Wednesday, April 27, 2011

On the Outside Looking In

My favorite times of the day--any day--are the ones when my mundane schedule is thrown out of its almighty stability. However, if there were no structured schedules, those off-days would seem to be no big deal.

Perhaps that's the draw to sick days in school. Leaving class early, walking down the halls while schoool is going on behind every door, talking to the office lady you would never have known if you were healthy and sitting in class. When I got home from school after being sick, I would love to sit and watch the cartoons that I never got to watch during class. Not that they were good. Heck, most of the time it was Nick Jr. But it wasn't about the quality--it was about being there to witness what your peers couldn't as they sit and listen to a long-drawn out lecture then pack their things and go to their lockers, stop by a friend to say hi, then continue to their next class to listen to another lecture.

The problem with loving this excitement is that it involves a mixture of sponteneity and randomness. I'm writing this because I got done with my Economics class early. Usually I get off right at 9:00 PM and head to Applebee's for trivia night. It was just randomness that led me to the school's Computer Commons. But being spontaneous is a large factor in all this, too. It's almost like being a Yes Man. If someone asks you to go to the movies on a school night, go. Miss your television show. Just tape it. Dinner with the family? Screw it. This movie will never be in the theaters again after a few weeks.

There's just something about going against the lulling flow that lures me to a sense of excitement. I love sitting in hallways or on park benches and watching poeple, I love running into friends at the grocery store then deciding to go get ice cream, I love going home sick or sleeping in and skipping class, I love having random dentist appointments, I love easedropping, I love starting up conversations with people I don't know, I love complimenting people, I love exploring, I love going to the bathroom in the middle of class, I love picking up food orders during work, I love waiting anywhere, I love taking new routes to work or school...

I love looking at my life from an outside perception.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Girl from the Past

So I was working the other night when out of the blue I see this girl from my past walk past my register with a friend. I get this sinking feeling in my stomach and this funny taste in my mouth. Old emotions that I haven't felt toward another person in over a decade come rushing to the front of my brain...right in that good ol' anger button in-between my eyes. It's not just anger though, it's resentment--old jealousy that these days should be void and now just sound petty. Things like: she's prettier than me, she's quicker on her feet, she had more friends than me, she was into boys before I even knew what the draw to them was, and she knew everyone's buttons and how to push them.

All I could do was sit there and quickly pray she didn't come over to my register. It was Good Friday and we were packed. The store was overflowing with children and their parents buying last-minute Easter dresses and suits. Girls buying prom dresses and confirmation dresses. Husbands buying presents for their wives for mother's day. (Side note: Whoever decided putting all these holidays and events so close to each other this year is a jerk and needs to work retail for a week.) What I'm saying is that I was exhausted. There was no way I could even pretend to be decent to this girl...this mean, self-centered girl from my past.

Sure enough, she walks right up to my register. She has this look of fake surprise on her face, melted with a snide smile suggesting smugness. Well, little does she know, I'm the Queen of Masks and I can go from exhausted to helpful and cheerful in a matter of a slightly higher voice and a radiant smile on my face from years of practice. It's difficult, but I muster it. I think to myself, She's nothing. I'm way more confident than I was back then. She doesn't know me. But it's useless. I mold right back to that shy, self-conscious girl I once was.

She asks me where I'm going to school. I tell her the community college I attend and she is quick to add that she went to Western for a semester. She asks me what I'm going into. I tell her I want to teach English to high schoolers--which suddenly sounds weak and too simple. A quote I once read prances in front of my brain saying, "People who go into teaching just do it because they can't think of anything better to do." Great. I look at her. Luckily, she loves one-upping people so she says, "I wanted to be a teacher too, but then I decided to go into nursing." See, she never used to bully me, not physically. It was pointed comments like this that wore me down over time. In one sentence, she degraded my whole life's plans. I resort to my old ways--I stay quiet and just hope she goes away. I hurry through her order and get her out of there as fast as I can. We talk a idly chat a little more, but for the life of me, I can't remember what we said.

These days, my 20 year-old self would have talked about the peace corps and Korea and all the plans I have for helping out all over the world. I would have talked about how my passion grew because of amazing teachers at community college that has teachers straight from four-year colleges making extra dough. I would have been prideful in talking about what I have planned, how happy I am, how much I work, how proud of myself I am.

Why is it that certain people can bring out the worst in you? How is it that I thought I came so far only to be spun around and shown that I'm just the same little girl that I was underneath it? Is that who I am? Can I ever change that. Maybe it's just her. Maybe it's just me. All I know is that if I keep wishing to go back and change that conversation, it will only turn out the same every time. Sometimes it's just like that.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Do Nothing, Enjoy Everything

Well, I'm home with the flu this weekend. At first, everything that could go wrong did. I had to call off from work so that I didn't make any money this weekend. My boyfriend came home for the weekend, but we couldn't even be close on the couch together because I didn't want to get him sick so he actually left early today to go back to school. I have finals coming up and I keep falling asleep instead of studying or doing homework.


Then something awesome happened. For a half an hour, I did nothing. I'm not saying that I just watched television or surfed the web. I mean, there was a long moment where all I did was stare out of my front window (it's true, I was on a lot of meds this morning, but that's way beside the point) and watched the wind blow the tree branches. It was an exceptionally windy day today. The sky would go from dark grey to light grey. It misted on the windows occasionally. I love that spooky movie sound of the wind blowing on the sides of the house. That whistle is so frightening and exciting at the same time. 


I don't remember the last time I was able to just enjoy...being and not worrying about what I have to do or where I have to be. Instead, after waking up from my three hour-long nap, I just sat there in my rocking chair under my body-warm blanket and enjoyed the nature show going on outside. It was probably the most relaxing thing I've done in...well, let's just say a while. 


My challenge for you (with finals coming up and all) is that next time you feel overworked and overwhelmed, just sit down and clear your mind. Concentrate on something outside (things inside usually lead to stress, but outside things are out of your control) and take a good, long stare. Trust me, it will be worth your while. Oh, deep breathing is good, too. 

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Squirrel Guts and Red Pop

My step-grandpa used to always have me sit on his lap when I would eat anything. When I say anything, I mean we would eat squirrels, artichokes on our pizza, salami, flavor-ices, fried chicken, and popcorn. Even as a kid, I hated getting messy and I'd always ask for a napkin. This grandpa would tell me, "Just wipe it on my shirt." I would look at him like he was crazy. What kind of civil adult would let a child wipe their sticky fingers on their own grandpa, for god's sake? He would always answer the same way: "Grandma can always wash it later." 


I loved this and it has stayed with me my whole life. Caring about the little things in life like dirt and buttery popcorn won't do you any good. It's just not worth it, and it can always be fixed somehow anyway. I take this philosophy everywhere and apply it to anything. My class is too hard? Screw it, I'll do my best and that's the best I can do. As it turns out, my best is usually better than I thought. Even if it wasn't, my GPA would lose the most minor of a percentage and life would go on. A coworker is getting on my nerves? So what? I'll just work harder than them and get a raise they'll never get. I chipped a nail? It will grow back. My socks are smelly...well, I should really have that checked out. That actually needs attention. 


Anyway, this idea of shrugging off the little things is a universal cliche, however I learned it through my grandpa and that injects a little more meaning in the words for me. I'm not saying that you shouldn't do anything when bad things happen. I'm saying when bad things happen, freaking out about it won't fix anything. In fact, it's detrimental. Having a calm and collected mind will help you make better decisions about what to do next. What I'm trying to say is that my best advice for anyone in their adolescence, heck, any age, is that if something is holding you down, or pissing you off, or stressing you out, take a second and breathe. Ask yourself if the consequences are really worth you getting upset about. Just wipe your dirty hands on your shirt and forget about it. You'll wash it later. Dirt don't hurt, as it were. 

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Blind, Aggressive Birds

I'm killing time in the Student Center after my class go cancelled. Behind me, a group of students are talking in what can only be secribed as "fighting words." One girl in particular perks my interest.

Her voice radiates among their crowd of peers. Words of gossip, of hardships, of profanity, of passion. There's a rhythm in what she says. Words bounce off each other, even rhyme unintentionally. I could pray to achieve that kind of prose in my writing. It's poetic the way her words flow with a guided beat and structure. She even uses punching alliteration. She puts emphasis on the word "power," making pictures of fists and rebellion soar through my mind. She talks of Belleville and feeling captured. Her friends try to comment, but she's on her soap box, for once having a chance to express herself and to tell her story...and it's beautiful.

My mind only has one thought: This girl needs to write poetry. She would slay in a poetry slam. She is an artist, burdened by her past, made stronger for her future. This saddens me. How many countless others have this ability? This ability to hold people to your every word. This ability to make yourself heard. As the arts are being cut off in school, are we killing the chance girls like this have to become someone who means something, who has something to say? God, I hope not. Girls like should not be silenced.

She's the drum in the movement of change and she doesn't even know it. She just knows that she is imprisoned, and I can see from my seat in the SC that she is being held prisoner by her school, by her city, by her country in a system that doesn't fit her style of learning and growing. She's a blind bird that can only feel she is in a cage. She only knows that she should be soaring. She was meant to fly.

I conclude that everyone is an artist inside. It sounds corny, but maybe we each have an untapped ability like this girl. I need to find a way to utilize and discover the artistry in my future students. If I can do that, I will feel like the world has meaning again. Some people learn through lecture and notes, sure. But girls like this need experiences and situations. They need debate, muses, tools, and context that a traditional classroom could never provide.

She's still preaching behind me. Those beautiful beats and that magnificent flow that could move mountains. If she is ever my student, I will not silence her. I will open her eyes to the good she can do, the people she could change.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Drunk-Like Drivers

Sometimes I wish drivers were drunk just because it saddens me that they can be so stupid. What would possess someone to drive on the shoulder just to pass me then to drive 10 mph under the speed limit? You can't blame it on a cell phone because no one on a cell phone would give a crap if someone was driving the speed limit. You can't blame it on drunkenness because it was 4 PM and well, no one could have been to the bar that early on a Monday. No one else was in the car so you can't blame it on peer pressure. I wouldn't be complaining if it had been any of those things. Instead, this driver was possessed by one of three things: Meanness or carelessness or stupidity. Now that I think about it, perhaps all three. 


I continued at my speed after they got ahead of me. They thought I was tailgating them, when instead I just figured a person who wanted so badly to get ahead of me would want to stay ahead of me. Instead, this jerk slowed down to below the speed limit. What's worse is that they then proceeded to think I was too much on their tail so they actually slammed on their brake. Yes, I'm serious. I actually saw them get on their phone like they were calling the police and then got off on a dirt road like I was the antagonizer. 


I'm not mad about any of that. In fact, I think it's hilarious. I'm just mad that it was for no reason, out of the blue, on the fly. It angers me because I can't understand. I've had this same feeling in my gut before when customers leave a  whole rack of clothing on the floor or they yell at me for things I can't help like installing handicap accessible doors. It's strange, there's never been a point in my life when I thought I was a good driver or a good customer, but lately, if I compare myself to what I see, I really am. 


My biggest dream has always been to read minds. Getting answers to tests, pointing out sarcasm, seeing if I really look fat in those pants...but now I'm thinking I could use it for an even bigger purpose. Maybe I could finally understand the meaning of people's selfishness. It's not like I don't know we're all human. I do. I get it. It just seems too often to be accidental every single day. Some people really should get a life instead of pestering mine.