I've had all of these one liners running around in my head lately that I've been meaning to incorporate into several short stories lately. I think I'm starting to get back into my 'writing swing' once again which would really explain my recent behavior. It's a relief, really.

"She laughed. 'How foolish would I look to a stranger right now? To be caught in this compromising position?'"

"I hate you Britney Noble, for inviting the perfect Jerry Swanson to your birthday party."

"I stared and stared at the ever shrinking city behind me and continued to wonder about my life."

I'm not sure how many I'll do right now, but this mood has had me in a vice-grip all day. Please know that these are all workings of my imagination. The first story was an idea I came up with long ago. The second occured to me as I was driving into the college a few days ago, but happened to be when I was about 7. The third came to me tonight as I looked over the city from my front porch, but it is a true story that I want to lay out in paper before the memory fades.

I must warn that this entry is exceedingly long.

Enjoy I suppose.

She woke up late for her first appointment that morning. At 8:30, the precise moment her first tour group was supposed to begin, her eyes flitted open. She noted he was on the couch, and an art book of Frida Kahlo's work was resting on her stomach. She stretched and begrudingly sat up after a few moments of laying in a half conscious stupor. The clock on the wall read nothing but bad news. Confused and attempting to remember what day of the week it was, she rubbed her eyes and suddenly realized the time.

"Fuck!" She yelled, scrambling off the couch and knocking her book to the floor. She bolted up the stairs to pull her black pants on and throw her black blouse over her head. Not having time to even look in the mirror, she pulled her long Sandy hair into a bun on the back of her head. She didn't bother locking the door to her apartment, knowing in the back of her mind that no one would come by to look for her anyway. She practically threw the lock off of her bike and began to ride. Luckily is was a nicer day. At the very least it wasn't raining.

She didn't bother to lock her bike either. As fast as she could, she ran up the muesem steps and ran through the doors. Her boss was standing right inside of the entry way. She glanced at her watch, then looked to her. At a loss for words, she looked down to the floor and shruged. What excuse was there to give? Her boss draped her nametag around her neck. "Your 9:30 tour group will arrive any minute. Go wait for them by France."

By France, her boss meant the french artist section. She waited patiently with her sign in her hand for clueless masses of muesem goers to huddle around and wait for her guidance. When the tour began, she snapped on her tour guide smile (the one she believes is the one that makes her the most recommended tour guide in the entire museum), followed through her movements, and didn’t even listen to herself when she recited dates and ‘interesting facts’. Her head was swimming with thoughts today.

Inside she was miserable. It was a day that she wanted to be finished with so she could go home and get some rest so she could be miserable tomorrow and do to same thing over and over again. She knew she was a pawn, but she found it difficult to care.

She led tour after tour, snapping on the adorable smile and the voice to match. Her lunch break came an hour late just as she had been. She walked a block down to the Mom and Pop kiosk to buy her usual sandwich and drink. As she looked down the row of goods, she noticed something she had never noticed before; a pack of razor blades. Without thinking or missing a beat, she took them down from the clip that held them and took them and approached the cashier.

“And a pack of Djarum Blacks.” She said. The cashier eyed her strangely. She shrugged again and handed him her money. Without waiting for her change, she walked back outside onto the busy sidewalk. She took the out of place matchbook that she kept in her purse and lit her Djarum. Clove cigarettes. She hadn’t had one since her teens.

She lingered outside to finish her cigarette, but promptly went inside. Walking quickly and efficiently, she made her way to the bathroom and locked herself inside a stall. The always busy bathroom was now strangely quiet as she found herself rolling up her sleeve to expose her pale arm. Taking one of the razors out of the pack, she lightly touched the skin near her elbow. Although she didn’t feel a thing, she saw a quick flash of crimson. She stared at it and then did something she didn’t expect to do.

She laughed.

“How foolish would I look to a stranger right now? To be caught in this compromising position?” She said aloud. She threw the razor into the feminine hygiene box that sat beside the toilet, still laughing. She dabbed at her wound and rolled her sleeve back down. She could remember the last time that she had been this happy, but it was long ago. She twirled the promise ring that she still wore around her finger; the one that no longer promised anything. Her smile was genuine, and her words were significant.

As she left the museum that evening, she noticed that her bike was no longer there. As she had forgotten to put the lock on that morning, her transportation had fallen prey to the mean city streets. This didn’t bother her. Instead, she walked home humming the theme from Carmen’s opera. As she entered her apartment, she tossed her keys to their usual place on the coffee table and smiled.

Now all there was left to do was fall asleep and wake up to be miserable in the morning.

Certainly not that great, but I wanted to atleast get some of that in hard copy before I forgot it.

Britney Noble was the biggest brat in the entire 1st grade class. Her Mommy and Daddy had a lot of money, and Britney had no problem showing this off. She would come in on show and tell days with picture of her new horses or would impress everyone with her extensive toy collection. Well, everyone except me. I seemed to be the only kid who didn't like Britney, and that made me feel like an outcast.

When my birthday came around and I got a kitten, I was excited to bring him in for show and tell. The whole class gathered around my sleeping, black, fuzzy kitten and giggled. I felt as high as the sky. Britney was not impressed. "So what?" She said. "I have dog that's cooler than that and I'll bring him to show you." Sure enough, the next week Britney's dog came in for show and tell and no one cared about my kitten anymore. It felt like war between the two of us and I hated her.

Britney's birthday was coming soon and I was surprised when I got an invitation to her party. I can't remember the gift that I got her, but I do remember hearing that Jerry Swanson was going to be there. In my 7 year old mind, there was no one better than Jerry Swanson. He was cute and funny and I was sure I was going to marry him. If I remember correctly, he was the reason I even went to the party.

Britney sat down to open gifts. She didn't like mine and as much as I tried to hide it, it ripped my heart out. She opened Jerry's later and she 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed like it was the best gift in the world. It was a toy horse.

"I hate you Britney Noble, for inviting the perfect Jerry Swanson to your birthday party." I thought. I got up to go to the bathroom, but ended up hiding behind a china cabinet instead. I heard Britney's Mom asking where I had gone, but Britney said she didn't know. I must have stayed behind that china cabinet for atleast half an hour until Britney's Mom finally heard me sobbing. All the crying had made me sick so when I finally went to the bathroom I had a reason to be there.

When my Mom came to pick me up, I sat in the front seat and she looked at me in my little party dress and my hair done up in my black, purple, and pink barette and asked me: "Did you have fun?"

I looked up at my Mom and said: "I don't like Britney Noble very much."

That's just another silly memory I just wanted to get out for some reason. To me it seems like something that would be in Chicken Soup for the Children's Soul.

This was a pivotal moment in my life. It's mushy and kind of dumb, but it's important to me.

It was January 8th. I remember the date because just two years ago on that day, my Dad had gone sober. To celebrate, my parents decided that our family trip that year was to take a cruise around the Caribbean. I spent the whole first day investigating every inch of every floor humming "My Heart Will Go On" from Titanic. If the front of the boat wouldn't have been guarded, I would have tried flying like Rose did.

When night had fallen, I went to the open aired Promenade Deck to look out over the water. I faced West and saw Miami. I stared and stared at the further shrinking city behind me and continued to wonder about my life. I was only twelve years old but I couldn't help thinking that I would never find anyone for me, a feeling that followed me throughout my teenage years.

I looked up to the sky. The stars were brilliant. I saw Orion the warrior, the protector, standing next to the river Eridanus as the legend told and in that moment I knew that my soulmate was looking at the same stars I was looking at. I had fallen in love with an unknown man. What if he had died before I got to know him? What if he had decided to never marry? What if I never met him?

I looked over the rail to the waves below and shed a single tear. That's when I prayed. I prayed for him, whoever he was. I asked for him to be happy and healthy and for God to look out for him. I sighed after my prayer. I left the vacant deck and went the floor up to get a slushie before I went back down to our cabin.

I had a dream that night. I dreamt that I had met this faceless soulmate. I remember he was funny, but that's about all I can clearly remember.

The next day I met Carolina Salvi, a nice Argentine girl. She told me all about her country and I listened eagerly. We spent everyday together on that cruise, and I promised her that one day I would go to Argentina to see her and to see what it was like. In return, she promised that I would have a place to stay with her. Call me crazy, but I still think about her.

But more than anyone I think about that faceless man I fell in love with that night.

I'm sorry it's so damned long. It's a wretched entry with nothing of much interest to report on. It was just free write time, and now I feel completely renewed. Thanks for letting me bare-all.