It all started with scrambled eggs

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I wonder if this city is a little too strange for a small town girl. My day began with a dream: I was sitting at the table back home and my mother was scooping scrambled eggs on to my plate. Seems like a normal experience, except for the fact that my mother is not maternal. As long as I can remember, I have taken care of her. I cooked. I cleaned. I paid her taxes. I consoled her after a bad date. That’s why I had to get out.

Trying to forget the dream, I headed to my Sunny Side Up breakfast shift. Usually, the constant need for something to get done (wait on table 4, take this to table 6, wipe down the bar, clean up the kid’s mess at table 1, take out the trash, ect), allows me to forget whatever craziness. Today, it left me swimming in confusion. This girl came in and asked if I had ever thought about an underground crime organization. I thought I was a badass for having a fake. Then, she called my charitable giving to the Nigerian Prince a scam and left a diamond as payment!

To dull the anxiety, I practically ran to Joe’s, not, of course, stumbling on Main’s famous pothole. An older lady who introduced herself as Luna helped me up, but instead of asking me if I was okay, she studied my hands and exclaimed, “Failing a class is the least of your worries in the coming week.” Immediately, questions swirled in my head: How does she know about my academic struggles? What is going to happen this week?

These questions added another reason to get blinding drunk. Unfortunately, I was on my first drink when Cameron stormed over and demanded I return my fake. I broke his 10 mile rule and could not handle the responsibilities that accompany alcohol. Luna was right. Who cares about grades when you are void of ability to make friends?

Deciding to quit for the night, I sulked home. To make matters worse, my voice mail informed me that my mother would be "poppin' in" sometime this week. Leave it to Mom to "pop in" at the least convenient time without any concern for anyone but herself. 

How long can I pretend to do this?

Lucia Jayne

Troy, a Nigerian Prince, and my Inspiration Collide in a Bar

Dear Diary,

Ever since I received my fake ID, I have made an effort to use it at least four times a week. Though it has been great for my social status, my grades are beginning to suffer. After an entire weekend that I can't seem to remember, I walked into my literature class only to learn that I missed that deadline for a paper that I forgot to turn-in, or start for that matter. To avoid failing, I am now required to attend a creative writing class.

I was anxious to walk into a room without knowing anyone without the crutch of alcohol, so when I saw Troy enter the class, I was ecstatic. From the moment the professor opened his mouth, he could not get a full sentence out. We don't hit the five minute mark before Troy hijacks the class and negates everything the professor had said. However unconventional his outburst was, one statement stuck. "If you try to find inspiration, you will fail. You have to let inspiration find you. You know? Just like a watched pot never boils, a search for inspiration never succeeds."

The class was dismissed as soon as Troy stormed out, but the comment rattled around my brain for hours. Am I trying to find inspiration where there is none? Is my life uninspired? I couldn't take it anymore, so I retreated to Joe's. It was there that I received an email from a man in need. This will be my inspiration. I will help this Nigerian prince who has found himself in a storm of bad luck.

Thank you Troy. Thank you Nigerian prince.
I have found my inspiration.

Lucia Jayne

"I'm Afraid I Just Blue Myself"

Dear Diary,

I never thought a Tobias Funke quote would be applicable to my life. I was wrong. When the senior home is forced to evacuate due to a massive amount of spilled blue liquid while you are leading BINGO, if you fall, the only thing you can say to save face is, "I'm afraid I just blue myself." Taylor, the other girl volunteering, laughed and asked if I wanted to grab a drink at the end of the shift. That fake I.D. paid off.

As Taylor and I turned the corner onto Main, we noticed new blue graffiti that read, "YESU IS A KIDNAPPER AND IF YOU WANT TO SEE, GO TO APARTMENT 413." If New York is the city that never sleeps, I think I found the city that never has a normal, mundane day.

Joe's was packed. The blue liquid seemed to make people feel young, unencumbered by time or money. Taylor and I bumped into Tyler at the bar, and I was reminded of the night that I met my first Dreamwood friend on the roof. He still complained about the city, but his gloom had lessened since I last saw him.

Tyler's presence made Taylor a little skittish, but she relaxed with each shot. At 2:30 and shot number 10, it was time to go home. Tyler and I helped Taylor stumble up to the third floor, which was all I remember until waking up with a blinding headache in Tyler's apartment. I was pleasantly surprised by his breakfast invitation and joined him at Sunny Side Up for Flo's hangover cure: eggs, toast, coffee, and lots and lots of water.

This city is growing on me,
Lucia Jayne

Bonfires and Fake IDs

Dear Diary,

I think that I have been fairly successful in my quest for putting myself out there, but I can only do it in one-on-one situations. Inserting myself into groups feels like intruding. Without bringing something to the table, I am simply mooching off of their stories, their laughs, their fun. Yesterday, I happened upon a solution. Alcohol. In class, murmurs of the weekend's best shenanigans always include ample amounts of alcohol.

I contacted the campus ID dealer, Cameron to give him my height, weight, eye color, and upfront payment. Due to Dreamwood's crime crackdown, he insisted on meeting in a discreet location, even though we both live in Dreamwood Terrace. My directions were to come towards the smoke on Robin's Row at 6:15.

The night was eerily dark and quiet, appropriate for illegal activity in the abandoned warehouse district. Cameron's face was shaded by the flames of a bonfire. I reached over the small fire for the card, but he refused to hand it to me until I agreed to his rules. I was not to tell anyone where I got the ID or use it within ten miles of the city.

Finally, I will have something to bring.

Party on?
Lucia Jayne

I think I'm gonna be alright tonight_Apt. 1C

Dear Diary,

I swear, three people came in between 2 and 5:30. Vonnegut helped fill the empty space until I looked up, and the man staring at me said, "And death put down his book". Before I could form a sensible response, the speed-dating crew barged in. Their stench of loneliness and nervous sweat took me back home to the memories of helping Mom get ready for her loser dates. Fearing a life of isolation, a ran out after the strange man. Troy agreed to accompany me to the bowling tournament after my shift.

Loneliness can kiss my ass,
Lucia Jayne

Goodnight Friend

Dear Diary,

It's 5:30 in the morning, and I haven't slept in 48 hours.

After pulling an all-nighter to finish my lit paper and working a double at Sunny Side Up, my optimistic attitude New Years resolution has become exponentially more difficult to keep. I just wanted to roll my eyes and flick off the world. But, there's still hope of making friends here. So, when someone walks in to the diner, I spout the required greeting, "How can I sunny up your day today, sir or ma'am?" with a smile.

The unusually balmy day inspired me to go for a walk down Dreamwood Ave when the never-ending shift was done. I wandered into Frank's Bookstore. There was a guy selling a how-to book for making friends. Now, $10.62 dollars poorer, I read the first chapter entitled, "They Can't Be Your Friends If They Don't Know You Exist". Sleep called my name, but the city's buzz about a roof top party tonight to watch the meteor shower seemed like the perfect chance to let people know I exist.

The flu shrunk the party to a get-together, probably good since crowds make me nervous. I met a bunch of my neighbors, and got to know Tyler Jacobs. He seems like a cool guy, and like me, seems to be disappointed by this place. My wish on that first shooting star worked. I think I just made my first friend in this place!

I don't have to work today, so I anticipate a 24 hour hibernation.
Goodnight, or good morning.
Whatever,
Lucia Jayne

Welcome to Day 1

Dear Diary,

Today, December 17, I got off the train at the Dreamwood stop. I brushed the hair out of my face and followed the directions to City Community College. It's not the best school or the best area or the best city, but it's cheap. And that's what I need. Like the town, today was dreary and grey, but I am determined to make the best of the situation.

Because City doesn't have dormitories, they said that I could get a deal at Dreamwood Terrace. They gave me my key to 1C. The apartment comes furnished with a bed, a couch, a dresser, and a desk, so all I had to do was unpack my suitcase of clothes, make my bed, and put up my posters. I heard a knock on the door. I was surprised since I have moved away from everyone I know. It was the landlord, Fred, and his goose, Phred, to welcome me to the building and let me know that the $400 rent is due on the 7th of each month.

With that, I went out to find a job. Two steps out of my building, I saw a "Help Wanted" sign in the Sunny Side Up diner. Flo, the older woman at the counter, explained that she has worked at the diner with her husband for the last 40 years, but now, she's looking for someone to work part time. Perfect.

I was exhausted from my trip and the start of my new life. All I wanted was to go home and binge Netflix for hours. As soon as I walked into my room, the power went off. 7:02 and nothing to do except finish my diary and sleep.

Well, that's it.
Goodnight,
Lucia Jayne