My college has a gym that is free for students. We swipe our IDs when we enter, then we can exchange our ID temporarily for a key to a locker, or for equipment for different things in the gym. Usually, I get a locker and then go to the ellipticals, or maybe the track.
My brother drove up to visit me this weekend. This is because my dorm forced me to buy a meal plan and I have alot of extra meals and money that can only be used on campus before the end of the semester, and I need help using it up. So he drove up. Unfortunately the county was under a tornado and flood watch the whole time, but we still had fun. One thing I wanted to do while he was here was play racquetball. I have never played, but I know that Dustin does, and I know that the gym has courts. So I called and reserved a court for Friday evening.
First of all, when I get there, it costs ten dollars to get a guest pass on the day they arrive. I voiced my opinion that such a thing was ridiculous. Why didn't I get any free tickets? At Dustin's school, guests were free. Ten dollars? Oh well, we give in. We go and claim the court, but the desk doesn't have any extra rackets. They say wait until the hour, when people usually exchange racquets. We walk around, we look in all 7 courts at the racquets, and we watch people as they leave. Most people have their own racquets, and we calculate that if the school owns any racquets, it must be the two bright yellow ones belonging to the people on court 1, leaving us to conclude that for six courts, the gym owns two racquets. Ridiculous. So, 15 minutes into our reservation, the yellow racquets are returned, and we go play racquetball.
Racquetball is like tennis, only not on an open court. Tennis involves only a court. Racquetball has four walls and a ceiling. It's very echo-y and difficult to hear, but very fun. Dustin, of course, beat me easily, but I was still learning and getting the hang of how to hit the ball, the rules, and certain things like when to run forward, when to let it bounce, when to use the back wall, etc. I did better as time passed.
Now, the next day, we wanted to play again, and with Judy since she had expressed interest in the game. I considered buying a racquet at Walmart with Dustin earlier that day, but we decided to save money and continued on our adventures in the dark, cloudy day. We went to little shopping stores, looked around, and just killed time. We called to reserve a court at four, but they were full, so we reserved one at five. At five we walked to the gym. This time, Dustin brought his own racket. The weather was still dark, cloudy, and windy. As we go to enter, I say that Dustin has a guest pass, because I was under the opinion they lasted a week, which was the only way I could jsutify in my mind having to pay ten dollars. No, I had to pay another ten dollars to get Dustin inside the gym. We decided to wait and be certain we could even get rackets first. Judy asked. They had none. We waited a few minutes, and saw two people returning the yellow rackets. Judy went, but not fast enough; two other girls claimed the yellow rackets.
Dustin and I were fairly positive that they only had two rackets, but I asked, where the woman assured me that I should wait, they owned at least ten rackets. I returned to my friends. Ten minutes later, I went back and asked. She asked the other girl at the desk, who said they only had two. I rolled my eyes. She apologized. I cancelled my reservation, frustrated, and exited the gym.
As we walked out, the rain began to fall, but lightly enough that it was bearable. I had brought an umbrella, but nobody else had, though Dustin and Judy decided to brave the weather. Ten feet into the rain, it began to pour, and they jumped back under the overhang. We waited, then began to walk again, only to have it pour again halfway through the journey. Dustin and Judy were soaked.
Back at my dorm, Dustin laughingly brought up something he said once over the summer, when work had gone terribly because the pool had been shut down, residents were acting up, the weather had gone bad, and basically Murphy's law had played out in full effect: "Today is a terrible, terrible day." As he had said it, we had burst into laughter at how so many things could go wrong in one day. When he said it again after the walk back from the gym, we laughed again.
Though I am still disappointed in the gym, I am glad that at least Dustin helped me to laugh it off. And I'm going to buy my own racket.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Observation Hours.
As any education major will tell you, a good amount of time each semester is spent volunteering in a classroom. The schedule is designed so that you always are in some class that requires between 10 and 15 hours doing some form of work with students. Sometimes, the teachers sign you out a bit early and cut you some slack. This semester, I happen to be in two such classes. For one of these classes, I spend my Tuesday afternoons in a middle school reading class. For the other, I was assigned--halfway through the semester--to a high school mathematics class. So, I decided to spend the next three fridays in this class to make sure I complete all the hours.
Now, somehow I had yet to volunteer in this school, even though it is a fairly well-known high school in these here parts. So, not knowing my way around the school, I left my room bright and early, early enough that I could get an iced coffee from McDonald's to assure that I was awake. Now, McDonald's iced coffees are addicting. Unfortunately, they have no real recipe, so the tastiness of the beverage is solely dependent on the maker of the drink. Sometimes you get a bitter barely flavored drink, other times you basically are drinking caramel milk (I always get caramel, though Leah prefers vanilla and Daniel hazelnut.) However, this morning the drink was made wonderfully, and I was quite content as I drove around the school to find the gravel lot where interns parked.
Now, trying to find the main office is the next big problem. Some schools have signs pointing visitors in all the right directions. Other schools just expect that everyone will obviously now where to go. In such cases, I don't like to ask the students, because I suspect that they will only lead me astray. I mistrust high school students, they don't seem like kind-hearted souls that would look out for my best interest. But being left with no choice, I asked a student with a bathroom pass where the main office was, and he escorted me there quite well. I suppose any detour from class was welcome to him. My opinion of students helping me find my way was forever changed, I now know that they are more than welcome to take me to my destination before accomplishing their own tasks. However, I also realize that this is not in the best interest of their educations, so I will try harder to never get lost on school campuses.
Eventually I found the teacher's room (314, which she cleverly decimaled into 3.14, like pi, those math nerds) and get settled in the back of the room with two other interns from my class that had been also assigned this teacher. We talked some, we took the Algebra I test with the class (I can still factor quadratics, what now?) We discussed the weather, as the sky was cloudy and suggested rain (Floridians can predict that weather) and when it would start. I then checked my cell phone, discovering that I had a text message from the college alert system, meant to tell us of criminals and dangers on campus. It warned me of dangerous weather, which the darkening skies and pouring rain only reinforced. I showed the text to my fellow interns. Then the principal came on the intercom and told nobody to leave for lunch, which would be extended needed, the students parked in the lowest parking lot immediately move their cars to higher ground, and that a tornado watch was in effect just south of us. All this on the day before their spring break.
The other two interns left at lunch, and I was escorted to the room where all the mathematics education teachers ate their lunch. Knowing that I might not be able to drive off for lunch, I had packed a granola bar, cheerios, carrots, and applesauce. Quite a fitting lunch. I sat in a chair and listened to the math teachers discuss their lives. I was given a brownie with the rest of them. I didn't participate much in conversation, but was very interested in what they said. I felt... oddly at home. I never realized how much teachers talk about students.
The bell rang. The weather was clearing and the next class started, but the electricity went out. On top of everything else that was happening, the power went out and the students were taking their test by cloudy skylight and the emergency light on the wall, rather unhappily. One student tried to sharpen his pencil, onyl to find that the electric sharpener was in no way working. Eventually everyone adjusted. Then the lights returned, shocking everyone. Then the lights went back out for another extended period of time. Then they returned The power just couldn't make up its mind. I took out Of Mice and Men and decided to pass the time reading since I had taken the test last period and now had nobody to whom to talk. It's a wonderful, though sad, book, which I suggest everyone read.
Then, I asked the teacher where the bathroom was, to which she gave me a key and directions. I entered the student bathroom, then used my key in the locked door to the left of the entrance, and gasped in amazement. The room had two cushioned chairs, a table with a tablecloth, a sink, and some sort of dresser. It was also very decorated. When I returned, I commented on my surprise, to which she replied, "Yes, we have our own bathroom. We prefer not to use the student's bathroom, lots of STDs going around," to which I sat in stunned silence.
I look forward to being a teacher.
Now, somehow I had yet to volunteer in this school, even though it is a fairly well-known high school in these here parts. So, not knowing my way around the school, I left my room bright and early, early enough that I could get an iced coffee from McDonald's to assure that I was awake. Now, McDonald's iced coffees are addicting. Unfortunately, they have no real recipe, so the tastiness of the beverage is solely dependent on the maker of the drink. Sometimes you get a bitter barely flavored drink, other times you basically are drinking caramel milk (I always get caramel, though Leah prefers vanilla and Daniel hazelnut.) However, this morning the drink was made wonderfully, and I was quite content as I drove around the school to find the gravel lot where interns parked.
Now, trying to find the main office is the next big problem. Some schools have signs pointing visitors in all the right directions. Other schools just expect that everyone will obviously now where to go. In such cases, I don't like to ask the students, because I suspect that they will only lead me astray. I mistrust high school students, they don't seem like kind-hearted souls that would look out for my best interest. But being left with no choice, I asked a student with a bathroom pass where the main office was, and he escorted me there quite well. I suppose any detour from class was welcome to him. My opinion of students helping me find my way was forever changed, I now know that they are more than welcome to take me to my destination before accomplishing their own tasks. However, I also realize that this is not in the best interest of their educations, so I will try harder to never get lost on school campuses.
Eventually I found the teacher's room (314, which she cleverly decimaled into 3.14, like pi, those math nerds) and get settled in the back of the room with two other interns from my class that had been also assigned this teacher. We talked some, we took the Algebra I test with the class (I can still factor quadratics, what now?) We discussed the weather, as the sky was cloudy and suggested rain (Floridians can predict that weather) and when it would start. I then checked my cell phone, discovering that I had a text message from the college alert system, meant to tell us of criminals and dangers on campus. It warned me of dangerous weather, which the darkening skies and pouring rain only reinforced. I showed the text to my fellow interns. Then the principal came on the intercom and told nobody to leave for lunch, which would be extended needed, the students parked in the lowest parking lot immediately move their cars to higher ground, and that a tornado watch was in effect just south of us. All this on the day before their spring break.
The other two interns left at lunch, and I was escorted to the room where all the mathematics education teachers ate their lunch. Knowing that I might not be able to drive off for lunch, I had packed a granola bar, cheerios, carrots, and applesauce. Quite a fitting lunch. I sat in a chair and listened to the math teachers discuss their lives. I was given a brownie with the rest of them. I didn't participate much in conversation, but was very interested in what they said. I felt... oddly at home. I never realized how much teachers talk about students.
The bell rang. The weather was clearing and the next class started, but the electricity went out. On top of everything else that was happening, the power went out and the students were taking their test by cloudy skylight and the emergency light on the wall, rather unhappily. One student tried to sharpen his pencil, onyl to find that the electric sharpener was in no way working. Eventually everyone adjusted. Then the lights returned, shocking everyone. Then the lights went back out for another extended period of time. Then they returned The power just couldn't make up its mind. I took out Of Mice and Men and decided to pass the time reading since I had taken the test last period and now had nobody to whom to talk. It's a wonderful, though sad, book, which I suggest everyone read.
Then, I asked the teacher where the bathroom was, to which she gave me a key and directions. I entered the student bathroom, then used my key in the locked door to the left of the entrance, and gasped in amazement. The room had two cushioned chairs, a table with a tablecloth, a sink, and some sort of dresser. It was also very decorated. When I returned, I commented on my surprise, to which she replied, "Yes, we have our own bathroom. We prefer not to use the student's bathroom, lots of STDs going around," to which I sat in stunned silence.
I look forward to being a teacher.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Car Rides.
I feel as though my life is full of nothing but constant driving. This actually may hold some truth. Last weekend I drove two hours to visit my sister. Before that was spring break, full of alot of driving all over the place. In an attempt to conceal my whereabouts, which is probably ridiculous because I'm pretty sure there are more than enough clues all over this blog, it's difficult for me to talk about driving without giving this away, but here we go.
So. I live four hours from home and two hours from my siblings. Four hours from friends at other colleges. Whenever I drive, though, there are many ways to pass the time. When I'm alone, I usually always play music from my iPod. Weather permitting, I roll the windows down, crank up the volume, and sing as loudly as my heart desires. While driving, I calculate how long it will be until I reach my destination, or at least the exit for whatever interstate I may be on at the moment. I do this by a long, roundabout equation. For example.
"I just passed mile marker 297. I need to get off at 237. That's 60 miles. I'm going 80 mph. 60/80 is 3/4. 3/4 of an hour is 75% is 45 minutes. I will get off my exit in 45 minutes. It's 5:30 now, so at 6:15 I'll be at the exit, and it's 20 minutes from that to campus. I'll be at campus at 6:35." I update this train of thought every 5 minutes or so, with the mile markers that are easily divisible by my current speed. Anything more than that and I don't feel like putting in the effort. I'm a promising math major.
I told this to Leah. Leah said, "When I drive, I think, I wonder what's in that town? I wonder what's in that town? to every exit I pass. And Google Maps told me when I'd be back." That sounded like another wonderful way to pass the time. Maybe one day Leah and I can take a car trip and actually stop at every exit. We will get to see what is in every town, which will always be the gas stations, fast food joints, and hotels that line the roads that are near the interstate ramps.
Speaking of car trips with other people and not alone, I occasionally am not alone in the car. Like on spring break, when it was Leah, Daniel, Daniel, and me. Now, these car rides are different. Usually it starts out with alot of excitement. There are epic conversations, suggestions for music, laughing, joking around, and a general good time. Then, the energy begins to die as the minutes pass. Leah and I begin to sing in harmony to different songs we choose. Eventually, though, all falls silent. Everyone is out of music to play or things to say. People sleep or begin to work independently on different things. This seems to happen on all group trips that last over an hour. Then we stop for dinner, after which everyone is alive for a little more. If not, as soon as we get near the destination, everyone stirs back to life, and little by little conversation returns as the passenger reads directions and the driver tries not to get into the exit only lane on accident.
Sometimes I don't take interstates. Sometimes alternative routes are those long two lane highways through the forests. These roads have a problem, which is that they have very infrequent bathroom breaks. Once I made the mistake of not realizing I had to go to the bathroom before I entered the forest. Near the end I was quite distressed, as there were no available locations. Likewise, a similar situation happened with passengers on the way to Atlanta. Forest roads are inconvenient.
I also dislike driving east in the morning and west in the evening, particularly when the sun is at the odd diagonal where it isn't blocked by the ceiling visor, but you can block it with the door frame if you tilt your head at an awkward angle. Or maybe it is blocked by the visor, but you have the visor down so low that you have very limited distance visiblity. It's quite a situation.
Sometimes I really enjoy just driving alone for hours. Sometimes I enjoy having friends with whom to sing. Driving always has this good feeling, once your on the road. I think what I really like is looking forward to the destination. Nothing feels quite as good as completing a long car ride and parking the car, whether you know that you've arrived somewhere for an adventure or you've just arrived home.
I'm glad for car trips.
So. I live four hours from home and two hours from my siblings. Four hours from friends at other colleges. Whenever I drive, though, there are many ways to pass the time. When I'm alone, I usually always play music from my iPod. Weather permitting, I roll the windows down, crank up the volume, and sing as loudly as my heart desires. While driving, I calculate how long it will be until I reach my destination, or at least the exit for whatever interstate I may be on at the moment. I do this by a long, roundabout equation. For example.
"I just passed mile marker 297. I need to get off at 237. That's 60 miles. I'm going 80 mph. 60/80 is 3/4. 3/4 of an hour is 75% is 45 minutes. I will get off my exit in 45 minutes. It's 5:30 now, so at 6:15 I'll be at the exit, and it's 20 minutes from that to campus. I'll be at campus at 6:35." I update this train of thought every 5 minutes or so, with the mile markers that are easily divisible by my current speed. Anything more than that and I don't feel like putting in the effort. I'm a promising math major.
I told this to Leah. Leah said, "When I drive, I think, I wonder what's in that town? I wonder what's in that town? to every exit I pass. And Google Maps told me when I'd be back." That sounded like another wonderful way to pass the time. Maybe one day Leah and I can take a car trip and actually stop at every exit. We will get to see what is in every town, which will always be the gas stations, fast food joints, and hotels that line the roads that are near the interstate ramps.
Speaking of car trips with other people and not alone, I occasionally am not alone in the car. Like on spring break, when it was Leah, Daniel, Daniel, and me. Now, these car rides are different. Usually it starts out with alot of excitement. There are epic conversations, suggestions for music, laughing, joking around, and a general good time. Then, the energy begins to die as the minutes pass. Leah and I begin to sing in harmony to different songs we choose. Eventually, though, all falls silent. Everyone is out of music to play or things to say. People sleep or begin to work independently on different things. This seems to happen on all group trips that last over an hour. Then we stop for dinner, after which everyone is alive for a little more. If not, as soon as we get near the destination, everyone stirs back to life, and little by little conversation returns as the passenger reads directions and the driver tries not to get into the exit only lane on accident.
Sometimes I don't take interstates. Sometimes alternative routes are those long two lane highways through the forests. These roads have a problem, which is that they have very infrequent bathroom breaks. Once I made the mistake of not realizing I had to go to the bathroom before I entered the forest. Near the end I was quite distressed, as there were no available locations. Likewise, a similar situation happened with passengers on the way to Atlanta. Forest roads are inconvenient.
I also dislike driving east in the morning and west in the evening, particularly when the sun is at the odd diagonal where it isn't blocked by the ceiling visor, but you can block it with the door frame if you tilt your head at an awkward angle. Or maybe it is blocked by the visor, but you have the visor down so low that you have very limited distance visiblity. It's quite a situation.
Sometimes I really enjoy just driving alone for hours. Sometimes I enjoy having friends with whom to sing. Driving always has this good feeling, once your on the road. I think what I really like is looking forward to the destination. Nothing feels quite as good as completing a long car ride and parking the car, whether you know that you've arrived somewhere for an adventure or you've just arrived home.
I'm glad for car trips.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
True story.
I sent this to McDonald's through their website yesterday. They replied, but I await further reply.
Title: Miss
First Name: Andrea
Last Name: Gill
Date: 03/24/2009 03:45 PM
Visit Type: In-Store
RestLandmark: In front of Walmart
Comment: Dear McDonald's reader:
Today, I attended McDonald's for dinner with two of my friends. I'm a college student, so money is tight, and I had a coupon for a free value meal and wished to use it. However, I have Crohn's disease, and my doctor told me to stay away from greasy foods. Knowing that McDonald's offered apple dippers as a side and that chicken nuggets are healthy enough, I figured I could order a number 10, ten piece nuggets, and get apple dippers instead of fries. Unfortunately, I was informed that I could not substitute apple dippers. It wasn't because of the coupon, it was because that was not an option for value meals.
I have to say that I was severely disappointed. Lately, the commercials I have seen for McDonald's have promoted an idea that McDonald's has healthy options, all white meat chicken, fruit and vegetable sides, and other options that would allow the customer to purchase a meal and not have to eat unhealthy. Instead, I found that I was forced to get a medium fry with my order, which I gave to my friends since I was unable to consume these without health risks.
I expressed my disappointment to the manager, but he said that it was the rule that apple dippers could not be substituted. I didn't understand, seeing as a medium fry costs over the price of apple dippers. As it is, I don't think I will be attending McDonald's. I know I am only one customer and make little difference to an international restaurant, but I cannot eat somewhere that won't allow me to make a reasonable substitution for the benefit of a chronic condition.
Sincerely,
Andrea Gill
____________________________________________________________________
McDonald's Customer Response Center
Title: Miss
First Name: Andrea
Last Name: Gill
Date: 03/24/2009 03:45 PM
Visit Type: In-Store
RestLandmark: In front of Walmart
Comment: Dear McDonald's reader:
Today, I attended McDonald's for dinner with two of my friends. I'm a college student, so money is tight, and I had a coupon for a free value meal and wished to use it. However, I have Crohn's disease, and my doctor told me to stay away from greasy foods. Knowing that McDonald's offered apple dippers as a side and that chicken nuggets are healthy enough, I figured I could order a number 10, ten piece nuggets, and get apple dippers instead of fries. Unfortunately, I was informed that I could not substitute apple dippers. It wasn't because of the coupon, it was because that was not an option for value meals.
I have to say that I was severely disappointed. Lately, the commercials I have seen for McDonald's have promoted an idea that McDonald's has healthy options, all white meat chicken, fruit and vegetable sides, and other options that would allow the customer to purchase a meal and not have to eat unhealthy. Instead, I found that I was forced to get a medium fry with my order, which I gave to my friends since I was unable to consume these without health risks.
I expressed my disappointment to the manager, but he said that it was the rule that apple dippers could not be substituted. I didn't understand, seeing as a medium fry costs over the price of apple dippers. As it is, I don't think I will be attending McDonald's. I know I am only one customer and make little difference to an international restaurant, but I cannot eat somewhere that won't allow me to make a reasonable substitution for the benefit of a chronic condition.
Sincerely,
Andrea Gill
____________________________________________________________________
Hello Andrea:
Thank you for taking the time to contact McDonald's Customer Service Center to bring your recent experience to our attention.
First, I hope you will accept my sincere apology for your disappointment in McDonald's. I can assure you that we want you to be completely satisfied every time you visit one of our restaurants.
Because most McDonald's restaurants are independently owned and operated, I have forwarded your comments to the franchise owner or local representative for follow up at the restaurant you visited in Tallahassee, Fl. Please be assured that your comments will be investigated and, if appropriate, corrective action will be taken.
Again, thank you for taking the time to contact McDonald's Customer Service Center and giving us the opportunity to address your concerns. Customer feedback is very important to us as it helps us improve.
McDonald's Customer Response Center
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Loneliness.
When we were in Atlanta, we played loaded questions. The questions ranged from fun (What's your favorite thing about Mary?) to more real (How lonely are you, on a scale of one to ten?) I bring up the loneliness question only because it is what I will talk about today.
I have ideas of fun blogs, of light-hearted facts about car rides, of the internet, of fun things on which I can put a twist in such a way that my friends reading this blog will hopefully at least smile. Today, however, today I don't have it in me to write these blogs.
How lonely am I on a scale of 1-10? I answered 5. The reason why is that I'm not always lonely. The problem with this question is that nobody, I think, is consistently lonely. I know I have friends, and when I am near them or around them my loneliness is at a 1, most certainly. But other times, other times when I feel isolated from everybody, when I feel tired, when I haven't talked to many people and I am sad, those days I'm a 10. At these times, I know that I'm not alone, and that I have friends and family. But it doesn't stop me from being sad and from feeling lonely.
A friend mentioned that after leaving on an extended trip, he returned and had forgotten that life would change while he was gone. Life wasn't waiting for him as he left it when he returned. Sometimes, though, I think life even changes around you when you haven't left, when you forget that people change regardless of where you are, and if you expected it or not. Sometimes I forget that people change and move on, that people meet new people, and that relationships grow and change and that it's not always for the worse. It's like watching the stars. Night by night you can't see that they're any different, but if you don't pay attention for six months and look back at the sky, you'll wonder where Sirius is and why Vega is now the brightest visible star.
I think I noticed over break that we had all changed some; our interactions and our understanding of each other was different than it had been last spring break. And it worried me, at first. I think I'm slightly terrified by the realization that life will keep changing and we will keep growing closer and apart over time, inevitably, whether I remain where I am or allow myself to grow with everyone else. However, as I look back over the past, I realize that I'm not sad with how my life has turned out. Maybe I'm a little more worried than necessary about something that has been happening for years. Maybe I should have a little faith that even though things are a little different, life has yet to leave me lonely and hopeless, even though sometimes I feel as though I'm a 10 on the loneliness scale. So I guess the only thing to do is to let life change and change me as it will.
And, for the time being, I can be thankful for where I am and what I have today.
Love, Andrea.
I have ideas of fun blogs, of light-hearted facts about car rides, of the internet, of fun things on which I can put a twist in such a way that my friends reading this blog will hopefully at least smile. Today, however, today I don't have it in me to write these blogs.
How lonely am I on a scale of 1-10? I answered 5. The reason why is that I'm not always lonely. The problem with this question is that nobody, I think, is consistently lonely. I know I have friends, and when I am near them or around them my loneliness is at a 1, most certainly. But other times, other times when I feel isolated from everybody, when I feel tired, when I haven't talked to many people and I am sad, those days I'm a 10. At these times, I know that I'm not alone, and that I have friends and family. But it doesn't stop me from being sad and from feeling lonely.
A friend mentioned that after leaving on an extended trip, he returned and had forgotten that life would change while he was gone. Life wasn't waiting for him as he left it when he returned. Sometimes, though, I think life even changes around you when you haven't left, when you forget that people change regardless of where you are, and if you expected it or not. Sometimes I forget that people change and move on, that people meet new people, and that relationships grow and change and that it's not always for the worse. It's like watching the stars. Night by night you can't see that they're any different, but if you don't pay attention for six months and look back at the sky, you'll wonder where Sirius is and why Vega is now the brightest visible star.
I think I noticed over break that we had all changed some; our interactions and our understanding of each other was different than it had been last spring break. And it worried me, at first. I think I'm slightly terrified by the realization that life will keep changing and we will keep growing closer and apart over time, inevitably, whether I remain where I am or allow myself to grow with everyone else. However, as I look back over the past, I realize that I'm not sad with how my life has turned out. Maybe I'm a little more worried than necessary about something that has been happening for years. Maybe I should have a little faith that even though things are a little different, life has yet to leave me lonely and hopeless, even though sometimes I feel as though I'm a 10 on the loneliness scale. So I guess the only thing to do is to let life change and change me as it will.
And, for the time being, I can be thankful for where I am and what I have today.
Love, Andrea.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Sunburns.
Every year, after being cooped up and not able to swim during the long winter months, I eventually get the opportunity to finally expose my now extremely pale self to the sun. For some reason, every year I think it's a great idea to get a small sunburn, since I don't tan; I burn, then I peel into a tanner, frecklier state. It's not the best way, but it's the only way that works for me. After a few of these sunburns, I tan quite nicely, usually because I spend every day of the summer in the pool and by the end I'm darker than I knew my skin could handle. I'm naturally fair-skinned.Very fair skinned.
Anyways, so yesterday I figured since I'm a college kid on spring break, I should go to the beach! So I called up some friends and went to the beach. Now, out of not being completely suicidal and because of my mom's warnings, I always apply sunscreen upon arriving to the beach. I just hope that the sun will somehow find its way through the layer of 30 SPF coating my skin and manage to change my melanin. In the past, sometimes if I apply sunscreen I get no sun at all, and sometimes I still get burnt. I'm wondering what kind of day today will be.
After this, I stop thinking about the sun and my skin and I go into the water, which is still quite cold. The first few steps are numbing, and I shriek as the waves splash higher than I expect. Eventually, I gather the courage to dive under a wave, and then the water feels nice, and I proceed to jump around and dive in the waves. The waves are an orange flag today, so they're strong, and the rip current is strong. The water tugs at my legs as the wave approaches, and as I go under and it crashes over me, I can feel the water rushing overhead. I try to get low enough that it doesn't hit me, but occasionally I get caught ad dragged a few feet before I regain my balance. It's a little scary, but really fun.
After a few minutes, we decide that we'd prefer to be on the beach in the warm sun, so we return to the space in the sand where we placed our belongings, spread out some towels, and lie in the sun and talk for an hour or two. Then we go through the entire last paragraph again and enter the water, which is easier now that we know to just brave it and dive under. Soon enough, we are back on the beach on the towels, warming ourselves up again. We eat the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches we brought, sit around some, and decide to brave the water a third time. We get in to our knees and I decide that I don't have the strength to do this again. First, the water is cold. Second, the waves are really strong, and last time I went under one popped my ear and its still making a weird crackling noise every time I open my mouth. So we walk around for a while, then decide to leave. We've been there about four hours.
As we leave, my face is feeling a little burnt, but the rest of me appears to be as pale as ever. In the car mirror, I can visibly see that my face, and my nose in particular, is a shade of pink that makes me laugh more than anything else. The rest of me has also turned a very light shade of pink, as I am pleased to see. I hope it's just not too bad. Mom won't be happy.
I go home, and notice that the pink is a little more red than I expected, and it kind of hurts. Mom is unhappy, and reminds me that it keeps getting darker for the next few hours. She has me take some Advil for the pain, and I put aloe gel stuff on my skin.
Skip to the next morning. I made the mistake of moving my extremities as I woke up and tried to look at the clock. This was a big mistake on my part, as the backs of my legs (one of the worst parts of the burn,) my shoulders, my arms, and my stomach all proceed to feel as though they are being poked by jillions of tiny needles made of fire. It is not a pleasant feeling. I stand up, but the pain just continues. I go take Advil and reapply the aloe gel, then inspect the damage in the mirror, since usually everything is paler the second day. I'm not really red anywhere, though the backs of my legs are probably the worst. Everywhere else that i'm burnt it's a painful, though not bad, shade of pink. And it's not consistent. The backs of my legs, the tops of my thighs, and the sides of my calves. The tops of my hands, and half of my inner forearms. It's like not all of the sunscreen decided to wear off, just certain parts. It's not the most ridiculous looking sunburn I've ever had, but nothing about it is consistent.
Either way, I am now sitting on my bed attempting to move as little as possible, though I should probably go drink some water. Mom told me to drink lots of water. I might get up in a few minutes for the water, and do a raptor-like walk in which I don't fully straighten my legs so as to avoid tension on the skin on the backs of my knees. I will creep to the kitchen in this manner and find a glass of water. Then I will return to my room and sit down on the bed, trying not to move for as long as possible, until it becomes necessary to again wander the halls of my home.
I think the point of this story is that I don't know why I always want this odd initial sunburn. I remember getting it my first year as a camp counselor, and lying in bed near tears one night. Second year as a camp counselor, the sunscreen worked every time. First year as a lifegaurd, got a small sunburn, then gradually tanned the rest of the year. Either way, now I am sunburnt.
I should have reapplied the sunscreen somewhere in the middle of the trip. That would have been a good idea.
Anyways, so yesterday I figured since I'm a college kid on spring break, I should go to the beach! So I called up some friends and went to the beach. Now, out of not being completely suicidal and because of my mom's warnings, I always apply sunscreen upon arriving to the beach. I just hope that the sun will somehow find its way through the layer of 30 SPF coating my skin and manage to change my melanin. In the past, sometimes if I apply sunscreen I get no sun at all, and sometimes I still get burnt. I'm wondering what kind of day today will be.
After this, I stop thinking about the sun and my skin and I go into the water, which is still quite cold. The first few steps are numbing, and I shriek as the waves splash higher than I expect. Eventually, I gather the courage to dive under a wave, and then the water feels nice, and I proceed to jump around and dive in the waves. The waves are an orange flag today, so they're strong, and the rip current is strong. The water tugs at my legs as the wave approaches, and as I go under and it crashes over me, I can feel the water rushing overhead. I try to get low enough that it doesn't hit me, but occasionally I get caught ad dragged a few feet before I regain my balance. It's a little scary, but really fun.
After a few minutes, we decide that we'd prefer to be on the beach in the warm sun, so we return to the space in the sand where we placed our belongings, spread out some towels, and lie in the sun and talk for an hour or two. Then we go through the entire last paragraph again and enter the water, which is easier now that we know to just brave it and dive under. Soon enough, we are back on the beach on the towels, warming ourselves up again. We eat the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches we brought, sit around some, and decide to brave the water a third time. We get in to our knees and I decide that I don't have the strength to do this again. First, the water is cold. Second, the waves are really strong, and last time I went under one popped my ear and its still making a weird crackling noise every time I open my mouth. So we walk around for a while, then decide to leave. We've been there about four hours.
As we leave, my face is feeling a little burnt, but the rest of me appears to be as pale as ever. In the car mirror, I can visibly see that my face, and my nose in particular, is a shade of pink that makes me laugh more than anything else. The rest of me has also turned a very light shade of pink, as I am pleased to see. I hope it's just not too bad. Mom won't be happy.
I go home, and notice that the pink is a little more red than I expected, and it kind of hurts. Mom is unhappy, and reminds me that it keeps getting darker for the next few hours. She has me take some Advil for the pain, and I put aloe gel stuff on my skin.
Skip to the next morning. I made the mistake of moving my extremities as I woke up and tried to look at the clock. This was a big mistake on my part, as the backs of my legs (one of the worst parts of the burn,) my shoulders, my arms, and my stomach all proceed to feel as though they are being poked by jillions of tiny needles made of fire. It is not a pleasant feeling. I stand up, but the pain just continues. I go take Advil and reapply the aloe gel, then inspect the damage in the mirror, since usually everything is paler the second day. I'm not really red anywhere, though the backs of my legs are probably the worst. Everywhere else that i'm burnt it's a painful, though not bad, shade of pink. And it's not consistent. The backs of my legs, the tops of my thighs, and the sides of my calves. The tops of my hands, and half of my inner forearms. It's like not all of the sunscreen decided to wear off, just certain parts. It's not the most ridiculous looking sunburn I've ever had, but nothing about it is consistent.
Either way, I am now sitting on my bed attempting to move as little as possible, though I should probably go drink some water. Mom told me to drink lots of water. I might get up in a few minutes for the water, and do a raptor-like walk in which I don't fully straighten my legs so as to avoid tension on the skin on the backs of my knees. I will creep to the kitchen in this manner and find a glass of water. Then I will return to my room and sit down on the bed, trying not to move for as long as possible, until it becomes necessary to again wander the halls of my home.
I think the point of this story is that I don't know why I always want this odd initial sunburn. I remember getting it my first year as a camp counselor, and lying in bed near tears one night. Second year as a camp counselor, the sunscreen worked every time. First year as a lifegaurd, got a small sunburn, then gradually tanned the rest of the year. Either way, now I am sunburnt.
I should have reapplied the sunscreen somewhere in the middle of the trip. That would have been a good idea.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Exhaustion.
For spring break, we took a trip to Atlanta. "We" consists of me, Daniel Wise, Leah, Daniel Watson, Judy, and Mary. Such trips give little time for sleep, cause emotions to go haywire, lead to short tempers, and overall leave everybody having a really wonderful time. It's odd that such a trip that is so physically and emotionally demanding is still one of the better experiences I can have, although I suppose that without the exhaustion there wouldn't be nearly as much fun and excitement involved. And the odd mixture of a wonderful time and a tiring experience is always more enjoyable than having neither. I'm sure anyone who's been on some sort of group adventure can relate: the feeling of being so excited to be on an adventure, wanting to do more than you actually can, passing on sleep, trying to ignore the introvert inside of you craving alone time, wanting to make sure everyone has the best time ever, being tired and trying to ignore the grouchiness seeping down slowly from your tired-induced headache, and wanting to just go back to the temporary home even though the adventures are just beginning.
Either way, I feel like I need to sleep to make up for the lack of sleeping on the trip (5 hours on average a night on an air mattress in a house that was less than quiet and never quite dark) or like I need to cry for an hour to release the emotional buildup (Intense excitement, though also accompanied by stress of things going wrong, the worry of being a sub-hostess (we were in my aunt's house,) the sadness of seeing others upset and not knowing what to do, the pressure from fighting back tears, and the dissapointment in myself for getting frustrated over little things because I was tired and had a headache.)
Stay tuned, more to come in the next few days. At this moment, I need to collapse, both physically and emotionally. I am at Jess's house right now, about to sleep on her couch bed. Jess is a very hospitable person, and I love her greatly for this. Among other things.
Note to all: Thevergaras.blogspot.com is now jessvergara.blogspot.com.
Either way, I feel like I need to sleep to make up for the lack of sleeping on the trip (5 hours on average a night on an air mattress in a house that was less than quiet and never quite dark) or like I need to cry for an hour to release the emotional buildup (Intense excitement, though also accompanied by stress of things going wrong, the worry of being a sub-hostess (we were in my aunt's house,) the sadness of seeing others upset and not knowing what to do, the pressure from fighting back tears, and the dissapointment in myself for getting frustrated over little things because I was tired and had a headache.)
Stay tuned, more to come in the next few days. At this moment, I need to collapse, both physically and emotionally. I am at Jess's house right now, about to sleep on her couch bed. Jess is a very hospitable person, and I love her greatly for this. Among other things.
Note to all: Thevergaras.blogspot.com is now jessvergara.blogspot.com.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Mochas and Muffins.
Today I had a presentation in math history about Euclid and The Elements. This wasn't too significant, although I didn't really know what I would say until midnight last night.
Now, this presentation was in my 9:30 class. Since I'd be presenting, I figured I'd shower before class. I am not an unclean person, I just usually shower in the afternoon, which still leaves me on a 24 hour schedule. I'd rather shower before I go hang out with friends, then go to bed mostly clean. When I wake up, I can pull my hair back and spend out the last of my 24 hours in class with people who matter less than my friends. The point is that usually I just have a ponytail for class, and don't overly concern myself with my appearance. Though I'm clean, I look normal. For presentations, however, I try to look nicer. So I had to wake up earlier than normal on this day when I already wake up earliest of the week in order to look more presentable than usual. I needed to shower, do my hair and makeup, weat contacts instead of glasses, and wear a nice shirt. When I was in high school, I would jsut put in my contacts every morning before school. However, I read better with glasses, so now I usually don't bother putting in my contacts for class. Since I was up late planning the presentation, I woke up tired. So I figured I could get Starbucks on the way to class. I supposedly gave up caffeine for lent, but today was kind of an emergency. (I was on facebook IM, and Dustin informed me he was giving up IM for lent. Leah and I decided to give up caffeine. I'm not doing really great. I'm not even Catholic. I need to be as dedicated as Dustin. Leah, I have failed.)
So I check my email before I leave, and my advisor emailed me and asked if I could meet with him at 9:30. No I can't, Dr. A, I have a class in which I am presenting on Euclid. I'll meet you at 9:25. So I leave my dorm and walk to Starbucks. As I walk, I realize I have not breakfasted. Usually I'll eat yogurt or grab a granola bar. I'm out of yogurt, and I forgot to get a granola bar. I'll just buy something at Starbucks. So I enter Starbucks and stand in the line for three minutes, at which point I realize that of the fourteen people in front of me, three people have placed orders. At this rate, I will be late for everything. So I exit Starbucks and continue the journey to class, as it crosses my mind that I still haven't had breakfast. I will be giving a presentation on little sleep and no food. And no water, since I need to buy more water bottles. Today is looking to be promising. At least I'm showered and wearing a nice shirt and makeup... wait, I forgot to put makeup on this morning, in my rush to get Starbucks. I'm wearing contacts (usually I just wear my glasses) but no makeup. Now I feel a little mismatched, but it's not too bad.
So I go to the advisor's office, talk to him for a few minutes, and off to class. My group members and I wing the presentation. Miraculously, it takes up the entire hour. We are good. It probably worked because we spent a good fifteen minutes trying to have them draw a geometric representation of (a+b)(a+b)(a+b). Euclid used geometry for algebra, it's pretty interesting. Today's geometry is little like the geometry that Euclid created.
Class gets out a few minutes early, and I know that down the road, inside of the College of Medicine, there is a Starbucks kiosk. I journey off to find this. I enter the College and am overwhelmed. The med school has this huge fancy lobby with alot of empty space, since they have tons of money and want to look impressive. I see a sign saying Starbucks with an arrow. I obediently follow, until I find this kiosk, and purchase a Mocha and a muffin. A banana nut muffin, to be specific. That's the way to go. Blueberry is an acceptable second.
I take my mocha and walk back to the College of Education, since my next class is in a few minutes. In this class, I happen to sit behind the two people who were in my presentation for the last class, so we talk about how glad we are that the presentation took up the hour. Then the girl that sits beside me enters. We exchange words occasionally. Today, however, I am quite the chatterbug. I talk about classes, school, my past jobs, what I think I'm going to do in college, foreign languages and the few phrases I can say in Chinese, Latin, the fact that I'm so talkative and think it's because of the mocha, and whatever else crosses my mind. I don't think she minded, though. Maybe I was psyched cause we did good on the presentation, or maybe I was hyped up on the mocha. I also was talking fast, which is something that I've been known to do. Then we played games in class all day in honor of the upcoming pi day, which falls on our spring break. We played Mono-pi-ly.
Mono-pi-ly is monopoly with pi. It's actually nothing like monopoly, but does involve alot of pi. There's a circle board that you move around. You role the dice, but you don't move the amount shown on the dice. Assume that number is the circumfrence of a circle. Figure out the diameter of that circle, round to the nearest whole number, and move that number of spaces. If you land on a question mark, draw a chance card, which asks questions about calculations involving pi, or clever things like, "What do you get when you divide the circumfrence of a pumpkin by its diameter?" "Pumpkin pi!" HA! Those clever math jokes. Like the six being afraid of seven, seven ate nine, oh the cleverness! Though that's more of a word joke than a math joke...
Either way, it was a good day and a fun day. And I learned an important lesson. Mochas make friends.
Now, this presentation was in my 9:30 class. Since I'd be presenting, I figured I'd shower before class. I am not an unclean person, I just usually shower in the afternoon, which still leaves me on a 24 hour schedule. I'd rather shower before I go hang out with friends, then go to bed mostly clean. When I wake up, I can pull my hair back and spend out the last of my 24 hours in class with people who matter less than my friends. The point is that usually I just have a ponytail for class, and don't overly concern myself with my appearance. Though I'm clean, I look normal. For presentations, however, I try to look nicer. So I had to wake up earlier than normal on this day when I already wake up earliest of the week in order to look more presentable than usual. I needed to shower, do my hair and makeup, weat contacts instead of glasses, and wear a nice shirt. When I was in high school, I would jsut put in my contacts every morning before school. However, I read better with glasses, so now I usually don't bother putting in my contacts for class. Since I was up late planning the presentation, I woke up tired. So I figured I could get Starbucks on the way to class. I supposedly gave up caffeine for lent, but today was kind of an emergency. (I was on facebook IM, and Dustin informed me he was giving up IM for lent. Leah and I decided to give up caffeine. I'm not doing really great. I'm not even Catholic. I need to be as dedicated as Dustin. Leah, I have failed.)
So I check my email before I leave, and my advisor emailed me and asked if I could meet with him at 9:30. No I can't, Dr. A, I have a class in which I am presenting on Euclid. I'll meet you at 9:25. So I leave my dorm and walk to Starbucks. As I walk, I realize I have not breakfasted. Usually I'll eat yogurt or grab a granola bar. I'm out of yogurt, and I forgot to get a granola bar. I'll just buy something at Starbucks. So I enter Starbucks and stand in the line for three minutes, at which point I realize that of the fourteen people in front of me, three people have placed orders. At this rate, I will be late for everything. So I exit Starbucks and continue the journey to class, as it crosses my mind that I still haven't had breakfast. I will be giving a presentation on little sleep and no food. And no water, since I need to buy more water bottles. Today is looking to be promising. At least I'm showered and wearing a nice shirt and makeup... wait, I forgot to put makeup on this morning, in my rush to get Starbucks. I'm wearing contacts (usually I just wear my glasses) but no makeup. Now I feel a little mismatched, but it's not too bad.
So I go to the advisor's office, talk to him for a few minutes, and off to class. My group members and I wing the presentation. Miraculously, it takes up the entire hour. We are good. It probably worked because we spent a good fifteen minutes trying to have them draw a geometric representation of (a+b)(a+b)(a+b). Euclid used geometry for algebra, it's pretty interesting. Today's geometry is little like the geometry that Euclid created.
Class gets out a few minutes early, and I know that down the road, inside of the College of Medicine, there is a Starbucks kiosk. I journey off to find this. I enter the College and am overwhelmed. The med school has this huge fancy lobby with alot of empty space, since they have tons of money and want to look impressive. I see a sign saying Starbucks with an arrow. I obediently follow, until I find this kiosk, and purchase a Mocha and a muffin. A banana nut muffin, to be specific. That's the way to go. Blueberry is an acceptable second.
I take my mocha and walk back to the College of Education, since my next class is in a few minutes. In this class, I happen to sit behind the two people who were in my presentation for the last class, so we talk about how glad we are that the presentation took up the hour. Then the girl that sits beside me enters. We exchange words occasionally. Today, however, I am quite the chatterbug. I talk about classes, school, my past jobs, what I think I'm going to do in college, foreign languages and the few phrases I can say in Chinese, Latin, the fact that I'm so talkative and think it's because of the mocha, and whatever else crosses my mind. I don't think she minded, though. Maybe I was psyched cause we did good on the presentation, or maybe I was hyped up on the mocha. I also was talking fast, which is something that I've been known to do. Then we played games in class all day in honor of the upcoming pi day, which falls on our spring break. We played Mono-pi-ly.
Mono-pi-ly is monopoly with pi. It's actually nothing like monopoly, but does involve alot of pi. There's a circle board that you move around. You role the dice, but you don't move the amount shown on the dice. Assume that number is the circumfrence of a circle. Figure out the diameter of that circle, round to the nearest whole number, and move that number of spaces. If you land on a question mark, draw a chance card, which asks questions about calculations involving pi, or clever things like, "What do you get when you divide the circumfrence of a pumpkin by its diameter?" "Pumpkin pi!" HA! Those clever math jokes. Like the six being afraid of seven, seven ate nine, oh the cleverness! Though that's more of a word joke than a math joke...
Either way, it was a good day and a fun day. And I learned an important lesson. Mochas make friends.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Brett.
My family reads my blog. This means my brother and my mom. Also, my grandfather read one of the posts that my mom printed out and had Grandpa read, the one about him My mom told me that one of my posts had alot of typoes. Thanks for the encouragment, Mom. My brother, on the other hand, tells me that my blog rarely mentions him. You know what, Dustin? You live two hours away and never call. No wonder you're never around to inspire my blog. Either way, I’ve been trying to write some more about you recently. I called him today, though. I had bought a pair of shoes that I knew he would have appreciated, so I had to let him know. (He was pretty indifferent to my shoes, unfortunately.) However, in the midst of this conversation we decided it would be more fitting to write a blog about Brett. I have also told Brett this to feed his narcissism, and he was quite pleased with the idea, of course. So, Dustin and I decided that it would be fitting to write a blog about Brett, a blog trying to tell the world what it’s like to know someone as interesting and individual as Brett. So, I wrote a rough draft and emailed it to Dustin. He wrote more and emailed back. The final effort is a blog written by both of us, in third person so as to avoid narrator confusion. Bonuses if you can tell who wrote which part! And, let it be known that this is out of the ordinary for my blog, or for the topic of my posts. This is solely a tribute to Brett for the sake of honoring Brett. Now, throughout childhood, every family has a child that makes a friend that feels so welcome that they begin to forget that they don’t actually live in your house. Or maybe they just are testing the limits to see how far they can go until the family actually does something about it. In the case of this family, Brett would be the friend. Dustin and Brett met at church in first grade. Dustin walked into the Sunday School classroom, where Brett said, very properly and enunciated, "Hello, my name is Brett, and this is my friend Benjamin." Brett spoke in a voice so proper, it was borderline British. With a hint of superiority that others accepted with pity. The poor kid. This was the beginning of their friendship. Now, Dustin and Andrea were very close, so if one of them had a friend, the other was around. As such, Andrea also became friends with Brett, though not with the self-sacrificing effort of Dustin. When Dustin and Brett were pretending to be Steve Irwin, catching frogs and lizards around the house, Andrea was the camera person, yelling in terror as the frog came within inches of the lense. However, this did not stop Andrea from filming. The footage of Brett hanging upside in a tree speaking in an indecipherable Australian accent would not have been possible without Andrea’s bravery, determination and boredom. Mostly boredom. Anyways, Brett was the youth pastor's son, so there was always this lovely picture on his father's desk of Brett at like, five years old, with the weirdest hair style ever seen. It kind of did a circle on his head. The back was combed in one direction and the front in the other. And he was wearing a bow tie. This is also how Dustin found Brett that first day in Sunday School. As time went on, Brett became more comfortable in their house. He knew where the secret key was, so he was always willing to let himself in. One day, Dustin and Andrea were home alone, laughing, and suddenly they heard a loud laugh from the living room, only to discover Brett, without calling or ringing the doorbell, was in their living room. He wanted a movie, which he took, along with the cookies Andrea had just made, and left. Likewise, one time Andrea was home alone, looking at her bookshelf, and Brett walked by her doorway, took a movie from Dustin's room, and left. He didn't even say hi, he just kind of nodded and left. Andrea was a little shocked, but understood that it wasn’t nearly as weird as the situations in which Dustin often found himself, like walking out of the bathroom in a towel to see Brett sitting in the living room. This happened on two separate occasions. It sometimes seems as if Brett enjoys just sneaking into the house, even if he isn’t making a surprise visit. He creeps his car into the driveway and parks behind the van. Only when he is certain that his presence will not be detected does Brett emerge from his car. His cocoon. Butterfly Brett flutters to the front door, but nobody is aware. The creak of the front door is muted by Andrea’s constant singing. Only after closing the door and kicking off his shoes in the living room does Brett feel victorious. But the mission still isn’t complete. Brett sits and waits. Quietly. Quiet as a mouse. Mickey Mouse. The original Mickey Mouse. And Andrea’s obnoxious singing in the other room is the musical score. As Dustin nears the living room, Brett prepares for the big surprise. This usually consists of Brett just sitting there quietly until he is discovered, but Dustin sure is surprised. And the show’s over. Once, Dustin and Andrea were serving elderly people at a banquet. Dustin was hoping they would surprise him and give him a college scholarship like they had given Andrea the year before. Dustin went to wait tables. Andrea went to help, to play the piano. Old people enjoy Andrea’s piano playing. Andrea enjoys showing Dustin up, supposedly. Dustin can’t play the piano, or any instrument for that matter. But he has a lovely voice. Not for singing, but for saying nice things like, “Shall I get you another glass of lemonade Ms. Thelma? Oh! Ms. Thelma, have I told you lately that your cornbread is utterly scrumptious?” He didn’t get a scholarship. Anyways, after Andrea was finished playing the piano and Dustin was finished with waiting, they made their way out the door to Dustin’s truck. It was like any ordinary evening. The orange glow of the sun reflecting off of the wet pavement reminded Dustin of Andrea’s fingers after she puts Cheetos in her turkey sandwich (its tasty, I recommend trying it sometime.) The deafening hum of dreaded locust filled the summer air. The smell of—What was the smell? The ocean? No, but close. More fishy. Oh, right! The smell of the monstrous fish in the back of Dustin’s truck. For whatever reason, Brett had decided to put a fish in the back of Dustin's truck. A very large fish that would need to be disposed of. Dustin went into a state between laughing and crying, while Andrea stared at Dustin, bewildered. Dustin still has a plan of action involving Brett’s car if he ever hits a deer. Brett is quite the prankster. The prank that he pulled on Dustin at the end of their senior year, although rather simple, became the talk of the town. Or at least the talk of their extended group of friends. While Dustin was at school taking an IB test, Brett and another friend snuck into the house and began rearranging Dustin’s room. They put all of his knickknacks and other clutter in the closet and moved the furniture around. They then plugged all of the electric devices back into the walls and set all of the clocks. Dustin has quite a few clocks. They also left a few more surprises for Dustin to later discover. Anyways, as they finished their prank, Andrea and Dustin’s dad got home from a dentist appointment. Brett told him that they were waiting for Dustin to get home but were tired of waiting and were leaving, and they escaped. Nobody even wondered what they were doing in the house with nobody home. It’s typical. So Dustin got home from school and assumed “the position” on the couch. This consists of his head on one armrest, his feet on the other armrest, laptop on stomach (not on lap for safety reasons), and TV on. During this period of relaxation, Brett made a surprise visit and sat down to watch some TV. After a short period of time, Dustin had to go to his room for something. Upon opening the door, Dustin was completely confused. Everything was wrong… but right. Clean. Clocks set. He froze for a moment, wondering if he had done this in his sleep or something when Brett suddenly burst into laughter from the living room. Brett continued to stand outside the room and laugh as Dustin struggled to put every piece of furniture back in its proper location. During this process, Dustin discovered that his coin jars had been mixed up. Dustin has individual jars for pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters, but they had all been mixed together. The background of Dustin’s computer had also been changed to a picture of four very large men and a midget wearing different colored wrestling singlets. Brett was proud of that one. Brett and Dustin always talked about filming their rides in cars because the strangest things would always happen. Things like hot sauce fights with friends in other cars and discussions with employees at drive-thrus. With that said, it turns out Brett destroys movies. Home video type movies. When Dustin and Brett went to Atlanta, Dustin brought a camera. Without it, Brett would have been very bored. But with a camera, he just lights up. However, he says the weirdest things. There will be a great shot of footage for youtube, and then Brett says some weird thing that makes little sense and ruins the footage, since there is nowhere for the convo to go from there. Except downhill. Granted, the conversation he ruined was Dustin being Sundance and Brett being Butch, both with heavy southern accents talking about their opinions on the world, so there wasn’t much hope for that conversation to begin with. So much more could be said. Pixels could be filled with more words telling of the Pig in the Poke games in camoflauge in the woods, or of Brett honestly believing in freshman year that he was Spiderman. Or that he was black. Or that he was married to Jessica Alba. Or his obsession with applesauce, and the time Dustin, Andrea and Brett tried to make applesauce, which involved a blender, apples, a microwave, spices, and some unhappy taste buds. Or what about Brett’s love of Patrick from Spongebob? Or Brett's Shakira imporsonation? Or Brett’s obsession with tights and pleasing the people? Or Davey the Shark? Or Brett’s sideburns? There are so many stories, so many events, memories and the such. Words could never fully explain the flair, the eloquence, the style of Brett. This blog could never do justice to the stories, the memories, the trauma that’s associated with Brett. But, what would childhood have been like without Brett, without having to learn that your house might not actually be empty, that you cannot convince people out of their delusions, and you never can pull off tights just like some people. Rather, what would the world be like without these people? Thankfully, these are questions that we didn’t have to answer growing up.
The background for this blog:
Other pics
The background for this blog:
Other pics
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Birthdays.
This week is birthday week. I don't know if many of you had a birthday week in your life before, but this week, for as long as I can remember, has been birthday week. Today is March 1, my younger brother's birthday. For this one day, we are both the same age. This year, we both happen to be 19. When we were younger, it used to be a big deal that I actually wasn't older than him on March 1, but I'd always claim that I was still 9 and 364 days, which made me older. Either way, tomorrow, I will turn 20 and leave my teens behind me for forever. Also, my older sister's birthday was Friday, February 27. Additionally, at college, Saturday was spent celebrating Mary's boyfriend Lui's 22 birthday, and Thursday will be my friend Eric's birthday, so I'm a little overwhelmed by all of this.
I won't ever be a teenager again after today. I feel excited and scared about this, and I've been reflecting on the past seven years over the past few days. Teenage years are rough, and I spent most of those years hearing that they were tough years and refusing to believe that anyone else could understand or that it would ever be easier, and I always felt completely justified in anything I ever felt or thought. I don't know why things seemed so much more difficult then, or why life seemed so hard sometimes. Looking back, it all seems slightly ridiculous how much things mattered then, things that have little significance in my life now. The way I thought about friendships, relationships, how people saw me, who I wanted to be, and the things I thought mattered in life.
For example, Lui had a squirt gun party for his birthday. It turned out to be a total blast, we all had a small water hand-gun, and just ran around shooting at each other. I'd shoot Daniel, but we would both stand about eight feet apart, arms fully extended, shooting the other person in the face, while trying to blink out the stream of water attacking our own. This would last for a good thirty seconds before someone would decide to retreat. Usually Daniel would retreat first, since I had better aim. The other Daniel (there are two) would just hold onto your gun to try and keep you from shooting. There was a lot of running, senseless retreating, laughing, and getting wet. Daniel eventually managed to steal Leah's gun from her, and then had two weapons, a very unfair advantage over the rest of us. Then we would gather around the "safe zone" faucet, where we'd refill our weapon, only to run straight back into battle. We had unofficial teams, though mostly everyone just attacked everyone else. Then we went and sat on the grass in the field and let the sun dry us. It was one of the most fun, relaxing days I've had in a long time, and felt a lot like other fun times that I haven't seemed to had many of lately.
There are many things that I'm going to miss about being a teenager, like summer camp, youth mission trips, high school, and all the memories and events that accompany those. The days of hanging out, the sleepovers, the beach trips, the pool parties, the movies, iced coffee, and the like. But I think it's nice to know that growing up doesn't mean I'm losing out on life, or on fun, or on friendships. I can still have ridiculous squirt gun parties with friends. I can run around the house with Dustin with the same general purpose as when we were 9. Being a teenager had some of the worst and best experiences of my life, as I'm sure the rest of my life will. There are times that I wish I could relive, and there are other times that I wish I could erase from my memory. Either way, I learned a lot about myself, about life, and I know that in the past seven years I have changed and grown, and that I still have a lot of changing and growing left to do. I miss the past, and I'm a little scared of the future and the inevitability of time. Life keeps moving, whether I'm ready for it or not.
So, here's to making the best of the twenties. Farewell to the teens, welcome to the a new phase of life and a new decade of existence. I can only hope that I remember the things I've learned so far and never forget to keep learning.
Though, I'm really only going to be one day older than I was today, which is only one day older than yesterday. How different can it really be?
I won't ever be a teenager again after today. I feel excited and scared about this, and I've been reflecting on the past seven years over the past few days. Teenage years are rough, and I spent most of those years hearing that they were tough years and refusing to believe that anyone else could understand or that it would ever be easier, and I always felt completely justified in anything I ever felt or thought. I don't know why things seemed so much more difficult then, or why life seemed so hard sometimes. Looking back, it all seems slightly ridiculous how much things mattered then, things that have little significance in my life now. The way I thought about friendships, relationships, how people saw me, who I wanted to be, and the things I thought mattered in life.
For example, Lui had a squirt gun party for his birthday. It turned out to be a total blast, we all had a small water hand-gun, and just ran around shooting at each other. I'd shoot Daniel, but we would both stand about eight feet apart, arms fully extended, shooting the other person in the face, while trying to blink out the stream of water attacking our own. This would last for a good thirty seconds before someone would decide to retreat. Usually Daniel would retreat first, since I had better aim. The other Daniel (there are two) would just hold onto your gun to try and keep you from shooting. There was a lot of running, senseless retreating, laughing, and getting wet. Daniel eventually managed to steal Leah's gun from her, and then had two weapons, a very unfair advantage over the rest of us. Then we would gather around the "safe zone" faucet, where we'd refill our weapon, only to run straight back into battle. We had unofficial teams, though mostly everyone just attacked everyone else. Then we went and sat on the grass in the field and let the sun dry us. It was one of the most fun, relaxing days I've had in a long time, and felt a lot like other fun times that I haven't seemed to had many of lately.
There are many things that I'm going to miss about being a teenager, like summer camp, youth mission trips, high school, and all the memories and events that accompany those. The days of hanging out, the sleepovers, the beach trips, the pool parties, the movies, iced coffee, and the like. But I think it's nice to know that growing up doesn't mean I'm losing out on life, or on fun, or on friendships. I can still have ridiculous squirt gun parties with friends. I can run around the house with Dustin with the same general purpose as when we were 9. Being a teenager had some of the worst and best experiences of my life, as I'm sure the rest of my life will. There are times that I wish I could relive, and there are other times that I wish I could erase from my memory. Either way, I learned a lot about myself, about life, and I know that in the past seven years I have changed and grown, and that I still have a lot of changing and growing left to do. I miss the past, and I'm a little scared of the future and the inevitability of time. Life keeps moving, whether I'm ready for it or not.
So, here's to making the best of the twenties. Farewell to the teens, welcome to the a new phase of life and a new decade of existence. I can only hope that I remember the things I've learned so far and never forget to keep learning.
Though, I'm really only going to be one day older than I was today, which is only one day older than yesterday. How different can it really be?
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