Monday, March 17, 2003
At the Doc. |7:29 PM|
I was at the doctor's office this afternoon, and saw a relatively typical scene. A teenager growing close to the end of teenager-type years was berating her ever-suffering mother. At first I thought it was a joke (So ridiculously cliched were the barbs the girl spat out), but then realized the girl was very serious, and the mother was actually crying. At this point, the girl was called back by another doctor that works in the same office as mine. (A family therapist? A psychologist? I don't know). The mother continued to quietly weep, and sniffle.
I felt obligated to do something, but I have no training, and who knows what kind of shitstorm I would unleash. By my actions I could fuck up whatever therapy was going on there. I struggled with this idea for a while, I wanted to say "It gets better" to the mom. Goodness knows, when I was a bit younger than that girl I was spewing vile things at my mother. I stopped being psychotic at some point, and things did get better. I wanted to re-assure her, but I couldn't think of a proper way. Besides, she was here for therapy, she was clearly trying to fix whatever it was that was wrong.
I found out pretty fast what the issue was. The mother was called back, and the girl was sent to the waiting room. I was reading some current events magazine, so I had made no effort to engage her in conversation. She asked me if I had a lighter (For the first time in recent memory, I was without a source of fire), and once I told her so, she had to find a new avenue of conversation. She asked me where I worked, and I explained my job. (I went into as little detail as possible, as my job description is lethally boring). Once she found out the name of the company, she began telling me about a friend of hers that worked there. Among his attributes was an IQ of between 160 and 180, was born with a tail, was responsible for Gates' (Bill, I suppose) being incredibly wealthy, and was about to engage in a scheme that would bilk this large company out of great deal of money. When I looked at her in an unusual fashion, she quickly stated that it would only be taking from the big wigs' funds, not the little guys.
From there she lamented this company's oppression of the common man. After finishing that rant, she described acts of random destruction and vandalism that she and her pals had perpetrated, including some against the car of the owner of this large company.
With any luck, she was just delusional. I'm glad I didn't say anything to the mom, her daughter's issues run a bit deeper than I believed at first.
If you're at all curious, I did start to take note of her outfit. A wispy miniskirt, odd sandles, and...what the fuck? A visor upside down and backwards on her head?! Her shirt was transparent in the back, making it clear she was going around bra-less, and the front of it was a highly reflective. It was a shirt to attract the attention of monkeys. Reflective, colorfull, covering her tits.
This was a girl from whom I would want to keep my distance. She left when her mother left, pausing only to introduce herself. With my luck, I'll run into her 3 more times this week.
In other news:
Hygiene challenged jack ass uses goth wannabe for a doorstop.
Film at 11.
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///Say this is the swap from 2001 to 2002, that should close up the 2001 links.
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