Jack cussed. He started at 12. Jack smoked. He started at 14. Jack drank. He’d started at 15. Jack fucked. He started at 19. Jack wasted time and got wasted. Jack was a waste. Jack loved and lost and loved again. Losing quit meaning so much. Jack thought and he wondered, but not too long, not too hard. Jack smoked and drank and fucked and got wasted and gave up and tried again, and never gave it too much thought. Jack looked at the clock. Time moved slowly when it shouldn’t and time moved fast when it shouldn’t. Jack asked Eleanor if she liked that musical group. She didn’t. Eleanor smoked, and drank, and cussed. Jack wondered if she’d fuck, how she’d fuck. Jack and Eleanor got wasted. They didn’t fuck. When they woke up, it was late as hell. 

About Ari... what an interest in beauty. He often inwardly beamed, though outwardly, he felt assured that his interests were seldom mirrored. Music, books, art, film. He had good taste, even when it meant bad taste. So what? On a larger scale, what difference did any of that make? He didn't know what he wanted to be. Sadly, he began to feel as though he may be missing that boat. More often he noticed more and more gray hairs. What had he done with his time? Day after day of pointless jobs, too many now to recollect. Night after night interactions with the closest of friends and the truest of long term relationships, fool-proof, guaranteed to last, to be the one, most of whom had been gone for ages. The years of his life had passed by more rapidly than anticipated.

Sitting, comfortably, with stability and confidence in yet another dead end job, making nice with lovely people, who will never see into the nooks and crannies of his aspirations or fears. Polite faces to polite faces, polite faces to demanding faces, polite faces to blank faces. He held the receiver far enough from his ear that the ringtone was barely audible, staring into space, mindlessly counting, and promising to himself, one more ring and I'll hang up. One more ring and I'll hang up. Hoping both that the call would be excitedly received, but hoping more that it would be lost, forgotten, and returned at a time when coming together would be inconvenient, impractical, just a little too late for tonight. Sure, how nice to have that connection, how much nicer to head home to drink those same beers, hear those same songs, alone.

One more ring and at least he'd have extended that hand, and then off the hook.

Was he even counting anymore? Ok, time to hang.. "Hey, what's up?"  Damn, he'd hesitated. Just when the whole idea had lost its appeal. "Hey. How's it going? Got anything going on tonight?" "It's Ari. Yeah, I don't know, what are we into tonight? Ok, yeah. No, we aren't doing anything. Wanna do some drinking?" "Yeah, I get off around 11. Got about a half a case, probably some vodka.. no ice. Wanna hang out around 11:30?" "He's got some vodka, no ice. Ok, we'll grab some ice." "Ok, cool. See you around 11:30." "Bye." "Ah, this'll be fun," thought Ari, lighting up for a moment, then resting back in his chair, with his head tilted a little too far back, his eyes closed a little too long. He stood up, not opening his eyes until fully on his feet. He threw on his old coat, glanced at the shop door, went out back and had a smoke. Although he usually had an easy time joining in with conversation and discussion, he considered himself to be much more of a listener, in general.

There were times when he would rather not speak at all, to see how much others would say when given the opportunity. He found himself actively thinking about what others said, how much, how often, analyzing. It seemed to him that by consciously and actively listening to others, he learned more, took more from interactions, than he would if he were more compelled to share what he already knew. This may sound pretentious. It was certainly not intended as a stance of arrogant judgment. Also, this is not to say that he was never extroverted and talkative. Much contrarily, there was often a great deal that he considered sharing with others, however, his self-observed tendency was more that of contemplation. Ari was pretentious. He was judgmental, pretentious, bored, and boring. 

 Claire and Maggie pulled out of the liquor store parking lot. Claire hardly looked before cutting into the street, speeding back toward Maggie’s place, just a few more blocks over. Although Maggie was a little unnerved by Claire’s driving, she thought to herself, with rebellious apathy, “ah, who gives a fuck.” They were stocked up for a night of drinking, more to drink than the two combined were capable of consuming in one night, more to drink on a Tuesday night than was necessary, the girls didn’t worry about anything else. Each sat down with a cocktail, Maggie turned on some music, a little too loud at first, it would get louder once the booze kicked in. Claire went from sitting to standing, again and again, poking at her face, performing an interchanging dance of facial expressions, from posh pose to disgust and disappointment. “I’m breaking out. My face is breaking out again. Can you see it?? Do I look like a monster? Haha.” “Shut up and sit down, Claire. Quit looking at your fucking face.” Claire sat down. Music played. "I wish someone would kidnap me. Kidnap me and fuck me. And leave me for dead.” Claire spoke with a smile but Maggie knew she meant it. “Sounds romantic.” It was Maggie’s way to be so wry, but she really did love this about Claire. The scum, the dirt, the sex, and degradation. That’s what she looked for in friends. Maggie laughed at Claire. Claire laughed back.

               “Have you ever heard of blah blah blah? I love a femme fatale. I mean a real one,” said Claire. Maggie wasn’t really listening.  She’d checked her phone about four times in the last twenty minutes. “Bring it over, let’s watch it.” Maggie said. “I don’t have it,” said Claire, poking at her face in the mirror. “Fred told me he was taking me to the movies this weekend. He was over last night. We stayed up all night. He’s so sweet. I talk about Fred too much, don’t I?” Claire glanced at Maggie through the mirror. “No, you like him,” said Claire, after some hesitation. Maggie finished another cocktail, took her glass to the kitchen, and filled it with ice. “Need another one yet, Claire-Claire?” “Not yet.” “He hasn’t hit me up at all today. I don’t think he likes me. I told him I wanted a kid someday, last night. Now he hasn’t tried to get a hold of me all day.” “Whatever, he likes you, I can tell.” Maggie smiled. “I want to tell him I’m in love with him.” Maggie sat back down, slurped out half her cocktail. The ice settled. “I can’t though. Because he won’t say it back. He’ll reject it. I think he loves me. He said he loves my voice. But I don’t think he’d say it back.” Maggie nearly finished her cocktail. Claire sat back down. “I don’t think I can love,” said Claire. “You just need to find the right guy,” said Maggie.

Claire went to fix herself another cocktail. Maggie called from the other room. “I’m not going to text him first. He’s got to show me that he wants me, too. I mean, I know he does, but he doesn’t want to show it. I think he’s afraid of getting hurt.” Claire came back with her new cocktail, poked around at the stereo. They sat drinking and talking about film noir and sex. Maggie looked at her phone. “Oh, Fred liked my picture. He’s so sweet.” “See, I told you he liked you,” said Claire. “I think I love him. Should I tell him?” “How.. What would you say to him?” Claire sat poised with her hands on her knees, back straight. Maggie’s eyes shined. “I don’t know, I guess.. I’d say, ‘I’m in love with you, Fred.” Maggie’s head kicked to the side, a dreamy look in her eyes, but only for a moment. “But I’m not fucking going to. He wouldn’t say it back.” Claire stood to face the mirror. Maggie crossed her legs and leaned back. Her phone rang out a text message alert. It was Fred.

     Janie sat at work. She didn’t bother watching the clock. She knew it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. She still had hours to go and she knew that on such a beautiful, hot day, no one would be frequenting this part of town. She flipped through a couple pages of a book. It wasn’t very interesting. “Should’ve grabbed a different one,” she thought, “I knew this was trash.” She put the book away and stocked the shelves. “There goes a whopping twenty minutes,” she thought. She didn’t look at the clock. She rummaged through her bag for a mint. An older woman started to walk toward the shop. Janie felt relieved for something to do, some way to pass the time aside from a box of mints. As she watched the woman pass by the shop window, she sank down. Janie rolled her eyes, pointlessly. 

     She went back to her book. Her eyes scanned the words, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She daydreamed of sitting under a tree somewhere, with no one around, the warm breeze, plucking blades of grass. She reached over by the register, plucked a paper clip from the jar, and another. She smiled and put the book back in her bag. Janie filed her nails and thought of her sisters. “I wonder if Dana is still with that idiot…”, “I wonder if James and Stacey were still thinking of moving two towns over…. Seems silly to me, they have a nice house here…” Janie opened the door and eyed the bench three shops down. She felt the summer day combating the overbearing air-conditioning at her back. She went back inside and grabbed another mint, and decided to go relax on the bench. “No point in sitting in here all day, letting it go to waste,” she thought. “How nice is this? This is more like it…” and other such pleasantries crossed her mind. 

     She sat with her eyes closed. There was no one in this part of town. It was too nice a day. After what she supposed was a good twenty minutes she decided she’d better go check the shop, though she knew it would be as it was, chilly and empty. Goosebumps popped up on her arms and legs as the cold air depleted all the lovely warmth from outside. “There is nothing to do in here. I’ll eat my lunch outside,” she thought. She grabbed her lunch from under the counter and headed back toward the door. The phone rang. “You’ve reached Morten’s. This is Janie. How can I help you?” “Janie??? Where were you? I let the phone ring forever…. Are you busy?” “No, it’s been dead. What’s up?” “Oh crap. You just had to check in on things the one time I’m not sitting here,” thought Janie. “Why didn’t you answer the phone?! You need to answer the phone, in case a customer calls, Janie….” “I was using the restroom,” she lied. “Well, stay close to the phone in case a customer calls, OK Janie…..” “OK. I will Mike. Is there anything else that you needed?” “Just checking in,” and he abruptly hung up his end. Janie rolled her eyes, pointlessly. 

     She thought about leaving the door cracked, then she thought about the air conditioning. Janie started to unwrap her lunch at the counter. She sank down. She eyed the items in the store for something to put away, to wipe off, to more properly display. She wrapped her lunch up, took it outside, and let the door close behind her. She sat on the bench and ate slowly. “How nice is this? This is more like it…” and other such pleasantries crossed her mind.

I don’t really know what I want to do with my life. My ambitions are simple. I want to live a life with the people I care about. I want to build lasting memories and make the most of my time. I really enjoy learning, otherwise I’m sure I would have just found a career. That is not to say that I don’t hope to attain a worthwhile career utilizing my time and efforts in college. However, even though I am pursuing an education, the end goal is simply to earn a degree that will enable me to live comfortably. Money has never been a major priority for me. I would just like to be comfortable and have access to what little luxuries I desire.

My past is lined with jobs involving being around people, though to say that my passion is helping others is not entirely true. I have a customer service background, as far as work is concerned. This I attribute to flexibility and laid back environments. I have tried the factory route and know that, for me, it is stifling. With customer service, each day I meet new people, experience new things. However, I wouldn’t say that customer service is my passion. My passion is lost on me. What I truly crave is social enlightenment, freedom and joy, fun and experience. I am getting older, which can sometimes feel daunting. Although I am a self-sufficient individual, and am grateful for much in my life, I sometimes worry that my time spent is leading me to an outcome of unfulfilled time. I am a positive person, usually capable of seeing the brighter side in many things. I also take a great deal of joy from the little things in life, perhaps insignificant joys of living. I don’t necessarily hope to leave little more than that, but I also don’t want to take for granted the beauty that is experienced in trivial events.

To reflect on current events, everyone is surely aware that the lottery drawing is a big one. I was asked what I would do were I to win. I think I would build a house, try my hand at carpentry, read as much as I could, invite friends and family over often. I would definitely enjoy designing and customizing my home. I would offer to my loved ones fulfillments of their own. Outside of that, I don’t think that I would do much in the way of altruism. I would likely lead a simple life, spent pursuing simple joys. I would try my hand at different skills, not necessarily to excel in, but rather just to enjoy. I think that I would greatly appreciate a view. I don’t really have any ambition to change the world. I just want the time to enjoy being a part of it. I suppose when I was younger my dreams were loftier. I’d sure get a kick out of running a radio program, or discovering and working toward some hidden talent in the arts or music. I’d enjoy customizing and designing a living space without constriction. But all of these things seem more to me now to be life’s little luxuries, ways to pass the time with joy and fulfillment. Really, sharing my life with the people I care about is what is most important to me. And I don’t really need to win the lottery for that, anyway. All of the goals that I currently hold don’t require much money at, beyond sustaining the typical financial needs that we all share. I think that I am in college more for the chance to learn about new things and meet new people than I am for the pursuit of wealth. Not that it wouldn’t be great, it just isn’t that important to me.