I'M NOT ADRIFT | Eminem

Odd in a Good Way

I'm scribbling random annotations under the lyrics I've had printed.
Guess who's back, back again.
'Have the set start at Eminem's home, ...'

"I'm thinking a super hero concept, it just makes sense. 'This looks like a job for me' is a classic super hero statement" I mumble, thinking out loud and writing down some notes.

"Yeah I was thinking that too, I was hoping we could incorporate some type of comic book style to the video. I fucking love comic books"
Marshall swears a lot. It's what he's known for, so I don't really care.
It's not technically professional, but he can get away with it in a place like Aftermath.

"Mhm, like little headers during every scene"
I mumble, thinking up a few of them, "and if it's a superhero type video then I think it should be you on a mission of some sort"

"Oh, I can be stopping a kid from listening to one of my CDs, cause like, all these little kids are trying to listen to them, and it can be a good commentary on that..." he suggests, watching me write it down quickly.
He's got a nice jawline...
I like his eyes...
Ugh.

I look back up at him with a generic smile before saying, "we can maybe start with the kid in a grocery store, picking it up and stealing it while his mom is distracted? Maybe for an extra touch the kid and mom can resemble you and your mom, since over the whole album the criticism of your mom as a irresponsible parent is kind of a recurring theme?"

"Shit you come up with this stuff fast" he chuckles, giving me a lopsided, sort of intrigued grin. His face fuzzes out of a second, I blink a few times and it's back to normal.
He raises an eyebrow before I let out an awkward laugh to push past it.

"Well, I guess he hired me for a reason" I giggle awkwardly, writing down the whole child in the grocery store concept.

I feel his eyes stick on my form as I scribble out the notes. I often feel the sensation of someone staring at me even if they're not, so I don't fully trust it anyways. Even if he was, I wouldn't care.

"You can get like a call, like maybe from Dre or something talking about the mission."
When it comes to music video productions, you usually talk plot, them more details of the plot building, like what he would be doing when he got the call, where would he be, that stuff.

"Yeah, yeah... then I could do one of those superhero transformation things" he chuckles softly, thinking of something, "I can be called something really corny... Rap Boy" giggling like a little kid, he points to my notepad eagerly, "write that down"
As if we would forget something as simple as Rap Boy.
Oh well, I laugh and write it down anyways.
His hand comes to mine, grabbing the pencil out from it and snatching my notepad.
I look at him with an awkward expression, not sure if what he did was ok or not.
He starts jotting down vigorously.
I stare at his concentrated face with a cross look on mine.
Maybe the behaviour is normal.
Though it's never happened to me before with other artists. They usually bring their own papers to write on.

He just places the notepad back into my hands and gives me a soft smile.
"Sorry... I thought of something..." he grins, tilting his head slightly.

"Uh- yeah no problem..."
I don't know how I feel around Marshall.
Everything feels extra heavy...
Maybe sexual- I don't know.
I just stare at him and for a moment my brain flashes images of him doing me.
Fuck.
That's a horrible thing to think about.
I'm disgusting.
My eyes widen without any context for him.
The room suddenly feels hot.
His eyebrow raises.
He looks at me weirdly, noticing me just staring at him.
I turn away quickly, imagining myself in the shower, slamming my head against the ceramic wall.
Blood is everywhere.
The dirty thoughts are gone at least.
I feel guilty.
I feel gross.

"Nisha... ya good?"
Well that's bad news.
I don't know how good I feel honestly.
I can't say I'm not though.
Fuck, I'm so aloof...

I flash a subtle lift to the corners of my mouth.
My eyebrows go up and my eyes widen.
Yes I'm good.
I'm so good yet I can't get words out.
All I can think of is the screaming sounds and the sound of bashing.
Tearing flesh.
Choked tears.
They're filled with intention.
I'm doing it to myself.

"Yeah I'm good... just thinking..."
About bashing my head in.
I think about it a lot.

"Mhm..." he hums before chuckling to himself.
What is he thinking?
He can hear my thoughts can't he.
He knows that I thought about him... that way.
He knows.
He can hear it.
He'll tell everyone.
Hell mock me.
No, he can't hear my thoughts.
Maybe he can.
He can... he can...
This is exhausting.
My mind is exhausting.
Unfortunately I never get a break.

"What's up with you now?"
I try to smooth it over. Whatever it is I think needs smoothing over...
I still hear the screaming.
It's kind of hard to formulate thoughts.

"You're just odd... but like in a good way" he grins before biting his lip.
He's really good at maintaining eye contact...
He's reading my thoughts...
He's got nice lips...
Fuck.
No.
Bad.
I'm back to bashing my head against the tile wall.

After that, we went back to conceptualizing, writing, whatever. Whatever. It doesn't matter.
Work.
Yeah.
Work.
Good.

That moment felt like the only resemblance of flirting during the ideas session. It wasn't really even flirting...
But odd...
Being called odd.
Odd is swell.
Odd is lovely.
Odd is everything better than crazy.
Odd is everything that psychotic isn't.
Odd I'd just odd
And in the good way.
In the good way he said...
Odd in the good way, the kind that doesn't implicate psyche wars visits or someone who fully believes others can hear her thoughts.
The kind that doesn't implicate large med doses of anti-psychotics or someone who screams when the voices get too loud.
Odd.
Odd.
Odd.
Hm.

Oh well.
I moved on with my day like any other... only except for being in my thoughts a bit more.
I don't like that...
I don't like it.
I don't ever think of the guys I work with.
I don't know...
Maybe his personality is messing with me.

Well I'm not completely let off the hook of him today.
I'm working on some set concepts when he comes into my office.
"Yo... I was wonderin' if you wanted to maybe go get a bite for dinner and talk more... ideas..?"
Oh.
That's interesting.
He rests up against the door casually and crosses his arms over his chest.
I don't know how to feel about the offer...
I guess it's a good idea from a work perspective.
I've never done this with a client before though...

It couldn't really hurt... all it could end up being is helpful in the process of the project.
It feels a bit personal...
It feels a little strange and out of my comfort zone.
My therapist tells me I should do things out of my comfort zone.
They all say that though.
Cognitive Behavioural Therapy or whatever.
"Uhm," I hesitantly look through my notes, "sure... yeah that sounds productive"
I choose the word productive for a reason.
Something about saying 'good' feels a bit too personal.
Ok.
I guess I'm going to dinner with Marshall.