totalcurtismove-blog-blog

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task 26 // comfort zone

June 12, 2009

I can’t believe Mom thought this would be a good idea. Georgia fucking sucks. It’s hot and muggy. What the hell was wrong with good ol’ Iowa? I’m already not feeling this. Whoever she met on the internet, this can’t be worth it.

Life fucking sucks. I’m over this already.

June 14, 2009

What the hell just happened?

Mom took me to meet her significant other today. I thought I was ready. Prepared, at least, in the most basic way. Some douche with tattoos and a motorcycle? No problem. All the more motivation to get a job and save up for a bus ticket back to Iowa.

Holy shit, was I wrong.

Mom’s a lesbian? Which is fine. I mean, who cares. If that’s what makes you happy. I kissed a girl on a dare in seventh grade. Whatever.

But how did I not know?

Now, I’m questioning everything. Who is this woman I call my mother? I didn’t know she was online dating. I didn’t know she was into girls. I didn’t know any of this. And this woman she’s seeing, this woman I know nothing about because I zoned out and didn’t pay attention to anything she said after the big revelation... This woman knows my mom better than I do.

I can’t stay here. I can’t stay in this place I don’t like. All my friends are in Iowa. I’m not meant to live in the south. I don’t even like tea.

But how can I go back home when it feels like everything’s been a lie so far?

August 29, 2009

The first day of school sucked. Even with Hope in my lunch, I still feel all alone. These people aren’t my friends. They don’t know anything about me.

I’ve never been so happy to come home in my life.

Wait. Did I just call this place home? With Hope, and her mom, and my mom...

I guess it’s as close as I’ll ever get, right?

December 25, 2009

I never thought I’d figure it out. I never thought I’d fit in here. But guess what? I’m a fucking legend. Sort of. At least... I have friends.

Volleyball, photography for the paper... I’ve been busy. You’ll have to excuse me for not writing. But holy shit, have things gotten different around here.

For example: this is the best Christmas I’ve had in years. The tree looks amazing. Our cookies taste fucking amazing. Even the frosting didn’t get hard all that soon like the past couple years.

I’m so fucking pumped for 2010. I have a feeling it’s gonna be the best new start I’ve ever had. Besides coming to this place.

But it’s kind of like home now. So does that really count?

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“Who?”

“… Charlie, Charlie, are you just some sort of silly hoax to annoy the crap out of everyone?… Knew it.”

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big night out // paragraph

Curtis had lost track of how much time she’d spent in Chicago so far. Was it two weeks? Three? The days slipped by until all she knew was the warmth the air inspired in her veins, the endless search for job after job. (She couldn’t rely on Hope for everything, after all.) And so it was on the first day of June that she stopped in her tracks, midway up the avenue when she realized that she’d been there for as long as she had and that she was still, well--

Lonely.

She put on her best dress for dancing and slipped out of the apartment after a quick dinner that night, Walking up and down the hallway at least three times. Someone in this hallway had to be friend material-- right? Wasn’t that how it had happened in college? The people she happened to get stuck with freshman year happened to be suitable material to share BFF necklaces with? Curtis spun in a circle and closed her eyes, stopping and knocking on the wall as if it was a door. Whoever came--

Well, they called that fate, right?

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Uh... Nope. And nope, I’m not. Sorry.

Um…. Do I even want to know?

Also, I hope you’re not considering a career as a spy.

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I was just trying to sneak over to that shelf right behind you, actually.

Can I help you with something or are you just going to creep at whatever is out there?

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Ask who? D’you think one of the baristas knows?

We should ask them.

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“Just graduated, actually,” Curtis said proudly. “UGA. Photojournalism. I guess you’re studying it?”

“Me neither. I even work at the art museum and I still can’t remember much.” Kelly shrugged, chuckling softly. “Well no shit. So am I. You study it at one of the colleges around here?” 

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“Sounds like my kinda gig.” Curtis pulled out her phone. “D’you have, like, a twitter or something?”

“Hopefully - Aurora, the lead singer, may have gotten us noticed by someone so we’re gonna need to play a show soon. If you’re into pop/rock/punk, then you’ll like us.” 

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“Paratoxity,” Curtis repeated with a nod. “Badass. Are you guys playing sometime soon?”

Noah was surprised by her reaction, but grinned nonetheless. It was cool to have people react like that, because usually they would seem put-off. “Paratoxity.”

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“Prodigies, I guess,” Curtis shrugged. “Wait-- you just finished, too? Where? What’d you study?”

She moved over to look at the link and tilted her head in confusion. “Yeah, I just finished school too, but this makes no sense to me. I guess children can be artists now.” She shook her head.

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“A sad attempt,” Curtis giggled. “Not my taste. Not even close.”

“I guess that depends on your taste in art…if you can call it that.” He squinted his eyes at it once more before smirking at her. “What do you think?”

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“Could be any of them.” She extended her hand. “I’m Curtis.”

I’m not sure, I was hoping you’d know.

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Most shit doesn’t make for a good night’s sleep anymore, if you think about it too hard.

Yeah, true. But just think of all the freelance photographers out there trying to get their work accepted.

Something like that, yeah. Actually, I would say that’s pretty accurate. Sketchy clients don’t make for a good night’s sleep.

So in other words, the world is your oyster. That’s sounds very exciting. I guess the real question is, what do you want to do? Is it really that hard to find? I figured newspapers would rather pay freelance photographers as opposed to having someone on salary.

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Good question.

I ask myself if they know they have a butt on their caffe’s wall.

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You think you’re intimidating?

Pretty sure if I were an NBA player I wouldn’t need a body guard. I’d intimidate everyone with my height and they’d know to keep their distance.

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“Not as much as I wish I did. I’m, uh, more of a photography gal.” Curtis motioned to the camera hanging around her neck with a sheepish grin.

“Ah, see, that would make sense. Probably one of the college students around here. You know much about art?”