• Chapter 2: Joyride of my life

    Do you know what a joyride is? It's a crime. You drive at a very high speed in a stolen car, just for the thrill, just for the chase. Who knows? Behind every behavior there's a motive.
    My life is a joyride.
    The stolen car is my body. The criminals are my thoughts and self. My motives: happiness and desire. My behavior: self-indulgence.
    A joyride. And I am the driver.


    Students start shuffling out of the classroom in a hurry to get in the lunchline quickly. I take my time collecting my stuff. I like to be one the last few out of a classroom, just to see who'd be so kind and thoughtful as to wait for me. And of course, no one ever does. Because everyone is unconsciously so self-absorbed in themselves. Not me, though, I'm the only freak of nature who's always analyzing himself.
    I'm not the only one left in the classroom though. Rina Murray is fumbling with her pencil case. She dropped a pencil and didn't see it. I automatically reached for it.
    "Hey, Rina." I said giving her her pencil back. She looked at me as if she'd just realized she wasn't alone. Her eyes darted around the room frantically. Had I freaked her out that much?
    "Oh thanks." She grabbed her pencil and quickly disappeared. I was officially left alone. I sighed.


    I sat on the floor next to my locker and opened the first notebook I found (History) and began doodling in it. I was really good at drawing unconsciously. Like, you know, when I least care, my drawings turn out cool but when I'm ACTUALLY required to draw something, they all suck. I hate it when that happens. Now, I drew a jazzy cat with dark shades and a saxophone. I smiled. Jazz the Cat. Next to him I drew a mouse with a mohawk and piercings. Rocky the Mouse.
    My thoughts drifted into what it would be like for a cat who's into jazz and a punk mouse. I imagined them living together. The cool cat just wants to relax. The mouse just want to rock out loud. They can't possibly get along. I bet they'd always be fighting. But not fist-fighting. Musical-fighting. The cat would fight with his saxophone, playing deep, mellow songs and the mouse would shred in his guitar, proyecting his rebellious defiance.
    And the cat wants jazz.
    And the mouse wants rock.
    But what they aren't seeing is that, with their fighting, they are creating an extremely unpleasent atmosphere. Loud, ear-shutting rock and terrible, out-of-tune sax. What would the cat and the mouse ever do to be at peace?
    (A) The cat can eat the mouse.
    (B) The mouse can leave.
    (C) The police could just come in with a complaint from the neighbors.
    Either way, could they ever find a peaceful solution to their self-indulgence?

    Self-Indulgence. Self-indulgence. Self-indulgence: the pursuit of own pleasure. Lack of self control in pursuing your own satisfaction. Showing of no self-control. At all.
    Am I self-indulgent? Aren't we all?
    I shook my head as if that's what it took to shake the thought loose. I knew my thoughts were headed in a very depressing direction and I certainly did not want to go there. I closed my notebook and grabbed a nagged a dollar from my wallet. I bought a Snapple and settled back in my warm cozy spot under my locker. I looked both ways down the hall. It was rather busy. Student walking to-and-fro, some lounging in the floor lik emyself. I took a sip from my drink and looked at some of the kids sitting on the floor. Where they like me? Did they too have desires they'd do anything to fulfill. Automatically sex climbed into my mind. I smiled mischievously and I would've looked like an idiot to anyone who was looking. I darted my eyes across the hall one more time. Again, people were too self-absorbed in their lives to give a damn about the sucker analyzing them.