Full Frontal Fridge
*This journal entry was based upon an image of a stuffed refrigerator filled with styrofoam boxes.*
Amanda carefully wedged open the refrigerator door being careful not to disturb the mountainous tower of take-out boxes that had slowly consumed her refrigerator. As a business executive she ate out with clients or ordered takeout for the office nightly. Work was so busy, she hardly had time to do or cook anything for herself. Returning from her thoughts, Amanda realized she still needed to eat. She looked through box after box of Chinese takeout and chicken wings until finally settling on a box located vicariously at the bottom of the mound of boxes. She wished her job allowed her more time, she hardly could spend time with friends and family and when she did see them she was so self concious of them seeing her unhealthy and styrofoam laden fridge. She couldn't even remember the last time she had home-cooked a meal. Absentmindedly, she began unpacking the bag of grocerties she had purchased earlier in the day; a box of Poptarts, a 6 pack of cola, and some coffee beans. She decided that she wanted to start making healthier choices in her social and normal life. She would begin with a homecooked meal. At that moment, the telephone rang. It was her boss demanding that she come into work for another late night. She quickly scarfed down a greasy piece of week-old pizza and went back to work.
Playing House
*This journal entry was based upon a picture of the floor layout for the "Bonaire" House.*
Chelsea shuddered as she stepped through the door of the "Bonaire" House. She and Rick were viewing plan number 4 on their day off. They entered the living room which appeared very clean and spacious. It was exactly the kind of room she wanted, with the carpeted floor and thick floral wallpaper. "Rick, I hate this room", Chelsea said suddenly. "Chels, this is the seventh hoom we've looked at, you haven't liked any of them." He replied. In all honestly, Chelsea had liked every single house they had toured, yet she wanted to prolong house-hunting for as long as she could, as she was afraid to live with Rick, her boyfriend of two years. They had met in a nightclub. He had been handsome and polite, they started dating. Chelsea had been the happiest she had ever been for a year. Then things changed. Rick lost his job and became angry and abusive. He often left angry red welts on her skin. Yet she couldn't think of a life without him, and feared that if she left him or said no to him, that he'd hurt her even more. So she began to wear turtlenecks, concealing her bruises to the world, much like she had done today. They walked from the living room, to a narrow hallway and into one of the three bedrooms. It was the master. It had three large windows hidden behind a curtain thick enough to hide her abuse and muffle her screams. "What do you think?" Rick asked, gently hugging Chelsea to him. "I suppose it's fine, but I hate the windows." She replied nonchalantly. They then entered the combined kitchen and dining room, it was huge and perfect for cooking. "This would be a great area to have our friends over in," Rick said. Chelsea knew this was all a show. Rick had friends, the guys who came over each week to watch football. But after the abuse began, Chelsea grew away from all of hers. She couldn't tell them why she always wore long sleeves and why she acted so strangely. She had severed ties with them on Rick's advice, afraid of them discovering her secret. All she had was Rick, one of the main reasons she couldn't leave him. Piercing silence, and then Rick said, "We'll take it. She might not like it, but she doesn't really like anything." He grinned at her from ear to ear. Chelsea's vision blurred as she slumped to the ground.
*This journal entry was based upon an image of a stuffed refrigerator filled with styrofoam boxes.*
Amanda carefully wedged open the refrigerator door being careful not to disturb the mountainous tower of take-out boxes that had slowly consumed her refrigerator. As a business executive she ate out with clients or ordered takeout for the office nightly. Work was so busy, she hardly had time to do or cook anything for herself. Returning from her thoughts, Amanda realized she still needed to eat. She looked through box after box of Chinese takeout and chicken wings until finally settling on a box located vicariously at the bottom of the mound of boxes. She wished her job allowed her more time, she hardly could spend time with friends and family and when she did see them she was so self concious of them seeing her unhealthy and styrofoam laden fridge. She couldn't even remember the last time she had home-cooked a meal. Absentmindedly, she began unpacking the bag of grocerties she had purchased earlier in the day; a box of Poptarts, a 6 pack of cola, and some coffee beans. She decided that she wanted to start making healthier choices in her social and normal life. She would begin with a homecooked meal. At that moment, the telephone rang. It was her boss demanding that she come into work for another late night. She quickly scarfed down a greasy piece of week-old pizza and went back to work.
Playing House
*This journal entry was based upon a picture of the floor layout for the "Bonaire" House.*
Chelsea shuddered as she stepped through the door of the "Bonaire" House. She and Rick were viewing plan number 4 on their day off. They entered the living room which appeared very clean and spacious. It was exactly the kind of room she wanted, with the carpeted floor and thick floral wallpaper. "Rick, I hate this room", Chelsea said suddenly. "Chels, this is the seventh hoom we've looked at, you haven't liked any of them." He replied. In all honestly, Chelsea had liked every single house they had toured, yet she wanted to prolong house-hunting for as long as she could, as she was afraid to live with Rick, her boyfriend of two years. They had met in a nightclub. He had been handsome and polite, they started dating. Chelsea had been the happiest she had ever been for a year. Then things changed. Rick lost his job and became angry and abusive. He often left angry red welts on her skin. Yet she couldn't think of a life without him, and feared that if she left him or said no to him, that he'd hurt her even more. So she began to wear turtlenecks, concealing her bruises to the world, much like she had done today. They walked from the living room, to a narrow hallway and into one of the three bedrooms. It was the master. It had three large windows hidden behind a curtain thick enough to hide her abuse and muffle her screams. "What do you think?" Rick asked, gently hugging Chelsea to him. "I suppose it's fine, but I hate the windows." She replied nonchalantly. They then entered the combined kitchen and dining room, it was huge and perfect for cooking. "This would be a great area to have our friends over in," Rick said. Chelsea knew this was all a show. Rick had friends, the guys who came over each week to watch football. But after the abuse began, Chelsea grew away from all of hers. She couldn't tell them why she always wore long sleeves and why she acted so strangely. She had severed ties with them on Rick's advice, afraid of them discovering her secret. All she had was Rick, one of the main reasons she couldn't leave him. Piercing silence, and then Rick said, "We'll take it. She might not like it, but she doesn't really like anything." He grinned at her from ear to ear. Chelsea's vision blurred as she slumped to the ground.