Hour of Power, and the “best” idea I ever had.

Tags

21st birthday, birthday, blog, cheating, dating, ex, friends, humor, life, love, memories, stories

At the age of eighteen I fell in love with a man twelve years my senior, no he wasn’t my teacher that would actually make sense; he was a fraternity boy with an age complex.  We were great when we weren’t exclusive, when he could do who he wanted and I could flirt with whomever I wanted, but then one day he realized that he loved me too much to share me, so he took me off the market with every intention of leaving himself still on.  I knew it, I wasn’t stupid… just a little foolish-childish-and in the pits of hell first love.

I moved to Colorado for the summer with my family, leaving my brand new boyfriend with a sea of woman expecting him to tell me if he touched another.  Respect or something I guess.  Parts of me wanted to get the first ever boyfriend situation out of the way, and parts of me really cared about him, I just didn’t want to admit it.

Nearly a month went by when I moved back home before I found out about his indiscretions.  I was playing pool with Niccole when Nick Ludovico walked up and said “I am not an idiot.”

My attention is yours, I tried to pull myself back to a memory of a time when I had insinuated or flat out called him an idiot.  I could find none.  “I know you aren’t an idiot.”

“Well some people think I am.  Some people don’t think I see, but I see everything Sonya.  I see everything.”

“That is really creepy Ludovico.”

“I am not an idiot!”  He screamed at me and stormed away.

Naturally I followed him.  I honestly think I was the Mom of the frat house… you’re in pain, you’re flying off the handle, you’re causing a scene let me help.  Maybe that is why I study psychology now (probably not).

Ludovico ushered for me to come in.  He had clearly been sitting on the information for a while, it actually seemed to be tearing him apart, tell the girl I kind of love (yeah pretty sure that kid loved me and apparently (pre girlfriend status) we kissed multiple times my journal tells me so but I do not remember it at all), or stay true to the “brother” code.  “Wolf had sex with Amanda!”

Shocking!  I remember laughing and joking with him after that, about what I am unsure.  I wanted to stay in that room forever, never confront Wolf, and never face what he had allegedly done.  After an hour or so Wolf popped his head in the room, we fell silent and looked at him like he was extremely unwelcome.  He stood in the doorway waiting for me to follow him up to our room.

We laid down in bed together and I started crying, I felt so guilty for wanting and needing to ask the question.  I honestly believed he would have told me had he been unfaithful but I needed to know for peace of mind.  “Did you cheat on me?”  I whispered.

“Yes, it only happened one time and I…”  He spoke quickly as if throwing words at it would fix what he had done.

I jumped out of bed and walked out.  I didn’t say a word.  I had stopped crying almost immediately.  Wolf tried to stop me, “Why didn’t you tell me?”  I asked him angrily, not believing that we had this type of relationship.

“Because you didn’t ask.”

 You must be joking; you really want me to be that type of girlfriend, the kind that asks you all the time if you are cheating on me.  Grow up.  I thought to myself as I walked out of his life for what I believed would be forever.

 

I believed wholeheartedly I had set us up for failure, accepting his offer to be my boyfriend when I knew I would be leaving for two months and he hadn’t been in a relationship/relationship in years.  After a long time and a lot of talking – a stint in therapy (for him not me), I finally decided to take him back.  My first mistake.  I told him I would forgive him.  My second mistake.

 

My 21^st birthday was AWESOME!  I would do it all over again, exactly the same way… but it wasn’t without its drama.

A bunch of our friends came out to celebrate my big day and as the bars began to close we all decided the party needed to keep going.  Three people offered to drive me home, but I decided to go home with Wolf.  Wolf who had been drinking, Wolf who owned a motorcycle, Wolf who cheated.  Everyone dispersed, Wolf and I walked back toward his bike; he was angry with me for flirting with a guy the night before and I countered with “Do you not remember cheating on me?”  I couldn’t let it go, I wanted him to know that he was dog crap on my shoe and he didn’t deserve me.  I had no reason to be faithful, and he needed to know it.

“Good God Sonya, I don’t want to talk about this here.  We will talk about it at home.”  He spat as he took my purse from me, I am still not sure why.

That was one of life’s defining moments for me… I watched him cross the street with every belonging I had clutched in his hand and I took it as you can either follow me like a little bitch, or you can find your own way home.

I knew what I had to do.  Me and my stiletto heels marched off in a different direction than Wolf, if he was going North, I headed West.  I heard his bike start, then immediately stop.  I ducked between two buildings and waited there for quite a while.  Finally I peered out onto the desolate street, not a car or a person in sight.  4^th Ave, a really cool college street in the day time, but at night it’s an entirely different monster.  I had been going to Tucson all my life, and 4^th Ave at night was a scary place for me even with my parents around.  I decided that should anyone even speak to me I would beat them with my stiletto.

At the very least no one would be able to steal my purse, unless Wolf had thrown it on the ground in a fit.

Slowly I became saddened by the thought that I might get charged with being drunk in public.  Then I realized that I might be charged with drinking under age.  I have always been told I look young for my age.  I kept running the scenario in my head; cop pulls me over and accuses me of stealing my parents’ liquor and running away from home.

I made it back to the frat (safely), and then I had to break in.  The entire house was dark.  I have no idea how long I was walking, I expected Wolf to be home in bed but he wasn’t.  His bike wasn’t there, I felt nauseated when realized I had to ask someone for their phone, but no one was awake.  I still feel guilty to this day about waking up my friends but I needed to let Wolf know I was ok.

He was furious with me.  Everyone was furious with me, but like I said I would do it all over again exactly the same way because basically I am no one’s bitch.

                                                             Cheers

Yesterday I saved My Friend’s Life

Tags

camping, dogs, family, friends, humor, injury, life, love, memories, nature

When there is danger, I am not the person to call.  I panic, freeze up, and cannot seem to move at all in any direction.  It’s as if I am a possum, I cannot control what nature has forced me to do.  Although in other situations I just run; wherever my body wants to go it goes and it won’t stop until I am sure I am safe.  Survival, you know.

 

One lovely summer day while my Mom and Dad built a trellis around our roof, I tried to collect ants for my ant farm, but they were tiny and stupid.  I realized burning them with the magnifying glass was far more entertaining.

As I burnt the fourth ant in a row I looked up to see my Mom holding one end of a long board diagonally against the roof, while my Dad precariously attempted to grab a hammer resting on his ladder, hardly holding the other end of the board.  He let go and the board slammed into his face.  I jumped up at the sight of blood, ran in the house and hid in a corner between two couches and under a table.  I was sure my Dad’s eye had popped out of his head.  My Mom found me, and screamed at me to get Dad a towel to stop the bleeding, adding something about how unbelievable it was that I was hiding when my Dad was basically dying in the front yard (that might be an exaggeration on my memories part).

I ran and grabbed a towel.  My Dad was in the house by the time I got back.   I walked over to him with my eyes closed tight, positive he was holding his gouged out eye in his hand.  “It’s ok I covered it up.” He said so I would open my eyes.  His cut was very near his eye, but it was in no way out of the socket.

 

James and I always ride in the back of the camper without a seatbelt, safe… no. Logical… no. Fun… I guess; it’s just what we have been doing forever.  For years we had shitty walky-talkies that were intended to help us communicate with our parents, but they never worked.  One day while driving around on a desolate dirt road the entire back panel popped up in the air as my Dad drove over a large pot hole that popped our tire, sending both James and I skyward.  James slammed his back into the cabinet above head that doubled as a bed.  His face turned a shade of red I have never seen since.  He wasn’t breathing.  I stared at him panicked beyond panicked.  My Dad was coming to a slow roll at this point in time, but logic had all but left me.  I grabbed the walkie-talkie and yelled into it, as if yelling would make it work.  My parents didn’t respond, and James still wasn’t breathing.  I ran over to the window and tapped on it violently, convinced they wouldn’t hear me because another window was between us, and they didn’t.

I turned back to James and started screaming at him, “BREATH, DAMN IT BREATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”  But I wasn’t actually helping him in any way shape or form.  Finally he made a heavy strained gasp, and I bear hugged him.  Later I was told James had knocked the wind out of him, and it couldn’t possibly help his panic level that I go from 0-800 in a second.

 

Great camping spot

One Easter my family and I went shooting; we shoot plates, targets, and balloons (once).  Kira the family dog is a Queensland Healer, which basically means she herds stuff; she is the second dog we have owned that herds shit without us knowing, until some pissed off farmer runs over to us begging us to make them stop and we have no idea how.  Anyway Kira heard the shots and began chasing bugs, then bugs turned to birds, and birds turned to cars.  I told my parents to tell her “No.”  As she would not listen to me or James because she saw us as equals.  My Mom said “You tell her.” I tried to no avail.

A black car jettisoned down the pathway atop the mountain we were parked on.  Kira zipped off in a flash of black fur and fluffy salt and pepper tail.  The next sound we all heard was the squeal of tires and Kira scream at the top of her lungs.  The black car roared away.  I crumbled to the floor, like my entire body had concaved on itself.  I covered my eyes and began balling (to my credit my Nana had died literally the weekend before).    The rest of my family ran after Kira, like any normal human being would do.

She was dirty, shaken and bloody.  We packed up all of our stuff within minutes and drove home to tend to her wounds.  Kira suffered bruised ribs and her chin was badly cut, but all in all she was fine, is fine, and from it became a lot closer to our family (as she was a rescue dog that was abused when she came to us, and she pretty much hated people).

 

Yesterday while walking to Q-T with my coworker – best friend from high school, I heard the squeal of tires headed straight for us.  Without even thinking I ushered her out of the way.  We were not in danger by any means; the car was on the other side of the street and headed in the correct direction.  She laughed because my reaction was very much an overreaction, but for the first time I was actually there to help someone… not just take off to keep myself from seeing blood, or panicked past the point of panic necessity.  I think maybe I am finally growing up.

Ughhhhh Barnes & Noble…. People should use Amazon.

Tags

amazon, Barnes & Noble, books, diary, family, friends, frustration, life, personal, suggestion, textbooks

Dear Barnes & Noble,

Three months ago I bought a textbook from the Barnes and Nobel website, via third party vendor.  I paid extra for two day delivery as the class was just about to start.  The book I ordered came in literally a month to the day that I ordered it.  I had to drop the class as a result of me not getting said book, though everything on the website told me that it was coming.  The class was around $1250 (I am in no way exaggerating school, is very expensive). When I called over to Barnes and Noble I was told that I would have to do all the leg work to return the book to the third party vendor.  But for my troubles,  I was offered a $10 voucher; which actually felt more like a spit in the face than a “for my troubles” type of deal.

I will be in college classes for at least the next 5 years; books are roughly $100-$150 give or take, at eight classes a year that is $4000-$6000 in books alone.

Yesterday around 2 pm I ordered a textbook from Amazon.com, from a third party vendor.  At 1:30pm today the correct book I ordered came in.

So you tell me, who will I be suggesting to my friends and family?  It is a shame that nothing more could have been done to keep me as a customer.

Ridiculous Empty Text Messages at 4am

Tags

college, friends, humor, life, memories, morning drinks, shots, sleep, texts, youth

 

4:30 am I got a text from an old coworker ARE YOU AWAKE?

No, fuck who is awake at this time?  I am not 18 drinking morning shots just to prove I can hang with the boys… and actually hold my liquor (unlike the boys), though later in life that would prove nothing since I am pretty sure if I drank from 8pm-8am now with morning shots I would literally die.  I am not going to test this theory because I am not suicidal but it’s a safe bet.

I only read the message because I thought she might be having a crisis, and maybe she was, but starting out with ARE YOU AWAKE just pissed me off to no end.  I wasn’t but I am now, and for an hour I tossed and turned thinking to myself Go back to sleep, just go back to sleep.  While my dog cuddled up to me and sighed because I was disturbing his slumber.  Mike laid there sleeping like a baby, only nothing like a baby; that saying makes no sense, babies have a substantial amount of REM sleep and we adults hardly have any, not to mention the fact that Mike has never once woken up having shit himself, stood up on the bed crying waiting for someone to rescue him.  So Mike lay there sleeping like I should have been sleeping and my mind was reeling, back and forth from old memories and anger.

How inconsiderate of her to text me as ass o’clock, but how could she have known I am a light sleeper?  Then a memory crept in from college, years ago I had a rather large group of friends that stayed out until the wee hours of the night, every night, forever.   Apparently one of those nights a friend of mine named Lance text another friend Nicole who never joined us something random like “Hello” or “I miss you.”  At 9:30pm on a school night.  The next morning Nicole raised holy hell because she was so pissed off that Lance had the audacity to text her after 9.  I remember thinking it was insane and stupid to be that upset about a text that wasn’t that late at night.  I laid in the dark haze my eyes created staring out in the darkness, livid that my friend had text me at ass-o’clock I finally realized, we all have boundaries and while I believe anyone in the world would be pissed of over 4am and mildly perturbed about 9:30pm, no one can argue it’s not obnoxious being woken from slumber by ridiculous empty text messages that could have waited until day light.

Shocking Statement of the Day….

Tags

allergies, comments, coworkers, diary, friends, humor, k, life, people, personal, stupid

“You don’t have any allergies?”  I asked a coworker as I have been in pain all day from a flair up caused by my new laundry detergent (ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh).

“No, I grew up too poor to have allergies.”

WHAT THE FUCK?!  I didn’t grow up rich, but honestly did you know that if you were poor you could totally avoid being allergic to shit?  I wonder how poor one has to be to avoid that.

I wish some poverty stricken kid from a third world country would have come in and bitch slapped him, what an idiot.

photo credit: Douglas Henderson

http://www.douglashenderson.com/uganda_1/photos/content/_DSC0851_large.html

If you want to see more of his work.

The Road That Almost Claimed Me (p. 1)

Tags

blog, car accident, fear, friends, life, love, personal, Usher

“Let’s go Sonya!”  Niccole demanded of me as I checked my makeup for the nine hundredth time in the mirror.  I looked at myself wondering why I had agreed to go, every part of me screamed with a burning desire to stay.  Why did she have to have such shitty friends, why did I have to be such a good friend?

“Sonya tonight I am meeting my husband, can you please hurry the hell up?”  She snapped.

We walked out the door of her three story dormitory, climbed into her cherry red Nissan Pathfinder and headed to a gas station about a block away to meet up with a mutual friend Jeff.  He was a skinny, pale, strawberry blond guy that towered over people in an awkward manner.  Unfortunately he was not alone Joaquin a very attractive younger gentleman was close in toe, just a few days prior he attempted to do some unspeakable things to my person and after I slapped the living shit out of his face I hoped I would never have to see him again.

“Hey!” He said smiling exuberantly, his aura jumping over itself with excitement.

Apparently I had not slapped him hard enough, because he was still talking to me.

“Are you excited?” He asked me, his eyes open wide as if he had just shot himself up with crack (maybe he had I don’t know anything about the kid).

“Not in the least.”

He looked at me as though I had kicked his dog, “You aren’t excited to see the best concert ever, in the entire world, of this lifetime, not excited at all?”

I didn’t make a sound.

“This is mother fucking Usher Sonya. USHER!”  He got angry with me and walked away.

I wish anything in this world would happen so I don’t have to go see Mother fucking Usher.  I thought.  I just didn’t know I would get my way.

***

On the freeway between Tucson and Phoenix I chose the tunes, I lit the cigarettes, I didn’t buckle my seatbelt, I played air guitar, and pretended we were going somewhere else.  I am not big on crowds; don’t care for concerts, but Niccole loved Usher so I agreed to attend.

“Tell me again why we aren’t riding with Jeff?”  I asked her as I lit her second cig in ten minutes.

“He is an unsafe driver, Sonya.  I would never ride with him.”

He was a very erratic driver, I wouldn’t have chosen to ride with him either, but Niccole was driving on a spare tire so I didn’t particularly want to ride with her.  She had only been driving for a year at the most, her parents thought it best that she not learn until she was away at school.

“That little shit.”  Niccole said her eyes on Jeff’s truck to the left of her.  He was revving his engine, speeding up and slowing down, trying to get her to race.  The freeway was full of cars.  I didn’t think she would take the bait, but she laughed hysterically.  I had no choice in the matter she jammed the gas 75…80…85…90…95 it all happened so fast.  The second it started I clicked my seatbelt (by the way in no way is it cool to not wear a seatbelt, it’s just fucking stupid and irresponsible), I don’t recall being scared as we swerved in and out of people, I don’t recall being worried, I remember being annoyed but I cannot tell you why exactly.  I mean I know now why I would have been annoyed but in that moment what exactly was annoying me might have just been a culmination of everything.

Steady at 95, I didn’t hear a sound, a loud boom, the only thing I recognized as the spare tire shred to pieces and came clean off the rim was the back right quarter was nearly resting on the ground while the rest of the SUV stood up tall.

We fishtailed.

The sound of rubber and metal violently scraping the ground as it is forces across asphalt in ways it was never intended; loud like the transformers movie, the sound that to this day makes me want to hurl.

Niccole wrenched the steering wheel; we swerved off the road into the dirt median, toward oncoming traffic on the other side.  She was frozen.  The traffic in front of us was hauling ass, as if they were trying to get out of our way so that we could run straight through it.  I screamed at her to stop… to swerve the SUV the other direction so we weren’t plowed to death by a semi, she slammed on the breaks.

My heart stopped (no it didn’t it was racing uncontrollably).

The SUV skipped on land, it began to tilt and all I could think was pretend it’s a rollercoaster.  I said goodbye to my family in my head.  I got through my immediate family as the ground appeared in my passenger side window then everything went black.

I opened my eyes to silence, except for the sound of dirt lighting hitting the metal frame.  Nicc’s moon roof caved in like an upside-down glass mountain.   I couldn’t see her, but soon I heard “Sonya” in a mousey unfamiliar voice, Niccole was alive.  I was alive.  I answered her then my mind went completely blank.

I gathered my belongings like a hobo living in squalor, pushed open the door to a vast open valley of bushes and tumbleweeds.  I became livid, why had Niccole parked so far away from the concert.

In the distance Joaquin ran across the freeway to get us, I turned back around to see the utterly demolished SUV and recalled we were in an accident, every window was busted out, the frame was crushed, one mirror survived the impact and I found it hilarious.

Niccole’s head was down when I got to her side, she was covered in dirt and blood, and so was I.  My brain switched again thinking that we were in a movie, the makeup was so good it was painful.

“I can’t get the door open.”  Niccole said.

I panicked, what the fuck do you mean you can’t get the door open?  I reached out and yanked it with all my strength, it didn’t move, it didn’t make a sound.  She wouldn’t look at me.  She just kept her head down.  Soon people were coming out of the woodwork, like ants, everyone was a professional that knew the best thing for me to do was get away.  A man demanded that Jeff and Joaquin take me away from the car, as Niccole began screaming “WHERE IS SONYA, WHERE IS SHE?”  I pulled away from Jeff, pushed past the massive group of people that were now surrounding Niccole’s driver side door.  It wouldn’t budge for them either.

People were asking Nicc all kinds of questions and she wouldn’t answer a single one.  “Where is Sonya?” She demanded again.

I finally got up to her and put my hand in the open window.  “I am right here Nicc, I am fine, do whatever they say.”

She still wasn’t looking at me, she began repeating “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.”

I had no idea what hurt.

Jeff pulled me away.

……