The wipers sway intermittently across the windshield, and their blades do a sloppy job of clearing the precipitation from my view. Their constant rubbing against the glass emits ear-wrenching squeaks that I wish I could ignore, but cannot. These ancient wipers need to go. At least that’s what I’ve been saying for…how long has it been now? Five months? Yeah, about that long. Every time I get around to changing these annoying wipers, something else more urgent suddenly comes up, and whatever money I’d been saving toward replacing them goes… Read More
I tug on my jacket and pull my beanie further down on my head as I continue to brace myself against the mercilessly frigid onslaught. I say a silent ‘fuck you’ to whichever administrator is responsible for this currently fucked up parking situation. Fuck, it’s cold. I realize that I say ‘fuck’ a lot when I feel like my blood is turning to ice.
I’m instantly engulfed by bright lights and hot air. I breathe out a sigh of contentment, incredibly grateful for the warm, toasty atmosphere as I feel the heat quickly neutralize the unbearable cold I felt just seconds ago. I dust the snow off my jacket without halting my footsteps and adjust the strap of my carry-on as I feel it digging into my shoulder, bearing most of its unnecessary weight. I make a mental note to remove whatever items in it that I don’t use daily. I have a bad… Read More
I stop by my locker before I head to the rehearsal room to drop off my belongings. I set my satchel down and turn the grey metal dial as I enter the new combination to my locker. It takes me two tries to get it right, and it opens up with a very slight creak. I had to get it changed about two weeks ago since someone had managed to break into it and steal my iPod, my recorder, a library book—which I had to end up paying for—and a… Read More
I scroll through my classical playlist in search for Celtic Woman’s ‘The Voice’, one of the songs for our group performance taking place two weeks from now. I find it by the time my hand is turning the gold-plated door knob. I notice a few people in the distance, haphazardly scattered across the room as I let myself in. The gentle hum of the heating system fills the room along with the sound of a few shuffling bodies and idle chit-chat. The air is even warmer in here, incredibly cozy… Read More
The discomforting sensation I had earlier is back, considerably more painful this time. It’s never even happened twice in the same day before. I’m beginning to think that whatever this is, it’s probably more than just a stress-response. From the corner of my eye, I see a bunch of girls behind me just standing there and giving me strange looks through the mirror, and I notice Julianne is among them. She has her arms crossed over her fake chest, eyeing me suspiciously as she gives me a once over, followed… Read More
Madame Vito finally makes her appearance, and the room quickly goes quiet. She doesn’t say a thing, but then again, she doesn’t need to. Her stern presence and the clicking of her signature moccasins are all that’s necessary to make all the chatter fade away into dead silence. The room gets so quiet you could probably hear a snowflake land. Vito’s graying locks are pulled back into a tight bun as usual, and she’s covered up in a dark cardigan and an equally dark, conservative pencil skirt with leggings underneath… Read More
The walk over to the clinic takes about fifteen minutes, and it’s mostly comprised of me feeling really cold again and Trixie trying to make me feel better about what had just transpired at rehearsal. It’s much brighter outside now, and the scenery is a stark difference from what it is during the spring and summer months. There are white mounds of piled up snow and barren trees everywhere. Several people are crowded at the various bus stops in their heavy winter gear as vapor escapes their mouths and nostrils…. Read More
Nurse Jane pinpoints the area of concern, touching the same area again and parts adjacent to it to confirm that it is, in fact, the source of my ailment. “It could be a number of things,” she says. “Have you eaten or drank anything out of the ordinary since it began?” “No, not that I can think of,” I say, my voice a lot hoarser than I remember it being. “Do you drink heavily?” she asks. This is Wisconsin. And I work at a bar. Define heavily.
I have about three hours until my appointment with Doctor Templin, and since Trixie doesn’t have class for another hour, we decide to get some breakfast before either one of us passes out from starvation. She calls Bill and has him meet us over at the Overground, the largest eatery on west campus. Bill lets us know that he’s already there by the time we arrive, with seats saved for both of us. He’s undeniably punctual for everything, even something as informal and trivial as getting food. While I find… Read More