The showers at my school are small. So small that I once stopped to ask myself does this stall make me look fat? Before I got into these showers, I had no idea I could be claustrophobic. The walls are so close together and whenever your body comes in contact with them, you cringe at the thought of how many times they might’ve been peed on. All the shower-heads are missing, so the showers aren’t so much showers as they are high taps that create what feels like a mini-waterfall from Alaska trying to push you to the ground by force, much like an angry freezing police officer. The curtains won’t stay in place either, and it seems like gravity in there works sideways trying to get you to be an exhibitionist. Anyone who’s watched The Shawshank Redemption, American History X, that one episode of The Boondocks or any prison movie would understand why I’m not too fond of taking showers in a stall that doesn’t come with a steel door. I’m usually in there being uneasy – because I feel trapped, the curtains slide like children at a playground, and I can’t deal with what happened to Edward Norton in that movie. This place is very hot, meaning I sweat a lot, so avoiding showers is not an option. I have tried to deal with this by taking showers when there’s not a lot of people around. I might wake up in the middle of the night or walk out in the middle of the class where the lecturer’s making really awkward sexual jokes trying to win our affection. I’ve lost count of all the times people were in class while I was on my bed with a Q-tip.
That’s just one of the reasons I’ve been missing class. The main reason has to be the school’s Wi-Fi. Right now, I have tens of tabs open, all displaying pictures of Nicole Kidman, because her face is more appealing than all the books I’m supposed to be reading. If my parents knew the amount of time I spend in bed streaming movies and TV shows, they’d crack my head open, maybe disown me or just understand me because they’re great people who can control their temper and have learned the value of forgiveness and I love them (please don’t disown me/beat me to a pulp). But in between all the junk that is American Dad and Hitman: Agent 47, I found the gem that was the N.W.A biopic, Straight Outta Compton. I liked this movie for several reasons. First of all, I liked it because I’ve listened to N.W.A all my life so I knew about them before the movie was even announced, so I had bragging rights. I could tell everybody who cared to listen that I got away with listening to music about firing guns at everything and driving cars that hop since before my voice broke. Second, I loved the movie because now I don’t have to explain myself to anybody when I get a Jheri curl. I loved the movie also because I got a kick out of watching people try to pronounce the title, specifically the ‘Outta’ part of it. It was fun to ask someone “why are you trying to sound like you’re from Harlem?” The greatest reason I loved the movie, however, has got to be the lessons I learned from it – the struggles of those in the ghetto, the effects of greed, the value of friendship, among other things.
Speaking of music, I’ve reverted back to my old tastes after months of listening to ‘cocaine music’. I didn’t revert willingly though. A friend of mine persuaded me rather well. She did use several threatening phrases and a couple of knives, but she got me back on track. Good thing, too. I was getting so much into that bad music that it was affecting my ability to have fruitful conversations with people. For a long time, it had been;
Somebody: Hey. What have you been up to?
Me: Finna hit the plug, get that loud in the trap, straight kush me. Cook it, bake it, cut it, brrrp! Brrrp! Fly that Miley out to my migos, get that cake up. Snow in the summer, make millz in the Souf, y’heard?
Somebody: You have no idea what any of that means, do you?
Me: Long live the bando!
But now I’m starting to sound normal again. I can make sense when I speak, so I’m now catching up with friends. We’ve been here for about three weeks and I still haven’t seen everyone. It also doesn’t help that I didn’t bring my phone with me. When I do see somebody in person, it’s usually less “hello” and more “let’s see you ignore my texts now!” We spend time talking about regular stuff and sometimes someone will point out that they’ve never seen me eat in all the months they’ve known me, and that is completely their fault because they could see me eat if they just accepted to go on a date with me and I mean COME ON! JUST ONE DATE! WHO TURNS DOWN FREE FOOD?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?!
Then we talk about home and I start missing home and I’ll decide to go over the weekend only to be reminded why I moved into campus in the first place. I’ll walk in, my mother’ll get excited and start cooking lots of food, then wait until after I’ve eaten to tell me to do the dishes. My sister’ll keep asking me to help her decide which colors to use on her paintings like she doesn’t know how guys are colorblind. My father just comes in, sits down, then asks questions about school and tells me that the barber’s missed me. The cat forgets me as soon as I leave, so when I’m back it’s more hostile than usual. My phone’s usually less comforting because I find texts from people asking me why I haven’t posted anything.
To the people who wait for me to send links instead of just checking the site for themselves, I say, “You people hurt my feelings.”
To the people who check the site whether I send the link or not, I say, “You rock. I should buy you drinks, and by drinks I mean we’ll drink from inside my room because electricity and water are practically free here and I also don’t want to get out of bed. But you already know that because you read last week’s post. You’re pretty cool.”
I almost forgot to post today, which is why I’m typing this at four in the morning with the third hot cup of coffee to my left. Lately, I’ve been forgetting a lot. I could be in the middle of a conversation with someone, talking about all the good times we had together, and then realize that I can’t remember their name.
Take this post for example. I had been typing something that was bound to offend some people, but I had good reason for it. In the middle of typing, I forgot what the reason was, so I deleted much of it – except part of the first paragraph – and started over. I don’t know how I forgot, because I’d been thinking about it for days. It could be due to my sleeping habits or maybe it’s related to my overindulgence in Sprite and dry breakfast cereal. I don’t know how the brain works, so that makes sense to me.
If this is means that I’m losing my mind, then goodbye. Use my tuition fees to pay for a decent asylum that feeds me properly. Otherwise, see you next week, stay safe, don’t touch my comb.
In response to Writing 101’s prompt, mine your own material.