Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

Microsoft was trying to make me its bitch so I’m writing my essay on here

Well, since Microsoft Word is fucking with me write now and decided that it doesn’t want to work with me today. Therefore, I’ll be posting a couple of things on here today. One being the results of a pretty personal journal entry from last night and the other being written on the spot as the rough draft for my English essay.

Seems fitting. You people do deserve my raw being so here it comes.


Sunday September 13, 2009 10:40pm

I forgot to write something yesterday. Normally, I’d just write twice the amount I was supposed to today but that doesn’t apply if I don’t know how much I would’ve written.

I wrote a script on Friday though. I got the idea and typed it up pretty quickly. Problem is I left it on dad’s computer without copying it. I remember it well though. The concept stemmed from Lady N, like a lot of things do. I imagined her telling me that she’d come back for just a bit and that she wanted to see me.

There was such an awkward tension between the two of us when we met each other from across a couch. We talked for a bit and I envisioned the two of us touching hands for the first time ever and a very awkward first kiss. But it would be only a dream. In reality we’d just talk about nothing really except the usual nonsense; how much we missed each other, our seemingly endless virginity, and make a lot of truly juvenile jokes.

I know so much about getting a date but so little about true relationships.

I want to capture these emotions on film but I need an audience. I don’t want this to be another nothing lost across the endless interwebs. It needs a home in people’s hearts and minds.

I have to start building up my reputation again. Maybe it’s like Sam Raimi said: “Write something everyday and make a movie every weekend.”


My past always seems to have a way of finding me wherever I am. In the past three months I had been contacted by three people from my middle school days, most of whom I hadn’t been all that fond of in the first place and didn’t seem to be to fond of me either. Another was a kid I’d been friends with in summer camp seven years prior; he was just starting high school while I was getting ready to begin my senior year. The one that’s always stood out to me though was from someone I constantly heard from but hadn’t seen in close to four years.  

The night I got the call wasn’t unlike any other I’d spent that summer. The blinds were kept shut for free of any mysterious voyeurs or werewolves that might be interested in devouring me. The lights in the den weren’t all that special other than their inability to properly illuminate the room which always seemed to have an orange tint. For some reason or another, I was typing something incredibly simple or possibly complex but I seemed to feel nothing towards the subject.

Out of the air, my cell phone rang jolting me back onto the physical plain. Without a thought I answered it with my playfully spiteful, “What?!”

My heart immediately flew away in an almost blissful nostalgia as I heard the most distinctively honest voice in my world speak. Time always seems to freeze at these moments, almost as if it knows this is one to remember. Like this is one of the defining moments in my young life.


I hesitated. “Aasha?”

“Hey, Josh.  How’s it going?”

I got to my feet as calmly as I could manage. I felt a certain exhilaration and fear. We weren’t supposed to be speaking like this. We weren’t supposed to be speaking at all.

“You know, the same old nonsense I’m usually into. Theatre, movies, writing and all that other crap teenagers are supposed to be getting into. Minus the sex, drugs and rock n’ roll.”

She laughed. My heart fluttered. I hadn’t heard that laugh in so long. It was like listening to a child experiencing pure joy. She didn’t seem to be apprehensive in any way.

“How about you? It must be night over there if you’re calling me,” I said trying to get an answer to my question in the most indirect way possible.

Again she shocked me, saying nonchalantly, “I’m pretty sure it is night up there but it is here too. Don’t worry my parents aren’t anywhere near me right now. If you’d believe it they let me come down here all on my own.”

If this had been a cartoon my jaw would’ve dropped to the floor. Could what she was suggesting have been possible at all? I had to ask but I didn’t need to.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m… I’m back in town. It’s a college visit thing. They decided that since I’d been such a good girl this past year that I was mature enough to leave New Hampshire on my own.” There was silence for a short moment as it seemed she had as much trouble mustering up the courage to say what she had to as I had believing it. “I’m not here for much longer. Less than two days actually. I’m supposed to spend some time with Nabhi and Amerah tomorrow afternoon, I’ve got the tour through most of Friday and I’m leaving that night. I was just… wondering if you wanted to see me or something like in the morning if you can.”

I was experiencing a momentary lapse of reason. I couldn’t seem to form an answer for what felt like minutes. I eventually managed to get out what I knew I wanted to say.


“Great.” She sounded almost sad when she said this. “Should we meet in the old spot on the curb outside the school?”

“Yeah,” I answered. I remembered this place well. When we weren’t talking about nothing on the floor by the gym, we weren’t talking about nothing out there in front of everybody else while we waited for the buses to arrive. Even though we were connected we were always afraid to get to close.

When the conversation ended I couldn’t help but think about the events to come. Two hopelessly romantic teens sitting on a loan curb with nothing but air between them. The pair of us would talk for sometime over the things we’d missed in each other’s lives, about how our pictures couldn’t portray how much we’d transformed over these past years, and the regret of never taking advantage of the time we had together. And through natural course of things we’d draw close once again but without the same insecurities of yesterday. Maybe different ones.

When time came we talked of many of these same things but it didn’t play out like a dream.  This was not tryst. No one came together. No new connections were to be made but I couldn’t help feeling that something had been resolved. Possibly, it could’ve been the fulfillment of an unkept promise or the comfort of reuniting with an old friend. I just remember feeling certain that even if we never dated again Aasha would always remain my best friend.


One Comment on “Microsoft was trying to make me its bitch so I’m writing my essay on here”

  1. A says:

    in regards to the first little ditty, i could see myself in that audience.

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