Everything Was Fine Until Whatever

More Perfect and Less Idealistic

It was important that we rode the bus like this. Aimlessly. I was turning him into someone I would want to be friends with later when I needed friends. I was steering the conversation into something he could copy later, with me or with others. I was injecting my cynicism, my malleability, my disregard for social skills and physical appearance. I felt like there was no one in the whole world who cared about him as much as I did. I felt like I cared about no one else as much as I cared about him. He was mine momentarily and he was small and perfect, like a smaller more perfect version of myself, and we were in San Francisco and he was talking to me and I was trying really hard to pay attention. I wanted him to be mine and be small and look like me and seem fragile even with his glasses on and he was all of this, even without me.

~ ~ ~

Today is the Worst Day of My Entire Life (I Always Live in the Present)

I have seen actual eggs on the ground on hot days, not frying.

I have seen porta-potties turned over, no big deal.

I read once that a bruise larger than the size of one fourth of one’s body is actually considered a broken bone.

I am considering reading Crime and Punishment for sport.

I am considering starting a Joy Luck Club.

I know Forrest Gump by heart.

I have been to Starbucks on purpose.

I have cut an umbilical cord.

I believe anything if it’s written in Courier 12pt.

I know Home Alone by heart.

I believe that the easiest way to impress someone is by reciting lines from Home Alone spontaneously.

I think there is something really special about Play-doh that has never been handled.

I want to believe in Health Benefits.

I want to believe in Laughter Is The Best Medicine.

I want to ignore the dress code at work.

I want to start saving good text messages onto a zip drive.

I want to start proving complicated philosophical theories by flashing oncoming traffic and mocking celebrities.

I can’t express my feelings fully.

I can’t compete with Wal-Mart’s prices.

I can’t imagine myself in a world without Wal-Mart.

I like kids.

I am embarrassed about my naiveté.

I am embarrassed about certain pairs of my underwear.

I am embarrassed about the dreadlock that’s forming in the back of my hair.

I am embarrassed about my mood sometimes when I’m really moody.

I like the indoors a lot.

I like believing what people tell me.

I like believing that others believe I believe what they tell me.

I think about what others think about me.

I think about people who I have no business thinking about.

I think about my teacher from fourth grade, whose voice was calming.

I feel afraid that I will die while spending time with someone I don’t like.

I feel afraid that I will die while in a state of boredom.

I don’t ever want to die.

I don’t ever want to choreograph a dance routine.

I don’t ever want to be compared to Miley Cyrus.

I have lied several times in the last few minutes.

I have played Mortal Combat and won.

I have played Chinese checkers without knowing the rules.

I have borrowed books and never returned them.

I copy answers when I don’t feel like showing my work.

I design websites to keep track of my hormonal fluctuations.

I design websites to attract potential mates.

I spend money irresponsibly to attract potential mates.

I trick potential mates into buying me alcohol.

I trick potential mates into writing love poems about me.

I might be getting a headache.

I might be watching an episode of Friends.

I might be paying someone else to write this for me.

~ ~ ~

I’d rather have nothing than something that isn’t exactly what I want. — personal philosophy success story.

What the Tabloids are Saying About Me

“Martin looks ugly on Myspace. Doesn’t she realize it?”

“Chealsea Martin gives a shit, we heard. She’s into herself. She uses zit cream.”

“Chelsea Martin is just like Ryan Seacrest only less beautiful, less popular, and less talented.”

“Chelsea Martin is dating Ryan Seacrest, we heard. Or wait, Amy Winehouse is dating him.”

“Amy Winehouse and Chelsea Martin are working on the next great American novel together and they both dumped Ryan Seacrest cos who the fuck is that, even?”

“Chelsea Martin just released her new book about herself. Big surprise.”

“What is Chelsea Martin doing? Dressing weird? Where is her hat? Does she usually wear a hat?”

“Ack! Chelsea Martin did alcohol over the weekend! What was she thinking?!”

“Insider reports they heard Chelsea Martin talking to her current lover on her cell phone about an episode of that Kathy Griffin reality show. Wait, what Kathy Griffin reality show?”

“[Chelsea Martin] was spotted at Church’s Chicken. Onlooker says she took over ten minutes to order one piece of breast meat to go.

Acknowledgments

The author would like to thank Kevin Sampsell, Megan Vrolijk, Brandon Gorrell, Jenn Lawrence, Julee Johnson, River Johnson, Kylie Martin-Johnson, Mike Young, William Schultz and Laurel Gunnarson.

About the Author

Chelsea Martin was born in 1986 and grew up in Clearlake, California and currently lives in Oakland, California. She is a recent graduate of California College of the Arts.

To learn more about Chelsea Martin, visit her website at www.jerkethics.com