Episode 1…

Waking up is one of the hardest things to do. My eyes flutter open and I realize I’m not in Kansas anymore. Life hits and my bank account is damn near empty. I’m twenty-three and life is at a standstill, something that I loathe having in my life. My muscles ache, a long ache of years of playing organized sports. A tax my body wasn’t necessarily ready for. My kidneys are throbbing from the many drinks I consumed last night, and my throat is dry and itchy from bumming far too many cigarettes and grabbing the back of blunts. Am I ever going to grow up?

Sometimes talking to my mom is so difficult. We know exactly what we want to say to one another, yet we avoid the awkward conversation. Her, ‘when are you going to get your life together?’ Me, ‘I don’t know. When are you going to get yours together?’ Her, ‘That’s none of your business.’ Me, ‘Exactly.’

I’m a twenty-three year old waitress, or server depending on the day. I suppose I’m intelligent, scored an 1120 on my SAT, nowhere near Zack Morris’ Stansberry material score, had some athletic talent in regards to basketball but screwed that all up when I decided to start smoking weed, and now I’m living at home from paycheck to paycheck. What a life I’ve made for myself. The only thing worth mentioning are my ride or die friends…

Mike, he’s absolutely gorgeous. Straight guys want to be him, women want to sleep with him, and gay men simply want him around. Aside from bussing tables, he wants to be an actor and a model, and at the end of the day he may be used to being catered to, but he’s also a great friend. Seth, he’s the brains of the group. He’s actually enrolled in college and passing classes. The only thing is, he wants to fit in and be cool so bad that it might lead to his demise. See, Seth used to be 245 lbs, and now he’s a beautiful 170 and trying to get used to it. Logan is the most free spirited person I know and I love it. Nothing seems to get under her beautiful skin. Last year, at the age of twenty-one she found out she was adopted and simply said, ‘I knew I didn’t look like my parents.’ And kept it pushin’, something that takes the utmost amount of balls to do.

Today. Today is another day I am blessed to have. Yes, blessed. Aside from my cussing, drinking, smoking, and apathy lies God. I believe in God, and love Jesus. So, regardless of what a drunken night brings me, each morning I thank them for a new day and attempt to produce a productive day in their name, amen. What am I going to do? Staying at home with my mother isn’t going to work, I’ve got a fresh dub sack of kush I’d like to smoke and saturate in without the ‘when are you going to do something productive?’ speech. I suppose I get it, because I’m so unproductive. I stay here, rent free, not trying to advance myself. But still…

I’ve got to find out who Chris is. My cell has got minutes, dialing Logan… ‘Hello?’, ‘Hey Logan, who’s Chris?’, ‘I’m fine, and yourself?’, ‘Who’s Chris?’, ‘Why?’, ‘He left a text saying I kissed him and he wants to kiss again, was he at Flappin’ Jack’s?’, ‘Yeah, Mexican dude. He was kind of cute.’, ‘Ok, should I call him?’, ‘Only if you wanna do him, cuz that’s what you said when you exchanged numbers.’ Empty trash. ‘Ok, cool thanks.’, ‘What are you getting into on your day off?’, ‘I’ve got some green…’, ‘I work at three, but Mike is off.’, ‘I guess I’ll hit him up. Maybe we’ll stop by the job.’, ‘I’ll be there. Holler.’, ‘Holler’. Silence.

I could look for a new more productive job, clean up the house, or go chill with Mike, smoke and do nothing. A simple decision just turned into a dilemma. I wish things were different, change, movement, life. In the end I’ll call Mike, meet up with him around two, smoke, be stoned, roll up to ‘Spencer’s’ our lovely restaurant workplace, weasel some free food and drinks out of Logan, and then return home mid evening only to crash and wake up tomorrow for work without an awkward convo with moms. Life?

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