Pretext: This is going to be a first person narrative, in which I will hopefully successfully intrigue you with my own ego and voice. It might be a vain attempt, fragmented and hopefully not TOO angsty, morose, or cynical, but goddamn, I'm going to write it anyway, and I'm not even going to proof it.
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This morning started with me pushing the snooze alarm to 710am , 5 minutes before I have to be out the door in my car, driving to work. While running out of my room in just my underwear I step on a piece glass which lodges itself right in my heel. A river of blood pours out onto the worn tan hardwood floor. I hop downstairs, still in my underwear, oblivious to the mysterious man sleeping on my sofa. I look at him, shrug, and hope he doesn't open his eyes.
He does. I walk past, grab my uniform from the dryer and dress in the dining room. I band-aid the bloody river on my foot pour a cup of coffee and run out the door.
The rest of the morning was normal, the practiced redundant process that is the work-a-day world, until, reaching Victoria harbor and older man comes up to me. He's wearing a too-tight button up plaid shirt. "So, what do YOU do while we're all in Victoria?"
"Um. I cook dinner"
"Oh. I was hoping you'd come down with me. It'd be fun"
"No, I've got to cook."
I abruptly turn and leave and put the lines on the bow. I hide downstairs because I don't like this man. He is incredibly creepy. He leaves with the rest and I decide to go to my favorite haven for lunch to get away from work.
It's totally cool and normal until I take a turn down an alleyway (because I'm a brontosaurus**) I walk past two homeless people, one man and one woman sitting against the wall. I hear them crack open two beers. I turn around. The man, missing all of his front teeth says, "Oh no, ma'm! I'm just drinkin a beer."
I pause. "Oh I wish I had a goddamn beer." I turn and keep walking.
I find the out-of-the-tourist view cafe and start ordering. Somehow I end up talking to the incredibly cute server who I assume is gay (he just gave off that vibe) he wasn't. I end up ordering my food confused and embarrassed. I just spent 15 minutes flirting with someone without even realizing it. I. am. awkward. I grab my food and go as far away from him as possible and start reading my book. In the middle of an interesting passage on linguistics I hear two Canadians discuss American politics. I then look up and smell weed.
I start easedropping. Both men were incredibly articulate and well spoken. However in the end, that both agreed that America is fucked until we Socialize basic 'human needs.' They also said most of America is ignorant. I disagree with the first statement, but agree with the latter.
Abruptly, and seemingly out of nowhere a man in an electronic wheelchair drives?? over with a black poodle sitting in his lap. He tries to sell me an independent newspaper that 'exposes the corporate minded media.' I don't know what to say to him. At this point, after the homeless people wearing leather shoes drinking a beer, the political discussions and the mysterious joint, I'm off kilter. I just wanted to read and eat and drink a cup of coffee to suffice my lack-of-nap.
I tell him I'm a capitalist. I tell him that I love Bush. I tell him that America is the greatest country known to man. I tell that I don't want anything to do with the paper.
In my head, all I wanted was peace and quiet, a book and caffeine. Instead I was handed homelessness, incredibly good looking Canadians asking for my number, conflicting political ideologies and an extremist, anti-establishment newspaper. Only one of these is desirable and that is up to you to decide.
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**Brontosaurus vs. T-rex: A metaphorical philosophy on life that stresses the importance of knowing your surroundings that i was told last week. It is also slightly aggressive and incredibly realist. It and puts little faith in the idea of a 'safe' and 'just' society and rather focuses on the the individual, in relation to human nature being self-preservation.
