The Church Ladies Take A Lesson in Flashdance Attire
I feel:: anxious
What song is on a loop in my head right now:: Tori Amos~The Beekeeper
Man, I am either a dedicated masochist or I'm growing cahones as big as bowling balls. Let me back up a bit. Yesterday, I went to church for the first time since Easter. Easter was the day I laid it all out on the table for Marshall and I felt like he kicked me in the face. I didn't go the Sunday after Easter because I was just too depressed and I didn't go the Sunday after that because I was too embarrassed to be seen with these huge cuts/burns on my arm and it was too hot to wear sleeves. Why I can post pictures of my self-harm on the internet for the world to see, but am too embarrassed to let those I say that are closest to me know about it is beyond me.
Anyway, yesterday afternoon when church was over, I was the first one out the door. I had a headache that was making my vision blurry and Marshall was sitting right in front of me all during service and I was literally aching just to hold his hand. (I woke up with that headache, but for some reason, I had it in my head that I was going to go to church. I somehow convinced myself that I didn't feel as badly as I did. Reality has a funny way of smacking you in the face and when I got to church and sat down in the pew, my head felt like it was in a vice grip and to this moment the only thing I remember about the sermon is something that Joe said about how Moose meat is so vascular even after all the blood is drained out and how it's all chewy. I remember he used it as some sort of allegory to a scripture verse in 1 Peter. Just so you know, things like that regularly come from the pulpit at my church. It's not that kind of church. One of the reasons I go there.) So, instead of sticking around to chit-chat (I didn't particularly feel like Chatty Cathy.), I bolted to my car. Here's my Life Clue #3 for those who are interested: Never try to drive with a migraine that blurs your vision while simultaneously crying your eyes out and having a panic attack. It's a bit difficult. Not to mention the fact that it makes the migraine worse. (Before I went to church, I stopped at the little coffee shop where I go every Sunday to get coffee before I go to church. I figured if I drank some strong coffee and took about 4 Ibuprofen, my headache would become at least manageable. To my disappointment, some ladies from that church who had evidently gone to early service were standing in a long line all dressed in their best Sunday floral dresses waiting for coffee. I stood there for a few minutes with my faded and ripped raver jeans on, bright red Converse, a bright pink Flashdance-esque shirt that fell off my shoulder to expose my very blue bra strap and dark, dark Doris Day-esque pink sunglasses that were pointed up at the outside edges with rhinestones on the tops of them, with my hair in pigtails while they all stared back at me. I would have screwed up my face and gave them something to stare at, but my head was hurting to badly to move my face muscles. Besides, how threatening can you look in pigtails? Disgusted and not wanting to wait forever for coffee, I left with a sigh. I'm quite sure the church ladies were relieved.)
So, after church, I went home and literally fell into bed, but not before taking one of Dad's wonderful headache pills and a couple of Klonopin. I fell asleep directly and woke up a few hours later with an urge to do something, but I didn't know what that something was that I wanted to do. I just knew that I didn't want to lay there in my bed and stare at the ceiling fan, even though it does remind me of Marshall (I know that's weird, but it's another story.). I laid there for about half an hour debating on whether or not to get up or to just go back to sleep. I looked at my bedside clock; it said 3:30. I decided at that moment that I didn't care where I went, I just wanted to be out of the house. I was thinking I might drive out Hwy 10 where there is this little hidden park-like place right on the shores of Lake Maumelle. It's so peaceful there. Or else, I'd go out to Pinnacle Mountain and walk the trail. Either way, I decided to take my camera in case something interesting passed my way. After I got dressed, I picked up my cell phone and started to walk to the kitchen to put it in my purse, get my keys and leave. I stopped before I got out of my room and just stared at my phone and that little voice inside me said,"Call Marshall." I said no and chided myself on what a ridiculous idea that was, but then again the little voice said, "Call Marshall." This little argument went on for at least 5 or 10 minutes while I just stood there and stared at Marshall's number on the display of my phone. Finally, I said to myself, "Fine, I'll call him, but I'll do it when I get in the car and am on my way to where ever I'm going and I'll just ask him if he wants to go with me." I called him up; he was watching football, which is pretty usual for Marshall on Sunday afternoon from what I'm beginning to find out. I tried to act all peppy and cute. That lasted for all of about 2 minutes. I said, "Hey, Marshall, do you want to go somewhere with me?" He sounded sort of dubious and curious at the same time and said hesitantly, "Where?" So, I told him what my two ideas were. Well, after some conversation, I managed to get out of him that he didn't want to leave his house (that was sort of like pulling teeth with no anaesthetic).
So, I started talking to him about our last phone conversation, in which he said, among other things, that we had a good friendship. I said, "You know, Marshall, we've known each other for a long time (We've known each other for 15 years.), but we really don't have a friendship at all. We don't even know each other. I don't know what your favorite color is or if you drink coffee in the morning or anything like that. I know those kinds of things about my other friends. I just find it funny that you say we have a good friendship when we barely know each other." After I said all of that, he was silent for a minute and then said, "I really don't have a favorite color and it has to be really early in the morning for me to drink coffee." So, since he had made it clear to me that he didn't want to leave his house and I definitely didn't want to go back home and didn't really want to go anywhere alone, I said, "So, can I come over and hang out with you?"
That's how I spent my Sunday afternoon, sitting in Marshall's living room watching European football on his big screen tv and talking. Surprisingly, he was doing most of the talking. He was asking me all sorts of questions about myself. I was very pleasantly surprised. We actually hung out and it was comfortable and we actually talked. Marshall has never talked that much to me or laughed that much in my presence before. At about 6:00pm, I left. Marshall was headed to his parent's house to eat dinner and I had to study for a make up test in my Sensation and Perception class that I took this morning. All in all, it was a good afternoon and I got a hug. That was a bonus. (The only problem with getting that close to Marshall is that when I come away, I want not to be away. I want to stay close to him.)
What song is on a loop in my head right now:: Tori Amos~The Beekeeper
Man, I am either a dedicated masochist or I'm growing cahones as big as bowling balls. Let me back up a bit. Yesterday, I went to church for the first time since Easter. Easter was the day I laid it all out on the table for Marshall and I felt like he kicked me in the face. I didn't go the Sunday after Easter because I was just too depressed and I didn't go the Sunday after that because I was too embarrassed to be seen with these huge cuts/burns on my arm and it was too hot to wear sleeves. Why I can post pictures of my self-harm on the internet for the world to see, but am too embarrassed to let those I say that are closest to me know about it is beyond me.
Anyway, yesterday afternoon when church was over, I was the first one out the door. I had a headache that was making my vision blurry and Marshall was sitting right in front of me all during service and I was literally aching just to hold his hand. (I woke up with that headache, but for some reason, I had it in my head that I was going to go to church. I somehow convinced myself that I didn't feel as badly as I did. Reality has a funny way of smacking you in the face and when I got to church and sat down in the pew, my head felt like it was in a vice grip and to this moment the only thing I remember about the sermon is something that Joe said about how Moose meat is so vascular even after all the blood is drained out and how it's all chewy. I remember he used it as some sort of allegory to a scripture verse in 1 Peter. Just so you know, things like that regularly come from the pulpit at my church. It's not that kind of church. One of the reasons I go there.) So, instead of sticking around to chit-chat (I didn't particularly feel like Chatty Cathy.), I bolted to my car. Here's my Life Clue #3 for those who are interested: Never try to drive with a migraine that blurs your vision while simultaneously crying your eyes out and having a panic attack. It's a bit difficult. Not to mention the fact that it makes the migraine worse. (Before I went to church, I stopped at the little coffee shop where I go every Sunday to get coffee before I go to church. I figured if I drank some strong coffee and took about 4 Ibuprofen, my headache would become at least manageable. To my disappointment, some ladies from that church who had evidently gone to early service were standing in a long line all dressed in their best Sunday floral dresses waiting for coffee. I stood there for a few minutes with my faded and ripped raver jeans on, bright red Converse, a bright pink Flashdance-esque shirt that fell off my shoulder to expose my very blue bra strap and dark, dark Doris Day-esque pink sunglasses that were pointed up at the outside edges with rhinestones on the tops of them, with my hair in pigtails while they all stared back at me. I would have screwed up my face and gave them something to stare at, but my head was hurting to badly to move my face muscles. Besides, how threatening can you look in pigtails? Disgusted and not wanting to wait forever for coffee, I left with a sigh. I'm quite sure the church ladies were relieved.)
So, after church, I went home and literally fell into bed, but not before taking one of Dad's wonderful headache pills and a couple of Klonopin. I fell asleep directly and woke up a few hours later with an urge to do something, but I didn't know what that something was that I wanted to do. I just knew that I didn't want to lay there in my bed and stare at the ceiling fan, even though it does remind me of Marshall (I know that's weird, but it's another story.). I laid there for about half an hour debating on whether or not to get up or to just go back to sleep. I looked at my bedside clock; it said 3:30. I decided at that moment that I didn't care where I went, I just wanted to be out of the house. I was thinking I might drive out Hwy 10 where there is this little hidden park-like place right on the shores of Lake Maumelle. It's so peaceful there. Or else, I'd go out to Pinnacle Mountain and walk the trail. Either way, I decided to take my camera in case something interesting passed my way. After I got dressed, I picked up my cell phone and started to walk to the kitchen to put it in my purse, get my keys and leave. I stopped before I got out of my room and just stared at my phone and that little voice inside me said,"Call Marshall." I said no and chided myself on what a ridiculous idea that was, but then again the little voice said, "Call Marshall." This little argument went on for at least 5 or 10 minutes while I just stood there and stared at Marshall's number on the display of my phone. Finally, I said to myself, "Fine, I'll call him, but I'll do it when I get in the car and am on my way to where ever I'm going and I'll just ask him if he wants to go with me." I called him up; he was watching football, which is pretty usual for Marshall on Sunday afternoon from what I'm beginning to find out. I tried to act all peppy and cute. That lasted for all of about 2 minutes. I said, "Hey, Marshall, do you want to go somewhere with me?" He sounded sort of dubious and curious at the same time and said hesitantly, "Where?" So, I told him what my two ideas were. Well, after some conversation, I managed to get out of him that he didn't want to leave his house (that was sort of like pulling teeth with no anaesthetic).
So, I started talking to him about our last phone conversation, in which he said, among other things, that we had a good friendship. I said, "You know, Marshall, we've known each other for a long time (We've known each other for 15 years.), but we really don't have a friendship at all. We don't even know each other. I don't know what your favorite color is or if you drink coffee in the morning or anything like that. I know those kinds of things about my other friends. I just find it funny that you say we have a good friendship when we barely know each other." After I said all of that, he was silent for a minute and then said, "I really don't have a favorite color and it has to be really early in the morning for me to drink coffee." So, since he had made it clear to me that he didn't want to leave his house and I definitely didn't want to go back home and didn't really want to go anywhere alone, I said, "So, can I come over and hang out with you?"
That's how I spent my Sunday afternoon, sitting in Marshall's living room watching European football on his big screen tv and talking. Surprisingly, he was doing most of the talking. He was asking me all sorts of questions about myself. I was very pleasantly surprised. We actually hung out and it was comfortable and we actually talked. Marshall has never talked that much to me or laughed that much in my presence before. At about 6:00pm, I left. Marshall was headed to his parent's house to eat dinner and I had to study for a make up test in my Sensation and Perception class that I took this morning. All in all, it was a good afternoon and I got a hug. That was a bonus. (The only problem with getting that close to Marshall is that when I come away, I want not to be away. I want to stay close to him.)
posted by Anais Nin at
6:34 PM
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