Memories

I wrote this on a napkin one day while working at Chik-fil-A.

I kinda wish I could look back and laugh, but really, I’m not sure that I’ve changed all that much. At least now I keep my emo thoughts to myself instead of writing them on fast food napkins. (But even then, it’s probably only because I don’t have the time or energy to keep up a journal anymore.)

I’d like to believe that, structurally at least, my writing has gotten better. It was hard to copy the passage here without editing it first. Parts of it make me twitch.

4/12/2003:

Today, like all days, is a day for sadness and misery. On this day we shall prance around barefoot and in the snow, surrounded by darkness and yet impervious to it, with peals of maniacal laughter. We shall remain alone in our own little places within our minds, until the time has come to be freed, and with our new-found liberation we shall disappear into thick air.

We were created to fall away. Into darkness, into a pit of despair, into the realm where only you exist and the rest is only in your mind, where you are alone and there is no one around to hear your screams.

Another chat log. Original date: 8/8/2005

Moomoo:
Yo, Goo.

Goomby:
My dear Moomoo.

Moomoo:
How hast thou been?

Goomby:
Alas, dark times have befallen me.

Moomoo:
What sort of darkness hast covered and hidden thy most beautiful smile?

Goomby:
Alas, I fear the many pounds of gluttony hath attached themselves to mine body.

Moomoo:
‘Tis okay, Goomby. These malign spirits can be chased away with ritualistic purification and fasting.
However, the ritual is quite painful, and not very appealing.
‘Tis a difficult choice for a young man such as yourself.

Goomby:
I fear my body will not endure.
But I must shed the gluttony.

Moomoo:
Pray to the gods for purity and strength, and strike the demons manifested in your flesh with your Drum of Dieting.
If you pray enough, the gods will take pity on your plight and grant you the form you so desire.

Goomby:
Must I make a human sacrifice?

Moomoo:
Look deep within yourself; if you believe that it will best soothe the gods, then sacrifice you must.

Goomby:
I…I don’t know! I fear my connection hath grown dim from the years of careless gluttony.

Moomoo:
Hmm, it is worse than I suspected.

Goomby:
I am in such a state of remorse.

Moomoo:
In that case, you must seek the aid of a high priestess for one of the Dieting Deities who will help you to reach the state of nirvana, and avoid angering the gods.
(It’s okay; I, too, have fallen.)

Goomby:
Oh, so I can’t use you as a sacrifice.

Moomoo:
Indeed you cannot.
I am not a pure being in the eyes of the Deities.
Perhaps we must chant together and seek to purge ourselves of our sins.

Goomby:
Chant?
Teach me, oh master.

Moomoo:
*throws arms in air*
OHHHHHHHHMMMMM…..

Goomby:
*throws arms in air*

Moomoo:
*chants a bunch of nonsense words*

Goomby:
OHHHHHHHMMMMMARGHCOUGHCOUGHCOUGH

Moomoo:
…
Hmm.
You may be a little too far gone.
Well, we shall try anyway.

Goomby:
*spits out hairball*
*tries to chant*

Moomoo:
*performs a dance*
*stops*
*hands back up in air*
Gods, you who have watched us from before we were born
You see all and know all
You know we have deviated from the Perfect form you bestowed upon us
And we ask for your patience with our continual failures

Goomby:
*nods*

Moomoo:
OHHHHHHMMMMMMMM……
Give us the strength to fight off the Malign spirits within us

Goomby:
OHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMACHOOO!

Moomoo:
So that we may once again return to your Perfect form

Goomby:
*tries to dance and knocks Moomoo over*

Moomoo:
We need your endless patience and stre–
*falls*
Noooooo!!!!
You disrupted the ritual!!
The gods will be angry for sure!!
*thunderclouds form overhead*

Goomby:
AAAAAAAAAGH! FORGIVE MEEEEEE!
*flings self on floor*

Moomoo:
*lightning strikes Goomby*

Goomby:
Ow.
Moomoo?
Some help?

Moomoo:
Yeah, right.
I don’t want to get struck, too.
*gets struck*
AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Goomby:
I don’t think we’re dealing with merciful gods here.

Moomoo:
*Goomby gets struck again*
Don’t speak such blasphemy!

Goomby:
Ow.

Moomoo:
*falls to knees and begins chanting anew*

Goomby:
I guess I’ll lose weight just lying here because I definitely can’t move.

Moomoo:
Ah ha, see?!!
They’re answering our fervent prayers!!
Praise be to the Deities!!

Goomby:
They’re a smart bunch, aren’t they?
*lies contentedly*
I’m hungry.

Moomoo:
*nods enthusiastically*
Me too.
*a banana lies just beyond reach*
*and a candy bar*
*and a box of cereal*

Goomby:
Uh…Moo?
Can you reach that food over there?

Moomoo:
Sure thing, Goo.
*grunt, grunt*
…
I can’t seem to reach it.
*struggle to reach food*

Goomby:
*wails in hunger*
*tries to inch charred body across the floor*
Owww.

Moomoo:
Hrm.
Well, there are plenty of animals that can subsist while living in one spot their entire lives, right?

Goomby:
There’s a spider crawling up my sleeve.

Moomoo:
All we have to do is develop an external digestive system to eat anything that lands on us.
Like that spider.

Goomby:
Doesn’t that take billions of years of evolution?

Moomoo:
Nah, we’re Americans.

Goomby:
Okkay…so how do I do this?

Moomoo:
…
Well
Um
Like, learn to secrete something from your pores that will immobilize the spider
Then have your skin absorb it
It’s easy, see?
*tries to do it, but fails miserably*

Goomby:
*strains*
*looks constipated*

Moomoo:
*goes cross-eyed*
…

Goomby:
This is not helping our situation.

I came across an old string of comments left on my Xanga blog (on 10/13/2004) between Goomby and myself. Toby makes an appearance as well. It made me cackle.

I’m well aware that chats are never really interesting to anyone except those involved. I also don’t care what you think. Here, for your boredom:

(Background: The post was in reference to a Silent Hill 3 Hard-level puzzle poem, found here.)

Toby:
good grief
yeah… i can’t sleep >.<

Goomby:
I don’t get it.
I mean, why not use fire? So much simpler…and so much cooler.

Moomoo:
What could possibly be cooler than shoving your thumbs into someone’s eyes?
Well, I suppose that shoving your thumb, which just happens to be on fire, into someone’s eyes would be ideal, but work with me here.
I guess the best would be a nice combination between hands-on violence and pyromania. Yum. Burning eyeballs… I can taste it now.
Which reminds me… We never finished our duel. Do you forfeit?

Goomby:
NOOOOOOOOOO! Not the SKIRT! *screams like a girl and tries to run*
*trips over a squirrel*

Moomoo:
*points and laughs*
*the rabid, ungrateful squirrel jumps on me and attacks*
*continues to point and laugh as various body parts are being gnawed off*

Goomby:
*cries*
*eats squirrel*
*tries to focus chakra and create a fireball to throw at you*
*gives up. exhausted, falls asleep*
*snores*

Moomoo:
*pokes with a stick*
*goomby continues to snore*
*performs ritualistic dance with fire around the poor sleeping target*
*trips*
*lands on the fire stick*
*catches on fire*
*gets up and continues dancing while on fire*

Goomby:
*wakes up*
No fair!
*jumps up and tries to be a part of the festivities by trying to set self on fire*
*little does she know, she is wearing asbestos*

Moomoo:
Asbestos? Yay!!
*takes a nice, deep whiff*
I can feel it spreading through my lungs!!!
*passes out*
*continues to be on fire*

Toby:
NoooOOooOOoooo…ooo!!! Moomoo!!!!
*flails arms about as he stares in horror as moomoo continues to burn in a fiery blaze*
*turns and growls at goomby*
*closes his eyes and gathers a large about of chakra to summon a giant squirrel*
*channels the energy but accidentally summons a giant chicken*
*stares in horror at the giant chicken, chicken stares back*
*starts screaming and running in circles as the giant chicken attempts to eat him*

Moomoo:
*wakes up to the sound of squawking and screaming*
*stares at the scene and wonders how the heck a giant chicken got to be there, and why it is chasing Toby*
*notices body is still on fire*
*gets up and tackles the chicken*
*the giant chicken is then thoroughly cooked by the flames*

Mmm… yummy. Anyone want some?
*shoves bits of giant chicken into mouth*

Goomby:
*wonders how toby thought that a giant squirrel would help moomoo o’ fire*
*decides to contribute it to the inhalation of asbestos*
*puts chicken meat between buns and starts a business called “chik-fil-o” and makes tons of money*
*retires*

Moomoo:
*sneaks into goomby’s mansion with Toby*
*steals all the money hidden throughout various locations throughout the house, then happen to find the secret recipe*
*runs off and contemplates starting a similar business, but in the end decides to just sell the recipe on eBay*
*becomes rich and famous for doing absolutely nothing*
*attacks goomby in her sleep for stealing my chicken in the first place*

Goomby:
*is killed by moomoo in her sleep…by the one person she thought was her friend*
*the betrayal she has experienced will not allow her to rest peacefully…haunts moomoo every day until she goes insane and is carted away in a straitjacket*
*haunts toby also until he is carted away, and the two sit there for years on end rocking back and forth and saying “I am not a muffin.”*

Moomoo:
*while saying “I am not a muffin” and muttering incomprehensibly to themselves, Moomoo and Toby somehow manage to recite a curse bringing Goomby back from the dead*
*Goomby lands with a thud in the same padded cell*
*everyone looks at each other, vaguely confused, but too engrossed in their toenails to be able to fully comprehend what has happened*
*guard comes by, accuses Goomby of breaking out of her cell in the D ward, and of course refuses to listen when Goomby insists that she used to be a ghost*
*Goomby is carted away and is locked in a happy little room and administered electric shocks until she, too, begins to believe that she was never dead*
*she also has begun to believe that she is really a robot*

Goomby:
*Pirates bomb the building, but all three of us somehow come out alive*
*The inhalation of smoke restores senses and we all remember why we got here in the first place*

I blame you, Moomoo.
*smacks in the face with an electric toothbrush giving Moomoo a speech impediment that makes her sound canadian*

Moomoo:
*is doomed to spend the rest of my life sounding like a Canadian*

Gaaaaaaaah!!!! Eh!!!

*tackles Goomby and bites her foot, leaving her with a permanent limp that makes her walk like a GIRL*

Goomby:
(Now you have to say “washroom” instead of “bathroom.” Ha! Now everyone will hate you for your supposed Canadian-ness.)

*gasps* NOOOOO! I can never ever STRUT LIKE A MAN again! *cries*
*hits with a stupid stick, so Moomoo will become stupid*
*for obvious reasons, it has no effect*
*except that now Moomoo has a dent on her forehead*

Moomoo:
*feels forehead*
What’s with this odd dent in my head, eh?
*continues to rub forehead, then for no reason decides to give in to the Canadian impulse to knock Goomby out*
Ha!!! That’s for making me sound so… so… *growl*
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go to the washroom.
*struts off like a REAL MAN and cackles that Goomby will never be able to strut again*

When I was about 7 years old, I got into a car with a stranger.

I’m not sure exactly what happened. It all started when the bus didn’t stop at my daycare. This was normally the first stop, but I had just started school and wasn’t very accustomed to the bus route just yet. I more than likely wasn’t paying attention when the bus stopped, so I kept waiting and waiting, wondering why it was taking so much longer than normal to get to my daycare.

Towards the end of the route, the bus stopped in front of my house. This was at least familiar territory, so I got off; however, even though there was actually a car in the driveway, I was afraid that if I went in I’d get in trouble, since I was supposed to be at daycare.

So I decided to start walking.

My daycare was not that far from my house, perhaps a 20-minute walk. It was, however, across a busy multi-lane highway with no crosswalks. My plan was to run across the highway to get to my daycare.

I walked along the side of the road with no incident until I reached one of the last houses before the highway. At this point a man stops me and wants to know where I’m going. I tried to be noncommittal, not wanting to talk to the strange man. However, he pressed the issue, not letting me pass until I told him I was trying to get to my daycare.

“…You’re going to try and cross the highway?”

“Yup.”

“And how are you planning to do that?”

I shrug and try to keep walking. I try to convince him I’ll be okay, that my big girl, 7-year-old self can handle it. I didn’t want this strange man to keep talking to me.

He tells me, however, that he cannot let me pass. At this point his wife has come home. He tells me I can either ride with him or with her, but that I absolutely cannot go across the highway by myself.

I didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t leave me alone.

After trying (and failing) to get past him a couple more times, I decide to ride with him. At this point he’s not as much of a stranger as his wife is, since I’ve at least been speaking with him.

I get into his car. Right there, right in front of me on the floorboard, is a handgun. I’m terrified. I’m positive that I’m going to be killed, but what could I do? He wouldn’t let me pass. To my young mind, this seemed to be the only way.

He takes me across the highway to my daycare without incident. He escorts me inside the building and speaks with my teachers.

The man was a cop.

I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time, but I look back now and see how badly the situation could have turned out. I was so afraid of getting in trouble that I was willing to risk my life, though of course at so young an age I couldn’t quite comprehend the risk I was taking. What if I had gotten hit while I walked along the side of the road? What if the man hadn’t been there, and I tried to cross the highway? What if the man hadn’t been a cop, but a Bad Man?

It’s almost paralyzing to think of how things COULD have turned out. Just about every possible ending to that story is tragic.

The man saved my life.

I wish I knew who he was, so that, nearly 20 years later, I could thank him. I’m grateful he didn’t let me pass.

On that note, I hope that neither Tommy nor Athena take such a big risk with their own lives. I was lucky. There are no guarantees that they would be.