Week 8//Part 2 - Written in the Stars, Two Days Away

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                                                                  April 2nd, 2011

                                                            “Living Conditions”

                                                                             My condo, back in Chicago, my bedroom, around... 6am

Last night came down harder on me than I thought it would. I had a headache like hell for about an hour before I could sleep it off. I did NOT wanna get up this early today, but it's healthy. Or so I'm told by the show on TV with the Doctors telling us how to live our lives like pretentious vegetarians. I dragged myself out of my bed after my alarm clock awakened me from an awesome dream. You say it was about Alex and I'll hurt you. I jumped in the shower while listening to OneRebublic. My shower lasted about 20 minutes before I finally stepped out and got dressed. I continued singing “Everybody Loves Me”, my favorite song from the band, while I put my clothes on. I put on some ripped skinny jeans, a black tank top, my blue flannel over shirt (plaid, of course), and my black, sparkly ankle socks. I rolled my sleeves up as I went downstairs with freshly dried hair and jumped off the last four stairs right on to the floor. I think the WrestleMania vibe has me exited and happy and energetic this morning. It's weird, when I first got up, I was a tired mess that hated the sounds of birds chirping. And now I'm an energetic ball of... well, energy that loves birds and all their faults.

“And you don't have make a sound, they got what you need. What you need. Make you say 'oh my!', feels just like I don't try, look so good I might die. All I know is everybody loves me!” I sang as I poured orange juice in to a glass. “Head down, swayin' to my own sound, flashes in my face now. All I know is everybody loves me! Everybody loves me!”

“Well, I pray the music don't stop 'til turn gray.” Kat continued the song from next to me. I wasn't surprised at first, but once I turned around to actually SEE her, I was surprised. She was wearing a similar outfit to mine, only her skinny jeans were blank and had less rips than mine, her tank top was lime green, she had on a zebra print jacket, and her socks had little stars on them. Pretty similar, but not the same. Why she wasn't wearing shoes even though she only lives one floor down from me? I don't know. The hallways aren't the cleanest things on the planet.

“Um, Kat...?”

“Yeah, Kath?” she asked, smiling.

“How'd you get in?” I asked warily.

“Door was open.” she answered, taking a sip of my orange juice.

“Why are you up this early?”

“Decided to be.”

“Nice. Why are you here?” I asked, taking the glass from her and taking a sip myself.

“Heard you singing. Thought I could maybe... join in?” she said, both of us not taking the serious, blank expressions off our faces. We always had these moments.

“Only if you know the lyrics to Ashley Tisdale.” I said.

“'Guilty Pleasure'?”

“Oh, yeah.” I nodded.

“Oh, you know I do.”

“Then... let's do it.” I said, picking up the remote to the stereo.

10 minutes later.

“I might like changing my disguise to make you happy! Here's my formal invitation, you and me go masquerading! Lose ourselves in this charade and, is this love we're imitating? Do we want what we get? If not I say 'so what?' Here's my formal invitation! Na la la la, you can be my school teacher, mind reader, dream weaver, just be the one of a kind guy that can play that with me.”--we think those were the lyrics, anyway. We forgot the rest of that part; we just danced to the rest--“You wanna try on someone else, you might like seeing how it felt. Do you mind changing your disguise if it makes me happy? Here's my formal invitation, you and me go masquerading! Lose ourselves in this charade and, is this love we're imitating? Do we want what we get? If not I say 'so what?' Here's my formal invitation!” we sang and danced to the stereo. We loved that song. The song ended and we took a breather.

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