Good People

Where’d all the good people go? I’ve been changing channels I don’t see them on the TV shows where’d all the good people go? We got heaps and heaps of what we sow They got this and that With a rattle a tat Testing one, two Now what you gonna do? Bad news, misused, give me some truth You got too much to lose.” Jack Johnson

Yesterday was such an interesting day… so interesting it’s taking me forever to find a song that correlates to my emotions. With the rain today, the late night leading to a late start, the interesting metro ride, and the inevitability of being at work waiting for the dreaded call from the mechanic… It’s definitely a Jack Johnson day.

I left work with a plan yesterday. I was going to get my video done for Aclipse by one of my Frat brothers. After that I would pick up De-O and A, we would go to the gym. 1.5 hours would pass by; I’d drop them off at home. I’d venture home myself, do some cleaning, and head to bed.

Wouldn’t you know that every time I have a plan, God laughs in my face? Not in a mean and spiteful way, but in a way that says… were you still dear child? Did you hear me when I spoke? Were you listening? Well I’m going to force your understanding now.

I was definitely forced to stop and listen. I knew something was wrong when I started my car after work and it had a distinct rattle. Normally this wouldn’t faze me as I heard the rattle before, but this time it sounded like a plane propeller devouring a misguided bird in the clutches of the engine…disastrous. Even more, the sound got louder until the car was shaking. Of course, I had to make a stop… needed to get some money to pay Mr. Eagle for his kind services with the taping. After sliding into the Wachovia parking lot and removing the key from the ignition, the car wouldn’t stop. The belt on the left side of the engine next to the windshield wiper fluid was still moving at great speeds. The motor was actually shaking, extreme convulsions that reminded me of an epileptic fit.

And the car wouldn’t start after that. I’m calling Daddy and Mommy, who are at minimum 2000 miles away. But I still needed a comforting voice to tell me that I wasn’t going to spontaneous combust in my car. Here I am trying to relate the problem to the parental and of course they pacify me. So I’m on the freeway, the car sounds better, I’m heading to Howard. I arrive at the McDonalds on Georgia Ave. Daddy says turn off the car and let me hear how it starts up… *blank stare* you’re gonna hear it on speaker phone, Sir? I didn’t know supersonic hearing could pass through satellites…guess I’m dumb.

The car won’t start up again after this. And of course, I didn’t renew my AAA membership. I mean, I’m leaving soon right? Why waste $140 on something that will only last me 4 more months? Well after talking to Amy, Richard, and Cindy, I finally get Joe. Ol’ JJ is able to help me renew the membership and call a tow truck. At this point I’m frustrated with the Millionaire for breaking his promise and not paying for the membership like he said he would. I’m frustrated at myself for letting my car get to this point, and not being a mechanic by nature so I don’t have to keep paying people to fix visible and invisible problems, embarrassed because Mr. Eagle is watching me break down in my car in a hyperventilating fashion, tired of going through these blasted moments of helplessness and having no one to turn to, and overall trying to find a way to make the situation funny and memorable.

Mr. Trucker arrives, and immediately he likes my “spunky personality”. He proceeds to jack up LBOW like an inconsequential clunker, and we’re on the road. “What kinda music you like?”…*pause* “Yep, it’s a good thing you like go-go because that’s what we’re listening to.” Thoughts whirl in a delicate spiral: email your boss in case you can’t make it to work. Why didn’t you bring your laptop home?  How are you going to get to work tomorrow? How are you going to get home? Why can’t I make it to the gym… like EVER!

Through the cloud of my despair, I pick up on the fact Mr. Trucker is flirting with me. At first I’m uneasy because the last time someone flirted with me I ended up agitated and confused. But I took this situation for what it’s worth…and I invoked my mom: I became personable, funny, and approachable. Not like I wanted Mr. Trucker… but I still needed a ride home.

Of course the man has a gang of kids, only been working his job for 4 days, curses like a pirate, and mentions his side-hustle. Gotta love these DC Negros… In the end, he was really nice. Explained some things about my car; let me know he could do routine maintenance at a steal; and that he would love to take me home *side eye* (too much Mr. Trucker, too much!)

I get to the mechanic… Oh Merchant, don’t kill my dreams of paying off my debt, ok? And of course, though it’s only 7:30 and they close at 9pm, all the mechanic have gone home so they will deal with my car tomorrow. This statement comes from Anthony, the Merchant Manager, who told me he would never let his wife drive in something like my broken-down jalopy. Yep, that makes me feel a lot better… Jerk!

What to do next? I had Target on the list because I was researching curly hair products at work and I really wanted to buy a diffuser along with the SheaMoisture curly products… I kinda needed to look great the next day. I needed to feel great to make up for this unconventional evening… plus I have a date (or a friend thing? Still don’t understand this dude… Idiot.)

I walk through Target, a little defeated. I’m trying to make light of the situation in my brain and through my texts with De-O but I really want to hide under the covers and forget that sunlight exists. $60 blown at Target, and I’m still no closer to getting home. I call a cab of course. No sense in walking 5 miles home with 2 bags and my work gear, in dress flats, at 9pm. The taxi comes, the wait made me wish longingly for a coat or a hot chocolate. I get to the house, pay the cabbie, and dread the miasma to which I return.

My house is a MESS! Why can’t I get my life together? I decide today is a good a day as any to clean the house, dispel the bad energy, and renew my strength. The main thing to tackle is the bathroom. I haven’t cleaned that glorious throne room in so long algae grew on top of the lichen that dwell in the dark crevices of a pristine white tub (well when clean that is). Not to mention Simba has utterly destroyed whatever symbolism of order that I maintain in the bathroom with his messy, albeit militant attempts to tell me he doesn’t like the litter box anymore.

In the 2 hours of music-blasting work to scrub every corner of the bathroom, I managed to mutilate two good towels, break the shower head from its post, and turn my bathroom into a water-splattered sauna. Yes I have the power… no the gift of demolishing perfectly good items. After that the only thing I could think about, how am I supposed to take a shower and ultimately wash my hair? The spigot of the shower blasts with the force of a hydrants and literally ripped the roots of my hair from my head, when I was trying to rinse the shower walls… how the crap was that supposed to caress the delicate nature of my skin in order to clean?

I ended up demi-showering and ended up a plus-size sports illustrated model as I hover in the tub on my knees in puddles of water to rinse the soapy shampoo from my hair, splash water hither and thither over my body to remove the Dove residue from my body while inadvertently rolling around in the tub to muddle the water in hard-to-reach areas. I have to say that was the dirtiest, most cleanest shower I’ve ever experienced. (Forgive the grammatical error in the sentence… it fits in common conversation).

Worst part? I had to reclean the shower and wipe down the floor after the whole area received a gas station car wash approach to sparkle shine. Glory, to Glory, to Glory… what a long night!

Still not over, I tried to comb through my hair and it acted like Rastafarian… What’s wrong with my normal silky locks? Tired of the abuse? Get over it! I needed my hair to be the epitome of shiny and luscious. Undoubtedly, it looks like a raccoon inhabited the sparse recesses with fury.

The highlight, was painting my nails… I stayed up an extra 30mins to make them look manicured and inviting. Only to wake up to chips and smudges… such is life.

Ahh the morning… didn’t even realize the sun was up. After going to bed at 2am, I’m surprised I woke up at all. But I did, popped up about the time I should have been on the bus to get to work on time. Luckily though, as I rushed out of the house, hopping to put on my shoes, rain smearing the makeup from my face… I made it to the bus stop and only had to wait 2mins for the bus to come. Mind you, those 2 minutes was the shortest thing about the commute. In the 2 hours it took me to get to work, I read 33 pages of The Women by T.C. Boyle (which is actually 66 pages since I had to read each page twice). I also listened to both CD’s by Amy Winehouse on the good ol’ Ipod.

Around 10minutes to 10am when I stroll in, drenched, bedraggled, tired… All I can think about “When can I LEAVE?”. I should have stayed home today… SN: You never think about needed an umbrella until you have to walk everywhere in the rain… Please God, let my car be ok!

On another note, my life isn’t that bad. I clearly judged this man on the train who was talking to himself and muttering like a psychitzophrenic. He announced before leaving the train that he has cancer and is dying. Man, my life seems so immaterial in comparison. I had to stop reading, take out my ear buds, and really pray for this man. I should have followed him and asked if there was something that I could do. Jesus, help me to have your eyes!

I claim the day… It will be wonderful!


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