September 24, 2015

There were about three or four drunk people in the living room while I was simultaneously massaging my clenched jaws and writing code. I was on a cushion with some kind of computer program that narrated my current surroundings a text-based adventure game. “What the fuck is this?” someone asked, pointing at my screen. “What’s what?” I replied. I wasn’t quite sure what the issue was, after all it wasn’t really any of their business. “‘What was once a drink?’ who talks like that?” was their attempt at clarification. I still wasn’t sure what they were blabbering about for I knew for a fact that string of words never appears in my code. I showed them the raw code and attempted to tell them that this is everything that could ever surface when running the program and more, but they seemed to refuse to listen.

I got up to walk to the dining table which was surrounded by glassware in glass shelves and cabinets. I looked at my computer and got an e-mail notifying me I was eligible for financial aid due to something relating to art. However I also needed a physical letter to do anything about it. I thought to myself that it was probably delivered to an old address and not the house that we now resided in. I wanted to show off my program to someone but was unable to run it.

My parents came through the door and my mother asked my brother, “Oh, you brought Clark along?” We started taking family photos not long after as the house was filled with a festive atmosphere. It felt like there was bread stuck in my teeth and I didn’t have a socially appropriate way of picking it out at the time so I tried to get it out with my tongue with little success. Someone told me that I looked “really different on paper”. “Well, photos aren’t real anyways, right?” I added.

My left molar started to crack from the pressure.