I am literally obsessed, and my second favorite thing about my job (second to working with my friend) is getting to wear a bow tie. Bow ties are cool. Anyway, what is probably my least favorite moment for the character of Amy just ended and now it’s time for The Vampires of Venice.

This post isn’t strictly Who related. I have been reading a bit lately, finished Jailbird (highly recommend it) and Jane Eyre. Now I am reading Dorian Gray, and I really want to read Catch-22, Gatsby, Catcher, Huck Finn, the list goes on. Actually, if you care about my reading endeavors, check here: Goodreads!

I have been writing more. I am debating whether to put poetry up on the blog again (actually, I have also debated preforming poetry) and I am sure I will decide soon enough. Also I am trying to start another story, but that always proves difficult.

In this post I also wanted to include, for anyone in the Orlando area (though I am telling my friends anyway) there is a used book store:
A Novel Idea
1436 State Road 436
Casselberry, FL 32707-6572
(407) 672-0095 ‎

The woman who runs it is a doll, and the books are old and beautiful and smell like Heaven. I really felt at home, I could have spent the whole day there. I am sure I will soon.

To wrap up this disjointed blog post, I just wanted to say that I have been getting a few spam hits on this blog, but one hit that doesn’t seem to be so spam worthy. It seems like someone is searching me. Feel free to contact me if that’s the case. I don’t bite, and I would like to know if anyone out there is actually reading this blather.

Friend,
You are quite hard on yourself, and for no good reason. I am sure things will look up soon, and I wish I could help beyond words but that’s simply not my place. You have gone through turmoil of a potent degree and true friends will not judge you for any reason. Don’t let people push you around and don’t let their opinions alter who you are. You are worth more than that, and not because I say so but because it’s simply true. Maybe brunch and sky diving will happen, maybe it won’t, no one really knows — but if our friendships stays how it is, and you know you can come to me for help, I could not say I have any regrets.
Sincerely,
Trevor

Friend,
I probably have the most to say to you, whether that is good or bad I really don’t know. I am very hopeful that you are happy (though I imagine my hope is really irrelevant; you are happy I am nearly certain). I hope that happiness is true though, because it’s very easy to be happy when someone else is the cause of it. Regardless, I am glad you are doing well. I’ve come to terms with all of this. I still feel the current situation is the right one, but I have come to terms. I don’t hate you, and I won’t. As I’ve said before hating is just a waste. In as much, I don’t want to forget about you or what we had, regardless of what the sappy songs say. What we had may not have been real, or as real as we (or I) thought, but it meant a lot while it happened — and that’s all life is, a series of events full of emotion as they happen. Looking back, what we had was great, but again maybe it just wasn’t right. I am more logical, passionate, and forward than you are. Our differences helped for a while, but now that it’s over, they are more clear. You need (maybe want is more correct) someone more slow paced, someone more fun, carefree, someone who can watch “500 Days of Summer” and not over analyze it. I want to over analyze. This change works out better for the both of us then. Just don’t take real life for granted, romantic and fantastic stories are wonderful, but if that safety net ever fails, I don’t want to see you get hurt by this fucked up experiment called life — then again, maybe something like that needs to happen. Who knows? You are happy now, with someone who can provide what I could not. Enjoy.
Sincerely,
Trevor

Friend,
You are someone special in my life I have taken for granted from time to time. I promise that will not happen anymore. You are a fantastic person with a heart of gold and a brilliant mind, I am indescribably happy that you are happy. We have sort of watched each other grow up, and it has been lovely. I really couldn’t ask for more. Also, thanks for putting up with my crazy family, and the even more crazy me.
Sincerely,
Trevor

Friend,
I have known you forever, almost literally. You are one of the kindest people I know, almost to a fault. I really hope you are happy, and I hope you don’t settle. It’s a fear, hopefully an unwarranted one, but a fear nevertheless. Also, without you I would be struggling far more in my life, you have helped more than I ever give credit for. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Trevor

Friend,
You are sincerely the smartest person I know. I look up to you, flaws and otherwise. You excuse my analysis, and make me feel less insane — always. I know if I feel something I can come to you, talk about it, and feel reassured. You are passionate, brilliant, and an honorable person. All of my friends love you, even if you don’t believe that, and I feel you won’t believe any of this. This isn’t to say you don’t have flaws. You put people on edge, I can see it, because of your personality. It doesn’t affect me as easily as others, but I can see the change in their eyes. Also, you lack drive/motivation and the accompanied self esteem, you have re-evaluated your life and decided what is best for you — to me that is great, but some see it as coping out. In a sense I feel it is. Honestly, I see your flaws and know what to look out for and how to better myself as a person. You are a role model in many ways.
Sincerely,
Trevor

Friend,
You raised me. I took you for granted. I am sorry for everything. I love everything about you. You are kind, and dear, and warm. You are always so nice to me and my friends. You life has been rough, and you have fallen from grace many times. Don’t let that define you. But don’t make me or another define you either. Define yourself. You are such a great person especially when you are happy, I love you so much. You have always been there and I know you always will be. I am sorry if I don’t make that clear. I don’t mean to come across hard-headed when we talk, and I don’t mean to over step my bounds — but I just want the person who means the most to my life as a whole to lead a happy, less stressful, life. I admire you, I really do. You have taught me many things, and you too are a role model.

Friend,
I don’t remember much of our childhood. It’s pretty much a blur. I remember certain things, they always make me happy. Pops found an essay I wrote about you being my role model when I was in 8th grade, the sentiment is still true. I had fun beyond words visiting you. I cannot believe how secure you are and where you have come. I am so proud, which sounds silly but it’s true. We are so alike and it scared me a bit, since we were brought up some what differently and ended up going down very different paths, but it’s nice to know we are as similar as we are. I really miss you, honestly. I hope our relationship never tires, because as we have grown up we have grown closer and you mean more to me than I ever really express.
Sincerely,
Trevor

A relationship that was two years in the making ended relatively recently. You got busy, perhaps feelings changed, maybe you even moved on — no one knows, I don’t even think you do. This whole situation though, it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. You may have convinced yourself you didn’t leave me for him, but that’s nearly impossible to believe. But I don’t hate you. Hating you is a waste of emotion; hating in general is a terrible mess.

Alongside hate, pity fails to mean anything to me. I do not pity you, I don’t want  you (or anyone) to pity me. If you, or anyone, wants to feel for me, or think about me, do so because you think I am great, or because there are things about me you dislike, which you want to discuss — openly. But pity is pointless. I think we really disagree here. I don’t care how rough someone’s life was, how difficult their problems, or how important their friendship may or may not have been — I will not strive for connection based on pity; because I feel bad. If I reach out to someone as a friend or anything more, it is because of their greatness, not because of their weakness.

As this relationship crumpled, and continued its downturn while you were busy with the stress of everything and someone rebuilding you, I fought. Perhaps for the wrong reasons, maybe because it was just comfortable, but I don’t really believe that. I just know what we had was special. I didn’t want to give up on it. That cliche, “If you love someone, let them go,” didn’t work for me, it didn’t feel right. I wanted to do the opposite. I have given up on that hope. You have moved on, or at least found comfort in the arms of another person, and now you cannot turn to me. At least you cannot turn to me for the comfortable small talk. It is too much for me.

Yet, there is still more. You want to wallow, you say you feel bad, feel guilt, feel an overwhelming stress that this new me (oh subtle coincident) cannot even help. You compare yourself to Rory, from Gilmore Girls, that show we used to watch together. You are not Rory though.

The scene you put yourself into is Rory engrossed in pints of Ben and Jerry’s after a rough break up with Dean, and a kiss with Tristan. I have always been the logical one, and I know emotion isn’t logical, but your empathy with the scene is strictly unfair. In Gilmore Girls,  Dean broke up with Rory because she couldn’t return his emotion — she couldn’t express her love. Beyond that, the wallowing occurred after a kiss which she immediately viewed as a mistake. She was brought to tears. She kissed Tristan out of pity, pain, along with a smattering of interest toward him.

Maybe you couldn’t express love any longer, maybe you just didn’t feel it, but the biggest differences between you and Rory:

You broke up with me.
Your kisses as of late have not brought tears to your eyes.

(PS: I don’t want to fill to many blog posts with relationship troubles, so I will add this here. I find it hysterical that in the last Dr. Who episode, The Almost People, there were two Doctors. I guess I am almost the right Trevor, but even Amy knew that wasn’t enough).

Flaws:
Overanalysis: I tend to think and focus and harp on things a lot. To the point where I rarely enjoy movies and take even words (albiet, often labels, not simply words (but this just demonstrates the flaw)) to a point far beyond what’s humanly acceptable.

Uncomfort in Social Settings: Surviving in social scenarios is possible for me, but when it comes to enjoying myself, it’s often a toss up.

Judgemental: This is a big one, I feel especially as of late, it goes hand in hand with overanalysis but I take my analysis and form snap judgements that are often hard to shake. Not good! Bad Trevor!

Passion/Intensity/Demeanor: On the same track as overanalysis and judgemental(ness?) I get so wrapped up in things I lose empathy or sympathy and get heated. This is a benefit as much as a curse, but still something I have to keep in check.

Insecurities/jealousy: I am still a worry wort at heart and though I have grown much since my younger years, still I must push through and work to not be so nervous and needy when it comes to those I love most.

Blinders/Stubborn(ness): Sometimes I get so wrapped up in things (see half of the items above and you’ll see what I mean) that I listen to people while not directly considering their point of view. I think of things a lot, and since I consider a lot of hypotheticals or run through situations in my mind a lot I often get overconfident/overpassionate in my side of an arugement. This is great for supporting my point of view, but I have to, in the time of a discussion/arguement, be willing to consider/reconsider all other logical possibilites (even if they don’t make complete sense to me/don’t work for me).

That is all.
And yes, I’m still addicted to coffee.
Oh, as for blessings, I have many: a fantastic family, wonderful friends, coffee (and a damn good coffee maker), a great bread recipie, and the love of a girl (Sarah you’re truely unbelievable) that means the world to me.

There is one caveat though and that is finding inspiration. I have an ever-present desire to write a story, a well developed, rhetorically based piece, but I have trouble getting it off the ground. Sometimes I wonder, should I stop thinking so much, and start living more — perhaps escape the confines of my own mind in order to find the inspiration I so desire. Or, would this just be another hoop for me to jump through, a self created hoop no less.

I exaggerate this, I know, but I can’t help it due to the extremes highlighted by the situation. Due to my financial status, I could not chose to attend college outside of Florida, I don’t reget it, I love myself, I love UCF, it really worked out well for me because of how I looked at the situation. To me, because my options are/were limited, I convinced myself that due to my career path (education, not hyper competative by any means) and personality, I would work with what I was dealt and live life to my fullest. I make what I want out of my college experience, but I have the blinders of finance on, and that’s little to no fault of my own. I don’t plan my parents. As I said before I love who and where I am.

I do, however, notice that the same decision, when presented to my girlfriend, is vastly different. Other options must be considered for the smartest choice to be taken. She can leave (and remain fiscially sound). She can escape the eternal summer/hellhole of Florida to the paradise/grass is greener/education is better area of wherever she pleases. The choice is scarier, due to options, but it’s also more important. She has to not consider me, or at least not up front. Her education is vastly important and so much is set forth in front of her. In ways, I am jealous. In others, I wonder if I’d be able to make the correct decision, or simply cower and grow overwhelemed by choices.

Most of all I am scared. Our relationship as is, is fantastic. She is the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me, and I want the best for her. I simply fear, right now, that the best for her — isn’t me.

Back to the blogging:
Today I wanted to write about something on my mind: morals. Trusting my gut is something I do daily and I relaize the power in it. Only going with the gut, however, is unintelligent (much like how over thinking things has its flaws). I think, and feel, that people altering their morals and thoughts on important matters shatters a lot of their credibility. They fold under pressure. It’s human, maybe, but strong morals exist for a reason. They exist to keep you who you are. Don’t misunderstand, change is acceptable and welcomed, but on important moral issues, altering things fails to makes sense to me. And disheartens me.
Just ranting nonsense, I should talk more, but it’s almost tomorrow and I’m tired.

“All men are create equal…”

I fear this simple idea confuses and confounds people. Many take it too far, wrap other ideals into it. Simply put, I try to believe everyone is capable of everything. (In terms of what humans can do, I don’t epexct anyone, for instance, can jump off a roof and soar through the air.) Many people may agree with me, on the above, but before I continue one more thing requires explanation. Just because I believe this does not mean I hold everyone to as high expectations as I do myself. I know they can do anything, if they chose not to, that’s their perogative.

Now, these two things must be intertwined and that’s where strife arises. If everyone is capable of everything, why are there poor or sick or obese or unintelligent? The reason for these varies: poor choices, unlucky family situation, etc. Some out of people’s control, some completely within their realm of control but they chose not to change. This is their choice. If someone decides to not study, they will not do well in school — their choice is unintelligent, but they are still capable of anything they put their mind to.

It’s a matter of self fufilling prophecy. If we tell kids, of any age, that one group is smarter or more capable then another — then it very well may be. I know I am intelligent, perhaps biased, but I feel, above all else, people as a race, as individuals, can accomplish anything.

Ramble, that’s all.

Jack sat at in the back corner of the post office behind his plastic barrier that mirrored the ones in jails, but no one seemed to notice that. With seniority came freedom to chose your own desk, and Jack figured the back corner away from what little commotion was left for a post office was the best bet. The clock on Jack’s computer flicked to 4:30. Only thirty more minutes to freedom, he decided to keep himself entertained. Spinning his chair Jack threw his legs up onto his desk, careful to avoid the ancient monitor that took up most of the space. Once comfortable Jack grabbed the Rubix cube off his desk and began to spin its puzzling parts. Within five minutes he was bored and tossed the multicolored mess back onto his desk. Jack pulled his phone out of the deep pockets of his black uniform pants. He flicked it on and immediately got lost in the glow of the mini-monitor he held in his hand. Out of his peripheral Jack saw one of his superiors walking by and quickly slid his phone back into his pocket, straightened up his posture, and sat at the computer diligently typing away. What he typed, though, his boss couldn’t see. Which was lucky for Jack. Solitaire still worked on this archaic machines and passed the time perfectly, and Jack knew all the keyboard shortcuts by heart. As Jack worked through his second game of solitaire the clock stuck 5:00pm and he sat up. Time to go, the best time of the day. With a few quick clicks the game was closed, the computer shut down, and Jack stood up, gathered his things, and walked out of his cubicle.

On his way out of the office Jack passed the computer where he signed out. The process was simple, type in your name, the time, click enter, hold shift, type your employee code… okay, maybe simple isn’t the best word – but after working there for so long Jack had it down to such an art it took him mere minutes. Correctly signed out, with his jacked slung over his arm and briefcase in hand Jack walked out the door. The south Florida Post Office location Jack worked at was centrally located enough for him to be able to walk home, even if it meant walking by a few homeless folk, the convenience was immeasurable. Before he began his walk, Jack stopped by the bench in front of the post office to get himself situated. Regardless of the weather, he threw his jacket on simply so he wouldn’t have the burden of carrying it, and with it on he grabbed headphones to connect his head directly to his cell phone. After picking his briefcase back up, and straightening up his jacket and pants, Jack began his walk.

The pace of the music matched his walk perfectly which always seemed to happen, as if his direct connection to the phone let it control him, as opposed to the norm of those roles reversed. On his walk Jack skirted by the man he referred to as Crazy Man with Beard. He knew if he walked too close the bum would ask for money, or help, or food – just something that gave Jack a headache honestly didn’t want to deal with. After his interpretive dance down the sidewalk Jack crossed the corner or Cypress Road and 70th street, the street was as rather quiet one but Jack knew under the overpass lay the next landmine: Crazy man without beard took refuge from the chaotic Florida weather under the minor overpass, which was really impressive, especially for a homeless guy. After ignoring Without Beards attempts at freebies, Jack was on the home stretch.

The walk in total took around fifteen minutes which Jack enjoyed: daily exercise before getting home to walk Legolas, hop a shower, and cook dinner. Once he hopped up the three flights of stairs Jack pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket. The metal key slid into the lock, spun, and the deadbolt slipped back into its home – like a turtle withdrawing into its shell. Jack pulled the door open and quickly greeted by Legolas, his Siberian husky. Most people shot Jack snide looks when he walked Legolas, especially during the summer, but they failed to understand that the dog adapted himself to whatever his environment was, or at least that’s what Jack convinced himself.

“Oh calm down boy, calm down,” Jack said as he rubbed his dogs head, “time for a walk?” Legolas’s tail flicked a mile a minute and if Jack hadn’t braced himself he would have fallen over because Legolas began to push his head into Jack’s legs, easing him toward the door. “Oh hold on boy, lemme get your collar.” Jack lifted the collar from the table in the entrance hallway of the apartment and slipped it around Lego’s neck. After Legolas got adjusted to the collar Jack opened the door and set on out his walk. Legolas pulled Jack down the flight of stairs, which was partially understandable since it had been a few hours since he last experienced the wonder of the outdoors. Now, the wonder and amazement of the outdoors excited Legolas a lot, but once he and Jack made it to the landing and he spotted the grass – Legolas lost control (or whatever control domestic dogs still had). Jack stood about 5 ’9, a relatively bulky guy, but certainly not obese, but regardless of he grounding or weight, Legolas pulled him toward the luscious green grass without warning. In mid drag toward the grass the man-dog pair tumbled passed Apartment 103, where Courtney lived. Even after the three months of living so close Jack never developed a solid friendship with Court. Courtney worked as an elementary school teacher while she struggled to keep her passion alive – she simply loved art. Jack knew little of Courtney’s artistic prowess, not due to apathy, but simply because the two individuals had yet to truly get to know one another. Courtney worked in all mediums but above all else she loved painting (acrylics generally) on anything, of anything. As Legloas continued his assault on Jack’s arm the pair ended up in the grass the bordered the parking lot. Doing what dogs do, Legolas sniffed around the grass attempting to find the one blade that smelt sweeter than all the others – that is, until he heard a car pulling into the parking lot. Legolas’s ears shot toward the noise and his head perked up. Courtney’s blue sedan pulled into the parking lot and she maneuvered in into her assigned parking space. Regardless of the appeal Legolas found in the grass when Courtney finally opened her door and stepped out Lego darted over to her. Unlike his owner, Legolas was quiet the social creature.

“Hey there Jack,” Courtney said as she braced herself for impact of the massive husky heading her way.

“Hey Courtney,” Jack returned the pleasantries, “Ah, sorry about Lego.” The husky began to sniff all around Courtney and press his muzzle into her leg just begging to be pet.

“Ah, ha, no need he’s fine,” Courtney said as she bent down and gave the dog all the attention he so greedily required. She cocked her head back up toward Jack and said, “How have things been? Good day at work?”

“Well, can’t say it was a bad day, but it wasn’t good either. There really aren’t too many good days,” Jack mumbled, “it is the post office after all, the advent of the computer pretty much made us obsolete. How bout you, have a decent day?”

While she furiously rubbed Lego’s belly she replied, “Arts and crafts day! Which, while I love art, is an experience for many, tiny, little, children, but overall it was a good day. There wasn’t too much paint on the walls, or glue eaten, or crayons stolen.” Court giggled after she finished her story. She was light-hearted, Jack found it refreshing. “So, after you walk the mutt you have any plans for the rest of the evening?”

Jack was rather taken aback by her question, the two had never delved deeper than simple “how was your days” but he found her personality appealing and saw no harm in continuing their chat. “Well, I have yet to have dinner since this beast had to go out so bad,” Jack lifted the leash in his grasp though Courtney knew what he referred to, “and other then that, I have no plans.”

“Oh come on its Friday! You should go to a bar or go out or something!” Courtney laughed as soon as her advice left her lips. “I sound like I’m still in college don’t I, eh, it’s fine by me.”

A bar! Jack mulled over the idea, and while he didn’t detest it, he couldn’t help but poke fun at Courtney when she made it so easy, “Come on Court! We are adults! A bar, pa-shaw!”

Courtney simply rolled her eyes as she brushed the wrinkles out of her dress. Jack’s sarcasm was palpable and Courtney was intelligent enough to grasp it. “Well, I haven’t eaten either, so…”

Jack finally began to understand Courtney’s underlying intention, she wanted to make plans with him! “Well, I am making steak, and there’s plenty for two people if you’d like to join me.” Jack hesitantly made plans still not fully believing the intentions of the woman he spoke with. Working at the post office sure made him dense – nearly robot-like.

“Well thank you ever so kindly for the invite, it’s so unexpected!” Courtney sarcastically replied in a heavy southern accent as she bated her eye lashes in Jacks general direction. “Ha, I don’t mean to impose really, I just figure we’ve lived rather close for quiet sometime and have yet to really get to know one another.” Courtney admitted, quickly accompanied with a nervous laugh, as her, Jack, and Legolas made their way back to the apartment building.

“No, no, it’s fine. No skin of my back, plus I like to cook so having someone besides myself and the mutt to feed, it is a pleasure.”

“Ya see! I never knew you liked to cook!” Courtney gesticulated wildly as the trio walked up the sidewalk. “Well, I have to jump in my house for a bit, just to put my stuff down and what not. Mind if I meet you at your place in about 20 minutes?”

“Naw that’s fine,” Jack said, still semi-shocked about the situation. “I gotta finish walking Lego anyway since we got all caught up he really didn’t get his walk. See ya in 20 then.”

“Later gator,” Courtney said as she unlocked her door and stepped inside.

Jack walked Legolas around the rest of the neighborhood all while his mind sorted out what just happened. What. The. Hell. The poor guy was so confused as he left his dog sniff around in the grass. Boyfriend troubles? Family issues? Did she just want company? All these thoughts flew in and out of Jack’s head yet he couldn’t settle on any of them. Nothing he thought really made perfect sense. Actually, what made the most sense, was that it was just about damn time the two people exchange their life stories. Jack played the part of the loner pretty well, never had he done this before, he mastered the art of avoiding not confrontation – but human interaction. Especially annoying human interaction, hence his dance around the homeless every day after work, but Courtney wasn’t annoying – actually she was very appealing, so he calmed himself down and was cooled off as he when he walked back into his house with ten minutes to spare.

The smell of spray paint filled the air. The hand danced from side to side. The can held firmly. Plastic top pushed in ever so slightly. The jet black mist hitting concrete. Click-Click-Click-SHhhhh. The only noise. Silence. Arms in a dance. Cans moving back and forth. Under the cover of twilight. The grand finale. Arm up and whipped down. A conductor of the silent orchestra. Work is done. Time to move. Drop the can. Pick up the back. Grab the sign. Leave.

A patter of light taps on the door, then three hard knocks, three more, then one, silence. Jack stepped out of his bedroom, just having hopped a quick shower and slipped into some more causal clothes. He could have swore if he waited any longer to get the door she would have cursed at him in Morse code. For all he knew, she already did. Jack opened the door, letting Courtney in. For a single guy with a dog, Jack’s place was impeccable, though he still worried Courtney would critique it. Then again, Jack worried about a lot of things. But Courtney strolled in very casually, with an air to her step, as if she walked on clouds while mere mortals were punished and held to the solid earth by the laws of gravity. She broke those laws.

“Really nice place you have here,” Court said with an overwhelming sound of unintentional sarcasm.

“Uh, thanks,” Jack said as he motioned around, “Shall I give you the grand tour?”

“Oh, if you would be so kind.” So Jack led Courtney from one room to the other in his small one bedroom apartment. “This, is the entrance way, living room, kitchen, dining room area,” Jack said with a laugh as he realized how short this tour would really be. Jack opened door to his bedroom and stood in the threshold, “and this is my bedroom.”

“Of course you’d show me the bedroom,” Court rolled her eyes and gently shoved Jack out of the way and walked into his bedroom.

“Hey!” Jack reacted. He really didn’t know what else to say. The tour certainly wasn’t going as planned.

“Hmm, you know what’s fun?!” Court said as she slipped off her sandles and began to crawl onto Jack’s bed. Then she jumped up and down. Jack just watched in awe. “Oh come on, it’s fun! You cannot tell me this doesn’t look appealing,” Court said as she jump and tucked her legs under her body so she landed sitting on Jack’s bed, laughing hysterically.

“I think hanging with all those kids is rubbing off on your Courtney,” Jack’s face held a caustic mix of terror, humor, and admiration for a spirit as innocent as free as that of the girl standing up from his bed, “hungry?”

“I thought you’d never ask, I am starved. You know, doctors say jumping around in bed burns 872 calories,” Courtney remarked as the pair walked back toward the kitchen.

“Really? Really Court?” Jack walked into the kitchen as Court sat in the dining room table. The bar between the dining room and kitchen made their conversation continue without falter.

“No, of course not, but it was fun. On a more serious note though, steak for dinner, but what else? Side dishes?”

“Calm yourself woman,” Jack knew the danger in his chauvinistic joke, but he risked it anyway. Judging from Courtney’s previous antics she wouldn’t take offense to it.

“Oh, yes masta,” Courtney replied. “No but really, salad? I can make a mean vinaigrette.”

“Hmm, that actually sounds cool. Team work!” Jack said as he cut open the package of two chuck eye steaks, their marbling matching that of his counter top.

“Sounds good to me, do you have, well, salad stuff?” Court asked as she stood up from her seat and walked into the kitchen.

“Ya, ya, there should be a bag of salad in the bottom drawer and vinegrette stuff in the cabinet next to the fridge.” While Jack spoke he placed a cast iron pan on the stove to let it heat up, “How do you like your steak?”

Court gathered all of her ingredients and ripped open the sack of salad to pour it into a large wooden bowl. “Hmm,” She seemed hesitant to answer, that or she was too lost in salad creation to notice the question. “How do you like yous?”

“Oh no, no, no. None of this bull.” Jack responded, his tone laced with mock anger, “I asked the question now just gimme an answer.” He certainly was not up for a debate, for steak – is serious business. He threw salt and cracked pepper onto the steak as he awaited her reply.

“Medium-W…”

Before she finished her thought Jack let out a sigh, “ Phew, medium is acceptable. But honestly, rare is the best. Good thing you didn’t ask for it well done or I would have had to banish you from my home.” Jack laughed as he finished his premature remark.

Court giggled and rolled her eyes. She never got upset, she took everything quiet lightly, “Mind if I turn on the news, just for some terrible background noise?” The evening news was on and while Courtney’s request slightly confused Jack, he nodded in agreement as he dropped the steaks into the pan. Jack enjoyed keeping up with current events, which he knew played a part in his cynicism. So, when Courtney asked to turn the news on, it struck him as odd – she seemed to innocent to live in the same world as he.

The rest of the cooking (which involved flipping steaks and tossing salad) flew by and while the steaks rested the pair of previous strangers set the table. They finished setting the table, sat down. Their small talk continued until the television interrupted with the cacophony of breaking news.

“Vandals tag landmark in community park

stay tuned while we keep you up to date

here at Channel 6 News.”

Jack rolled his deep brown eyes, and picked up his fork, “that’s all. God, anything passes as breaking news doesn’t it? ‘Boy spills milk! Then cries! More details at eleven!’” Jack mocked, “Graffiti is graffiti is graffiti, it they report they are just expediting the problem.” Before Courtney commented she took the first bite of steak – it was far more on the rare side then she preferred but she didn’t want to offend the chef. While she chewed the bite her face lite up with delight.

“This is really lovely Jack, it really is!” she obviously enjoyed which pleased Jack immensely since this was one elongated first impression. “Have you tried my salad yet?”Jack shook his head and Courtney shot him a puppy-dog stare that begged for his culinary approval. As Jack tasted the salad Courtney weighted in on the vandalism situation, “I think it’s fascinating. One artist adding to previously finished (or as finished as art can be) piece, as long as it’s nothing obscene or offensive I see nothing wrong with a little graffiti.”

Jack nodded along, understanding though not agreeing. “Your dressing is fantastic little lady. Ha, actually…”

“Oh, no no no, I don’t want any tips or culinary advice from you Mr. Uncooked Cow. My dressing is damn good!”

“Touche, but no, actually, I was going to say it tastes similar to the dressing my mom used to make. She always refused to give me the recipe, but you unknowingly hit it spot on.”

“Hey! Don’t think you can butter me up and get the recipe out of me that easily.” Courtney stuck her tongue out at Jack before the two fell into a relative silence as they ate the rest of their meals.

The park sat dark. Silence covered it. Like a fresh coat of paint. The disguise reset, as if it left. The word spread. As intended. The homeless man on the bench smiled. Rolled over. Asleep. Snug and Safe. Plotting, planning, dreaming.

It makes me sick,

like I just ate half a bag of potato chips

and the grime and greases coats not only

all of my fingers,

by my insides too.

Just cut it out,

stop compromising yourself

you’re better then that.

Stop calling yourself names,

or throwing yourself into a group

or falling head first,

down a flight of stairs,

in aim to be caught by prince charming

or at least to bare enough

scratches and scrapes to

make acceptable

your change of appearance.

You are you.

Quit dolling yourself up,

your attempts at making yourself

more appealing

or attractive

or relate-able

compromise the individual you are.

It feels all fake,

and slimy.

Like when you gently,

rub the tears of the cheek

of someone who just cakes

on make up.

It all feels the same,

and grimy.

Like when you talk,

with someone who means

the world to you,

but their too busy

trying to make themselves

easier to understand,

to notice they’re special.

And they are fucking

fantastic,

just they way they are.

And if people don’t understand

or except that,

those people aren’t worth

it.