Nnekay.com

So I don’t like birds.

I like quails, and artistic renderings of owls… but that’s about it.

I would never… ever… in a million years want to cuddle with a bird. That would be a horror show. I don’t even want to touch one. In fact, anything with more than ten feathers gives me the willies. If some freaky almighty power told me that I could never be in contact with a bird again, I’d be fine with that… in fact this almighty power would be granted awesome points and I might even consider worship.

Okay so, I’m not as loony as I just let on… I’m not about to go on Montell or Tyra and lament about my absurd fear along with the man who’s afraid of pickle jars, and the woman who scared of Ruben Sandwiches.

I just don’t like birds. They’re freaky.

All of their features seem to have come out of left field. Fur and hair are similar. If you don’t lotion enough, skin can resemble scales… but feathers and beaks… what the hell? Feathers are like fluffy leaves… birds are descendant from reptiles…so it’s like a lizard covered in fluffy leaf like things… that’s gross. Beaks? Nasty ass hard lips that extent into a sharp point, and can be used as a weapon… that sounds like a demon! Some of these hard lips have teeth! Ack! Some beaks are bigger than the head on a few of these flying freak shows. Can you even imagine a bird without a beak?! Can you imagine a bird without it’s beaks and feathers?!?!?!? ahhhhhhh!

So obviously, I can whip myself up into a tizzy about how unnatural birds are. On a day to day basis, I don’t really mind them. Especially, if it’s just one… and it’s a healthy little one. BUT… my disdain of birds grow into a fear when there are more than ten clustered together. In fact, I don’t really like it when anything is clustered together…full elevators…no thanks. Yet, birds seem to enjoy being squeezed up next to each other. Weirdos. Aren’t they afraid they might beak each other in the eye or something.

uck…beady little cold eyes…

If a bird is sick, or hurt… forget it… I’m walking a huuuuuge circle away from that scary thing. Bird Flu- hello?! Birds are no good for humanity.  When a pigeon is healthy it can be kinda cute with it’s iridescent feathers and the way it cocks its head to the side all stupid like. BUT- when a pigeon is dirty, sick, and missing a leg- good god that thing is the ugliest mongoloid creature dwelling in the city.

so anyway, I don’t like birds… in fact this disklike stems from a fear of dead birds.

Which I’m saving for my July 2009 appearance on The Tyra Show.

Mumblers- They will never look you in the eye and you will never understand them *note- they usually smell bad and have dirty glasses * 

Ladies Men- dress sharp for cheesy forty-year olds, not afraid to wink, and learn your name… might say weird creepy things like, “so pretty… so proud” - which will at first catch you off guard, then later give you the heeby geebies.

Bag Ladies- self explanatory

Bums- pigeon like people who cluster in the corners of the building, fall asleep and snore easily, always have weird food crumbles on their face, some are happy and some are angry- none are ever in between.

The Uppity Woman- looks normal, will sneak in mean comments about you and your abilities with a smile.

The Wanderer- pants usually hang low, mouth is definitely open or in a weird half-smile- always looks elsewhere and always moving in long slow steps.

 The High School Skipper- If you are cutting class, why the hell are you in the library?! Go smoke some pot and play video games…

The Talker- They assume every crazy-ass bizarro thought is awesome and you need to know… even when you roll your eyes, sigh comically, don’t look at them, and even start conversations with other people…they will still keep talking to you. If you try to respond… they will talk over you.

Old People- I’m just gonna come out and say it-  all old people are crazy. If they were an insane young person… then they are probably two times the crazy, because insanity never cancels out… just increases.

le sigh…

Today has been one never-ending ball of crazy… luckily things have mellowed down a bit, but just the mere action of me mentioning that it’s mellow might jack things up, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

This is how my day has gone thus far:

4:30am- Why the fuck am I watching Youtube Videos?

8:30am- ARGuhaahgh… I have to literally peel my eyeball open, flop my rag-doll body up a try to function.

10am- Got to the library, poured some coffee in me, and now I’m actually apart of the living world. First phone call of the day:

“magazine and newspaper department”

“Hello… I was wondering if you could help me figure out the largest city in the world and the population?”

“Okay…,” I look it up… first of all I don’t know if he means population or square feet, and honestly he sounds kinda crazy so I don’t bother to ask… I look up the most populous city “Mumbai, India- 11 million or 13 million given what source you look at”

“no, that can’t be right… I’m looking at the 1974 encyclopedia and it says Shanghai- 16 million” At this point- I can’t believe I’m having this conversation… There were just TOO MANY THINGS WRONG WITH HIS STATEMENT.

“Sir, it’s 2008.”

“I know that.”

“okay… well… have a good day” I hang up. Just as I start to tell my co-worker about the nut-job on the phone, Bag Lady Jones comes walkn’ in, waddles her way to the desk, looks deep into our eyes and says,

“They fixed the window in the house, you know… the house made by Native Americans… that good they fixed the window for the Native Americans.”

Um.

Luckily she wanders off mumbling about the “Native Americans” and I sit back and sigh. Couple more crazy phone calls and one itchy homeless dude later- i get to go to lunch. My sweet sanctuary of freedom from the loonies. I have to be careful, tho. If I go anywhere in the surrounding neighborhood, they’ll find me and say weird dumb things to me. Here are some examples of the past

1. walking across the street- leery man who learned my name “Don’t you belong in the library, Nnekay… what are you doing outside?!”

2. late at night going to a bar with friends- homeless regular lurking in the shadows “keep up the good work at the library!”

3. downtown eating a hot dog, passerby- “hey… aren’t you that librarian lady?”

GOOD GOD CAN’T THE CRAZIES LEAVE ME ALONE!

So, I’ve taken to driving across town to go get fries and eating it my car… sad. Today is a different story… I’m fed up, no more hiding! I hop in my car and drive to a nearby area to get some chinese food. As I stare out the window and eat my fried rice, a crazy man (granted not a library patron… but crazy all the same) catches my eye (damnit! always… ALWAYS avoid eye contact with crazies) and proceeds to come inside. I have my headphones on, so I pretend I have no idea that he’s trying to talk to me, then he gets in my vision and waves. I sigh really loudly, take off one headphone and say (while rolling my eyes), “what?”

“lemme get some of that food your eating.” then he winks.

sweet jesus.

He’s not homeless, so apparently this is his way of hitting on me.

“no.”

“why not?”

“i’m eating it.”

“what are you eating?”

“fried rice and sweet and sour pork.”

“is it good?”

“yea, I’m sorry but I’m on my lunch break and I really want to just relax and have some time to myself,”

“where do you work?” Oh my god! At this point I want to cry.

“the library, but seriously I just want to be left alone.”

“okay, i got some over due books I’ll come check you then.”

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

He then proceeds to sit behind me and bore holes in the back of my head with his eyes. I eat really fast and grumpily go back to my car.

I think the smell of insane has affixed itself to my clothes from working in the damn library… because I’m a straight up magnet now.

I heart Coffee.

I really do. Even though it makes my breath stale, my teeth yellow, and when I don’t drink it… that bitch of a beverage gives me a headache.

Oh, do I love it though.

I am not a morning person. In fact I despise people who say that they’re morning people… they say it with pride, like it’s a special gift or something, “oh yes, I waxed my car, went shopping, reorganized my cds, and gave little Veronica a manicure all before 9am. Why? Oh, I’m a Morning Person.”

fuuuuuck you.

I’m a night owl… meaning my brain comes awake around 5 pm, this doesn’t mean that I’m walking around in a haze until then… I’m just not as active. I get more creative and I tend to get more stuff done at night. I’ve always been this way too… as a little kid I spent most of my nights, either staring at the ceiling, reading a book with a flashlight, or visualizing freaky ass clothing heap creatures (night owl + active imagination = scary childhood).

Yet, night owls aren’t seen in the happy shiny light morning people are seen in. If I were to say, “Oh yes, I reorganized my photo albums, washed my car, and baked a cake all after8 pm.” I’m not seen as a hero. I’m seen as some weirdo meth addicted vampire. Usually that statement is met with a, “What’s wrong with you?!”

So, to this I respond with coffee. It shakes off that morning glaze and kicks my brain into gear, so I can function with the rest of the world. It’s kind of a zombie function, but it works.

I love coffee.

So here we are- the mid point of February.

This is the make it or break it point for New Year’s resolutions. About 1% of the population started to take part in their resolutions on Jan. 2nd (because you know, everyone is hung over on the 1st)… actually come to think of it, people who stick to their resolutions probably aren’t wasted on New Year’s… I wouldn’t be surprised if this 1% spent the last day of 2007 quietly contemplating global warming, reading bible scripture or saving baby elks.

The rest of us wastoids fall into two separate groups:

Group 1: Started the resolution with gusto on Jan. 2nd, started to falter on the 5th, now are excepting that 2008 will be just as lousy as 2007, and will wait it out till 2009 to start exercising or whatever generic resolution they promised themselves.

Group 2: Had great ideas for 2008. At the end of 2007, these people dreamed up many magical situations where they would metamorphose into these beautiful and cultured butterflies. But now-Mid-February- they’ve realized that learning french is harder than expected, they have no artistic talent, and well… drinking booze is fun. Yet, in the back of these people’s minds, there is that small little glimmer of hope that maybe one day…

In the past, I’ve definitely been group 1- but this year…well, I’m group 2- by  A LOT. Through out November- December 2007 I kept chanting “yea, man… 2008, that’s going to be the year…”. I had just finished school, so I was going to start making paper flowers to hone my paper artisan skills, I was going to become well versed in literature, lastly- learn and master the accordion I bought on a whim. My dream was to have a bunch of friends over, then in the middle of a casual conversation excuse myself then reappear with a beautiful Italian/french ditty which would conclude with wild applause.

So I started each one of these dreams…and one by one each one has gone by the wayside.

Mostly, I blame this on the iPhone.

My awesome father bought me an iPhone, after much pleading, bargaining, and prodding ( I know, I know- very mature for a 25 year old). This incredible gift was the combination of Christmas-Birthday-Graduation… so somehow I got it in my head that it would be a “deal” for him to get me this one gift. *side note - he got me a birthday present anyway, which consisted of beer glasses and heat up curlers- which was almost as tight as the iPhone- due to the surprise factor and how perfect those two items are for me.* So this iPhone dominated my life- infact it still does but the appeal is starting to wane. When a friend of mine received the iPhone in mid-2007- he said he had to take a day off from work, because he just wanted to fiddle with it. At the time I thought he was insane… I mean it’s cool, but really can it be THAT cool?

yes.

I found myself checking my iPhone Internet while sitting next to my computer, watching youtube videos of Prince till 3 in the morning, writing memos to myself, and creating events just to use my calendar function (Jan. 12th- wake up.), all the while my accordion sat in the dark corners of my room collecting dust. Sometimes I would emerge from my iPhone stupor look at my accordion or my paper flower kit- sigh, then get back to picking out a ringtone for my incoming text messages.

Soon the shine of the iPhone faded and I rediscovered my grandiose resolutions… I picked up my accordion and instead of the beautiful and haunting sounds I so expected- out came a tumble of fart like rumbles coupled with some nasally squawks. Soon, after much stumbling I discovered I could make my friend’s conversations more interesting by  making “tah-dah” and “wahh-wahhh” noises after things they said- which lead to me figuring out how to play the beginning of a Black Sabbath song (Iron Man… just in case you were interested).

Needless to say, this isn’t how I envisioned my accordion career… I was slowly veering away from Amelie and heading towards Weird Al territory fast. Scared by this prospect I put down the accordion and started to make paper flowers. So far I’ve made two. A friend of mine called it old lady-ish… but then again this is a friend who watches Local Town Hall Meeting on Television- why did I capitalize that phrase? During the construction of these two flowers, the living room became a disaster zone of paper, glue, and wires. The result was a pretty magnolia the size of my head…which I’m still wondering what to do with. There’s a thin line in paper flower construction- cross that line and you got a room full of brick-a-bracks and you look like a no life loony. Someday I know I’ll go through this phase- but I’m just not sure now is the time.

 All in all, I know for a fact I will return to the accordion and my paper flowers through out the remainder of 2008, only to move on to something else more random (clogging is not beneath me) in 2009.

Valentine’s day is stupid.

Well, it wasn’t stupid when I was a little kid. In fact, most holidays weren’t idiotic when I was a kid, except for saint Patrick’s day- pinching was dumb then and still is now. I’m sure if I was that kid that got one sad little half hearted valentine in my decorated paper bag taped to back of my seat I probably would have hated V-Day back then too, but no… my bag was always over flowing. I would wait till I got home and sit in my room and carefully open each one, read  the little sweet nothings (happy valentime’s day Ennkey!) and savor each rock hard conversation heart. My mom usually bought me something cute and I could expect a fun card in the mail from my far away family members. What was there not to love about this holiday?!

ahhhh… those where the days.

Once I hit middle school I was bombarded with the lovely Valentine’s Day dance… where I sat on the side line and watched other couples get nasty on the dance floor. I secretly wished for a dance with the crush of the moment- who either was a 12 year old bandana wearing thug or the class clown who called me “forehead” and made me cry at night. How tragic and awkward that time was. People who claim to have had a good three years during middle school- must be indebted to the devil.

When I finally got a boyfriend… the “holiday” was still stupid… nothing is worse then finding out that on that day your boyfriend doesn’t have any cash, so you’re gonna have to pay, he doesn’t like the present you gave him, and damn… he forgot your flowers at home. Sweet Sixteen my asshole. To top it off I worked in hallmark, the epicenter of all thing pink and red. I wanted to rip the heads off of all those idiotic singing stuffed animals. And shove them down the throat of all the women who were buying a valentine’s day card for each day of the month for their “special guy”.

Not all valentine’s days in my life has been bad. I’ve had two pretty good ones. Yet, the holiday still feels forced. It’s nice that there is a holiday to remind you to say your “i love yous” to the family, friends, and partners in your life… but shouldn’t that be everyday.

So here I am on V-Day eve, alone yet again, but that’s fine, because I really don’t need the unnecessary complications of a holiday which has brought me 80% grief since I entered puberty. I think I’ll just sit back with a box of rock hard conversation hearts, read the card my mom sent me and savory the simplicity of when the holiday meant the world to me.