Pilots and Cookies
In the lounge of the jet center is a case that is continually filled and refilled with cookies, which are, most of the time, warm. Pilots walk in, out, and around in the lounge, continually eating cookies. Non-pilots toss their cookies. This is a theme. It has been Noted.
Last night was insane. The second part of the Rogue meeting was cancelled due to unfathomable drama. I went home, watched two episodes of Buffy, then came downstairs to check my e-mail. Ended up talking to my brother. Dad tells me to turn the volume down on the still-looping Buffy DVD. So I start wrapping up the conversation. He storms back to the TV, talking about how he's going to cut the power cord. I stand, walk through the den, and am accosted by my mother. The Question of the Year: "Who were you talking to?" (No, more suspicious than that.) I tell her, "My brother." She asks again. Obviously there's someone other than that. It can't be that simple.
An already long story I'll attempt to abbreviate -- she ended up storming into the back room, where I was watching the finale of season two, and asking me, "Why are you so rude?" I have no answer. What do you answer?
She tells me she's assigning me an essay with that topic sentence. An essay.
She says I won't fly tomorrow if I don't write it by noon.
She asks again. I begin trying to explain why she pisses me off. I figure that's the closest thing to "why I'm so rude" because it usually results in me dismissing anything she has to say from that time forward. She goes to her room, after giving me the I-can't-believe-you-say-those-things-I'm-about-to-cry-look. Which made me feel sufficiently guilty.
After a few minutes, I resume the show.
When it's over, I walk to the kitchen to put some dishes away. Dad's sitting in the dark, staring at the glass of wine he was rolling in his palms. We had a long talk, there, in the dark.
Was that anticlimactic or what?
Went to see the Life Aquatic with Jordan. Hadn't seen her in forever. Saw the little brother of one of my friends who was shipped to a boys boarding school in Maryland. Walked across the street to the mall to bear witness to the sad testament of how lame our town really is. Mall closed, locked, and dark at ten o'clock on a Saturday night.
Last night was insane. The second part of the Rogue meeting was cancelled due to unfathomable drama. I went home, watched two episodes of Buffy, then came downstairs to check my e-mail. Ended up talking to my brother. Dad tells me to turn the volume down on the still-looping Buffy DVD. So I start wrapping up the conversation. He storms back to the TV, talking about how he's going to cut the power cord. I stand, walk through the den, and am accosted by my mother. The Question of the Year: "Who were you talking to?" (No, more suspicious than that.) I tell her, "My brother." She asks again. Obviously there's someone other than that. It can't be that simple.
An already long story I'll attempt to abbreviate -- she ended up storming into the back room, where I was watching the finale of season two, and asking me, "Why are you so rude?" I have no answer. What do you answer?
She tells me she's assigning me an essay with that topic sentence. An essay.
She says I won't fly tomorrow if I don't write it by noon.
She asks again. I begin trying to explain why she pisses me off. I figure that's the closest thing to "why I'm so rude" because it usually results in me dismissing anything she has to say from that time forward. She goes to her room, after giving me the I-can't-believe-you-say-those-things-I'm-about-to-cry-look. Which made me feel sufficiently guilty.
After a few minutes, I resume the show.
When it's over, I walk to the kitchen to put some dishes away. Dad's sitting in the dark, staring at the glass of wine he was rolling in his palms. We had a long talk, there, in the dark.
Was that anticlimactic or what?
Went to see the Life Aquatic with Jordan. Hadn't seen her in forever. Saw the little brother of one of my friends who was shipped to a boys boarding school in Maryland. Walked across the street to the mall to bear witness to the sad testament of how lame our town really is. Mall closed, locked, and dark at ten o'clock on a Saturday night.
posted by Jessie ᏤᏏ at 9:46 PM
3 Comments:
So, your friends seem alright. Until they fail to comment on your blog for like six days. Then I think they suck. Published!
Well, you know. They have short attention spans, and, truthfully, if I told that story to me, I'd probably not be interested either.
Wow....That sounds like my family, only it would be my step dad assigning an essay, ending with a long talk with my mom.
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