“Hello,” I said, clicking at my screen.

“I’m not gonna get you in trouble, am I?”

“No,” I said. I glanced at the time on my desktop toolbar.

My dad seemed to hesitate, and then he asked the question that I am supposed to be always asking: “Can I borrow your car?”

His van had bit the dust a week or so ago, and he had bought a used car to replace it. Unfortunately, the Altima he’d bought turned out to be a lemon. He’s been taking my Ellie every so often to go do jobs — he’s an oversized load escort — until he can find something else because he doesn’t trust the Altima. Every so often he’ll ask or, like a couple of days ago, he’ll just borrow her for quick errands. (I’ve thought about using this all as leverage. Trust me. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity.)

“Sure,” I agreed. He explained that he would drop his car off in the parking lot at my job and take my car from there. All I had to do was give my building’s receptionist the license plate so that the Altima didn’t end up mistakenly being towed. No problem. Besides getting to drive something else, I was getting gas out of the deal.

After work I walked the block to my parking lot and got into the Altima. “Could have at least cracked me a window, Dad,” I said to the inside of the car. I lifted the mat and rooted around for the key. “Ah-ha!” As I put it into the ignition, I braced myself for the possibility of it not starting (its neutral safety switch is busted, just like Lisa Mazda‘s was). It started just fine, and I glanced up to start backing out. No rearview mirror. “Aw, Dad!” I checked my side mirrors and looked behind me. Fine. I could do this. No big deal.

I put the car into reverse and started backing out. BOOM. BOOOM. BOOOOOM. Where was that awful too-high bass sound coming from? Me? It was coming from me! Or, the Altima, actually. A second later I totally forgot about the sound as I began backing out, hoping that the side mirrors weren’t hexed and that I wouldn’t end up bashing into one of my coworker’s cars. (You never know. It could happen. Really.)

All backed out and ready to go, I started to leave the parking lot. BOOM. BOOOOM. BOOOM-BOOOM. “Oh my god,” I thought. “It sounds like a GIT car!”

Yep. I had the radio’s volume almost all the way down and yet it sounded like I had one of those bass booster thingamabobs in my trunk. As I sat at a red light, the entire car was shaking, as if I were sitting in one of those massage chairs at the mall.

The whole ride home, I thought for certain that it would die on me. Or that someone behind me might get pissed at my slowness. Or that the brakes might fail and that I would go sliding into another car. Or maybe a cop would pull me over because of the little ghetto car’s looks.

Instead, everyone ignored me. For once, no one rode my ass — even though I drove slower than ever! (They must have thought I was one of them, due to the BOOM BOOM-BOOM BOOM.) I drove past two cops and they didn’t so much as blink at me. And best of all? No one died. Hooray.

“No wonder you didn’t want to drive this thing,” I said to Dad when he called me to make sure I got home okay. It occurred to me then that he might have thought I wouldn’t make it home alive in that thing, either!

Leave a comment and tell me: What’s the worst car you’ve ever driven? (Bonus points if you can tell me where I got the title of this post from!)

Ahem.

These last few weeks have been insane! I wish that I could remember everything but, sadly, my brain is wiped clean. I have enough trouble talking and putting words together into coherent sentences, never mind trying to remember everything that’s been going on. I now know how Ozzy feels.

I’m not even sure where to begin, as I can’t remember what I last wrote about and am way too lazy to actually go hunting through the two or so posts I’ve written in the last couple of months, so let’s just cut to the chase: car (Lisa Mazda) is dead, all I’ve been doing is working, my story “Anonymiss” won second place in this year’s Fresh Ink contest over at Naugatuck Valley, and I can meow.

The 2009 Writers’ Conference was Wednesday, and the guest speaker was Everett Hoagland, a poet from Massachusetts. His poems were really, really good. I literally fell into a sort of trance as I listened to him read. They were filled with a rhythm that I swear only African-American poets have. Even this guy’s presence was amazing; he was just so composed and peaceful.

I read my winning story from last year’s Fresh Ink, “Moon Prayer,” just before the awards for this year’s contest were presented, and after I read Everett pulled me aside and asked me how long I’ve been writing. I told him since about third grade, and remembered the story about dalmatians I wrote with my classmate Sherry-Lee. (I don’t remember what that story was about, only that it was about dalmatians and that we wrote and illustrated it on darker fuchsia construction paper.)

“I can tell you take this seriously,” he told me. “For you to write such detail, to know so much about someone who is so different from you, is amazing.”

I could barely speak, I was so astonished that this amazing man loved my story.

“You are already an accomplished writer. We’re going to be hearing about you,” he said. He said that to me several times throughout the day.

I don’t think I’m a bad writer. I mean, I know I’ve got a little talent, I guess. Several teachers, family, friends, and Professor Harding have told me over and over that I have talent. I guess I always just thought they were biased, because most of these people really liked me to begin with. For this guy, someone who did not know me at all, to hear one story and say those amazing things to me… Well, it meant a lot. He was so, so inspiring.

I felt really good about the whole day, actually. I got to connect with a lot of people I haven’t seen in a while, and Professor Harding and I went over a little of The Cure Program. To make things even better, Mike spent the whole day with me because I don’t have a car and had no other way of getting there. He said he had a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed having him there. We had a blast during the writers’ workshop that Professor Harding did.

As strange as it sounds, I really miss NVCC. I’ve never missed an old school before. I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere. But I truly did fit in at that community college, and I don’t think I’ll ever feel that “snug” anywhere else. I think that’s as good as it gets for me.

I had a lot more I wanted to write about, but I want to get to bed. Maybe I’ll update again before July. (;

Almost forgot that I promised pics. Got my toes done, but need to get them done again now.

I look so freaking tired here. I got my hair cut last weekend, and dyed again, thanks to my cousin Alicia.

Me and the kitty, with creepy glowy eyes.

I started working two jobs a couple of weeks ago. I am not used to working all day, every day. It’s exhausting! It’s totally worth it at the end of the week, though. I’m actually catching up on things I’ve been trying to save for. Maybe I’ll even be driving the Sunfire soon, rather than my death trap Mazda. I even got the BlackBerry I’ve been dying to have (thank you to Sarcastica for being so patient and helping me get on BB Messenger)!

A couple of days ago, I also partnered my web design freelancing business with my aunt’s web design and print media business, OSC. We will be collaborating on social media websites. So basically, if one of us has a client that needs a website and social media, we will work on it together. I will be working on the social media end of it, be it setting up accounts on social networking sites (MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, etc) or building a site in WordPress. We will be offering training and hopefully will be doing seminars. We have an expo in about a month that we need to prepare for, and we’ve been doing a lot of networking. Needless to say, I’ve been working pretty much non-stop and I could use a nice, long nap.

Somehow, through all of this craziness, I’ve managed to stay smoke-free. I don’t know how the hell I’m doing it.

Of course I have another sinus infection. I have to call my physician in the morning and get some drugs! I thought that by quitting smoking, I wouldn’t get as many sinus infections each year. I guess I thought wrong. I don’t want to go back to smoking, though. I don’t even care that I quit, and I’m glad for all of the extra cash (especially now that Connecticut is hiking up the taxes on tobacco).

The only real problem with all of this working is that I’m starting to feel like I don’t ever do anything fun. I realized the other day that I’ve been much been working non-stop for the last year or so, and that sucks. It’s starting to drain me. I spent most of the day yesterday trying to stop the

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and

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from leaking out of my ears.

My only consolation is that today is Wednesday, Friday is pay day, sometime this weekend I am going to get my hair cut, and Julien-K finally released their debut album. Oh, and did I mention that Mike found me the ultra-rare translucent Dr. Manhattan figure? Cool beans.

This morning on my way to work, I passed a Sunoco and glanced at the price. It was $1.99 a gallon (cash). While most of us rejoice at this lower, Walmart-style price, there’s that nagging feeling in the back of my head that says, “this is bad.” I am only vaguely aware that the reason for the lower gas prices is the declining stock market. The people around me who know about these things — like KJ at work — tell me that the price of gas is going to keep going down, since the stock market won’t be going up anytime soon.

It’s a Catch 22, just like my own financial situation. I ranted a little about this on Scars Can Speak (the Letters of Love blog), and I’ve been writing in my own journal every day about different ways to tackle this problem. Either way, I lose on something. If, for example, I get a second job, I’ll be doing even more running from place to place and who knows how I’ll get my school work done for the rest of the semester. If I get more hours or can go full-time at my current job, I’ll only be able to take two classes next semester rather than getting a full head start on my BA. If I can’t get more hours at my current job and can’t get a second job, I’ll have to leave my current job (which I really like) for a full-time corporate job. Yes, I’d be making more money, but I wouldn’t be able to go back to school full-time for a while. I’d have to be a part-time student. It would take forever. I am so career-oriented and want everything done yesterday that it would drive me nuts.

Besides, corporate jobs are yuck. I’ve worked in enough corporate places to know that they don’t care as much about what they’re doing or their employees, as compared to independent companies. All they care about is making money. Maybe my job is a wild card, but they seem to care more about what they’re doing and how they’re treating their employees and customers. Most of the time we discuss doing something new, the question that pops up is, “what else can we give our customers?” Don’t get me wrong, we most certainly like making money around here. The difference is, I think, is our approach to it. We’re friendly sharks, rather than the vicious, shipwrecking kind.

At least I’m not agonizing over a decision anymore. I have plans A, B, C and D. It’s just the waiting, wondering how everything will turn out, that is getting me.

In the meantime, I’ve been saving money like mad. I don’t really get coffee in the morning anymore (except for Thursdays, and today I treated myself). I buy snacks and microwavable meals that are cheap and will keep me full, instead of stopping at Burger King or whatever. The only money I really spend during the week is on cigarettes, and I’m trying to cut back on those a little, too (even though I rarely smoke more than a pack a day). The only thing I’m buying for myself that isn’t food, gas or cigarettes is a new pair of winter boots. My old ones (which were brand new last year) ripped at the heel and while I can wear them they don’t stay on properly. They’re those Sketchers that are ankle high. They’re casual, comfortable, look professional but they kept my feet warm and dry. Plus, I didn’t fall down as much. I’m hoping that Target has a layaway so I can get boots from them, or that I can find a cheap pair.

I’m really hoping my car makes it through until I can get a better one. She’s becoming more and more temperamental. She doesn’t like to start sometimes. The mysterious drain sometimes won’t let the battery get any juice, even when it’s been disconnected. The windshield wipers don’t always work, and the Rain-X Dad put on my windshield freaks me out (it creates a HUGE glare when oncoming headlights or streetlights hit the windshield). I tried to make a deal with her this morning, that if she would take care of me I’d take care of her and soon she can retire. I bet she just ignored me and kept on plotting ways to kill me. Yes, I think my car wants me dead. But you’ve heard this all before.

To make matters worse, my house was a battlefield last night. There was a lot of arguing and yelling, and even though I think we’re all okay now — it was all a huge misunderstanding and overreaction on all parts — I’m kind of reluctant to face anyone. I ended up having Mike pick me up last night. We played Call of Duty 5 and watched The Shield. CoD 5 is amazing. I watched Mike, Rob and little Tony play online and then I played the regular game. They gave me a flamethrower and I had at it. It was nice stress relief. I couldn’t figure out why the hell I kept getting killed so easily — I’m not a hardcore CoD player but I can hold my own with most first-person shooters — until Mike nonchalantly mentioned that he’d put me in Veteran mode. Thanks, babe.

The Shield is awesome, too. I wish I’d gotten into it years ago when it first started. I’ve only seen three or four episodes, all from this season, so I pretty much don’t know what the fuck is going on. I really like it, though. The characters are fantastic. The series finale is next week. Mike is sad; The Shield is his favorite show and he’s been following it from day one. He thinks Mackey is going to kill himself. I don’t think so, because he doesn’t seem like that kind of character, but Mike insists that he’s been watching it from the beginning so he ought to know. Whatever. I think we should start buying it on DVD so we can watch it from the beginning together. Of course, I guess it’d have to wait until we got our own place. I still have his Metalocalypse season one set and haven’t touched it in months.

If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m really late with everything. The boots, for example. I thought those Uggz boots were ugly last year. This year, I’m suddenly practical; I’ve realized that, DUH, they’re warm and comfortable. They don’t seem so ugly this year.

Naturally, on top of everything else, I haven’t been doing any writing. Well — I wouldn’t say any. I’ve been doing my Creative Writing assignments and this post counts, I guess. I just haven’t done any writing for The Cure Program. I have, however, been catching up on my Visual Basic homework. I need to do some writing tonight.

I realize this post has been one long conglomeration of (mostly) everything bouncing around in my head right now, so if you’ve stuck through to the end you deserve a cookie. Thanks to everyone who has been there for me in the past few weeks, including both my online and face-to-face friends. You guys keep me going. I promise the next post will not be so bitchy and doomgloom.

The last couple of days in a row I had to drive around, in the rain, with no windshield wipers. Pouring rain. Tonight I planned on picking up Mike to cash our checks and then heading home to get some work done, but when I tried to leave his house the car wouldn’t start. After disconnecting and reconnecting the battery several times in a row, I finally reconnected it, put it into Neutral and then it started. I desperately need a reliable car for when I start at SCSU, but it’s hard saving money when I only work 16 hours a week and need to pay medical bills for the chiropractor. Basically it’s to the point where it’s get a better car or go to SCSU. I just don’t see how I can afford both without the financial aid this next semester.

I’m also having a lot of problems with “Jude.” I don’t even feel like going into detail because I’ve already ranted and raved about it fifty times today to three different people, but she’s making very bad choices and I don’t know how to get through to her. It’s gotten to the point where she’s ditching her friends left and right to party and I just don’t understand it. She says one thing and then goes and does another. “Jude,” if you’re reading this, it’d be nice if you would quit hanging up on me when I try to talk to or call you, and actually talk to me.

To top everything off, things in my household are escalating to the point that it’s a battleground. My sister, parents and I have been staying with family for over three years now. None of us are getting along now, and it’s all I can do to keep my mouth shut anymore. Probably the most frustrating thing is to watch my little sister go from relatively happy-go-lucky to this constantly stressed and nearly depressed person, because of this whole living situation. When I do spend time with my sister and parents it seems all the four of us do is fight. There is just so much animosity building up between the seven of us living together in the house that I’m afraid our original bonds will be broken by the time we move out.

I always thought, as a teenager, that if I could only just be eighteen I would have complete control of my life. I thought that I could be happy because I would have more control. It seems like I’m even more powerless, and though I try to keep my head over the water I can’t seem to stay afloat.

Every cent I make at work just disappears for one thing or another. I can’t save any money. I could get a second job but I have no idea how I would be able to work two jobs and go to school. I could move out on my own, if I gave up on getting my BA and started working full-time. I don’t want to do that, but it’s starting to seem as if that’s what I should do. I could also even just take a class or two per semester, but I’d have to pay for it out of pocket and I couldn’t afford that and an apartment with bills. I can’t even turn to Mike, because he’s having enough trouble finding work. The two of us can’t afford a place right now, even though it would solve both of our problems. I feel like I have nothing in my own grasp.

I know that everyone faces uncertainties. I know there are people out there who have it worse. I just don’t think it is healthy to be this stressed out, all of the time. I don’t ever get a break. I’m struggling to get my homework down, struggling to maintain peace in my “home,” struggling to keep one of my best friends who seems to have gone off the deep end, and in the end I have nothing to show for anything I do.

Speaking of random things: My dad finished Lisa Mazda‘s brakes yesterday and told me to keep checking the brake fluid, ’cause I might be leaking it. Sadly enough, I’m not sure where the brake fluid is. If I’m right, it’s leaking. If I’m wrong, I need to figure out what the stuff that I was looking at is. Yeah.

There was an actual point to this post, but I’m not exactly sure what that was.

Those pics of my awesome red hair are on their way. I just can’t seem to get the lighting right. It’s hard work, taking pictures of yourself. (;