My Monday in the bay was dedicated to JC.
We had all day to kill since Pacemaker and Mario would be working until 4-6PM, and I'd be flying out at 9PM.
JC borrowed his grandmother's car and drove me out to San Jose. The plan was to take me to a technology-based museum.
I was excited... since he loves technology and teaching idiots like myself, and I love museums and know jack shit about technology but love learning.
The museum turned out to be a children's museum. He apologized profusely for "not doing homework" on the museum before bringing me out there, but I didn't care. I paid 20 bucks for our tickets, while the previous day I had spent 30 on my ticket to the Academy of Sciences in SF PLUS another 15 for parking (fucking outrageous). 20 bucks for both of us to play with tech shit alongside elementary schoolers was nothing (like the validated parking. Shit was free. Come on now. It was perfect).
After the fooling around in the museum... I should probably rephrase that: after interacting with all of the displays at the museum like some ten year olds, we left and JC began driving me to a mystery location.
JC: You just tell me what my phone's GPS tells you. Here, keep busy.
We stopped in front of a high school.
Me: ... O... K?
JC: Come on! Move!
Me: ... Um... where?
JC: Look to your right.
Me: (Looking to my right)... a cemetery?
I couldn't make out what the park was, I just saw green grass... until I approached the front gate.
JC: NO!
Me: Holy shit! No way! You brought me to a rose garden?! That's fucking AWESOME!
JC: First... I take you to a museum... that turns out to be a CHILDREN'S museum... and now I bring you to an award-winning rose garden... that has no roses. I'm sorry.
To be fair, there were about... six roses total in the entire park, so... there WERE roses... it... wasn't so bad.
They had a huge fountain in the middle of the garden, the place was empty... and I just had to use my imagination to think of how wonderful that garden must look when in full bloom. It wasn't bad at all. I had to laugh out loud.
Me: Don't worry about it, dude! You have to get used to this type of luck when dealing with me. I appreciate it all, regardless. Let's read the names on these badboys as we take a little stroll.
And that we did. We had the giant garden to ourselves (well, there was ONE homeless dude sleeping on ONE of the benches, but other than him... and a gardener, we were alone) and we chatted about Mexico and Germany... but mostly Mexico.
JC: I'm hungry. You hungry?
Me: If you want to get a bite to eat, let's do that.
JC: Are YOU hungry? Do YOU want a bite to eat?
Me: Sure, dude, whatever.
JC: What do you want? What CAN you eat?
Me: Anything. Just don't take me to a burger joint. I can't eat bread, and it tempts me.
So where does he take me? The mall. What do we eat? Cajun food from the food court.
JC: I'm sorry... today has been a mess. I took you to a kid's museum, a rose-less rose garden, and now a mall food court. I brought you here because I wanted to give you options. What better place to find options than the mall food court?
Me: You are correct. Don't worry about it. I have chicken, and I have broccoli. I'm complete.
We awkwardly took a seat in the middle of the food court, and we finally began discussing MY life.
I told him why I ate the way I did now-- cutting weight-- and how that all came to be-- I wanted to die.
I told him about the rejection letters, and the deep depression it threw me into.
JC: Do you think they were any good?
Something in my soul snapped. I felt it... like the crack of a whip.
I quickly looked up from my tray of Bourbon chicken and into his eyes. I could feel the tears building as I told him about the schools and the rejection letters, and I was sure those tears would roll down my cheek once I moved my eyes to look at him, but I didn't care.
You doubt me?
"... what?" I asked, barely audible.
You... doubt me. You think I'm dumb... you think I'm dumb.
I'm sure my face was a wreck, because JC spoke up immediately.
"I mean... what you gave the schools, the writing samples, were they good? I'm trying to figure out why they'd reject you. Are you sure your stories were good? Did anyone else read them? What do they think of them?"
I was silent. I didn't know what to say. It was a mix of shock, confusion, doubt, sadness, anger, indignation, and embarrassment.
"I... I... well... I had plenty of people read my stories..." I said.
"Did they like them? What was their opinion?" JC asked.
"They were... they were my professor's favorite stories. He encouraged me to send them in..." I said.
"Hmm. That's weird," he said.
I'm sure I looked like I was about to stick my head in one of the restaurant's ovens, because JC stopped pushing the matter.
"Don't worry... I've helped people with lives that were much more fucked up than yours," he said.
How quickly people forget.
I wrote his college entry essays. My writing helped get him accepted to all the schools he applied to as an undergrad.
I was also hurt by his reaction because... it only indicated he's another one on the list who thinks I'm an idiot-- thinks I'm quiet because I'm too stupid to speak... not because I'm actually painfully shy and would rather be left alone than forced into an argument. I'm quiet because I don't think my opinion matters, and I prefer listening to other's viewpoints. I'm not really stupid... I just... I just don't bother to stir any pots.
My close friends all know this, my close friends understand this.
JC used to know me better than I knew myself... and now he was doubting me. Now he was... he wasn't consoling me... he was judging me... poorly.
The clear image of our once solid friendship... is now really just a sketch, where I'm quickly getting weathered away.
We had all day to kill since Pacemaker and Mario would be working until 4-6PM, and I'd be flying out at 9PM.
JC borrowed his grandmother's car and drove me out to San Jose. The plan was to take me to a technology-based museum.
I was excited... since he loves technology and teaching idiots like myself, and I love museums and know jack shit about technology but love learning.
The museum turned out to be a children's museum. He apologized profusely for "not doing homework" on the museum before bringing me out there, but I didn't care. I paid 20 bucks for our tickets, while the previous day I had spent 30 on my ticket to the Academy of Sciences in SF PLUS another 15 for parking (fucking outrageous). 20 bucks for both of us to play with tech shit alongside elementary schoolers was nothing (like the validated parking. Shit was free. Come on now. It was perfect).
After the fooling around in the museum... I should probably rephrase that: after interacting with all of the displays at the museum like some ten year olds, we left and JC began driving me to a mystery location.
JC: You just tell me what my phone's GPS tells you. Here, keep busy.
We stopped in front of a high school.
Me: ... O... K?
JC: Come on! Move!
Me: ... Um... where?
JC: Look to your right.
Me: (Looking to my right)... a cemetery?
I couldn't make out what the park was, I just saw green grass... until I approached the front gate.
JC: NO!
Me: Holy shit! No way! You brought me to a rose garden?! That's fucking AWESOME!
JC: First... I take you to a museum... that turns out to be a CHILDREN'S museum... and now I bring you to an award-winning rose garden... that has no roses. I'm sorry.
To be fair, there were about... six roses total in the entire park, so... there WERE roses... it... wasn't so bad.
They had a huge fountain in the middle of the garden, the place was empty... and I just had to use my imagination to think of how wonderful that garden must look when in full bloom. It wasn't bad at all. I had to laugh out loud.
Me: Don't worry about it, dude! You have to get used to this type of luck when dealing with me. I appreciate it all, regardless. Let's read the names on these badboys as we take a little stroll.
And that we did. We had the giant garden to ourselves (well, there was ONE homeless dude sleeping on ONE of the benches, but other than him... and a gardener, we were alone) and we chatted about Mexico and Germany... but mostly Mexico.
JC: I'm hungry. You hungry?
Me: If you want to get a bite to eat, let's do that.
JC: Are YOU hungry? Do YOU want a bite to eat?
Me: Sure, dude, whatever.
JC: What do you want? What CAN you eat?
Me: Anything. Just don't take me to a burger joint. I can't eat bread, and it tempts me.
So where does he take me? The mall. What do we eat? Cajun food from the food court.
JC: I'm sorry... today has been a mess. I took you to a kid's museum, a rose-less rose garden, and now a mall food court. I brought you here because I wanted to give you options. What better place to find options than the mall food court?
Me: You are correct. Don't worry about it. I have chicken, and I have broccoli. I'm complete.
We awkwardly took a seat in the middle of the food court, and we finally began discussing MY life.
I told him why I ate the way I did now-- cutting weight-- and how that all came to be-- I wanted to die.
I told him about the rejection letters, and the deep depression it threw me into.
JC: Do you think they were any good?
Something in my soul snapped. I felt it... like the crack of a whip.
I quickly looked up from my tray of Bourbon chicken and into his eyes. I could feel the tears building as I told him about the schools and the rejection letters, and I was sure those tears would roll down my cheek once I moved my eyes to look at him, but I didn't care.
You doubt me?
"... what?" I asked, barely audible.
You... doubt me. You think I'm dumb... you think I'm dumb.
I'm sure my face was a wreck, because JC spoke up immediately.
"I mean... what you gave the schools, the writing samples, were they good? I'm trying to figure out why they'd reject you. Are you sure your stories were good? Did anyone else read them? What do they think of them?"
I was silent. I didn't know what to say. It was a mix of shock, confusion, doubt, sadness, anger, indignation, and embarrassment.
"I... I... well... I had plenty of people read my stories..." I said.
"Did they like them? What was their opinion?" JC asked.
"They were... they were my professor's favorite stories. He encouraged me to send them in..." I said.
"Hmm. That's weird," he said.
I'm sure I looked like I was about to stick my head in one of the restaurant's ovens, because JC stopped pushing the matter.
"Don't worry... I've helped people with lives that were much more fucked up than yours," he said.
How quickly people forget.
I wrote his college entry essays. My writing helped get him accepted to all the schools he applied to as an undergrad.
I was also hurt by his reaction because... it only indicated he's another one on the list who thinks I'm an idiot-- thinks I'm quiet because I'm too stupid to speak... not because I'm actually painfully shy and would rather be left alone than forced into an argument. I'm quiet because I don't think my opinion matters, and I prefer listening to other's viewpoints. I'm not really stupid... I just... I just don't bother to stir any pots.
My close friends all know this, my close friends understand this.
JC used to know me better than I knew myself... and now he was doubting me. Now he was... he wasn't consoling me... he was judging me... poorly.
 |
| A robot sketched this at that cool museum. Oh, the many things one can gather from such a simple image. |
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