mom and I always engage into fights. Next thing I knew, they were packing their bags. Andy was confused, but she told me that I had to be the man and let her stay with her mother so she can take care of her. I smiled and let it be. I think she got her happy-go-lucky traits from me. Don’t you think."
"I see that Johnny. She does act like you. I bet you miss her so much."
"You bet, but her mother doesn’t have any objection when it comes to visits. She can stay here whenever she likes as long as she tells her mom."
"ummm… Jonny, thanks for everything. You’ll been a pal. And Andy, you’re lucky to have her. She’s not like any other girls. If I was to have amnesia in a park, I wouldn’t last 10 min. from any other stranger."
"Nice to hear that from you Drew."
It was like talking to a brother. Like an older male version of Andy..
*
The next day the scent of bacon woke me up again, this time it was early 9am. I didn’t open my eyes yet. I just wished that when I wake up, that delicious bacon would be the same bacon Andy served me. So I smiled without opening my eyes.
"What are you smiling about smartass?!" a pat on my head quickly opened my eyes.
"A-Andy! What are you doing here?! It’s too early for a visit!" it was her all along, she gave me a shock. What I acted was too embarrassing. I dreamt of her and now he’s in front of me.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Ha-ha! Did I scare you? We have to go there early so we could get a lot of stuff done. I’ve been here for the past hour, I cooked the bacon myself, and stared at you for at least 10 minutes. You sleep funny." Silly her.
"It is my birthday. That’s right, I had amnesia, ha-ha! How ironic, I forgot I have amnesia. And thinking I just celebrated my birthday yesterday. At least that’s what I thought."
"Hey! That’s right, a funny story!"
"Thanks Andy, you’re the first stranger to greet me a happy birthday for so long."
"we’ve known each other for the past 24 hours, you can’t call that strangers anymore. Actually, you’re the first boy in years that became this close. Usually, boys are jerks, and they laugh at the way I dress."
"Most girls are jerks too; they’re snob whenever I have amnesia."
She laughed her heart out with what I said. I had a warm feeling now that I made her smile.
"It’s the Jack Stingham anniversary today! Come on! Let’s go there." She said.
"Yeah about that, I was thinking. Where exactly is "there"?"
""there" would be the carnival! My dad always takes me there since we moved in to our new house… which somehow your house too. Ha-ha!"
"Carnival huh… I hadn’t been there for a while."
She is wearing a funky outfit again. From the day I met her since this moment, I have already lost count of how many times the word "cute" came into my mind every time I look at her. Am I actually….
…falling for her?
"Hey!" she screamed at me, and then I snapped out of day dreaming. She threw me a bath towel and asked me to hurry up and take a bath. I did, I could just picture what it would be like. A day at the carnival with Andy, the cute weird girl I have just met after mistaking her house to be mine. After a few moments, I was ready. We said goodbye to Andy’s dad. He looked at me with a weird stare but still smiling. He told me last night that he hadn’t seen his daughter smile like that. My coming to her life made it exciting. He said that Andy always complain of life being boring and all. I having amnesia made her life adventurous. He gave a final stare. As if he’s saying ‘that’s my daughter, you take care of her.’
Finally we had our feet on the road to the carnival. It was still the same as I remember it, loud and full of people.
"Wow! It hadn’t change a bit!" I screamed out of enthusiasm.
"I’m glad you liked it!"
"Listen Andy, I don’t actually know how to say this, but you do know I don’t have any money on me….Do you?"
"Well… I don’t actually have money myself."
"What?!" I screamed. I thought we’ll be spending time riding the rides of our lives, not looking at people riding the… She’s just plain random. She does things you won’t normally see everyday. I asked her what she plans to do.
"We’ll sneak in!" she said.
"Sneak in? Are you mad?!"
"We’ll, you should have noticed the first time you saw me. Ha-ha! I’ll show you a secret."
Then she grabbed my hand once more and dragged me to a secluded spot.
"Look!" she said "I discovered this secret spot myself! The first time we went here, I played with kitty and we ended up seeing this." While she was saying that story, she bent down on a fence. One more second, she was lifting a gap. The metal screen was broken. There was a secret passage, an entrance that leads directly to the carnival’s darkest corner. Nobody would notice us sneaking if we would use that gap.
"Nice work Andy! I like how you work it out!"
"My pleasure! Come on!"
We went inside like convicts trying to escape. We giggled our way in. The thrill of getting caught made the situation funny. A security guard even flashed a light at us.
Every ride was a ride of our lives like I imagined it would be. I had so much fun with Andy. She was not like any ordinary girl. Sure some girls are good with poise, but it is better if you’re a girl not caring about what people will say, just like Andy. We didn’t have money to buy food, so we helped ourselves with the free rides.
My clothes were almost torn because of that spooky train ride. She keeps on pulling my shirt, it was fun. I can’t believe how we were called to the management office after Andy punched the living daylights out of one of the ghoul that scared her. The management was amused of hr so they let us off. Good thing they didn’t notice we sneaked in.
She even puked more times than I can remember. Even though she had her most terrifying moments at those rides, she wanted to ride them again and again. Little by little, I’m figuring out what I’m feeling about her. My heart beats fast even just thinking about how she looks what more if I think how she acts… She’s not my type but she made herself to be. I liked everything about her, her tormenting sleepy eyes, her petite nose, her smooth sparkly lips, her long brushed up hair, her cute cherry cheeks, and there I was using the word "cute" again.
"Drew… I want to ask you something."
"Yeah?"
"You lived at our house way back right? Last year? And you told me that my room used to be your room."
"Yup! Why? Did something come up?!"
"Do you like stories? Or writing them?"
"I’m a writer part time, so you can say that."
"So you did write them! I saw stories and letters from a secret compartment in the wooden floor of my bed! I thought that since you’re the only one that lived there, you might have made them. I didn’t tell you this until now because I’m not so sure about it. I found it a week after moving in to the house. Avery night I read a piece, each stories made me smile. They were...hmm… cute!"
What is she talking about? I don’t remember ever putting a secret compartment on the floor of my room. What is this, a twist in my story? First it wasn’t my house and now there’s somebody else writing a letter. I felt sad, sad because a letter that was not written by me made Andy happy. I guess I got jealous of a letter writing phantom that we don’t know if it even exists. I though that maybe after I moved out, a guy rented the house for only a few days, then left those letters for Andy to discover. The mystery of my being just dug a hole deeper away from being solved.
"Y-yeah! I wrote them! I never actually thought someone could find them!"
"I knew it! I knew it!"
I lied of course. I wanted Andy’s happiness to be caused by me, and not some other mysterious fellow. I’m the only one mysterious here. But I didn’t let that bother me; I still tried my best to enjoy.
What the hell. I’m here with her, I won’t let a stupid invisible man that writes stupid poems ruin my night. It’s not like Andy’s in love with him already. I don’t even want to think about that.
Finally she got tired. She asked me…
"How about a movie Drew?!"
Wow, a movie. It’s funny that it all started with me watching a movie, and here I am, watching another one. Only this time, it won’t be lonely. This was the first birthday I had in years where I actually have someone to celebrate it. Actually, this ware two birthdays I had consecutively in days where one is awful and one is unforgettable. I was glad, no, it was ecstasy, and she made it the best birthday ever. I think about it, why did she waste time on me? Doesn’t she have better things to do? How about friends? Boyfriend? That’s right, she was new in town. Or was it something else, did she like be back? I thought about it, this time I have someone beside me, I won’t be coming home alone. I want to tell her what I really feel.
"Drew! We’ll watch Jack Stingham 2!"
"J-Jack Stingham 2? Really?! No way! They have that movie? You mean they have a sequel?"
"You’re so cute!" she called me cute. "You really did lose you memory. You don’t even know about the part two. That’s why I asked you to come out with me. Maybe Jack Stingham will cheer both of us."
She just called me cute. And here I thought she was the only one. We watched the movie. It’s awkward how I just remember watching the movie a day ago, and now watching its sequel the day after. I never want to remember my past life. If I would be given a chance to forget it permanently; I would gladly choose it, just to be with her. I’ve decided, I’ll tell her what I feel once we get home.
The movie was done. Unlike before, Jack Stingham amused me. I thought that movies tend to be beautiful when you have someone special beside you. It was great, I was… happy, happy not to remember.
We rode the bus. The shuttle we both ride from the mall. I remembered how it all started in a bus too, and now here I am, half asleep in the bus. Andy’s head is resting in my shoulder. I could just look at her face.
I suddenly thought about those letters again, it was weird. My mind curiosity wrestled with my sleep, and it came on top. I couldn’t help imagining things. Am I being selfish? But no matter, those letters won’t find their writers, so Andy won’t have to meet him, or her, but what if the writer finds them. I am scared that Andy might just introduce me as a friend. I was paranoid. But I was smarter than that.
She yawned. I wish I could see that face every morning, serving me bacons, acting weird and all. I loved her. I love that exact moment. I closed my eyes… I wanted it to last for a lifetime. I want myself to be a part in Andy’s life. I don’t even care if I ever recall my memories anymore. Indeed, love can be instantaneous and unpredictable. Who would have thought you could fall in live with a girl like Andy.
…crack
I bumped my head too hard it made the window cracked! I laughed! I laughed uncontrollably.
"Andy… I just cracked the window."
...
"Andy?"
She wasn’t there anymore. I stood up looking sideways in search of her. She wasn’t anywhere inside the bus.
"Sit down boy! We’re nearly at Falcon street!" the bus driver said.
But I didn’t, I’m worried where Andy might have gone to. I panicked. I just found the cutest girl I have dreamed of and now she disappeared in an instance. Finally I arrived at Falcon Street. I got off as soon as possible. I’m thinking that she might have been home by now. Maybe she wanted to do another weird stuff. At least that’s what I wanted to think. The last ride I’m about to take in order to get to Andy’s home took a while. A few more moments, it came finally. I rushed inside, the travel was fater that I expected. I was in front of Andy’s house in seconds. The lights were off. I banged the door screaming her name.
"Andy! Andy! Open up Andy!"
But nobody answered. I want to scream louder but I know it won’t do any good. First I sat at the door step. I did all the stuff to pass time. I smoked some cigarette, I threw rocks. One hour passed, then two, finally I thought I’d wait for her mother to come so that I’ll be able to ask her about Andy. Midnight came but even a sign from her mother wasn’t seen. I wonder what happened. I sleep for a while and later I found the girl of my dreams missing. And here I thought things won’t be a disaster anymore. I sat at the bench where I sleep the first night I met Andy. Little by little, I could feel my eyes getting heavy. 1…2…3…I fell asleep.
I dreamt of Andy and I, all those times we spent together, actually those 2 days we spent together. That best birthday I ever had with her. Will I ever have the chance to experience it again?... Andy…
*
Morning came; I was on the bench sleeping for the second time. I thought the smell of bacon and that cheerful laugh of Andy would wake me up. But instead, the cold mist and the loud vehicles did the job. Andy was still not beside me. I got up, wiped my eyes and stretched a little bit. I looked at my watch, it was 9am. Her mom probably wasn’t inside anymore, she’s off to work at 7. I tried knocking at door again. I won’t give up. I want to see her. half an hour and still no one’s answering.
"Andy, please open up." I just whispered.
Then I remembered! I had a spare key! Her mom’s not home anymore, she won’t mind if I enter. I know she won’t. Maybe I should wake her up for a change. So I grabbed my key from my pocket. I thought about it for a while, to open or not to open?! Then the thought of seeing her made the open option come on top. I inserted the key, twist it nervously, open the knob and pushed the door bit by bit.
...
No. what I saw inside was probably worse than amnesia…
It was my furniture. That messed up room, torn rags, picture frames, I all recognized them. It was my house. I closed my eyes and hoped that when I opened then I’d see Andy’s stuff. But no, it didn’t help, I opened them and my things were still there.
I wasn’t amnesia at all. It was the 18th of August 2004 on the calendar. It was late that I realize there was a door mat where I wiped my shoes before entering. I It was a blast to the future! I do not like this one bit. I don’t want it. I rushed to the toilet on the first floor, I flushed it, it was broken. I remembered all features Andy told me about their house, all of it weren’t there anymore. Then I remembered that secret compartment she told me about. It wasn’t there too. Am I cured of amnesia? No, this can’t be, what’s the deal?! What’s happening?! I know it’s pretty obvious now that I am at my house but I’m not accepting it.
Did I really had a glimpse of the future or was it all a dream because I had too much stress from last night. I sat down and think for maybe hours. I don’t know what to do. I should have acted normal and happy since everything is ordinary now. Nothing’s different. But that’s the reason why I don’t like it. But it is true, it was a blast to the future, I am still wearing her father’s clothes. This is weird, rather supernatural. If it was what really happened, then that explains why I was still wearing my uniform back then. If it was amnesia, I would have worn something else, 2 years have passed, I should have graduated already.
And that spare key. It wasn’t a spare after all.
I knew what to do. I change my clothes from my cabinet, it felt awkward, this is the first time I actually don’t what to see my own stuff. I know how to prove it. I wanted to see one more thing in order to be convinced. The carnival, I should check it out. I rode the bus to the carnival. I went immediately to the broken fence Andy showed me. I looked at it only for a few minutes, while thinking if I should check it out. Then slowly I bent down. But I was hurt to find out that the fence was screwed solid, shut tight, it has no gap or the sort of it. There I thought that It might be all a just dream, a dream that seemed so real. Andy wasn’t real at all, since the fence wasn’t broken. I was furious, I was mad. I wanted to have Andy. I walked away, and then in a while I didn’t know what came to me. I kicked the fence crazy, letting out all anger inside me. I lasted for minutes as I recalled. I have torn the fence open, I have created a gap.
Then I found myself laughing. I could still picture what the fence looked like when Andy showed it to me, it looked exactly the same. So, I was the one that created the gap. The puzzle is almost complete. I don’t care if it’s supernatural, or how it even happened, or will I ever be able to travel time again. All that I am happy about now is that the fence is broken! The fence is broken! Yes! The fence is broken! Is it a coincidence? A coincidence, that of all people to discover the result of my rage, it was Andy. I smiled.
I broke a fence that soon Andy discovered, then later she shows me, I came to look but it’s not there anymore, so I broke it out of anger, then she shows it to me? A cycle? I don’t really care.
I traveled alone from then I will go to her father’s place; maybe there I will be convinced that Andy is indeed real. I remembered exactly how we commuted. Those times she tied her shoe laces and those times she ate ice cream, I recalled them all. A few more minutes and I was in front of her dad’s place.
"Are you Andy’s father?!" I didn’t even bother say good morning.
His eyebrows crunched at each other as he figures out what is happening. He looked the same, tall and slender. I giggled because I know now that my Andy is not fiction.
"How did you know my daughter?!" her dad said.
She’s real! She really does exist!
"Tell me, are you a friend of her?" her father asked.
"Yes sir, I am."
"It’s been a while since I last saw my daughter. She and her mother left me long ago. I have not connections to them what so ever. I’m sorry. I miss my cute angel too."
He said "cute", she is in fact not imagination.
"Just wait a year Johnny." It’s a good thing he didn’t asked me why I know his name.
I waved him good bye. As I return to my place. I know exactly what to do. I realized that back then I shouldn’t have been worried about the letters Andy found in a secret compartment in my room. So no body did live here after me, just Andy and her mom. I shouldn’t have felt sad because somebody else made her happy, because it was none other than me. I wrote the letters and made that hole on the floor. I worked on it as soon as I get the chance. I expressed all my love to Andy that I didn’t have the chance to tell her before. I made so many letters enough to be read until we meet again. I was relieved. Now I only have to wait until she arrives.
After finishing the letters and tucked them in the compartment I made with what tools I have in the house, my mom called. She said the house I was living was too big for me living all alone. She arranged a smaller apartment from me not to far from where I lived. So that’s why I moved out. A month later I packed my things and got out. I left the house that was soon going to be Andy’s. It’s funny how I didn’t see myself in the future, two years from now.
A year later and somebody have bought my old house. I walked my way home while the song "rain drops keep falling on my head…" plays. I didn’t bother ask who lives there now.
…
I’ve waited patiently. Another year have passed; it was August 16, 2006, the day I met Andy. I watched a movie, rode the bus, fell asleep, and missed my stop. Exactly what happened that day, except I didn’t watch Jack Stingham. I was walking with a smile; I knew what will happen next. I was looking at the sky. I can’t wait. Suddenly, I was looking not the sky but the ground. I stumbled and fall. What the hell?
"Ow shit! I’m sooooo sorry mister! I really am! Sorry…sorry really! I’m sor-"
I got up. A hooded girl with black and white striped jacket, converse rubber sneaker and accessories caused my fall. I smiled and looked at her. I could only say…
"It’s ok really! Hop on the bus, you go ahead.…"
Then I picked up my change. I looked up, and she was still there.
. Read More..
It was long lonely day for me, August 17, it was my birthday. I woke up, took a shower, got in my uniform, went to school and watched
a movie. That ‘final moments of Jack Stingham’ movie was probably a little too long for me to handle, I fell asleep halfway of it. I should have gone home from school instead of watching a movie. I watched it alone. I have never been that close to my peers, their just there when they need me, but not when I need them. I didn’t mind much though. I can feel the weight of the whole day on my shoulders, I have worn my uniform all throughout the day, and I could already imagine the food in my fridge. I was so damn hungry. It was hard living alone, that day nobody greeted me a happy birthday, except those who seen me and know about it of course. My classmates greeted me, but that’s it. No present, no special dinner, no party, it was and ordinary day. But it was supposed to be special.
I was outside the mall thinking how late I have been outside. Strange stares people make made me feel uneasy. I should have been prepared, one more minute I couldn’t touch my phone from my pocket. It’s not there anymore. Dratt, robbed. What a "happy" birthday this has been.
I rode the bus. I screamed to the old driver to have me dropped off Falcon Street. And as my mind linger from spaces to spaces; I didn’t realize I was already sleeping. A few more moments, I immediately checked if my head was bleeding, that bus driver was a bitch, after having my head bump on the seat in front of me, I shook my head, trying to find out where I was.
"Wake up sonny… we’re already at Portman Street."
"Portman street?! Dammit! Old man, I told you to wake me up at Falcon Street! Not in Portman street! Ugh! Now I have to take another ride back!" I complained after having so much trouble with the old man. The old timer could just look at me with curiosity as I get off the bus.
I looked sideways as I find myself nowhere near my destination. The noise of the people chatting and vehicles honking irritated me. The vague situation made me think for a while. Then I decided I’ll walk back to Falcon Street. With my hands in my pocket, I started walking, kicking every single stone in my way to pass time. I stopped for some drinks as I get thirsty with the few blocks I walked.
"Why did I end up like this? I should considered taking a full 12-hour sleep from now own so I don’t have to fall asleep in the bus. Yawn!" I told to myself out loud. I can see people staring at me like I’m some kind of lunatic. I didn’t bother look at them. I just want to go home that’s all. What a day, first a crappy movie, a stolen cell phone, and now this, great, just great.
Another ride and it will be home sweet home. I took one of my hands off my pocket, stood by the road and waited for my last ride. I thought that by now I’m supposed to be at home, resting my eyes, eating dinner and watching my favorite show. The chilly night made it worse, it was cold. Finally the shuttle arrived and I’m ready to get on.
"Ow!" something hit me. "Sorry. You go first."
"Ow shit! I’m sooooo sorry mister! I really am! Sorry…sorry really! I’m sor-"
"It’s ok really! Hop on the bus, you go ahead.…" talk about noisy.
A girl probably my age, wearing a hooded black and white stripes sweater jacket, converse rubber sneakers and short shorts bumped me, knocking the change off my hand. I had to pick them up, making the bus wait for me. This day couldn’t get any worse. But as I finished picking my items up, I looked up and saw her. She was still there. Did she wait for me? Why didn’t she just get on the bus?
"Uh…you go on ahead. Thanks." I told her trying to be the gentleman that I am.
"You ok? I’m sorry; your money fell because of me."
"I’m fine, thanks."
At least she was nice enough to say that. Some women today don’t even bother looking at you at times like these. The bus honked its horn at us, as we are still outside trying to have a wordless conversation. She went up and had a seat at the back of the bus. The ride didn’t have much people on it, so I picked my favorite spot, the third seat from the last seat at the back. I let my butt had the pleasure of hugging the seat as I give out a loud sigh. I was sleepy, but I knew better, I learned my lesson of course. So I tried my best staying up.
But my eyes got the best of me; I fell sideward as I slowly fall asleep. I thought I’ll land on the cushion beside me, but I landed on something else. The hooded girl that bumped me earlier, was already sitting beside me, I fell on her shoulder.
"O fuck, sorry! Shit, that was the second time in an hour. Sorry miss."
"It’s ok, I’m sorry I startled you. The seat in front smells bad. And people started to board the bus; your seat is the only one free. And you seem to be a nice guy."
Well of course I am, I thought to myself. I know she’s talking at me, but her eyes are looking at somewhere else. She gives me the creeps, she’s weird, no, rather… unique.
"Yeah, sure, my stops not in a few blocks anyway." I said.
"Funny, my stop is just a block away from here."
"Really, I’ll be getting off compound 76?"
"Yeah! Exactly! You live near there? I haven’t seen you before."
"Jeez, I’ve been there for years, I haven’t seen you too."
Our chat continued as our stop came near. And then…
"Where are we?" she said. Her voice was some kind of cute, the likes of what you hear from Korean TV.
"Ugh. Not again! This is the second time tonight that I missed my stop. We’re at 77 now, we missed a block."
"You mean you missed a stop before? Well, at least it’s just a block. We can walk from here. At least I have someone to talk to."
"Yeah, just before I got in this bus, I missed a stop. Well, we better start walking."
It’s unusual for me to have the same situation twice a day, missing a stop. I’m not that hungry anymore, looks like my hunger passed out. We talked our way back to compound 76. We walked the short distance to our home. And finally, we made it. I can already see my house, as we come near, I got my keys out of my bag, and I can see she’s doing the same. I looked at the girl and thought I should say good bye now. But I don’t see her stopping, or even slowing down. I guess I’ll be stopping before she does. Its funny how I never seen her before.
"So, this is my house, I’ll look forward in seeing you again. It’s nice seeing a new neighbor. Thanks for keeping me company." I told her.
"C’mon, stop it. First you told me you haven’t seen me before, now you’re trying to open my own door?"
I can’t really comprehend with what she’s saying. I looked at my house and the door mat that’s usually there wasn’t there anymore. Maybe I really needed sleep. I already forgot about the damn birthday, that damn cell phone, and that damn bus. All of those I’ve already forgot because I’m so freakin’ tired. I couldn’t chat with her anymore.
"What do you mean?!" I asked
"Mister, this is MY house…"
"YOUR house?!"
"Look, I’m not playing games. Have a look at my keys. Here."
What exactly is she saying, HER house?! She handed me a set of keys with funny cute key chains. They looked so adorable they have drawn my attention from what I really need to see. It placed my key and her key beside each other, like comparing two pictures. Of course I can’t tell the difference between the two keys, the one she gave me and the one I’m holding. I looked at her and in an instant she was already sucking a lollipop, how can she eat at a time like this? I asked her to explain. And all she could give me is a weird stare.
"Look, I had enough trouble tonight and I’m really really hungry. If you like I’ll walk you home." I explained to her.
"Your style is original, but can we do this tomorrow?"
"Excuse me? Ok, tell you what, for the sake of you shutting up, we’ll both try our keys, and the one that opens the door gets to have a good night."
"Me? Shutting up?! Why I nev-… Fine!"
I asked her to open the door first, if she fails, and I’m sure she will, I don’t have to waste any more breathe explaining. But the moment she twist the knob, the door clicked open. I was shocked, is she a gang member? Is this one of those new modus operandi? Is she going to pull a knife? I wasn’t scared; she looks frail enough to be standing too long, she couldn’t have a chance to hurt me. So I stayed calm.
"Ok lady! Where did you get a spare key? You’re a robber aren’t you?!"
"I told you, I live here!"
"That’s not possible! Look!"
I took my keys, locked the door again and opened it. As I expected, it opened.
"What?! You’re the robber!" she screamed.
"If I’m the robber, I won’t be walking in with the owner of the house showing her my spare key. Listen lady, it’s either you or me that’s having an amnesia here."
"That’s definitely not me!"
She’s getting angry second by second. Her cool is gone. The long tiring night made the situation worse. When suddenly, the lights inside the house lit, now we’ll be able to find out who’s lying. Who ever recognize one of us, is telling the truth.
"Andy!"
And then I realized something, what a dumbass I was! I was living alone in that house; nobody could have been inside if not me. Who was that person who opened the lights? Was it her accomplice? Am I really going to get? Did they break inside my house even before I got home?!
The door flung open. I didn’t recognize her. She was a woman in her mid 40s; she was pretty, but old enough to be my mom.
What the hell? Who’s Andy? And who’s that woman in front of the door?!
"Who’s that guy with you? It’s late at night and you took your boyfriend with you?! Come in here young lady!" the woman at the front step screamed at the girl beside me.
"Mom! Look! This man is insisting that he lives here! You’ve got-"
But even before the girl, that now I know named Andy, got a chance to finish her sentence, her so-called mom dragged her inside.
"You lay your hands of my daughter you filthy man!" she accused me.
Her mom screamed at me. What the hell is going on? Where’s MY house? Why do I have a spare key of this house if it’s not mine? Where will I sleep? More over, what will I eat? What’s happening, did I just lose? Am I the one having amnesia? Ugh! I’m so damn hungry. What to do? What to do? This is definitely a situation you won’t be calling normal. This is out of this world. Events you can only see while watching "supernatural". It’s my birthday and all I can do is grab the last cigarette I have in my pocket, I lighted it, and as the fire engulfs the tobacco, I suddenly felt sleepy. I looked at my room’s window, well where it used to be at least, that could be seen from the bench I was sitting. The light was on; I could see the girl’s silhouette moving all around. One more minute, she turned off the light, probably hit the sack. I was envious; I have to sleep, but where? Before I could come to my senses, I’m already lying at the bench.
Oh what have I gotten myself into? First the crappy birthday, the lonely movie, the snatched cell phone, the missed stop, and now this? I’m soooo hungry… soo…hungry… so… hun…gry…
…
The next morning I smelled bacon. It woke me up. I can’t believe I fell asleep in the bench without noticing it. I opened my eyes; the thing that I thought was a nightmare was true; I was still in the bench. It was late as I looked at my watch, its 11:30.
"Wake up! You really do have a habit of sleeping do you, first on the bus and then at the bench. No wonder you miss the stops you’re supposed to, not to mention your own house." What the hell?! Someone’s patting my head like I’m some sort of dog!
I smelled a very beautiful aroma. Smells like carnation flowers that used to be placed near the dining table. It was Andy, the girl that took my house. She was wearing her pink pajamas; it made her look so cute. But that’s no time to be admiring the one that took my home.
"Hey, it’s you. Uh, don’t tell me this bench belongs to you too?" I told her. "I’m sorry, I just had a very bad night and it looks like it’s not stopping."
"Eat up, that’s my breakfast, I wanna share it to you."
"You wanna share it to me?"
"Yeah, you told me last night you’re hungry, I can’t imagine where you’ll be getting food since I left you outside last night."
I didn’t say a word; I lowered my pride and started eating the yummy bacon that was on the plate. She was different from last night; she was far more kind than before considering the fact that I tried to break in her house with a rude attitude. And that time she just met me. My heart felt soft on her, I forgot how angry I was.
"Hey, what’s your name?!" Andy asked.
"Drew…"
"Drew huh…"
"What?!" I said while reluctantly gobbling on the crispy bacon.
"You know Drew,"
"Yeah?"
"I haven’t had bacon for a week. I told you I’d share my breakfast; I didn’t tell you to eat it all."
The bacon in my mouth flew out of surprise. I completely forgot that I’m not supposed to eat it. I was so embarrassed of what happened. I can just look at her with huge bulging eyes.
"Ha-ha! Just kidding, there’s plenty of more inside. What to come in at ‘you’re house’"
The sound of sarcasm made me curious. I can see what she’s trying to do. She cute, that’s all I can say, she tried to cheer me up. She only met me but she became friendly all at once. Is she really like this? It made me wonder is that really her house and not mine. I’m scared to come in and see that all my furniture is not inside anymore. And more than that, I’m scared that her so-called mom will scream at me again.
"Andy, right? I’m not really sure but- "
She interrupted me.
"Look Drew, it’s obvious I just woke up." She flips her messy hair and revealed a face different from last night. Damn, she’s pretty even though she just woke up. Her lips are smooth and pink, and her cheeks were red. I looked at her half closed eyes, and her cute nose. Her voice was a voice of early morning maiden, a little grumpy on one side, and a little sweet on the other.
"Hey are you listening?!" she interrupted my gaze.
"Uh, yeah, sorry…"
"I just woke up and it’s already noon, I couldn’t sleep last night. I keep on thinking about what happened. I thought about it and I’m convinced you’re telling the truth."
"You mean that’s really my house?!"
"No dummy. I believe that you’re not a burglar or something. I saw you last night, you we’re sleeping soundly in this bench. You have to admit, what happened last night was out of the ordinary."
Again, she flipped her hair, brushing it upwards since it’s getting on her face. I want to stare at it but she might notice.
"So, I want to say sorry. I want to know what happened."
"Don’t worry about it Andy, from what’s happening now, I misjudge you too."
"Come, follow me…I want to know something."
"Where are we going?"
"Inside…ummm… inside our house."
She said "our" house, that’s like saying we’re living on the same roof. What a funny thing to say. Even though it’s very obvious she lives there, she wanted my eerie sadness to fade and still played the "I still don’t know if it’s your house or mine game". It was pretty.
"But you’re mom." I told her.
"My mom, yeah, she’s the one that woke me up ‘you’re boyfriends outside! Tell him to go home; he even slept outside! Ugh! What a drama king.’ She said. It’s funny actually. She’s off to work and won’t be home until midnight, same time you saw her last night. That’s her schedule everyday."
"Ow I see. Are you really comfortable of letting me inside?"
"Yep! If you’re a bad guy you’ve probably broke in the house last night with you spare key. Knowing that you think this is your house but didn’t come in anyway made me think you’re a good guy."
"Jeez, thanks Andy."
She took my hand and pulled me to their, or our, front door. She grasp my hand, it felt so soft and smooth, I looked at her colorful fingernails, I didn’t notice I was already smiling. She stood by the front door and rang the door bell.
"What are you doing?!"
"He-he, I’m trying to cheer you up."
I don’t really know what she’s up to, but the next thing she does is pushed me inside the house all by myself and then closed the door. She was left outside. I came in, I looked at the interior; it was far more different that I remembered. The furniture were different, my books weren’t in the same place as before. I wasn’t scared, actually I laughed!
Ding Dong! The doorbell was ringing.
"knock knock! Umm… is this where Drew lives?" what a funny thing to do, Andy’s doing something awfully weird. I opened the door.
"Um, yes, actually I’m Drew, what can I help you with?"
"Hahaha! Very convincing Drew!"
She was so funny with what she’s doing. She’s trying to cheer me up considering the fact that she met me in a very awkward way. I gained her trust in an instant. She offered me food which I open heartedly accept.
"Ok, time to find out if you really live here just like you say. I want you to tell me, how many rooms are there upstairs?"
I can see what she’s trying to do. I participated. She’s asking questions to prove my sincerity.
"3! Two at the left of the stair, one with a bathroom, then another room at the right!"
"Woah! Drew! You hit the jackpot! This is weird!"
"Yeah I know. You what’s even weirder? Your room, that’s where my room used to be."
"Really?!"
"Yeah…I saw you last night walking back and fort. Hehe…"
Then I thought about calling home, just in case I was on the wrong house.
"Hey, can I use your phone?" I asked of Andy.
"Great idea, try to find out if anybody knows what happened to you. Hmmm… you do remember a number do you?!"
I looked at their telephone, and then decided it was the best thing to do. I took the handle then first dialed my own number, but even a single ring wasn’t heard. Andy asked me to use her cell phone. She thought there might be a problem in their landline. I used it and the weirdest thing happened. Their own telephone rang. We looked at each other, I was calling their home. What is going on?! What the hell?! We didn’t say a word. The last thing that happened was the most bizarre.
We just stare at each other. It was weird that I dialed my own number but they phone rang. It’s not only their house, but also their number that I know. It’s not the right time to be smiling, but Andy did. The situation is thrilling her, it was exciting for her. my mind was laughing on the inside.
"Andy, I need to use the bathroom for a while."
"(giggles) Oh yeah, it’s over… of course you know where it is. What am I thinking?"
"So you really believe me now huh.. Thanks Andy. Can I use the one upstairs? The one in here has a broken flush; I don’t want to mess up your house. And wiped that smile of your face, you’re creeping me out" But she smiled even bigger.
"Oh, that toilet, my mom had it fixed…before…we…moved…in…"
That hit us both…
"Drew! It’s official!" she jumped out of her chair and in front of me. "You lived here once! Just before we moved in! You’re the previous owner then! That means…"
"I do have amnesia…"
My body fell on the couch as I realize that the last thing I remembered was watching a movie then riding a bus. What happened between those things? When did I lose my memory? How did I lose them? So many questions, so many questions. How long have my remaining memory has took me back to the past? Surely it was way before Andy moved into my house. But why did I move out? I knew this kind of cases. This is the stuff where a person bumps his head then a part of his life is erased only remembering his most memorable day.
"I’m still wearing my uniform, that means I went to school yesterday then lost my memory on the way home. What exactly happened last night?! Damn this is a mess!" I panicked while walking from left to right. Andy doesn’t seem to be disturbed. Her glances followed me wherever I go as if she’s waiting for something.
"Andy, tell me, how long have you and your mother been in this house?"
"About a year now." That’s all she can say. "hmmm… So your memory was lost last night, after doing an ordinary daily routine. Then an event caused you amnesia, and you return way back from the day you still lived here?"
"I think so too. But how did I lose my memory. The last thing I remember was my birthday." I don’t know what question I want to ask first. "When did they first screen the movie ‘final moments of Jack Stingham’?"
"Oh boy! I watched the movie on the first screening too!" she didn’t actually answer it.
"I loved that movie! Especially that part where Jack tries to shake the jet off by improvising the fuel with…umm…with… I can’t remember, it was in August 17, 2004 I think. Last last year."
"Well I remember, ‘I just watched it last night’, it was a can of soft drink. He replaced the fuel with a can of Pepsi." I still have the nerve of paradox
"Oh yeah! Now I remembered. Haha! That was hilarious; the way you said ‘I just watched it last night.’ Though it was exactly two years ago."
"Exactly two years ago. So, I went back all the way from my birthday last last year." I found a simpler explanation for Andy. "My memory since Aug. 17, 2004 up to yesterday was erased. It’s like cutting a part of a string then tying the remaining ends…"
"August 17 is your birthday? That’s tomorrow!"
"You mean today’s the 16th August 2006? Tomorrow is my birthday then!"
"Yeah! That’s tomorrow! You know, the day after today! That also mean that your birthday is the day after this! This is exciting!" what a lunatic. She was excited? For me? "Try calling a friend, maybe they can help you out."
"You’re right!"
An idea came to me. What if I try calling someone and ask for myself, about what have happened to me for the past 2 years, about what have I become. Where did I go last night? Where do live now?
But then, I realized, my phone was gone. Damn. The only thing I remember is Del’s number, and of all the phone number listed on my phonebook, it was only his that I memorized. It’s funny how accurate my memory about Del’s number was, thinking that I just had amnesia. Man, this is like being stick in that "50 first dates" movie.
I got hold of Andy’s phone, I dialed the number. I was hoping he still use it after a long time of being.
"That’s ok Drew, we’ll figure something out." Andy said as she saw my disappointed face. She knew at once that there was no answer, not even a ring. My options are beginning to dwindle.
"*sigh*, look Andy, you don’t have to do this, you don’t even know me, it’s not your job to help me. I should be going. I’ll try to shape this out for myself. You stay here. If I stay here a bit longer, your mom with surely get mad."
"Non sense! I have always dreamed of having a friend with amnesia! Besides, you’re not even sure if you dialed the right number. you’re giving up way too easy"
That statement didn’t really catch my drift. What is she saying? She’s kind of fanatical, in a endearing way. Every second that pass looking at her made my heart squashy, I’m beginning to like her. I’ve only met her for not more than 24 hours and she already became my friend.
"With a friend with forgetfulness, you can become a new you! Get it!? I can be a surgeon if I tell you and you’d believe me. Heheh, though I prefer being myself. Come on, I’ll take you somewhere. I might know someone that can help you. Grab those clothes from the drawer. They’re my brother’s you can use them. You can’t go out wearing your uniform." She’s insane…
She was right. My uniform has the stench of my sweat. I have worn it longer than I’ve met her. I really should mull over changing. She didn’t let me talk. She just hastes upstairs and a few more moments I could hear splashes of water coming from the shower in the bathroom in the second floor. She was taking a bath. Are we going somewhere? She made me wait long enough.
"I’m ready!"
Oh damn shit. I recalled those things that I told myself about Andy being cute. But when she came down, it was far more than that. She was all fixed up. She was wearing pink hooded jacket with blue spaghetti straps inside. She wears a high cut converse sneakers and those cute accessories in her hand. I can only say that she’s unique. She acts so childlike.
"What?!" she told me as I realize I was looking at her without blinking. My stare lasted for seconds, no, more like minutes. She looked at me with a smile.
"is my look weird? Its fine if you don’t like it. I’m comfy this way."
"No! No! Of course not. I liked it. It’s that, you look good on that. Hahaha! What am I saying?"
"Why thanks Drew! My mom thinks it’s a mess. Only few people say it’s cute. One of it was my dad. And my bro’s clothes looks good on you too!"
"Yeah, it’s a perfect fit. So Andy, where are we going?!"
"She again grabbed my hand. We went outside and started commuting. She didn’t tell me where we were going. She just said she doesn’t have class, and we have to hurry if we want to see him. But who’s "him"? I just got a long with her.
She’s kind of weird, she doesn’t know how to cross the streets, and she kept on holding my hand every time. She craved for ice cream but she can’t finish a cone, so she gives it to me. Her shoe laces keeps on untying but she doesn’t even bother to tie them again. She was a real life comedian. She pulled my shirt as we came into a stop.
"Here we are!" she said pointing at a medium sized house. Where are we exactly?!
"Andy? What’s this place?"
"You’ll find out."
Then as she rings the door bell, a few more moments, a lofty slender man with glasses opened the door.
"Andy!" the man called her then hugged her tightly.
"Dad!" the cute Andy hugged him back; her hood fell down exposing her drawn-like little face.
It was her dad. We came in, I introduced myself. Andy told everything that had happened from last night. It’s a good thing her dad’s not as mean as her mom. He understood the situation instantly. Andy left the two of us alone, then prepared a snack for us. Andy was familiar about the house. It seems like she lived there once. But why is her dad not with them. I looked at the house with amazement, and then her father coughs.
"So, you had amnesia huh. But what I can’t think about is why you have a spare key of Andy’s house?" Andy’s dad said.
"I don’t know sir."
I and Andy’s dad talked for a while Andy herself plays with Kitty.
"She’s Kitty. She’s Andy’s dog. Funny huh, Andy named her Kitty when we got her, what a crazy name to give a dog. Andy’s always been like that with her. She spend more time playing with Kitty than playing with real humans. I can’t bare to see her face when her mother objected in bring Kitty along with them when we separated. So I took the dog and care for it. Andy’s my treasure. I was lonely when she and her mother left me." Her dad said.
So that’s their story, they were a broken family. But Andy loved her father I know. But her love to her old man isn’t enough if her parents don’t love each other anymore. Now I can see why her mother acts that way. She might have developed a grudge against men. And once she saw me last night, she got the wrong impression, that’s why she shouted at me. It figures.
But aside from that story, her dad agreed to lend me a room in their house. Her father was a doctor. He said he could help me. And the only cure for amnesia is to wait. Explore places I think I might have been. That way I might be able to remember something. I’ll stay there for the night. I can’t sleep on the bench like I did before. Andy and her dad were so kind. I was so lucky to have amnesia in the right place with the right people.
"So, Drew! I hope you and my dad get along well. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then! Dad, lend him some clothes, I’ll be taking him there tomorrow! Cheer him up a bit I think." Andy told me and her dad.
"Yes dear. That place would probably do the thing." her dad replied.
What exactly is "that" place, where is "there"? I didn’t bother ask for an explanation. It’s obvious they won’t tell me anyway. I and Andy’s dad gave her a ride home. Then it was his dad and I left on the apartment. We chat for a little bit since we aren’t that sleepy yet.
"So Mr. Cuthburt, why did you and Andy’s mom on bad terms?!"
"Call me Johnny, Andy calls me that when no one’s around." What a cute father-daughter relationship they have. "Well, I wouldn’t call it bad terms. You see, I have always spoiled Andy, and her mom objects that. When she was in high school, her mom and I always engage into fights. Next thing I knew, they were packing their bags. Andy was confused, but she told me that I had to be the man and let her stay with her mother so she can take care of her. I smiled and let it be. I think she got her happy-go-lucky traits from me. Don’t you think."
"I see that Johnny. She does act like you. I bet you miss her so much."
"You bet, but her mother doesn’t have any objection when it comes to visits. She can stay here whenever she likes as long as she tells her mom."
"ummm… Jonny, thanks for everything. You’ll been a pal. And Andy, you’re lucky to have her. She’s not like any other girls. If I was to have amnesia in a park, I wouldn’t last 10 min. from any other stranger."
"Nice to hear that from you Drew."
It was like talking to a brother. Like an older male version of Andy..
*
The next day the scent of bacon woke me up again, this time it was early 9am. I didn’t open my eyes yet. I just wished that when I wake up, that delicious bacon would be the same bacon Andy served me. So I smiled without opening my eyes.
"What are you smiling about smartass?!" a pat on my head quickly opened my eyes.
"A-Andy! What are you doing here?! It’s too early for a visit!" it was her all along, she gave me a shock. What I acted was too embarrassing. I dreamt of her and now he’s in front of me.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Ha-ha! Did I scare you? We have to go there early so we could get a lot of stuff done. I’ve been here for the past hour, I cooked the bacon myself, and stared at you for at least 10 minutes. You sleep funny." Silly her.
"It is my birthday. That’s right, I had amnesia, ha-ha! How ironic, I forgot I have amnesia. And thinking I just celebrated my birthday yesterday. At least that’s what I thought."
"Hey! That’s right, a funny story!"
"Thanks Andy, you’re the first stranger to greet me a happy birthday for so long."
"we’ve known each other for the past 24 hours, you can’t call that strangers anymore. Actually, you’re the first boy in years that became this close. Usually, boys are jerks, and they laugh at the way I dress."
"Most girls are jerks too; they’re snob whenever I have amnesia."
She laughed her heart out with what I said. I had a warm feeling now that I made her smile.
"It’s the Jack Stingham anniversary today! Come on! Let’s go there." She said.
"Yeah about that, I was thinking. Where exactly is "there"?"
""there" would be the carnival! My dad always takes me there since we moved in to our new house… which somehow your house too. Ha-ha!"
"Carnival huh… I hadn’t been there for a while."
She is wearing a funky outfit again. From the day I met her since this moment, I have already lost count of how many times the word "cute" came into my mind every time I look at her. Am I actually….
…falling for her?
"Hey!" she screamed at me, and then I snapped out of day dreaming. She threw me a bath towel and asked me to hurry up and take a bath. I did, I could just picture what it would be like. A day at the carnival with Andy, the cute weird girl I have just met after mistaking her house to be mine. After a few moments, I was ready. We said goodbye to Andy’s dad. He looked at me with a weird stare but still smiling. He told me last night that he hadn’t seen his daughter smile like that. My coming to her life made it exciting. He said that Andy always complain of life being boring and all. I having amnesia made her life adventurous. He gave a final stare. As if he’s saying ‘that’s my daughter, you take care of her.’
Finally we had our feet on the road to the carnival. It was still the same as I remember it, loud and full of people.
"Wow! It hadn’t change a bit!" I screamed out of enthusiasm.
"I’m glad you liked it!"
"Listen Andy, I don’t actually know how to say this, but you do know I don’t have any money on me….Do you?"
"Well… I don’t actually have money myself."
"What?!" I screamed. I thought we’ll be spending time riding the rides of our lives, not looking at people riding the… She’s just plain random. She does things you won’t normally see everyday. I asked her what she plans to do.
"We’ll sneak in!" she said.
"Sneak in? Are you mad?!"
"We’ll, you should have noticed the first time you saw me. Ha-ha! I’ll show you a secret."
Then she grabbed my hand once more and dragged me to a secluded spot.
"Look!" she said "I discovered this secret spot myself! The first time we went here, I played with kitty and we ended up seeing this." While she was saying that story, she bent down on a fence. One more second, she was lifting a gap. The metal screen was broken. There was a secret passage, an entrance that leads directly to the carnival’s darkest corner. Nobody would notice us sneaking if we would use that gap.
"Nice work Andy! I like how you work it out!"
"My pleasure! Come on!"
We went inside like convicts trying to escape. We giggled our way in. The thrill of getting caught made the situation funny. A security guard even flashed a light at us.
Every ride was a ride of our lives like I imagined it would be. I had so much fun with Andy. She was not like any ordinary girl. Sure some girls are good with poise, but it is better if you’re a girl not caring about what people will say, just like Andy. We didn’t have money to buy food, so we helped ourselves with the free rides.
My clothes were almost torn because of that spooky train ride. She keeps on pulling my shirt, it was fun. I can’t believe how we were called to the management office after Andy punched the living daylights out of one of the ghoul that scared her. The management was amused of hr so they let us off. Good thing they didn’t notice we sneaked in.
She even puked more times than I can remember. Even though she had her most terrifying moments at those rides, she wanted to ride them again and again. Little by little, I’m figuring out what I’m feeling about her. My heart beats fast even just thinking about how she looks what more if I think how she acts… She’s not my type but she made herself to be. I liked everything about her, her tormenting sleepy eyes, her petite nose, her smooth sparkly lips, her long brushed up hair, her cute cherry cheeks, and there I was using the word "cute" again.
"Drew… I want to ask you something."
"Yeah?"
"You lived at our house way back right? Last year? And you told me that my room used to be your room."
"Yup! Why? Did something come up?!"
"Do you like stories? Or writing them?"
"I’m a writer part time, so you can say that."
"So you did write them! I saw stories and letters from a secret compartment in the wooden floor of my bed! I thought that since you’re the only one that lived there, you might have made them. I didn’t tell you this until now because I’m not so sure about it. I found it a week after moving in to the house. Avery night I read a piece, each stories made me smile. They were...hmm… cute!"
What is she talking about? I don’t remember ever putting a secret compartment on the floor of my room. What is this, a twist in my story? First it wasn’t my house and now there’s somebody else writing a letter. I felt sad, sad because a letter that was not written by me made Andy happy. I guess I got jealous of a letter writing phantom that we don’t know if it even exists. I though that maybe after I moved out, a guy rented the house for only a few days, then left those letters for Andy to discover. The mystery of my being just dug a hole deeper away from being solved.
"Y-yeah! I wrote them! I never actually thought someone could find them!"
"I knew it! I knew it!"
I lied of course. I wanted Andy’s happiness to be caused by me, and not some other mysterious fellow. I’m the only one mysterious here. But I didn’t let that bother me; I still tried my best to enjoy.
What the hell. I’m here with her, I won’t let a stupid invisible man that writes stupid poems ruin my night. It’s not like Andy’s in love with him already. I don’t even want to think about that.
Finally she got tired. She asked me…
"How about a movie Drew?!"
Wow, a movie. It’s funny that it all started with me watching a movie, and here I am, watching another one. Only this time, it won’t be lonely. This was the first birthday I had in years where I actually have someone to celebrate it. Actually, this ware two birthdays I had consecutively in days where one is awful and one is unforgettable. I was glad, no, it was ecstasy, and she made it the best birthday ever. I think about it, why did she waste time on me? Doesn’t she have better things to do? How about friends? Boyfriend? That’s right, she was new in town. Or was it something else, did she like be back? I thought about it, this time I have someone beside me, I won’t be coming home alone. I want to tell her what I really feel.
"Drew! We’ll watch Jack Stingham 2!"
"J-Jack Stingham 2? Really?! No way! They have that movie? You mean they have a sequel?"
"You’re so cute!" she called me cute. "You really did lose you memory. You don’t even know about the part two. That’s why I asked you to come out with me. Maybe Jack Stingham will cheer both of us."
She just called me cute. And here I thought she was the only one. We watched the movie. It’s awkward how I just remember watching the movie a day ago, and now watching its sequel the day after. I never want to remember my past life. If I would be given a chance to forget it permanently; I would gladly choose it, just to be with her. I’ve decided, I’ll tell her what I feel once we get home.
The movie was done. Unlike before, Jack Stingham amused me. I thought that movies tend to be beautiful when you have someone special beside you. It was great, I was… happy, happy not to remember.
We rode the bus. The shuttle we both ride from the mall. I remembered how it all started in a bus too, and now here I am, half asleep in the bus. Andy’s head is resting in my shoulder. I could just look at her face.
I suddenly thought about those letters again, it was weird. My mind curiosity wrestled with my sleep, and it came on top. I couldn’t help imagining things. Am I being selfish? But no matter, those letters won’t find their writers, so Andy won’t have to meet him, or her, but what if the writer finds them. I am scared that Andy might just introduce me as a friend. I was paranoid. But I was smarter than that.
She yawned. I wish I could see that face every morning, serving me bacons, acting weird and all. I loved her. I love that exact moment. I closed my eyes… I wanted it to last for a lifetime. I want myself to be a part in Andy’s life. I don’t even care if I ever recall my memories anymore. Indeed, love can be instantaneous and unpredictable. Who would have thought you could fall in live with a girl like Andy.
…crack
I bumped my head too hard it made the window cracked! I laughed! I laughed uncontrollably.
"Andy… I just cracked the window."
...
"Andy?"
She wasn’t there anymore. I stood up looking sideways in search of her. She wasn’t anywhere inside the bus.
"Sit down boy! We’re nearly at Falcon street!" the bus driver said.
But I didn’t, I’m worried where Andy might have gone to. I panicked. I just found the cutest girl I have dreamed of and now she disappeared in an instance. Finally I arrived at Falcon Street. I got off as soon as possible. I’m thinking that she might have been home by now. Maybe she wanted to do another weird stuff. At least that’s what I wanted to think. The last ride I’m about to take in order to get to Andy’s home took a while. A few more moments, it came finally. I rushed inside, the travel was fater that I expected. I was in front of Andy’s house in seconds. The lights were off. I banged the door screaming her name.
"Andy! Andy! Open up Andy!"
But nobody answered. I want to scream louder but I know it won’t do any good. First I sat at the door step. I did all the stuff to pass time. I smoked some cigarette, I threw rocks. One hour passed, then two, finally I thought I’d wait for her mother to come so that I’ll be able to ask her about Andy. Midnight came but even a sign from her mother wasn’t seen. I wonder what happened. I sleep for a while and later I found the girl of my dreams missing. And here I thought things won’t be a disaster anymore. I sat at the bench where I sleep the first night I met Andy. Little by little, I could feel my eyes getting heavy. 1…2…3…I fell asleep.
I dreamt of Andy and I, all those times we spent together, actually those 2 days we spent together. That best birthday I ever had with her. Will I ever have the chance to experience it again?... Andy…
*
Morning came; I was on the bench sleeping for the second time. I thought the smell of bacon and that cheerful laugh of Andy would wake me up. But instead, the cold mist and the loud vehicles did the job. Andy was still not beside me. I got up, wiped my eyes and stretched a little bit. I looked at my watch, it was 9am. Her mom probably wasn’t inside anymore, she’s off to work at 7. I tried knocking at door again. I won’t give up. I want to see her. half an hour and still no one’s answering.
"Andy, please open up." I just whispered.
Then I remembered! I had a spare key! Her mom’s not home anymore, she won’t mind if I enter. I know she won’t. Maybe I should wake her up for a change. So I grabbed my key from my pocket. I thought about it for a while, to open or not to open?! Then the thought of seeing her made the open option come on top. I inserted the key, twist it nervously, open the knob and pushed the door bit by bit.
...
No. what I saw inside was probably worse than amnesia…
It was my furniture. That messed up room, torn rags, picture frames, I all recognized them. It was my house. I closed my eyes and hoped that when I opened then I’d see Andy’s stuff. But no, it didn’t help, I opened them and my things were still there.
I wasn’t amnesia at all. It was the 18th of August 2004 on the calendar. It was late that I realize there was a door mat where I wiped my shoes before entering. I It was a blast to the future! I do not like this one bit. I don’t want it. I rushed to the toilet on the first floor, I flushed it, it was broken. I remembered all features Andy told me about their house, all of it weren’t there anymore. Then I remembered that secret compartment she told me about. It wasn’t there too. Am I cured of amnesia? No, this can’t be, what’s the deal?! What’s happening?! I know it’s pretty obvious now that I am at my house but I’m not accepting it.
Did I really had a glimpse of the future or was it all a dream because I had too much stress from last night. I sat down and think for maybe hours. I don’t know what to do. I should have acted normal and happy since everything is ordinary now. Nothing’s different. But that’s the reason why I don’t like it. But it is true, it was a blast to the future, I am still wearing her father’s clothes. This is weird, rather supernatural. If it was what really happened, then that explains why I was still wearing my uniform back then. If it was amnesia, I would have worn something else, 2 years have passed, I should have graduated already.
And that spare key. It wasn’t a spare after all.
I knew what to do. I change my clothes from my cabinet, it felt awkward, this is the first time I actually don’t what to see my own stuff. I know how to prove it. I wanted to see one more thing in order to be convinced. The carnival, I should check it out. I rode the bus to the carnival. I went immediately to the broken fence Andy showed me. I looked at it only for a few minutes, while thinking if I should check it out. Then slowly I bent down. But I was hurt to find out that the fence was screwed solid, shut tight, it has no gap or the sort of it. There I thought that It might be all a just dream, a dream that seemed so real. Andy wasn’t real at all, since the fence wasn’t broken. I was furious, I was mad. I wanted to have Andy. I walked away, and then in a while I didn’t know what came to me. I kicked the fence crazy, letting out all anger inside me. I lasted for minutes as I recalled. I have torn the fence open, I have created a gap.
Then I found myself laughing. I could still picture what the fence looked like when Andy showed it to me, it looked exactly the same. So, I was the one that created the gap. The puzzle is almost complete. I don’t care if it’s supernatural, or how it even happened, or will I ever be able to travel time again. All that I am happy about now is that the fence is broken! The fence is broken! Yes! The fence is broken! Is it a coincidence? A coincidence, that of all people to discover the result of my rage, it was Andy. I smiled.
I broke a fence that soon Andy discovered, then later she shows me, I came to look but it’s not there anymore, so I broke it out of anger, then she shows it to me? A cycle? I don’t really care.
I traveled alone from then I will go to her father’s place; maybe there I will be convinced that Andy is indeed real. I remembered exactly how we commuted. Those times she tied her shoe laces and those times she ate ice cream, I recalled them all. A few more minutes and I was in front of her dad’s place.
"Are you Andy’s father?!" I didn’t even bother say good morning.
His eyebrows crunched at each other as he figures out what is happening. He looked the same, tall and slender. I giggled because I know now that my Andy is not fiction.
"How did you know my daughter?!" her dad said.
She’s real! She really does exist!
"Tell me, are you a friend of her?" her father asked.
"Yes sir, I am."
"It’s been a while since I last saw my daughter. She and her mother left me long ago. I have not connections to them what so ever. I’m sorry. I miss my cute angel too."
He said "cute", she is in fact not imagination.
"Just wait a year Johnny." It’s a good thing he didn’t asked me why I know his name.
I waved him good bye. As I return to my place. I know exactly what to do. I realized that back then I shouldn’t have been worried about the letters Andy found in a secret compartment in my room. So no body did live here after me, just Andy and her mom. I shouldn’t have felt sad because somebody else made her happy, because it was none other than me. I wrote the letters and made that hole on the floor. I worked on it as soon as I get the chance. I expressed all my love to Andy that I didn’t have the chance to tell her before. I made so many letters enough to be read until we meet again. I was relieved. Now I only have to wait until she arrives.
After finishing the letters and tucked them in the compartment I made with what tools I have in the house, my mom called. She said the house I was living was too big for me living all alone. She arranged a smaller apartment from me not to far from where I lived. So that’s why I moved out. A month later I packed my things and got out. I left the house that was soon going to be Andy’s. It’s funny how I didn’t see myself in the future, two years from now.
A year later and somebody have bought my old house. I walked my way home while the song "rain drops keep falling on my head…" plays. I didn’t bother ask who lives there now.
…
I’ve waited patiently. Another year have passed; it was August 16, 2006, the day I met Andy. I watched a movie, rode the bus, fell asleep, and missed my stop. Exactly what happened that day, except I didn’t watch Jack Stingham. I was walking with a smile; I knew what will happen next. I was looking at the sky. I can’t wait. Suddenly, I was looking not the sky but the ground. I stumbled and fall. What the hell?
"Ow shit! I’m sooooo sorry mister! I really am! Sorry…sorry really! I’m sor-"
I got up. A hooded girl with black and white striped jacket, converse rubber sneaker and accessories caused my fall. I smiled and looked at her. I could only say…
"It’s ok really! Hop on the bus, you go ahead.…"
Then I picked up my change. I looked up, and she was still there.
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