The Evidence of a Cold

Trying to make a preemptive strike on my cold during the weekend, I stayed in bed all day. The contents of my nightstand are evidence of that day in bed:

Scriptures and school books piled on top of each other
The receipt from my absentee ballot
Bobby pins and my name tag from work the day before
An empty mug
A half eaten bowl of Thai take-out
And a mountain of Kleenex threatening to swallow everything else up in its growing mass

Make-believe

When I was young I didn’t read very much. I didn’t need to. I could go anywhere and be anything I wanted. It was only when I got older that I needed books to help me imagine. Although I outgrew the make believe freedom, I don’t think I ever outgrew the desire to do it.

It’s a miracle that studying English hasn’t killed that. Always trying to understand what the words and stories mean, hasn’t stolen their magical quality. I re-read Peter Pan for a class today. I understand it at a whole new level, but I still love it. It still speaks to me. Maybe that is because I am very much like the bitter narrator. The one who sees everything: the beauty and the faults. Somehow that reality is a much more appealing thing to imagine than the make believe of my childhood.

Social ineptitude

You know that moment when you are walking and you look up and see someone you kind of know. Not really well, but definitely someone that you recognize and they recognize you. In that moment, you have a choice: you can stop and say hi and ask how they're doing, you can smile and/or wave to acknowledge that yes you recognize them, or you can pretend you didn't see them and keep walking. These three reactions, define general social interaction. The really bubbly, friends with everyone people react the first way, normal people the second, and the socially inept with the third.

Sometimes I think people think I'm a snob, because most of the time, I don't know what to do, so I do nothing. I just pretend I didn't see them, and move on. But the truth is, I'm just awkward. It's easier. I don't have to deal with how they react to me or what they read into by me stopping or smiling. I don't know why I don't take these opportunities. I love people. I just struggle with all the in-between people. I do really well in professional settings. I do really well with my closest friends. But all the people between those two categories, I spend half the time I'm with them figuring out how to treat them. It's uncomfortable, and not fun, and very very awkward. Am I the only one? Anyone else feel this way sometimes?

Found: Adorable Kitten

I discovered one of my weaknesses yesterday. I love animals. I was walking home from work when I encountered a kitten sitting in the middle of the crosswalk. Of course I didn't want any cars to run it over so I gently picked it up and took it to the other side of the road. I put it down and attempted to walk away. It followed me. I picked it back up and walked it over to campus again, thinking it was one of the feral cats that live there. I put it back down. It followed me.

At this point. I completely gave in. It was way too clean and content to be held to be feral and there weren't any homes in the area likely to have a cat. So I took it home. I couldn't just abandon it to find its home alone. I am a sucker. Living at school I had forgotten how much of an animal person I am. I'm not really a cat lady type. No cat calendars for me. But when there's a cat or dog in my home, I love having them around. So yeah, I saved a cat yesterday. I fed it tuna and it hung out with me as I did homework in our hammock, and I put up signs to find its owner. I am a contributing member of society!

Thank you Peter from writing class

We had just finished editing each other's resumes and cover letters and were discussing the daunting subject of post-graduation plans. It was at the end of our short discussion at the top of the JFSB stairs that I happened to state my dilemma, a dilemma I've been struggling with for the past six months and hadn't been able to articulate. My problem is that I have too many interests. I would be happy going into academia. I would be happy going into law. I would be happy going into business. I would be happy working with a non-profit. And I would be happy teaching high school.

This dilemma has been troubling and frustrating and stifling me all summer, but upon hearing it Peter simply stated, "Well isn't that a great problem to have. If you know you'll be happy in all of those fields, then you know whatever decision you make you'll be happy." Wow, it was really that easy the entire time. Granted, I still haven't made a decision. But now I realize that I should chill out because whatever happens it's going to be alright and I'll be happy. So thank you Peter from writing class, I really needed that reality check. 

First day of school

It's one of my last first days of school. Such a strange feeling. I've only been a student for almost 80% of my life, you know? When you take into account that I don't remember very much from the other 20%, which all occurs before the age of 5, that becomes even more significant.The first day of school was always such an exciting and nervous day. It was fun to see all of my friends and meet the new teachers. There was a lot of thought and often some shopping put into the first day outfit. And somehow everything felt fresh, probably nothing to do with the crispening autumn air. Definitely not in Vegas, where that crisp autumn air was only a figment of your imagination supplied by plenty of teen high school movies.

Maybe I've just done this too often, maybe it's due to the fact that I've stayed here all summer, but this year I don't really have the same excitement. I'm just tired. However, I think this semester is going to be good for me. I think I need more direction and incentive to complete my goals. I think having the variety of a lot of different classes will be better than just working with the same people all day every day. And I think I'll be happy, because school usually makes me happy.

I think the reason first days are so exciting, iconic, important... to us is that they are new beginnings, and as humans we love new beginnings. For instance, today I put on my ring. A ring I haven't worn all summer for a random and insignificant reason. But today when I saw it, I put it back on. Why? I don't know. Somehow I'm prepared to switch up my life today in ways that I wasn't yesterday. And I guess for that reason alone, the first day of class is a good thing. It's a day to make us braver and more adventurous and bolder and anything else we've wanted to be. So even though this is one of my last firsts when it comes to the school year. I hope I find more new beginnings, because I think as humans we need them to grow and progress and BECOME.

Memories of Chico

Chico is a town in Northern California known for its party university, but known to me as the place where Grandma and Grandpa live. In my memory it is the place of a big backyard, three pianos, and a swimming pool with a slide. I went back to Chico for the first time in ten years just a few weeks ago. I did see my grandparents during those 10 years, just not in Chico.

It was fun going back. Everything was exactly the same in my Grandmother's house, just lower down on the wall than I remember. Like the duck clock in the guest bathroom and the cupboard of cereal. It's strange how life goes on, and we change so much, but some things are so much the same. And maybe it's just my memories that infuse the present with that sameness, but either way, I think the nostalgia is healthy. As long as we can move forward into the present.

Grandpa

My grandfather likes to come off a little gruff sometimes, but he’s always been one of the most supportive people in my life. I remember as a child going over to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for Sunday dinner. My grandfather patiently taught me how to play chess, and even let me win occasionally. To this day, I think of him when I see a chess board. Especially the small wood ones that can fold in half and store the pieces inside, just like the one we always used. Grandpa Jerry is the definition of a homebody, but whenever there was a birthday or a graduation or a holiday he always made sure he was there. By example, he taught me that family is important, and you make sure you are there for the important moment.

He also taught me that when you care about someone, you help them any way you can. I have seen him offer spare bedrooms to grandchildren that needed a place to stay for a while, pick up my brother from school every day for months, and take me out driving the day before my driving test just because I was nervous and wanted some extra practice. I’m sure I drove through an entire tank of gas practicing for that test, but he never said anything. He just let me drive around in his car and took me to lunch afterwards.

Ever since I was a little girl, we would run up to Grandpa’s front door, ring the bell and wait. After a few second we would hear him coming and he would put on a rough voice and say, “We don’t want any.” Maybe someone will read this and think, children don’t understand this kind of teasing. But we did. We would always laugh and say, “It’s us” and he would open the door and give us a big hug. Somehow even as a child I knew that “We don’t want any” meant “I love you.”

Comfortable in your own skin

 As I sit on my couch trying to think of what to write about I stare blankly at the wall. My heads aching from a head cold and I'm feeling uninspired. But through the fog of head ache and un-inspiration I can hear my roommate pack her bags. She's about to embark on an epic adventure. But really, it's Brazilianly epic. As she packs, she is singing softly to some music playing lightly on her computer, not really caring how it sounds. I always feel like that's a sign of comfort; when I start singing, not to be heard, but because I was thinking about a song and I wanted to make it into sound. That means I'm happy. It means I'm comfortable with the people I'm around. It means I'm confident in who I am in that moment.

I remember the last time I caught myself singing like that. Somehow, dishes are the most organic time for comfort singing. Maybe that's why I've come to like doing dishes. Because it's a task you can often do with other people. And often the comfort singing is very linked to the people I'm with. People that I love and trust completely. Somehow, the singing is my subconscious was of saying "You make me happy. I love you." It's funny how the littlest things, can mean the most.