I feel quiet. The ambient air is nice and warm. I'm looking at my messy floor with its scattered socks and pants, thinking of how nice it was last night. How nice Dasha and I were. I'm sure you can understand. The faded glow of the television screen as we laid there in the dark watching Lost in Translation. She held my hand and put her head on my chest as we watched Bill Murray be a good actor. We kissed and were intimate and emotional, which was nice. We talked at around one in the morning and sat "indian-style" while we lovingly looked at each other. Tears started to run down my face as I told her how much I didn't like my dad. "He's a good provider," I said, "but a terrible father. He doesn't know anything about his kids, except to give them money when they need it." You see the reason I said that was because I've been having the most amazing past few days. But last night, at work, at the restaurant that I've hated all my life, he ruined it with a few simple words. I suppose it was my fault - I didn't tell him a customer was on the line. So he yelled at me and yelled at everyone else. And when my dad gets upset, he lets me hear about it for the rest of the night. I was silently crying, which fucking hurt as hell, since I haven't cried for months. And when I cried in front of Dasha, I told her that I didn't remember the last time I cried in front of someone else. I don't want to think about it anymore, actually.

I ended up taking Dasha home around 2am, which was bad because her curfew is midnight. She kept whispering to me that she "was dead" because of how late she was, but she never wanted me to take her home. We just kept kissing softly and talking. I became very worried because she started to go delusional after I kissed her somewhere I maybe shouldn't have. She just kept talking about nothing and laid on the floor. I remember I was holding her head with my hands and asking her if she would be all right. She started speaking in Russian, which was scary because I seriously thought I had fucked her up in the head. Oh god. I laughed when she fell backwards and hit her head on the wall though. No wait, I didn't laugh. I just wanted to get her to smile. I was sad when she told me her new curfew was 9pm until her mother changed her mind. For some reason after that, she told me that her mother also wanted to talk to ME. ME! God. She probably suspects that I am leading her daughter into a life of drugs and sex, which I probably am.

So maybe I should talk about how great those "past few days" were, but I honestly can't remember why. Maybe it's because I had a horrible day on Tuesday, which I forgot about. You know, one of those days where everything just goes wrong but you don't remember after that because you just stop thinking about it? Yeah. Wednesday and Thursday and most of Friday just looked better in comparison, I suppose. Or maybe it's because I spent so much fucking time with Dasha those days. Not that that's a bad thing, it's just that maybe we shouldn't be spending hours and hours together. I don't want what Laura told me to be cautious about to happen - that one day if we break up there will be no one else there to support us. Like if we abandoned our friends for each other. I kind of am afraid that this is happening as I just turned down an evening with Blaise and Rob because I'm not in the mood to do anything. And that I want to wake up early enough to have breakfast with DASHA tomorrow.

Auditions for play productions were on Wednesday. I wrote my dramatic monologue about a time in my life when my father was still gambling. Of course I stretched the truth a little to make it dramatic as hell, but most of it really did happen. I suppose I'll post it here if you really do want to read it. Of course I paraphrased some of the words when I actually performed it to make it believable, but I'm sure you'll get the gist of it.

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"Alcoholics Anonymous
(pauses in the beginning)
My name is Charlie Smith. Um, I’ve been drinking for about six years now, and… I think I’m ready to quit. (pause) Uh, the reason I started drinking? I don’t know. The same reason everyone starts drinking, I guess. (pause) Heh, it’s funny y’know? Never in a thousand years would I imagine myself in an AA meeting. You see, my father was a drunk. Every night before I’d go to bed, I’d hear him – screaming and shouting at my mother. I never knew him. I only knew what I saw. I saw a man, at the edge of his life, not knowing where to turn, so he turned to booze. How pathetic. (pause) He gambled too. God, he fucking gambled. Me and my sister, we always begged him to stop. You see, the money he used wasn’t his. It was ours. Oh, technically it was his. Technically he had the legal right to shout at my mother and rape her of every cent she had. Technically he had the right to dig into his children’s savings account. He was always searching for money. I remember this one time, when I was eight years old. Eight years old. And, I was in the shower. (pauses, turns head and says he’s sorry) And I heard this loud knock on the door. It was my dad. He didn’t say anything though, he just kept banging that door. “What?!” I asked.” “Get out here, son. We need to talk.” But for some reason I ignored him. I tried to keep him out of my head, I tried to pretend for just one minute that he wasn’t there. But, he was. He kept pounding even harder. “WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU WANT??” There was no answer. I don’t really know what happened, but, the next thing I knew I saw him knock down that fuckin shower door, with those malicious, angry eyes of his. I was bare. He slapped me in the face. I didn’t cry, I didn’t say anything. I just stood there in shock. He hit my mother, of course, but he never hit me. I was the favorite, he said. I was fucking eight years old, just trying to shower, and he slaps me. “Son, get dressed. I need to talk to you.” I tried to stand in the shower for as long as I could, but I was scared. I got out and put on my clothes and went to my room. He was sitting there, already waiting for me, glaring at me when I went in. “Son, where’s all the money mom gave you?” Y’see my mom tried to give ME all the money when she found out her dad had the power to take every cent she had. But she thought, she thought with her kind heart that he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me. Not on his son. “Dad, I thought you quit gambling dad! I thought you quit gambling.” I started crying. He just sat there. He just sat there and said nothing. I gave him the money, but he didn’t say anything to me. He just left the house and drove off to wherever he went. I just lied there, face down on my pillow, trying to forget.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten into all of that. "
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Oh God, I might as well post my comedic monologue as well.
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"Make-up

So there she was, standing there in the middle of the hallway, talking to one of her friends. I had a bouquet of flowers in my left hand, a box of chocolates in my right, and a wide smile on my face. My heart was pounding harder than it’s ever pounded. Today was the big day. I was going to ask Julia Summers to the Senior Ball. That’s right, Julia Summers. And when she said goodbye to her friend and turned around to see me holding those red roses, I would do it. I’d just say, “Julia, you know… we’ve been friends for a long time now… and I was wondering… would you go to the Senior Ball with me?” And she would smile and say, “Of course, Charlie!” and throw her arms around my neck.

So here I was, looking at her. Her hair particularly. . Her warm, soft, dishwasher blonde hair. I was thinking of how red her lips were going to look, how soft her skin would be, and how she would hypnotize me with her pretty blue eyes. I was getting pretty excited. And finally, it happened, she turned around and saw me.

(Looks down at feet for a while and says line while still looking down)

“Hey Julia, how’s it going?”

As soon as I looked up though, I dropped the goddamn flowers, the smile left my face, I could feel my heart sink into my stomach.

(Charlie’s jaw drops)

“Oh… yeah… good, I’m glad! Me? Haha…fine. I’m just fine!”

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. This was Julia Summers. Homecoming queen. Goddess of the pretty blue eyes. Here was Julia Summers… looking ugly as hell.

“Wrong? Oh, nothing’s wrong… it’s just that…you’re not wearing any make-up! Could hardly recognize ya! Oh yeah… change of pace… haha, sure it looks neat… yeah, of course.”

No, it wasn’t neat. It would be neat if you would put that make up back on, you crazy bitch. You know, so I could like, ask you to the Senior Ball and not throw up everywhere.

“Yeah… neat. Haha”

Then she started to eye the chocolates. At this point, you know, I was just giving up. I tried to hide them from her, but she asked before I could stuff them in my shirt.

“Oh what, these chocolates? No, they’re not for you… umm… they’re for my mother! Yeah, that’s it! She’s in the hospital right now with leukemia! No! I mean… she’s got cancer!

I was thinking of anything to stop that conversation. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. God. WITHOUT MAKEUP! Who knew? Her lips were gray and her eyes were crusted and her skin… GOD her SKIN! Her skin was rough as hell. It was like someone morphed her face into fuckin sandpaper. This wasn’t Julia, this COULDN’T have been Julia.

“Oh yeah, these flowers? (Pretends to pick them up) Oh, they’re no ones… I just found these, I think they belong to Chuck’s girl, yeah that’s it, they’re Mary-Ann’s. Yeah.”

At this point, I was considering suicide. My heart was pounding, but this time, in the tune of death. I was getting nervous. I started breathing pretty hard. I didn’t know what was going on. I was confused. I was dazed. And then… it happened.

“What?! Go to Senior Ball with you?? Uh…. Umm..”

Listen, normally I would’ve smiled and cried and ran in circles if beautiful Julia Summers asked me to Senior Ball. Today, I just wanted to punch that bitch in the face. Or at least kill her so no one would have to know about it. Anyway, I don’t really know what happened except that I mumbled some excuse like, “uhh.. umm.. I GOTTA GET TO CLASS,” and then I ran the hell outta there. It was embarrassing. I haven’t really looked at her since."
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I think it's funny though, that I basically wrote the dramatic one the DAY OF and still performed it without a hitch. It's depressing. All I ever do is talk about drama and Dasha reminds me of this often. I need summer to come so I can start focusing on music again. And maybe I'll buy a camera and become a professional photographer. I guess the fact that people said I "did awesome" made my week. Maybe. I don't know anymore, and I don't really feel like talking.

cya.

-george