Mary Lou

It figures. I WOULD get stuck with a daydreaming, head-in-the-clouds, and now, Neil Diamond CD flushing roommate. She just doesn't get it, does she? Neil! He's like, God or something! I am his biggest fan - there's NO doubt about that! Sometimes I wonder why I like him so much. I come from an average middle class family. Nothing TOO out of the ordinary happened during my childhood. No secret, repressed child abuse that would require me to take solice in such a studmuffin as Neil Diamond. Then again, if it is repressed, how will I ever know? In many ways, I led the most average life that could ever be led: 2 parents, a couple brothers and sisters, a cat, a crazy grandmother. You know, REGULAR stuff. But, I've always been the kind of person that was a little different than the rest. Who am I kidding? You know that saying "broke the mold." I think that saying originated when I was born. I was born with 2 different colored eyes, one green, one blue. I've gotten many a strange look from people when they get their first, close-up look at me. I've learned to live with it. I think my eyes have helped me to get where I am today: a salesclerk at a Lexus car dealership. That sounds like real success but I've got plans - I've got dreams!

I suppose I shouldn't say that I got "stuck" with Lucy. I guess she's an all right roommate. I just can't stand it when she starts staring off into space. And when she gets that LOOK in her eyes, you know, that look that means "I'm off in La La Land right now so don't disturb me," I just better plan on not speaking to her for at least 20 minutes. I bet that's what that headcase is doing right now. She's sitting in the bathroom daydreaming about something: her lovelife, her work, maybe even the fact that she needs a new toothbrush. She's turning into that waitress at the cafe on the corner who is a self-proclaimed "contemporary philosopher." Before you know it, she'll be spouting off about Plato, Socrates, or whatever those philosophical people talk about. It won't be pretty.

I just can't sit and think about things like that. My lovelife is in the toilet along with my CD. And work, well, work pretty much stinks. Working at a car dealership is not exactly the best way to get ahead in the world. I like to claim to everyone else that I am a success in the making, a real diamond in the rough. I'm a screenplay writer, and in Seattle, they are a rarity. Thank God I don't live in Los Angeles or New York because then I wouldn't be so "respected." My stint at the Lexus car dealership is only temporary, of course, and I don't plan on becoming professional at it anytime soon. My dream in life (as is any screenplay writer's) is to sell a screenplay to a touted, really pompous producer who will hail it as the hit of the century. Of course, I will gratiously accept the Oscar and thank my high school English teacher for all her encouragements of my writing talents, blah, blah, blah. Quentin Tarantino will be forgotten and Ben Affleck and Matt Damon will fall away and I'll be left standing as a virtuoso, ahead of my time, at least for a good six months.

So here I stand on my lunch break, beating on the bathroom door, screaming at my roommate to "Surrender or Die!!!" All I ask is for a tiny bit of respect when it comes to my hobbies. She respects my writing, she respects my job, but why can't she respect my Neil? I also don't think she likes my other hobby of karaoke singing. Which is why I really need that CD so I can practice before I go to work. It's my best time of the day. I think I need some new material. The other night some heckler was having a field day with me. He was saying something about "get off I Am...I Said!" Some people just don't get it.