Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Synesthesia
I slowly open my eyes to my dimly lit room. Damn I wish I could do something about that. I sigh heavily at my melancholic ceiling. I’m not trying to be romantic or artistic when I say ‘melancholic.’ To me, that color of white really is melancholic. Strange, I know, but I’m used to it. If the apartment head would let me, I would like to paint it over with something a bit more worth waking up to. Maybe something quiet, lively, or for an odd start to the day, something sarcastic. Or for you normal people out there: blue, green, or purple.
If you haven’t caught on yet, for me, different colors have different feelings. Hey, a friend of mine learned the alphabet by remembering how each letter felt. If I remember right, ‘p’ is grumpy and ‘e’ is paranoid. I think that way is better than that damned song thing they try and have us sing. It was always a grainy texture for me when the class sang. I learned my alphabet by remembering the color code: ‘a’ is red, ‘b’ is green, ‘c’ is brown, etc.
Once up I achingly change into my work clothes. A simple business type outfit; unlike the other women at work I usually wear pants and not that skirt thing. The door to my room creaks loudly when I open it. I’d do something about it, but I’m way too lazy to go down to the nearest Home Depot for some WD-40. In the kitchen I make my rounds through my food stashes trying to find the shapes I want to eat. Yesterday I had circles and pentagons, over-easy eggs and toast. I would have had cheese on my eggs, but I didn’t feel like triangles.
I look lopsidedly at my cereal. In general, the cereal I buy usually has a vector taste to it, but when I add milk it tastes more like stars. One time I bought this star shaped cereal, just so it actually looked like I was eating stars. Problem was, the cereal had cinnamon in it and cinnamon has a tendency of adding a point or two. So, I was still eating stars but they were Stars of David. I crack my neck, maybe I’ll go with hyperbolas. And for the record, triangles never mix well with hyperbolas. Which is sad, since I like cheese and scrambled eggs.
Outside the sky is fairly clear, with a few clouds spotting it. My car is your standard middle class sedan. Gets me from A to B, that’s all that I care about. In the car, I scroll through my Ipod playlists for my commute music. Most consists of acoustic guitar, blue grass, female singers, and a few soft rock pieces. It’s like this since they all have a fairly smooth texture to them. One of my favorites is Allison Krauss, her music has the best feeling. Something akin to a century smoothed stone on the bed of a quietly flowing river. Female voices always have a watery feel to them.
The commute is like every other day, except now I have Friday looking over my shoulder like some kind of creepy stalker. At least Saturday is next to me and the rest of the week is plainly visible in front of me. But Friday, it just has to be looming behind me. I would have been fine with it if Monday was the day that loomed; I mean, it’s Monday for Christ sake. At work, I park on the second level in the F section. I usually park there because of the colors. Mauve and turquoise, great combination.
“Morning, Ms. Garner.” My secretary, Julie, greets me as I enter the small waiting room. “Morning.” I wave slightly as I go into my office. I was early and the rest of the floor is usually devoid of coworkers for another hour or so. I work as an editor for a newspaper. I share the office with John, the head editor. He’s a good guy, bad taste in ties though. I mean really bad taste, even with their moods included. I sort of feel sorry for the rest of his clothing. The typical brownish-grey suit, decent colored under shirt and a bright yellow, red spotted tie with stray green lines. Mmm, sexy.
The hours move slowly as I go through the back log of stuff John left for me yesterday. Because of the color coding of the letters and numbers, it is easy to spot spelling and data errors. My punctuations are usually a grey color, so I have to know my grammar well enough. I double majored in English and journalism; it’s not hard, just tedious.
A knock at the office door takes my attention away from my desk. At some point John had left the office. I glance at the clock before addressing the person at the door. It was lunch. “Busy as always.” The woman in the doorway smiles as our eyes make contact.
I shrug, “Same as most Fridays.”
The woman slowly walks into the office and sits on the edge of John’s desk, setting her bag next to her. “I’ve got a present for you.” She says as she digs in the bag.
I get up from my chair and sit on the edge of my desk facing her, “And what would it be, Yui?”
She holds out the item in question. A carton of strawberries, “I was down at the farmers market this morning and saw them. I figured you could use the lack of shape in you diet.” She giggles lightly as I take a bite from one of the berries. A small amount of juice escapes my smiling lips. It’s true, out of all the foods I eat, very few have no shape. Strawberries being one of them. But that isn’t the only reason I’m smiling. You see, in my cross-wired mind, the word ‘love’ is strawberry. Though, strawberry is the number twelve.
“Sweet.” I compliment as I wipe the juice from my chin, “Thanks.”
“I thought you’d enjoy them.” I always love talking with Yui. One, because I’ve known her since grade school and two, because I love her voice. It feels like cool water flowing along one of those Zen waterfalls. Smooth, gentle, never ruff. Too bad she never went the lesbian route like I did. Then we could have gone through the whole childhood friends turned lovers story, like in those anime things she reads.
I look out the window, “Damn,” I sigh as I see that dark grey clouds cover the sky.
Yui tilts her head to the side, “Don’t tell me you didn’t listen to the weather report.”
“You know I hate the feeling of the casters voice.” I say in my defense.
Yui shakes her head, “It’s just a few minutes of spikes. I’m sure you can handle it.”
I groan, I’m in no mood to argue with her.
“Catch.” She tosses me a small umbrella, “I have another in my car. Just remember to return it this time.”
I look at the bundle in all its pink glory, “You’re doing this on purpose.”
Yui laughs, “What, don’t tell me you don’t like having a flag of glory protecting you from the laughter.”
I sigh again, “Stop with the word play, only I can do that.” Yui puts a finger to her chin in mock thinking.
In my world, heavy rain is laughter and light rain it the word ‘hello.’ It is always a bit of a joke when I think about how so many people run, duck and hide just to get out of the laughter. Or there are the umbrellas that stand like flags of feelings that protect them from the laughter.
After some more idle chatter and strawberry eating, Yui left and I returned to my color hunting. Most days are like this, but I usually join Yui for lunch at a near by deli. Today I had some cold pizza; octagons aren’t bad every once in a while. I got off work late and so missed the traffic.
Back at my apartment I flip on my TV for the latest episode 24 and continued my devastation of the two pints of dark chocolate ice cream. Chocolate is another shapeless food, but sadly there is no other meaning to it other than something that is awesomely good.
I always wonder whether my dreams are like what normal people see in the world. The way they taste or feel. But I couldn’t really say, since the only dreams I have to compare to are Yui’s and her dreams are less than real. Only she can dream of Pokemon and Star Trek at the same time. In the end, only I know what it’s like to see the world though my mind. I mean, come on, how the hell am I supposed to describe what a triangle tastes like. It’s a triangle, so it should have a cheesy, triangle like flavor, ya know.


NNM
Threesome
We don't know what happened but it ended badly
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