Its day two of the power outage. All remnants of cold air left the house long ago and we are all dying in the summer heat. Luckily for us we can turn the fans on every now and then with our generator.
In case you were wondering, I’m not going to say ‘dear diary’ because it’s awfully cliché and I’m going to get sick of typing it every single day. If you have a problem with it, tough.
I haven’t been able to get much sleep. Last night I stayed up until one then fell asleep for an hour. I woke up again at two and stayed up until the sun rose over the hill. The house sounds dead without the hum of the air conditioning and the sound of the BOSS water system cycling at night. There’s a lack of joy to the place like it was drained from the building the moment the power went out - or perhaps after the storm ended and my jitters over the howling winds subsided.
I’m sitting now at my fading purple desk listening to the purr of the portable generator that sounds hauntingly familiar to my cat Annie when she falls asleep at my feet, typing this rather boring diary/journal/whatsit entry hoping to God that the power miraculously comes back on.
What really bites is that most of the people who live on our road, State Route 23, already have power from Frontier Power Company. Unfortunately our electricity grid is supplied by AEP and they estimate it will take up to two weeks for them to repair the lines that have fallen due to the combination of trees and high winds. The last time we had a power outage in our area this severe was in 2008. I vaguely recall sleepless nights bathed in sweat and reading a huge pile of books to pass the time. Seeing as this kept me entertained then, I have decided to do the same now - read a lot of books, not sweat to death. Although I can’t really choose whether or not I want to suffer in the heat now can I? This country has been cursed with dangerous temperatures this year.
The storm took out about five or six states’ power overnight. This entire section of the country is suffering and it’s not going to get fixed anytime soon for us. Usually we are the last hundred of the state that get their electricity from AEP to have power restored. I wonder how people survived way back when before air conditioning? Especially when ladies wore all those layers and traipsed about like they weren’t sweltering under their hoop skirts and puffy sleeves. I would have died. No, actually I would’ve cut my hair short and dressed like a boy. Forget womanhood, I’m going to stay as cool as possible in this horrible heat!
My room smells of sharpie at the moment because I was doing some creative things to pass the time. I was doing this partly because I was bored - I’ve read most of my books already except for 1984 by George Orwell. I have finally found the inspiration for the whole Big Brother business on Doctor Who, series one with Christopher Eccleston in the episode Bad Wolf. (Actually maybe it was the episode before Bad Wolf…) Or maybe it’s just a weird coincidence that a classic science fiction book and a reboot of a classic science fiction series both have something called Big Brother in it. I’m pretty sure they both used the phrase ‘Big Brother is watching you’ but I don’t really recall.
Ah, well. I won’t trouble myself over it. As soon as the electricity comes back on I’ll Google it and figure it out. The whole idea of 1984 is fascinating however. Really makes you think about how Socialism could destroy the world. I find it funny that when the book was written, in 1949, people were terrified of Socialism. (The smart ones were anyway) Nowadays everyone seems to be turning Socialist. What is this world coming to?
Dear reader, in your opinion, is it strange to shave your arms? My parents think it’s a weird and unnecessary hygiene practice but I on the other hand find that by shaving my arms, I remove the hair that gleams often in the sunlight. It is irritating and not very attractive to have hair on ones arms. Even though my mother has threatened to rip my arms from my sockets if I do it again (Ha! As if), I will continue this practice. During the school year I make sure to shave every single day and shower every day so that I am always clean, I don’t smell (which is another thing, excess hair causes excess sweating which I hate), and I feel more attractive. My parents make a big fuss about how I shouldn’t care what others think, yet they have a cow when I look strange. This came from the same people that spent five thousand dollars on my orthodontia. Is that not a cosmetic alteration of the body?
It took me forever to convince them to let me wear DC skate shoes, skinny jeans, and thick, black eyeliner. Mama complains that I should dress more feminine. Truth be told, I am not a very feminine teen. I am comfortable with my style and it’s what I choose to look like.
The only time anyone ever judged me for what I like to wear was an Amish family that caught sight of me in the Crowtown Wal-Mart and burst out laughing at the sight of me. They gibbered in their strange language which is three or four different languages smushed together. There is no doubt in my mind that they were making fun of me. I’m not prejudice against Amish – I respect their faith – but have they stopped for a moment and looked in a mirror? True, they all look alike for the most part, but they sort of stand out in a crowd don’t they? How am I any different with my strange clothing?
My mom also thinks that wearing skate shoes and yet not being a skater is ridiculous. I beg to differ. I like the look, and I’ve always wanted to learn to skateboard. However, it’s impossible to learn if there are no sidewalks available and the only skateboard you have is broken in the middle and sitting unused in the shed.
I lack the hand-eye coordination to learn anyhow.
I’ve never had much luck with anything physical actually. From sports to dancing, I trip over my own two feet and end up looking like a fool. I danced at a studio for eight years and never really got any better at dancing. I took ballet, tap and jazz lessons. My favorite was tap because I loved the rhythm of it. Over the years, the other girls cast me out and I was left to dance alone in the corner. They picked on me, hurled insults in my general direction, and made sure that no one was my friend. The few that did enjoy my company were those that were strange and different who were cast out as I was. We called ourselves the Outcasts, Krista, Lizabeth, Lindsay and I. Krista and Lindsay stopped dancing a year or two before I did which left just me and Lizabeth. Lizabeth became friends with a girl called Riley. Soon, I was alone once more. Feeling the sting of abandonment, I took my cue to leave. I have never spoken to any of them since. I still keep Krista’s picture on my bulletin board because of all the girls she was truly my friend. We saw each other outside of dance at Crowtown Community Children’s Choir and remained friends until we graduated from the Children’s Choir and never spoke to one another again. My second to last tap dance photo is next to her picture. At that recital we danced to Get Your Head in the Game from High School Musical (I hate that movie but it was a good dance all the same). I still have the customized basketball jersey in my closet.
The very last tap dance was the Austin Powers theme tune. I hated that dance with a passion. Austin Powers? Really? Stupidest movies I’ve ever seen. I attempted to watch fifteen minutes of one until my head threatened to explode from the sheer stupidity. I left the room until my dad was done watching it.
My friend, I dance no more, because of the cruelty of bullies. I have been belittled and looked down upon all my life.
One day this will no longer be so.
- Victoria Glass