Never Let Them Define You

ACQUAINTANCE WITH A BRAIN

Some people say, 'another day, another dollar,' but I say, 'AAAAAAAAH!!' At least, I have recently...what am I doing? That thought; recursive, like a pendulum, just swinging and swangin' in my brain thang. Ugh, uh duh doo-dee-dee-dum dum DUH DAAA. What is my brain doing right now? It feels like soup, sloshing around in my head at nauseum. She sways her head back and forth, feeling her soupy brain jiggling in her head. The human body has too many nerve endings. What am I doing, what am I thinking, what am I saying...nothing, right? Nothing; I'm saying and doing NOTHING!

She throws herself suddenly out of bed, stumbles into balance, then shakes her head and looks around the room. At least it's a weekend, I hate alarms, and mornings...I hate a lot of things. She swings around suddenly to look at the alarm clock. 8:42? Dammit, it'll only be less than 20 minutes until that dancer comes; what was her name? Stacy, yes, Stacy...that would've been awkward. Ha. Ha. Ha...okay, coffee. She swings over to the machine, dumps out the grounds, slams in more, shoves it back in, then yanks a cup, and slides it into place.

She lazily walks over to the couch, then plops down and blinks slowly. Beep, boop, I am overloaded, my capacitor has reached max gegazoots. Her body slowly tilts to the side, which causes her to fall over, then she shrugs, and cozily snuggles up to the cushions. She closes her eyes, smiles, then takes a deep breath, and sighs. So tired...

"Hello?!" shouts someone from the hall.

Her eyes shoot open, she jumps off the couch, and runs to the door but stops before opening it. She goes to the bathroom and shouts, "Just a minute!" She rushes her makeup onto her features, then smiles, frowns, and runs back to the door before swinging it open with a friendly smile. "Sorry about that! I'm a bit of a mess on weekends."

She laughs awkwardly. "Oh, I completely understand! Surprised you even have your makeup on."

"If we're being honest, that's why I had to take a minute."

She laughs more earnestly, then steps into the room, and takes a long gander. "Wow, your place is incredible, and that fireplace..."

She looks at the smooth, almost chalky white bricks making up the design of it. "Simple but effective."

"Definitely; you have good taste."

She walks up to the espresso machine to see that her cup is empty, then makes a puzzled face, and looks sideways at it.

"Something wrong?"

"Um...I prepared coffee, but forgot to actually turn the, uh, machine on."

She giggles, then sits down on the couch. "A mess, huh?"

"A bit." She flicks the switch and joins her on the couch. "So, Stacy, how old are you?"

"Uh, I'm 19."

"Oh, wow, you're young."

"Yeah, but I've been dancing since I was 12, and I've only been doing theater work since I graduated."

"Well, don't worry, I won't hold your age against you; it'll be easier to form new habits. Also, I'm quite young myself."

"How old?"

"I'm 26."

"Well, you're still a decent bit older than me."

"Not by much...time flies."

"You're right about that." She chuckles. "Feels like I just graduated high school at times, hell, sometimes it feels like I'm still a freshman."

She laughs, then clears her throat. "Now, what's your favorite genre?"