Intro

I walked closer to the house as I surveyed the landscape.  Well, my first impression of the place wasn't too great.  The landscaping needs some work, it's just so plain looking.  But that's not my job, interior designing is!

If you haven't figured it out already, this isn't my house, but it's a house of my newest client, Ms. Rodrigis.  As I said,  I am an interior designer.  So there's a saying: it's what's on the inside that counts.  Yes, I'll give ya that that is true in an idealistic world, but what it comes down to is appearance.  Sure there are some people that look underneath it all to get to know the true person, but what it boils down to, is you're first judged by your appearance and then your inerds.  

Hi, my name is TJ Evans and I'm an albino.  Alright, my real name is Terrence John Evans, but I don't want anyone to call me that ever.  Anyway, I don't like to talk about my condition with random people on the streets since it's obvious, but I have to make it clear of my condition.  People judge me by it all the time.  Like I was saying earlier, you are first judged by your appearance.  People always first judge me badly because I'm so white...the sun isn't my best friend.  I really should just dye my hair (at least then I'd be halfway to normal), but I think it would look shocking against my pale skin.  I always wear a hat since that's a natural way to bring color to the top half of my body.

So I went up to the door and rung the bell.  I shouldn't be late if I can help it.  I don't want her first impression of me to be any worse than it's already going to be.  As I waited by the door, I braced myself for the reaction that I always get.

First, they say nothing and awkwardly look me up and down after shifting their stance.  Then they get this disgusted look on their face, and finally look embarrassed with themselves for making such a face.  Sometimes they mention how I look, other times not.  Either way it doesn't matter.  I'm doomed to make shocking first impressions.  I can't walk on the streets without someone staring at me rudely.

When she answered the door, before greeting me she gave me this up and down look (nothing new).  But then she put her hand over her face and shook it, so once she took away her hand, she was smiling.  Now that was a new one.

"Oh, um, welcome to my home, Mr. Evans."  Her tone was friendly and professional and didn't suggest at all that she acted rudely to me in the beginning.  In my experience, it's easier for people to hide the alarmed tone in their voice than the surprise in their eyes.

"Thank you, Ms. Rodrigis.  So you said you wanted me to give your living room a makeover?"

She shifted her weight and motioned her way to the living room.

"Yes, this is my living room.  It's lifeless and boring, I want a makeover with some color, but nothing too intense.  I want it to scream suave and sophisticated but also fun and cheery.  Are you up to it?"

I nodded confidently.

"Good, thank you.  When will you start working on it?"

"I'll start to find some furniture today-do you have any opinions on that?"

"Oh, um...I want something slightly modern, but not anything that screams in your face 'this is modern', just something fresh that you wouldn't see in most homes..."

"I'll see what I can do."

So, I know that I'm an interior designer, and if I were a philosopher, that would be like saying 'I focus on the inerds in my life', in a way that's true.  I keep my appearance as decent as possible, but when you're super pale you can only do so much.  So I try to focus more on my inerds just like I do when I design the insides of houses.  But it's too bad that the outside is where everyone judges you first.

Since I was done, I went outside to wait for my sister.  I know it's lame and all, but I'm twenty four years old and I don't even own a car.  I got out of college not too long ago and I'm working to pay off its bills.  But lucky for me, I didn't have to live in a dump like most people after college.  My sister Trisha let me live with her.  She has a fair amount of cash, so I'm a lucky guy.  I help her with her bills as much as I can, and on top of that and my college bills, so I haven't been able to afford a car.  But, Trisha offers to drive me where I need to go until a further time.  Her work schedule is rather open.

Soon we made it home to our-more like her-house.  She has been able to afford a rather nice home the few years that she's been working.

So, my sister's real name is Patricia, but everyone calls her Trisha.  If you called her Pat or Patty, she would give you a disgusted look.  Trust me, you don't want to see her disgusted look.

She has been working at Rosa's Beauty Salon for a while now, and I've always thought her hair was so perfect for the job.  I still don't know how she gets it to stand up like that.

For her job, she styles people's hairs and gives them makeovers.  In a way, her job is similar to mine in that she drastically changes something for the better.  She has wanted to fix my hair up and says that my beanie is so tacky-or, how she says it- 'oh my gosh Teej, your coif is so uncool.  Come on, let Tish give you a makeover!"  Tish is about the only person that calls herself that, though I have heard many of her abundant friends call her that before, but usually it's used in a mocking way.

Trisha is my only friend since she's the only one that has been able to over look my appearance.  Sure sometimes she banters about it with me, but it's all in good fun.  No one else does it in good fun.  When we were younger, we didn't have the best relationship, but it has grown and changed.  Adulthood changes a lot of things.

I went up to my bedroom and contemplated turning on the television.  I wasn't sure if I was feeling like it, really I should just go to Marlow's Furniture Warehouse, but there is no rush.  Ms. Rodrigis is a loose customer, meaning she doesn't want it done on a specific date.  Waiting a few hours won't change anything.

I glanced at my favorite painting in my room.  On first site, it just looks like a bunch of colored blobs.  This painting is just as misunderstood as I am.  Maybe the blobs signify something else-I know I shouldn't just be known as 'the albino dude'.  Really, it's not cool.

If only I were born without this condition, my life would be drastically different.

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What do you guys think of it so far?  Also, if anyone's interested, I just set up a thread for this story.