Well, at least the day ended well.
This would have to be one of my worst days ever. It started off kind of fun - I had aproximetly 2 and a half hours sleep the night before, but it didn't slow me down too much at all really. We had a Year 12 after graduation type breakfast at the school where we all get together and talk about the past year over our barbequed breakfasts. Good concept really - although it wen't from 7:30 to 9:30 AM so it was a bit too early for any type of food.
Well, after that little bit of fun, hanging out with the usual gang in it's almost entirety and feeling the proper amount of reminiscence - I headed back home to get ready for thanksgiving. I was on Side dish duty - my dad would watch the Turkey while I handled the beans, Mashed Potatos, Macaroni and Cheese, and of course, the dessert pies. Of course just before I left Arran caught up with me, he and Lachlan were coming over later that night for Thanksgiving Dinner, and probably bringing along Eleanor. Arran had bought a yearbook and wanted me to take it with me, and he could pick it up at my place, because he was catching the buss home and didn't have a bag to keep it in. I couldn't refuse - I was curious to see how they turned out.
Well, when I got home my instincts told me to go to sleep, but of course Al, my dad had different ideas. Cleaning the floors, and Kitchen, then going out and getting the groceries. Let me just say, in the ensuing 4 hours was a maelstrum of verbal conflict. My dad and I don't argue often, but when we do it's a real war of the wills, we are so alike in argument's it's uncanny - like father like son, so the outcome could go either way. The argument I admit was innitiated by me. He was ordering me to do things like mop the floor - not my room's floor, but the whole house, to do all the dishes, all normal stuff - fair enough. But then the clincher, the thing that drove me off - he wanted me to do HIS laundry. Yet through all of this, he didn't say a "Please" or a "Thank You". I said something, then he said something slightly worse, then I said something slightly worse then that - it's how it goes, classic argument effect. Let me just say, I was incredibly relieved to leave the house to get the shopping done.
Now, I hope - sincerely hope that I'm not the only one who heavily daydreams here, and I don't just mean the classic - you become a rockstar type, I mean a real daydream where you fall into this zombie-like trance, and keep going to where you want to go, but aren't really there, and are just in this other life. Mine was kind of embarising, but hey, that's what blogs are for right? I was imagining what it would be like to date a blind girl. Now, no, not what your thinking, it wasn't one of *those* daydreams, just thinking about the complications - having to do all those extra things like guide her home, help her in elevators, read books to her - things like that. I mean, the daydream wasn't about anyone in particular, just about all the complications it would instill - it started with me thinking how hard it would be to be blind you see - as I'm sure alot of people imagine from time to time. Well to be honest, with all the complications and such I thought of - I kind of liked the idea, something nice about not only caring about somebody, but to care FOR someone.
Anywho, that was a strange daydream for me - and yes, it's an embarising daydream, but let he who is without sin cast the first stone - with the exclusion of the virgin Mary. So I continued on my way over to woolworths where I did the usual shopping run of supplies for Thanksgiving, and headed back - carefully throwing my receipt away before leaving the rather small shopping complex. Then, to my surprise, standing infront of me was one of those blind dog donation boxes standing there - I hadn't seen it before, it might have been there for a long time, but I wasn't sure - it was an Omen as far as I could tell - who was I not to put 5 dollars in?
Well, on the way out I remembered pies and stopped at the local bakery - of course, they were sold out. Great. There were still ones back at the grocery store - Woolworths, but I had my arms full and I threw the receipt away, so I headed back to the apartment to drop the supplies off - carefully passing Video Ezy on the way, to see who was working - not Courtney - damn. No luck. Naturally, when I reached the gate which opened the way to my building I remembered my buzzer remote - gate opener wasn't working, so I had to vault that accursed concrete wall to get over, my ribs in pain from slamming onto the concrete hard.
Well, when I got upstairs I dropped all the food stuffs off in the fridge and pantries, and began to head out again for the pie expedition - when I remembered I had to return a dvd. Of course, that was *always* a good thing because Courtney could be working there. Which is when I realized she wasn't working there because I checked. That's when the sudden realization hit me - something Kieran said the first time he saw her - "She looks familier." Taking a longshot, I walked into my room, collected Arran's yearbook from my desk and examined the year 12 mug shots, they were thankfully arranged by first name - alphabetically. Everyone complained that they weren't organized by last name, but to me this was a *huge* bonus as I didn't know her last name. I reached the C's... I looked along the page and reached the Courtney's, there were two of them, but neither of them were the same Courtney. Dismayed but not surprised I got up to leave - when I stopped for a second, I remembered I didn't know how old she was - and it was always a mystery. I picked up the book and flipped to the Year 11 section, pulled myself to the C's page, and reached the Courtneys. There she was - right there staring at me - she was a Year 11 at my very own school.
This was mind blowing to me, especially because that age fear of mine was unfounded - keep in mind I'm (or was) a year young for Year 12, so she would be my age. This was... For lack of better words, perfect - I not only had an age reference, but I had ammo to throw at her, I could finaly have grounds for a conversation other than movie rentals. I grabbed the DVD, my wallet and keys and rushed down the stairs, poping open the gate with a button from inside the wall, and marching triumphantly down the street towards the Video Ezy. Which of course was when I realized she wasn't working there - ah well, I had to return the dvd anyway.
Well, amazingly enough, she WAS working there- she must have gotten into work while I was at home looking her up. This was amazingly, it felt like Karma from donating $5. I walked in happily, returned the dvd and walked down the isles, looking for anything I liked. I picked up "Mars Attacks" a patheticly stupid movie, but hey, why not? And walked to the counter - plopping the dvd on the desk - she came over, glancing back at the store tv occasionally, trying to catch what was going on behind her, while I pretended to be surprised, pointed at her, snapped my fingers - pretending to think for a moment, then blurting out "CSC right?"
Yeah, it was smooth - I'm sure 007 would have done the same thing. She looked a bit shocked at first, then a smile escaped her lips "Yeah, I think I recogise you too." This was progress - definate progress, which is when my next question came. "So, year 12? Year 11?" Pretty standard - plus I said year 12 first, so she feels like she looks older than she really is, which counts for something until you turn 21. "Year 11 actually - but I dropped out this year." This was going VERY well for me - she was being friendly, open, and it explained why I couldn't believe she was at CSC this whole time - she wasn't. Suddenly doubt entered my mind - why had she dropped out? Before I could say anything - I'm not sure what I would say she blurt out "It was probably dumb, actually I know it was dumb, so I'm working now, and I'm going to enroll next year." The doubt was gone. This was going very well.
We talked for a little bit, not too long, but just a little while, she really did have the sweetest smile - she wanted to take courses in Music in Arts when she re-enrolled, which was interesting in itself. Finally I collected my dvd and left flawlessly - not bumping into the wall or tripping over - it felt like it went well. I was practically skipping through Woolworths as I searched for the pies.
Sure enough, I found them, and I was out of the store within minutes - careful to put a $2 coin into that blind dog charity box. Well, it wasn't a box, it was a giant plastic dog, but hey, close enough. I was feeling really happy, it was a great natural high. I had a crap movie - some homebrand pie, and a friendly relationship with the girl of my dreams - even vaulting over that concrete wall didn't feel so bad. When I got home I decided a celebratory break was in order, so I poured myself a glass of vanilla coke - sat infront of my computer and logged onto msn - there was good old Aaron - whom is friends with a friend of Courtneys. We talked for a bit, because we are also friends, and then I asked if he found out anything about her. I asked if he knew anything new about her, sure enough, he said "yes, I do." This was great, the Karma train was really paying me back for all the bad times. That's what I thought, until he said "She's taken." Yup, she is unavailable. I realized that getting on a friendly level with her was a mixed blessing, as I liked her alot more after that, and now I found out she already had a boyfriend. Of course, my day was going too well without this happening. I logged off msn.
This really hurt - I don't know why it hurt, it wasn't like we were together, or that I even got rejected, it felt like I didn't even get the chance to be rejected - I would have prefered to have been cut down by her, than to be told there's no way it could happen. Typical me. That's of course when Al and his girlfriend came in. Great, they were in a good mood. Anyhow, it was time to get ready for thanksgiving, and there were potatos to peel, so I went at it with potato in one hand, peeler in the other, over a sink. Al and Nancy (his girlfriend) were talking about some funny audiology stories (fun by audiology standards) and I tried to follow it, deciphering their language as I wen't, ever skinning the potatos with a quick swish of the peeler over the potato.
I was actually getting pretty good with it, the quick up and down motion while my hand moved the potato in a circle, it was almost subconscious - and I was getting it done pretty quickly - while I continued to listen in. They were in a happy mood, and for the first time since talking to Aaron I didn't feel horrible about the Courtney thing, just listening to adult chatter and the whisk of the potato skins being torn off their potatoes - which is when I felt horrible about something else, and didn't feel the whisk of any potato skins. I felt a sharp pain in my index finger, and I looked down to find the peeler embedded deep in my finger, a spurt of blood hit my shirt.
It was only the first spurt, then the blood just ran out, not dribbled - it genuinly ran from the wound, not thinking clearly I immediately tossed the potato and peeler away from the sink so I wouldn't get blood on them, and poured water over my finger. I know, I know, it was only a peeler, but i cut myself pretty deep, nearly to the bone - the first thing that came to my mind was "stiches, shit, I need stitches." But that left my mind completely when I saw how much blood was coming out. I've been through alot, even dislocated my shoulder which is more injury than most people go through, but this was the worst real open wound I had ever had - and it wasn't the pain, there wasn't much, it was just the sheer amount of blood that scared me. I realized I needed help. "Dad, uhm, I cut myself." It was all I could say, I was so fixated by the wound, and the blood that came roaring out of it. I know it was mixed with water, so looked like more than it was, but I wasn't thinking about that. Al walked over not expecting much, but when he saw the blood he took no time to grab the bandages and wrap the finger. But I was past that, I couldn't look at it anymore, I stared at the sink, but the image of all that blood, and feeling the blood passing by my skin was so sickening to me. Then the room started getting darker. It was like the effect on a tv when somebody turns the brightness down, just graduously everything dimmed, soon the edge of my view began blacking out, and that darkness expanded. No, I didn't hit some vein or Artery, or if I did it wasn't too serious, I supose I just never knew my reaction to seeing my own blood before, at the time I was feeling and thinking very little, but thinking back I guess that darkness was just me about to faint. Not from blood loss, just the sickness of it. Finally the bandages were on, and my dad released me. I stumbled out of the kitchen, clutching the walls with my hands and guided myself to my room where I lied down. Maybe half hour passed before I woke up, my shirt was covered in sweat, and the blood on the front of my shirt had dried. I looked at the bandages - stained red, my whole hand was covered in faint, watered down, dried blood, it was disgusting.
I rose from the bed, realizing I was completely covered in sweat - a bad dream no doubt, and washed my hands. Then I wet a towel and rubbed it over myself, before helping myself to some apple juice. I was feeling pretty de-hydrated, just from the sweating I guess, and despite how minor the injury was in the grand outlook of it all - I did lose alot of blood. Nancy had taken over the side dishes, and all seemed under control - besides, I didn't really think cooking with a bloody finger which could spurt at any minute was a good idea - for the sake of the guests.
Well in the end I changed my bandages, put them on really tight to stop the bleeding - which succeeded - washed my hands thuroughly, and began the art of one handed macaroni and cheese. Yes, my bloody finger, and it's hand was in my pocket the entire time, I cooked entirely with my right (still good) hand, and it actually didn't come out too badly. Well, the guests arrived, I put on a brave face and laughed at the small bandaged apendage, saying I had a fight with the peeler - and I won, but at such a great cost. Dinner was fine, and we just talked all night, it was actually fun. Until Nancy got sloshed. Yep, Nancy, my Dad's girlfriend got completely drunk. Why does this shit always happen to me? Leslie my Mum did the same thing, it was horrible. And least Arran, Lachlan and Elleanor were too good to bring it up or really care, but still. The end of dinner called for Arran, Lachlan, myself and Elleanor to head up to the roof for the last 20 minutes before they were picked up. Surprisingly, it was a good end to a horrible day. Thank god for that.