september 11, 2004

i walked through through the streets of upland this afternoon. i saw a hummingbird in front of a quaint house. it was drinking from bright red flowers. i saw him zip by the large picture window several times, showing off, wanting desperately for someone to admire him. little did he know, i was spying on him from across the street.
the sound of an electric guitar was pouring out of open windows and echoing through the neighborhood. the person playing was putting forth great effort in finding the correct notes to the theme from Pink Panther. the notes were choppy and hesitant, repated after each mistake. some notes were confident, and when he was sure, he would shake his hand on the freboard creating a clear vibrato. his parents worked outside the house, doing their best to ignore the "noise." little did he know, i was listening from across the street, a smile on my face.
tonight, friends stopped by to watch a movie. it seemed rather forced. they were uncomfortable being here and left rather quickly at the earliest convenience.
i drove thirty-six miles by myself tonight. it was the same drive i make every day of the week. i was lonely.
i ran over an already obliterated piece of road kill. it made a loud thump that made me cringe. i was going seventy-four miles an hour at the time.
i filled up my car with gas. i paid, and right before i left, i looked the cashier in the eye, and it made me realize i hadn't done so up to that point. i must have looked at her nametag as well, because it burned an image in my mind. her name is Annette; i can see it clear as day. the mind chooses to remember all the seemingly useless things. on my way out, i held the door for the mand riving the turquoise jeep. he had a white beard on his face, a leather jacket on his back, and a bandana on his head. he was buying chocolate milk, two percent. he thanked me for holding the door. i responded with the friendliest "yup" i could muster.
i parked my car outside of the apartment. abbey was sitting on her stairs talking on the phone, but she didn't see me. it could have been one of her roommates, but i didn't have my glasses on so i couldn't tell. the kids across the lawn were tossing their bean bags. the bags made a loud noise as they smacked the wooden boards; it echoed between their building and ours. i walked up my stairs and saw our neighbors in their usual positions in front of the television. one in the recliner, on indian style on the floor, and the kitten looking longingly out the screen door, ignoring his owners, opting rather to daydream about crickets and mice and grass and birds and life in the outside world, exciting as it is.
i entered and my roomate told me i startled him. he greeted me warmly and asked how my night was. i told him "fine." i was lying.
maybe i just wanted to be noticed. i noticed the hummingbird, pink panther, annette's nametag, and the jeep driver's beverage of choice. i spotted abbey at the end of the row. i looked at the kitten and knew exactly how he felt. i spent the day wondering if anyone, unbeknownst to me, was noticing a tall awkward kid who wasn't smiling today.




it's a bit depressing, but there you have it.