Teressa's spectacular adventure

I hated that I had to get a ride to work from my mom today. I wonder if there's a word that I might use most effectively to portray how horrible it was, but I really can't think of one right now.

I have so many thoughts I feel are escaping so let me write this as quickly as possible and edit it later to make it sound more polished and pleasing.

Left work at around 4:40pm. Walked cautiously around the mall with my head hung down, trying to avoid any people who I might perchance run into. Didn't feel much like being social. For once, I felt the absolute weight that no weight carried. I could walk as slow as I wanted because nothing was waiting for me and I was anticipating nothing. To walk without purpose, bereft of a desire or destination, it was nice in some way. I am always rambling about from point A to point B. To float in between was a welcomed change.

Using the public transportation system was smooth and free of problems! Yes! I asked the third bus that passed the sidewalk if he would go through the Middle Island/Ridge area and he said to 'hop on.' I read my book Obasan for about 15 minutes before I realized me and Conor were taking the same bus too. He smiled as he also, hopped on board, and then we chatted about life and theories until he left around the King Kullen stop. I got off myself around Hollywood Sweets and made my way into Taco Bell. Got a loaded steak salad and squeezed five very hot hot sauces onto the lettuce and chunks of meat. The pepper made me warm and I didn't feel awkward in my cozy corner alone. I felt nice. After devouring my delicious adult meal I left. I was shivering. The cold stabbed me in little tufts and waves and I really wanted to go sit on the swing set across the street, but I was so cold. Note: Next time do not wear a tank top and paper thin cardigan. Also, bring a camera.

Moving on, I kept up my lazy pace and even began to keep tally of the beeping horns, the eyes that drank in ones image, the bottles of beer buried up to their translucent necks in the dirt. Things started to seem depressing and it wasn't nearly as chilly as before, or maybe I just got used to it. Anyway, stopped by the benches of McDonalds and started to read when I saw a Rooster friend. A rooster! He was brown and clucking, scooting along in the grass and poofing out his plumage proudly. I got close enough to touch him and took a picture with my cell phone until I realized I looked awkward when I glanced over my shoulder and saw a crowd (crowd constituting four or more people) of male Mcdonald's workers all standing by the door staring at me. I figured they were surprised by the rooster too and quickly made my way back to the oblong table with the umbrella, fished out my cell phone and pretended to call someone. When I realized that I would find no peace in a fast food parking lot, I got up and left. I didn't feel like being harassed and cat-called anymore.

I kept walking and wondered if this was who I wanted to be. This quiet, contemplative girl who enjoyed solidarity,long walks home and was completely fine without a car or phone; someone who appreciated that their was a warm bed at the end of this languorous walk. It seemed okay. But then I missed the other Teressa who would pester people into playing tag with her and have contests rolling through grass. Or what of this one, this blog writing, polite, confused and sometimes sarcastic Teressa who wanted to see the world and hated the confinements of home. Often I think we fit into some mold that society can interpret and are 'proud' at the image we project. But would I ever be proud of any image that I project? How do I choose something in life when I want to be everything. Hm.

Down down down Randall road. I remembered how long it felt that day that I walked out of my house and Ryan and Conor picked me up. How good the air conditioner felt on damp skin. I was wishing it was warm again, my arms folded in a vain effort to wrap my cardigan tighter around my body and trap any warmth possible. As I passed the pond, I decided to check out the wooden dock structure that jutted out into the water half-way. While I walked out onto it, I saw a fat blond boy with his hands twined around a fishing wire, the end floater bobbing with red and white. He had a package of opened hamburger buns beside him and he was intently staring at the water and I thought of how glad I was that I didn't have a car just because he was a cool little kid and I got to see him. I walked to the very edge of the dock and looked around and it made me feel happy. The dirty pond didn't seem as drab anymore. Actually, it seemed like the most perfect place in the world at that time. The waves of light undulated in colorful ripples and I stared for a little until my vision was de-focused. The wind was thick and even though I was cold, I decided to sit down after five minutes and start reading my book again. It was peaceful.

The little boy's father soon joined him, ignorant of my curled up presence, as they hauled a flat looking , black fish onto the dock and I had to leave. Sitting on the edge of the dock, hair blowing like Samara...meh. I just felt creepy! Sokay though. I decided to come back on a warmer day. After that, I stopped by the little flower store and green-house and looked around. I thought about buying a plant, but I really had no place to put it. Maybe after I come back from Africa. I passed the old dog house that always housed my friend the German Shepherd too. He is such a lucid memory, materialized to tangibility every time I glance to my side going down Randall. A land-mark on my rides to and from my house; his ropey noose tied loosely around his neck and his ears always alert and erect. He was as natural as the pavement beneath the rubbery wheels that moved me closer and further from him everyday. Without him, the dog house looked empty. And then I felt sort of lonely too.

And as I was grasping around for this memory, I thought about the insignificance I played in his life. The bun-faced girl with a sweep of black bangs who stared at him from cars and buses. What purpose was I to him? I feel like that's my life in brambles and packaging. One sided memories and longing.

Today on my walk I realized that when my dependability extends to the tips of my fingers and is not further vested in anything or anyone else, I can be most happy. I want to be stronger, like Beyonce. I want to have my own car, helio phone, apartment, decisions, blingity bling and opinions. Not like Teressa whose feelings secretly get hurt if someone just raises their voice. Not like the third grade Teressa who got asked to be the ring leader in the game of water seals at Lauren's house but felt embarrassed and said "NOPE," hoping they'd ask her again to quell the embarrassment. And they did, but with irritation. And so she blinked, realizing she might have come off mean, politely refused a second time and sat, feet dangling in water on the hot deck and watched them all have fun. She was happy when splashes of chlorine water reached her but wouldn't jump in any further. Pride bubbling over with pools of salt and sweat. Self-inflicted punishment and recluse. That's still me. Wanting. Impassioned silence and hurt feelings when I say I don't feel much like seeing people and then people actually leave. O_O

Maybe the Teressa I want to be isn't particular, maybe it's just better than this one is now.

When I got home I took a cucumber melon bath for an hour and relaxed. I wish I had a phone right now. There is someone who I wanted to call.