Chpt. 2 - Do I Know You?
Monday, March 31
Trichotillomania - The compulsive urge to pull out and sometimes even consume one’s own hair.
I always forget that one. I’ve got all the eating and dissociative disorders memorized, but I always mix up the impulse-driven ones. How long have I been studying anyway? Wasn’t there a study that said not to spend more than two hours studying at a time?
I realize my left arm has fallen asleep, so I grab hold of it with my other one so I can check my watch. 5 AM.
Well, I suppose seven hours is close enough. I think it's time for a break.
I extend my leg across the room to the door, pulling the rest of my body over to it and taking special care to step over the door stopper I’ve stubbed my toe on countless times. I open the door to my right and step into the long, empty corridor of my apartment that’s greeted me more times than my own sister.
As usual, the hallway’s a starving void of blackness, so I have to make sure that that one closet door isn’t open in the middle of it by holding my arms out like the Frankenstein monster. Fortunately, it’s not, so I can make it to the bathroom this time without grumbling like a muffled vacuum cleaner. I have class in about an hour and a half, but I still have to brush my teeth before going to bed because I’m fanatical like that.
I fumble for the light switch for a good three seconds before I manage to flip it on. Luckily, my bathroom’s legendary and trademarked "50/50 Light" goes in my favor, and the light bulb’s fluorescent glow lights up the room.
After adjusting my eyes to the light, I stagger over to the sink in a comatose stupor. My current sleep schedule isn’t exactly helping my performance in class, but if I don’t remember everything there is to know about psychology, Dr. Stellar isn’t going to let me pass this semester.
I grab my toothpaste from the medicine cabinet with my hand that’s about as asleep as I am and reach for my toothbrush with the other. However, before I can reach either of them, something catches my eye on the bathroom floor.
I gaze down in some sort of lethargic horror, and the sight in front of me makes my eyes grow ten times their normal size and pop out of my head. Of all my body’s involuntary reactions, that one is by far my least favorite. It makes my vision blurry for a good minute, and the accompanying trumpet-like sound effect isn't exactly easy on the ears.
My eyes slowly shrink back to normal size as I come to terms with the spectacle on the floor, though I’d probably be looking at it with two fireballs right about now if not for my potassium deficiency. The sight not only wakes up my left arm but makes it slap me across the face to confirm I'm not just dreaming. Sadly, I'm still awake, and what I'm looking at is very real. It's a sight that any normal human being would find discomforting, and I am certainly no exception.
My toothbrush has been knocked onto the bathroom floor.
Considering how I’m always so careful with the placement of my toothbrush, I can only imagine that my friendly neighborhood roommate is the one responsible. Ah yes, my roommate. My daily dose of vitamin maniac and the single most mindboggling creature I’ll ever encounter. He replaces the word "human" in "human being" with an exasperated sigh. If I ever wrote a book called "The Life with My Roommate", it would only ever pass as a work of fiction. He has more quirks than a hedge maze, and he makes about as much sense as that statement. Essentially, living with him tends to feel like I’m playing a game with no rules, and I can safely say that game is one that’s somewhat painful and incredibly confusing. Anyway, I’m getting off topic here. My toothbrush is on the floor, and I’m distraught about it.
It's not that I mind filth. Falling into mud, spilling ketchup on my shoes, eating mud and ketchup off my shoes so I don’t have to waste time cleaning them, none of these things bother me.
No, the main problem is that I am not a gambler. One could say I don’t like taking risks, but "not a gambler" sounds less wimpy, so let’s go with that. That being said, using a toothbrush that’s made contact with a bathroom floor is quite possibly the biggest gamble one can take while on a college campus, probably a bit more than becoming a pledge.
I mean, sleepy? I can deal with it. Confused? I’ll figure it out. Sick? Not happening. Not with my work schedule.
I walk over to the trash bin and shove the toothbrush into it with as much anger as I can muster at this hour, so basically I just let it fall out of my hand. And, yes, now I’m sure it’s apparently obvious and obviously apparent why this situation is such a tragedy. I am now faced with an unavoidable dilemma that leaves me with only one possible solution: I have to head out right now and buy a new toothbrush.
Normally, I have a spare toothbrush in case I ever need it, and then I have another one. However, one of my roommate’s many quirks is his infatuation with the color green, and it just so happened, in a short-sighted move on my part, both of my spares happened to be that color. He confused them for his own about a month ago, and once they went into his mouth there was no way I’d find them in mine again. Did I mention he uses two toothbrushes at a time to brush his teeth? As I said, like a game with no rules.
As surprising as it might seem, I actually haven’t had the time to pick up a spare toothbrush since then. It’s just something I planned to handle eventually, and now, it's eventually.
I don’t feel quite up to the task of going all the way down the stairs right now, so I head back to my room and grab my umbrella and my favorite mallet. I don't go anywhere without my favorite mallet. I stick my hand out my bedroom window to see what the weather’s like, and the air feels fairly warm, much to my delight. I open my umbrella and make sure I've got both my wallet and my mallet securely in my hammerspace before jumping out.
I float down the seven stories to the dark streets of the early morning below and land softly on the concrete path next to my apartment building.
Like most people, I much prefer taking an umbrella down to just jumping without one. However, unlike most people, it’s not really the few seconds of pain from crashing into the unforgiving pavement that bother me. Really, I just don’t like being forced to deal with the shrill whistling noise from the falling, the swarm of circling birds over my head from the landing, or my eyes spinning around wildly in an asynchronous fashion from the recovery. It’s all just…too noisy for me.
I put my umbrella away and start walking down the sidewalk. As I head to the local convenience store for my dental apparatus, I decide to pass the time with one of my favorite pastimes: thinking. If my life is toast, then thinking is my jam. It really doesn’t matter what the subject is. I could spend hours thinking about protractors, contractors, subtractors, or even regular tractors. There’s nothing more enjoyable than running a mental marathon and seeing where it takes me. Something about the way the human mind works fascinates me beyond my understanding, and I could spend hours daydreaming about just that by accident. In fact, I have.
However, for the moment, I decide to reflect upon the current background music that’s playing this morning. It’s an enjoyable, serene melody, perfect for the silent, solitary atmosphere of the setting. The piano and saxophone blend together to add an almost jazzy feel to the area, and the volume of the drums doesn't overpower the melody like it often does when it’s still dark.
Normally, between all the talking, beeping, zapping, screeching, kabooming and the rest of life’s everyday noises, I never really get the chance to appreciate the BGM, so it’s nice to take a moment to really enjoy it while I can.
Ten minutes of the calming tune pass by, and I actually get so caught up in it that I almost walk right past my destination. I bring my body to a halt mid-step as I realize where I am, causing the screeching sound of suddenly stopping to resonate down the silent streets.
I stumble in through the store’s entrance, making the little bell ring as the door hits against it. The BGM reduces in volume as I enter, an ominous sign that abruptly reminds me of the impending horrors that are about to occur. I quickly make my way to the back of the store and locate my desired tooth-related item. I grab it off the shelf as my heart rate starts increasing to the point where I have to hold it steady in my chest with my other hand. I take a deep breath and try in vain to calm myself down as I prepare myself to engage in an activity I despise more than any other.
"Will that be all for you, sir?" the clerk asks as I place the single toothbrush on the counter.
Right as her question springs forth, my inhibitions seize control of my body and a false smile enthusiastically jumps onto my face. If I had anything intelligent to say before, it certainly doesn’t show as I mumble a quiet "mmhm" in response.
I've never met this particular clerk before, so her intro theme starts playing at full volume right after she opens her mouth. It's a vibrant, almost chaotic melody befitting someone who loves talking and laughter more than anything.
Give me a break.
All that I can think to do is confirm her question without accidentally triggering a conversation between us, particularly one about my purchase. Of course, she has no one else to talk to at this hour, so she starts one anyway for that exact reason.
"I see you forgot to brush last night. Pull an all-nighter?" she asks with a small chuckle.
Even with the additional irritability from my lack of sleep, I keep smiling and chuckle in a similar manner to how she did, silently wishing the scanner would hurry up and recognize that barcode already.
"It's for a test, isn't it? What's the subject?" she asks as the scanner finally makes the correct beeping sound to indicate it knows she's scanning a toothbrush.
Great, a straightforward question that I have to answer without looking like an antisocial gobstopper. Can’t I just buy a toothbrush without having to go through a private interview?
"Psychology," I reply in a cheerful tone that doesn't at all reflect how tired or anxious I feel.
I’m not even up to this kind of stuff when I’m fully animated. I don’t even know how I can keep it up now. I’m surprised I can still keep my involuntary smile going.
She nods in response to my answer, and her expression appears to indicate that what I just said apparently had some interest value, but not enough to ask a follow-up question. "So, you need a bag for this?" she asks, almost laughing at the notion.
I just shake my head and quietly respond, "No, thanks." I continue hoping that she catches on that I don’t want to actually be here right now or at least that I don’t make good conversation.
"So, you’re interested in that kind of psycho stuff?" she asks as she leans forward on the counter.
Oh no, this is bad. Now she’s holding my toothbrush hostage, and any attempts I make to leave will just come across as rude. Worse yet, she just got into a comfortable position. She’s planning to make this a lengthy discussion!
"I’ll say I am," I reply with a slightly louder chuckle than before. "It’s my major."
I have to take control of this conversation. If her intro theme's any indication, she could talk for as long as I could think about retinal disparity. I'm not standing here for twelve weeks!
"Ooh, a psych major," she says as she shakes my toothbrush in my face. "I actually don’t know too many of those."
Wonderful, now she’s tantalizing me with my own purchase. I have to end this now.
"Well, I guess I better get back home so I can get rested up for that test," I say, trying not to sound too eager to leave despite everything I'm thinking.
If she feels bad for keeping me here, she won't keep talking to me. I can use that to my advantage.
"When is it?" she asks, finally handing over my toothbrush.
"An hour," I reply in a bittersweet tone as I earnestly yank the object out of her hands.
An exclamation mark pops out of her head accompanied by its typical trumpet blast, and she responds with a newfound sense of urgency, "Well, my goodness, man, why are you wasting your time buying a toothbrush? You better get home and get some sleep while you still can!"
"I’ll try," I call out, already at the exit. "Oh, thank you!" I add as I hold up my toothbrush on the way out.
"Go!" she orders, pointing at me in a manner that’s too jovial to be serious.
The BGM picks back up as I head back out into the serenity of the night with my new toothbrush in hand, both relieved and proud that I managed to get through that conversation as quickly as I did. I’m sure if that had kept going, I would have imagined a thought bubble of me repeatedly clubbing myself with my mallet. That would have been embarrassing.
As I walk, I realize that I seem to be getting more exhausted by the second. The air in front of me starts to look opaque like I’m walking through some sort of liquid. I figure that if I’m starting to hallucinate, I need sleep now more than ever. I rub my eyes to clear up my vision as I move through the barely lit streets of the a.m. and back to my apartment complex.
By the time I get back, I have about forty-five minutes to get to sleep, so I quickly pull out my umbrella, float back up to my room, and rush straight back to my bathroom, slamming straight into the closet door that’s now wide open in the middle of the hallway. Much to my annoyance, the impact is strong enough to summon those irritating miniature birds to start flying over my head.
Okay, let me see if I can deduce this one. My roommate, who has been asleep since ten o’clock last night, decided to suddenly wake up sometime between 5:00 and 5:49, come out into the abyss of our hallway, open the closet door for some undisclosed reason, and then return to bed, forgetting to return the closet door to its initial position in the process.
My roommate, ladies and gentlemen. I swear, sometimes it’s like I’m living with a cartoon character. If I have to put up with this kind lunacy for another two years, I’m going to develop some trichotillomania.
…
Well, how about that? I finally memorized that one.
I shoo off the birds hovering above me, but it takes until I get off the ground before their incessant chirping finally stops. Times like these make me really wish I was born with stars for my daze halo like my mom and sister. That’s genetics for you, I guess.
I close the closet door and make my way to the bathroom. I take another spin at the old 50/50 Light, and, naturally, I’m left in the dark to brush my teeth. It’s only when I finish brushing my teeth that I realize I forgot to buy a spare.
You know what? I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I’m tired of everything.
I lurch back into my room, fall onto my bed, almost melting into the covers at this point, and have a nice peaceful rest…for about thirty-eight minutes.