Im leaving work when I see it- the fire. It's not happening in front of me, but I'm seeing the Forever 21 burn down. Girls are crying and kissing their cheap fashion store goodbye, and there's a guy laughing hysterically as if to say he wishes it had been his fault, but it's what I see afterwards that surprises me. The same girl I'd seen fighting a bus driver in my vision is running in the rain in the opposite direction of the store. Her face is saying shit shit shit shit and I know she's done it.
When the visions done, I'm standing in front of a Jehovah witness who's attempting to thrust a bible into my hand. "No thanks, I don't want it."
"I want to tell you about Jesus... How old are you? You look so young and Jesus could use you."
"I've been used thanks. Have a nice one though." The Jehovah witness grabs my arm one last time, but I snatch it and say, "Let off me, GODDAMN!" She gasps at my insensitivity and I smirk at my effectiveness as she walks away offended. Yonnie 1. Jehovah Witnesses 0.
As I'm tallying the score in my head, my stomach growls so I head to Casa D' Waffles for, well, waffles. I scoot into a little booth and peer around. I see a woman check her phone and frown. Guess I'm not the only one lonely in this town. She looks at a newspaper and her face lights up as she dials a number frantically. I imagine a conversation she has with someone trying to sell homes or looking to hire a house maid and I start to think about the first time I searched in a phone book. I was seven and my mom wanted me to find the number for the nearest pizzeria in town.
"Breathe Yonnie. You can do this. Do like i told you and you'll do fine." If I'd done what she told me six months ago, I'd probably be in a hell hole somewhere. She'd always been so demanding about money, but I could never be an escort. I'm too...misunderstood.
"Hel-lo! What can I get you?"
"Oh sorry, just some waffles." When I look up, its the girl from my visions, except she's not being arrested or running from a crime she just committed.
"Long night, huh?" She wipes her hands on her apron and raises her eyebrows at me.
I want to kick myself when I say something I wouldn't normally say to a stranger from my visions. "You should let me read your palm," I say hesitantly. I think I'm losing my mind.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Too Much Clutter for One Day
"Yonnie! Get up! Your breakfast is getting cold." Wait what? I'm not at...oh. One of those things. Dreams. Somehow I always find my mom in my dreams. She fixes breakfast, or helps me stretch, or... I've got to stretch. I open my eyes and look around my room. It's a messy four walls of farewell posters from my friends back home and my clothes are in heaps on the floor. "I've got to clean this,"I murmur, pulling the nearest T-shirt up over my head. I walk over to my mat and stretch like a freshly-awakened cat. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale...Frown. I've got work today.
I walk over to my open window and stick my head out, still talking to myself. "Alright Yonnie, there is a crowd of people outside. You're going to walk in the opposite direction. Clutter is the new black and you do NOT like trends." I close my window and I'm a little annoyed when my first vision of the day invades my focus.
A black girl with an intricate amount of gel in her hair is fighting angrily with a bus driver. She's cursing, screaming, and rolling her eyes. Then she punches him, but the aura around her doesn't tell me she's angry, it tells me she's full of remorse. Her actions get her arrested and when she ducks into the police car, I can see her lips moving. How did my life come to this?
When I'm done contemplating a stranger's arrest, I slip on some sweatpants and fly on my magic carpet to Alfonso's. Alright, so I walk, but I close my eyes and imagine. I can get to Alfonso's in 80 steps once I'm outside. 40.41.42.43.44.
BEEP! BEEP! When I look up, there are rows of cars stacked on top of each other, not literally. In one car, an old woman with curly white hair rolls her neck from side to side, singing the words to a song I can't really catch. The honking horns stop and then I hear it:
I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really
really really wanna zigazig ha.
I walk over to my open window and stick my head out, still talking to myself. "Alright Yonnie, there is a crowd of people outside. You're going to walk in the opposite direction. Clutter is the new black and you do NOT like trends." I close my window and I'm a little annoyed when my first vision of the day invades my focus.
A black girl with an intricate amount of gel in her hair is fighting angrily with a bus driver. She's cursing, screaming, and rolling her eyes. Then she punches him, but the aura around her doesn't tell me she's angry, it tells me she's full of remorse. Her actions get her arrested and when she ducks into the police car, I can see her lips moving. How did my life come to this?
When I'm done contemplating a stranger's arrest, I slip on some sweatpants and fly on my magic carpet to Alfonso's. Alright, so I walk, but I close my eyes and imagine. I can get to Alfonso's in 80 steps once I'm outside. 40.41.42.43.44.
BEEP! BEEP! When I look up, there are rows of cars stacked on top of each other, not literally. In one car, an old woman with curly white hair rolls her neck from side to side, singing the words to a song I can't really catch. The honking horns stop and then I hear it:
I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really
really really wanna zigazig ha.
I really have to fight to contain my laughter and I bet I even look ridiculous doing it, but I turn to face the abandoned building beside me and laugh hysterically. My eyes burn and my ribs are sore, but I'm laughing until I regain enough composure to continue walking to work. That song is all over the place. Lovers, best friends, and slamming your body all around.
You know what I want? What I really, really want? A goddamn raise.
At Alfonso's, there are cages of animals, cubbies of animals, shelves of animals, hell, there are boxes of animals. There's so much...clutter. My job is to welcome the people who come in and help them pick a pet. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I'm breathing softly because I know where I stand with customers; I hate them. Yes, I know hate is a strong word, blah blah blah, but let's be honest. Customers are annoying.
"Yonnie! How are you my little canoli? You smell like my mother's favorite flowers. She had a thing for flowers you know? What you Americans say? Green fingers?" Alfonso smirks with his arms wide open for a hug. Knowingly, he makes mistakes just so I'll correct him. His little canoli.
"Green thumb, 'Fonso." I roll my eyes and hug him. He squeezes my lower back a little too tight so I let out an awkward chuckle and push away. When my eyes graze over him, he's a little too happy and he adjusts the creases in his pants to hide it. "You know, 'Fonso, I've been working here a while and I..."
"Hold that thought Yonnie. I've got to make a phone call!" He dashes back to his office and shuts the door. Cheap old man...
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
A Vision
"What will come will come. Even if I shroud it all in silence!" I turn around to face the blind man and he smiles up at me as if he knows I'm facing him. I'm wishing I hadn't tossed a few quarters into the small copper bowl beside him, but I stare at him expectantly.
"What did you just say to me?" He grins again, but he doesn't say anything. I try to twist up my face, to intimidate him in some kind of way, but you can't scare a blind man with the expressions on your face. So, reluctantly, I turn away, my neck hot with anger. I'll shroud him in silence, I think. But I think some more and I begin to wonder where his words are coming from. Did he know something about me? Was he a part of my past? What the hell is his problem? I'm still thinking intently when I reach the apartments.
I run up the first flight of stairs and jog into the hallway trying to shake my thoughts. Room numbers pass me in a blur. Room 200... Room 245... Room 266. I stop here and place my hand on the door, but when I blink I'm still seeing the blind man's grin mocking me.
I inhale and exhale a few times but he's stilll there grinning at me. Then he's pointing and laughing. Nearby I hear a record scratch, then "Everybody huuuuurts." A little girl cries on the street curb and her mother watches her in annoyance. My mother used to give me that same look...
When I blink again, I'm back at my front door, but I have to focus on the numbers to calm myself. I've gotta stretch! I fumble for my keys and unlock the door still spooked. Dropping my bag by the door, I run to my yoga mat like a security blanket and lay on my back. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I stretch my arms above my head. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. "Great job Yonnie," I hear my mom say. Then I fall asleep with a grin on my face to match the old man's.
"What did you just say to me?" He grins again, but he doesn't say anything. I try to twist up my face, to intimidate him in some kind of way, but you can't scare a blind man with the expressions on your face. So, reluctantly, I turn away, my neck hot with anger. I'll shroud him in silence, I think. But I think some more and I begin to wonder where his words are coming from. Did he know something about me? Was he a part of my past? What the hell is his problem? I'm still thinking intently when I reach the apartments.
I run up the first flight of stairs and jog into the hallway trying to shake my thoughts. Room numbers pass me in a blur. Room 200... Room 245... Room 266. I stop here and place my hand on the door, but when I blink I'm still seeing the blind man's grin mocking me.
I inhale and exhale a few times but he's stilll there grinning at me. Then he's pointing and laughing. Nearby I hear a record scratch, then "Everybody huuuuurts." A little girl cries on the street curb and her mother watches her in annoyance. My mother used to give me that same look...
When I blink again, I'm back at my front door, but I have to focus on the numbers to calm myself. I've gotta stretch! I fumble for my keys and unlock the door still spooked. Dropping my bag by the door, I run to my yoga mat like a security blanket and lay on my back. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I stretch my arms above my head. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. "Great job Yonnie," I hear my mom say. Then I fall asleep with a grin on my face to match the old man's.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Me Gusta.
The day started with a few yoga poses. I'm not really one for sweating so I just stretch, whenever and wherever I can. It reminded me of my mom- and no I hadn't spoken to her since I was seventeen when I moved out. "If you walk out that door, you're never allowed here again!" Yes, a typical ultimatum plus a rash teenage decision ended in utter stupidity, but isn't that the story of everyone's life?
My mom had a cookie-cutter secretary job when she raised me, but twice a week, in the evening, she was a yoga instructor. Whenever I stretch in the morning, I can hear her voice telling me, "Arms up. Good, now breathe deep. And arms back down. Great job Yonnie." So, everyday I was doing the same positions, awkwardly wedged somewhere between nostalgia and morning grogginess.
I often thought about how my life would have been different, if I hadn't walked out of that door, if I hadn't ended up in this town, and if I hadn't gotten this random clerk job at Alfonso's Pet Shop. I suppose I'm in the early stages of a crisis.
But enough about my past. I'm all about the future, get it? Except I can't tell you the next time it's going to rain. It's hot as a mother... and I make pitcher after pitcher of iced tea, but I am no cooler. I'm persistent that away, always pushing something down a dead end road. That road is paved with failure and loss and my feet get burned on the path to nowhere while my family turns their back from me in an attempt at resignation and as I walk the road alone I ...Sorry, I get dramatic like that sometimes. I consider myself to be the world's most pessimistic psychic.
I've gotta stretch some more, gotta loosen up. From my apartment on the third floor, I can see the faces of frustrated, sweaty people, but I just stretch and breathe in deep. I smell something murky, but I'm deep in meditation now. Inhale. Exhale. My karma clock's alarm goes off, a whining wind chime, and I get up to walk to Alfonso's. I don't like his advances on me, but I can tolerate it. Besides, I'm not alone. There's a new employee here. Russian, grumpy, and broke. I like 'em broke... Me gusta.
My mom had a cookie-cutter secretary job when she raised me, but twice a week, in the evening, she was a yoga instructor. Whenever I stretch in the morning, I can hear her voice telling me, "Arms up. Good, now breathe deep. And arms back down. Great job Yonnie." So, everyday I was doing the same positions, awkwardly wedged somewhere between nostalgia and morning grogginess.
I often thought about how my life would have been different, if I hadn't walked out of that door, if I hadn't ended up in this town, and if I hadn't gotten this random clerk job at Alfonso's Pet Shop. I suppose I'm in the early stages of a crisis.
But enough about my past. I'm all about the future, get it? Except I can't tell you the next time it's going to rain. It's hot as a mother... and I make pitcher after pitcher of iced tea, but I am no cooler. I'm persistent that away, always pushing something down a dead end road. That road is paved with failure and loss and my feet get burned on the path to nowhere while my family turns their back from me in an attempt at resignation and as I walk the road alone I ...Sorry, I get dramatic like that sometimes. I consider myself to be the world's most pessimistic psychic.
I've gotta stretch some more, gotta loosen up. From my apartment on the third floor, I can see the faces of frustrated, sweaty people, but I just stretch and breathe in deep. I smell something murky, but I'm deep in meditation now. Inhale. Exhale. My karma clock's alarm goes off, a whining wind chime, and I get up to walk to Alfonso's. I don't like his advances on me, but I can tolerate it. Besides, I'm not alone. There's a new employee here. Russian, grumpy, and broke. I like 'em broke... Me gusta.
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