This is a quick write piece that I wrote in my journalism workshop last week. We had about ten minutes to write about an anecdote, including two paragraphs of introduction/storytelling and two paragraphs of reflection. It's silly but I haven't put anything on here for awhile... so why not?!
Third grade was a pivotal year for me--I mastered multiplication up to four, I learned that gay meant something other than happy, and I got hit in the head with a dodgeball by my crush, which of course meant he liked me. I was young and free with only one problem-- I did not have reading glasses. It wasn't that I needed reading glasses, but my cool friend Kristen had arrived at school one day with the cutest tortoise shell Laura Ashley glasses and I knew I had to have some too. I asked her how she had gotten them:
"Mrs. Burke noticed that I was squinting in class. She told my mom and we went to the doctor and he said I needed them. I really don't though."
She as in denial and I was green with envy. That day, I made a point to squint every time my teacher looked at me, which was often because I was raising my hand at every opportunity so that she would notice me squinting. My efforts paid off and she asked me to stay behind after class. I stood next to her desk casually, trying to hide my sincere glee as she wrote what was bound to be an urgent letter informing my parents of my blindness and urging them to get me some glasses-- Laura Ashley, preferably, with tortoise shell frames.
When we got to the eye doctor my mom was pleased to see that I passed the first few sight tests easily; the death grip on her credit card must have released considerably. I knew time was running out--the last sight test was upon me and I had to make it count. I missed a whole line on the chart. The doctor gave me an opportunity to try the line again, and again I failed to respond with the letters in their proper order. The doctor told my mom that he couldn't figure out what had happened on the last test; I had gotten several other lines with much smaller fonts correct. He prescribed very mild corrective lenses that he said I should only use when reading. I cherished my beautiful, well-earned Laura Ashley glasses for a good three days before I became embarrassed to wear them in class. Mrs. Burke would tell Kristen and I to put on our glasses every day during free reading, until the day, a few weeks later, when I respectfully informed her that my corrective lenses had done the trick and I no longer needed their aid.
In retrospect, I was a devious, superficial eight year old. Now, I embrace my good vision because I am one of the few people I know who is not bothered with contact lenses and lens cleaner on daily basis. I do occasionally wish I had a pair of glasses to make me look pensive and well-read, but I realize that it would be ridiculous and expensive to indulge such a petty desire.
As I have gotten older I have learned to appreciate the parts of my life that are in perfect working order, rather than hoping for some obscure ailment for people to acknowledge and pity. Third grade taught me that there is always more to look forward to. I went on to master complex multiplication AND division, and I learned that being bombarded by your crush is not the best foundation for a relationship. Such clarity could only come from experience and I still have my tiny Laura Ashley glasses to remind me to appreciate the good things in life and to be grateful for what I have.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Bring on the Cheese!
WARNING: The following blog post may be cheesy. Approach with caution.
I try to avoid highly sentimental and/or cheesy blogs, because I tend to think that people don't really like to read about other people's epiphanies (or maybe just mine). But I'm in a grateful mood so I felt like sharing some perspective.
For those of you who know me, you probably know that I try very hard to avoid making mistakes at all costs. Not that anyone tries to make mistakes (I don't think anyone does anyway...), but I really HATE making mistakes. Most of the time I feel like mistakes are avoidable. If you know that you shouldn't do something, it's usually pretty easy to acknowledge that beforehand and not put yourself in a bad position where you are likely to make a mistake. But, while mistakes are often hurtful and typically avoidable, they do have one quality that I appreciate: Mistakes are educational. If you make a mistake, you are being given the opportunity to learn from it. The guilt or dissatisfaction that you feel after making a mistake is sometimes enough to keep you from making the mistake again, and that is a wonderful thing about life. You will not be condemned for every mistake you make, only if you fail to learn from the mistake and use your knowledge in future endeavors.
Some mistakes are bigger than others and harder to rectify, but if handled properly, you may be able to show people that what you did really was a mistake; one that you will do your best to never make again. In order to correct your mistakes, you must acknowledge that it was in fact, a mistake. Some people are unable to do this, and it takes them much longer to learn their lesson. One of the hardest things in life to do is to admit that you were wrong. People do NOT like to be wrong, and they especially do not like to admit when they're wrong. If you are able to admit it, however, you will reap the rewards. You will earn the respect of your peers, co-workers, teachers, and family members if you are able to admit your errors and do your best to fix them.
I am grateful that my parents taught me to be honest, and to admit my mistakes. They also raised me not to regret things, but to learn from them and make the best of all situations. I am grateful for those lessons above all, and for the kindness shown by those who have forgiven me for the mistakes I've made in my life. As much as I hate to admit that I have made mistakes, I am willing to do so because I've learned from them and they will make me a better person in the future.
I hope that you all are as lucky as I have been in my life, and I hope that you're able to forgive yourself for the mistakes you've made in your life; because if you can't forgive yourself for your mistakes, how will anyone else?
I try to avoid highly sentimental and/or cheesy blogs, because I tend to think that people don't really like to read about other people's epiphanies (or maybe just mine). But I'm in a grateful mood so I felt like sharing some perspective.
For those of you who know me, you probably know that I try very hard to avoid making mistakes at all costs. Not that anyone tries to make mistakes (I don't think anyone does anyway...), but I really HATE making mistakes. Most of the time I feel like mistakes are avoidable. If you know that you shouldn't do something, it's usually pretty easy to acknowledge that beforehand and not put yourself in a bad position where you are likely to make a mistake. But, while mistakes are often hurtful and typically avoidable, they do have one quality that I appreciate: Mistakes are educational. If you make a mistake, you are being given the opportunity to learn from it. The guilt or dissatisfaction that you feel after making a mistake is sometimes enough to keep you from making the mistake again, and that is a wonderful thing about life. You will not be condemned for every mistake you make, only if you fail to learn from the mistake and use your knowledge in future endeavors.
Some mistakes are bigger than others and harder to rectify, but if handled properly, you may be able to show people that what you did really was a mistake; one that you will do your best to never make again. In order to correct your mistakes, you must acknowledge that it was in fact, a mistake. Some people are unable to do this, and it takes them much longer to learn their lesson. One of the hardest things in life to do is to admit that you were wrong. People do NOT like to be wrong, and they especially do not like to admit when they're wrong. If you are able to admit it, however, you will reap the rewards. You will earn the respect of your peers, co-workers, teachers, and family members if you are able to admit your errors and do your best to fix them.
I am grateful that my parents taught me to be honest, and to admit my mistakes. They also raised me not to regret things, but to learn from them and make the best of all situations. I am grateful for those lessons above all, and for the kindness shown by those who have forgiven me for the mistakes I've made in my life. As much as I hate to admit that I have made mistakes, I am willing to do so because I've learned from them and they will make me a better person in the future.
I hope that you all are as lucky as I have been in my life, and I hope that you're able to forgive yourself for the mistakes you've made in your life; because if you can't forgive yourself for your mistakes, how will anyone else?
Monday, November 16, 2009
Cotillion Update!
The 3rd grader known as "Timmy" in my last blog changed his tune at the last cotillion.
I saw him the moment he walked in. There he was, acting all nice and innocent. When the kids were numbered off I kept an eye on him to see if he tried to switch numbers with anyone, in case he had ended up in my group again. He looked suspicious, but did not try to switch numbers with anyone. That was a good sign. He did not end up in my group, but I was told to tell his group of children what to expect as they approached the snack table on this particular day. They were to introduce their partner, thank the snack patrons for inviting them to the cotillion, and tell the patrons what they would be doing for their "Winter Break" (I prefer to call it Christmas Break but soon found that children who do not celebrate Christmas were confused, and I had to correct myself by saying, "Oh. I mean WINTER Break." I miss the good old days.)
I walked up to "Timmy" and his partner and tried to act casual. He gave me a look like "C'mon you. You know me!" So I looked at him and said, "Hi 'Timmy.'" I was very casual. Very cool. He said hi and started GUSHING about his pets and his partner's pets and how "[His] best friend is dancing with [his] MORTAL ENEMY!" It was precious. And I felt silly for getting flustered over an 8-year-old.
That's my story.
I saw him the moment he walked in. There he was, acting all nice and innocent. When the kids were numbered off I kept an eye on him to see if he tried to switch numbers with anyone, in case he had ended up in my group again. He looked suspicious, but did not try to switch numbers with anyone. That was a good sign. He did not end up in my group, but I was told to tell his group of children what to expect as they approached the snack table on this particular day. They were to introduce their partner, thank the snack patrons for inviting them to the cotillion, and tell the patrons what they would be doing for their "Winter Break" (I prefer to call it Christmas Break but soon found that children who do not celebrate Christmas were confused, and I had to correct myself by saying, "Oh. I mean WINTER Break." I miss the good old days.)
I walked up to "Timmy" and his partner and tried to act casual. He gave me a look like "C'mon you. You know me!" So I looked at him and said, "Hi 'Timmy.'" I was very casual. Very cool. He said hi and started GUSHING about his pets and his partner's pets and how "[His] best friend is dancing with [his] MORTAL ENEMY!" It was precious. And I felt silly for getting flustered over an 8-year-old.
That's my story.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Happy Reminder
So tonight, as I shuffled busily around my place of employment serving fantastically profitable amounts of alcohol to my party of 30, Boyfriend reminded me that I have this blog! I tend to forget about writing on here, but each time I remember, I vow to improve my loyalty to my beloved blog. So once again, I will say that I WILL TRY to be a better blogger!
In other news, I started assisting at a local cotillion/school of etiquette last night and it was so much fun! The kids were all so cute, doing their little formal introductions, and tiny merengue dance steps! I did, however, scare a child.
The evening began with the 3rd-4th graders. We numbered both the boys and the girls off one to four and told the children to go the corner with the corresponding number. From there we had the girls get into a circle facing outward and the boys get into a circle facing inward toward the girls. My group was short a girl, so I stepped into the girl's circle. As I expected, none of the boys wanted to be partnered with me for too long, but most of them were relatively nice about it. They would quietly tell the boy next to them "I hope we rotate soon..." but they made the effort to spare my feelings about the matter. All except for "Timmy" (Name has been changed... just because I felt like changing it). "Timmy" did NOT want to be my partner. Unfortunately for him, I ended up being his partner for snack time. This meant that he would have to offer me his right arm, take my gloves (if I had been wearing any), introduce me to the Snack Patrons, get me a snack, and converse with me for the ten minute snack period. He wouldn't have any of it. Reluctantly, he offered me his arm, and I tried to assuage his disappointment by telling him that unlike the other boys, he didn't have to take my gloves, because I didn't have any! This did not make him happier. We waited in the line--almost silently, except for my futile attempts to make small-talk-- until we made it to the snack table. The Snack Patrons prompted "Timmy" to introduce his partner to them, to which he said, "I don't have a partner." He kept his head down all the while, as he poured himself some lemonade and grabbed himself a cookie. The patrons, bless their hearts, tried once more to get him to perform properly, and they asked him if he would like to offer his partner a snack. He simply said, "Nope," and walked away.
I was not going to give up. I followed him to his seat and sat down beside him as he scooted as far away from me as he possible could get on his two foot-wide seat. He tried to talk to the couple next to him, who clearly sympathized with his having to be paired with one of the patrons. So I talked with them. The other little girl was perfectly amicable while the other boy made a point not to make eye contact with me. "Timmy" begged the girl to switch seats with him so he could sit next to the other boy, which she politely did. The girl was nice and tried very hard to make me feel better about the situation, but then she decided that it was best to return to her proper seat and follow the rules that had been set forth by the coordinators. So "Timmy" slunk back into his seat beside me. I tried again:
Me: "'Timmy' why won't you talk to me?"
"Timmy": "Because you're scary!"
Me: "Oh I'm not scary. I really don't mean to be scary."
::SILENCE::
Me: "So 'Timmy,' do you play any sports?"
"Timmy": "Soccer."
Me: "Oh I love soccer! I used to play every year. What position do you play?"
"Timmy": "Defense. And offense."
Me: "It sounds like you like to play all over. Do you like to play midfield?"
"Timmy": "Yes."
Me: "Midfield was always my favorite position."
"Timmy": "I don't like it."
Me: "Oh okay. So how old are you 'Timmy'?"
"Timmy": "Almost nine."
Me: "Wow, that's cool! I'm 20."
"Timmy": "THAT'S WHY YOU'RE SO SCARY!"
Luckily, at this time they called the end of snack and said that we were about to begin dancing. As I expected based on his snack time behavior, "Timmy" did not want to dance with me. He would not grab my hand and he would not move his feet as the dance instructor began explaining the simple steps of the merengue. I told "Timmy" that he didn't have to hold my hands, but I tried to get him to move his feet. He wouldn't. Well, that's incorrect. He DID move his feet, but only to get as far away from me on the dancefloor as he possibly could. I finally decided to recruit another patron to get him to dance so that I would not scar poor "Timmy" any more on his first day of cotillion. He was a very cute boy and I am determined to become his friend within the next 6 months of classes! I guess I'll just have to be less "scary"-- less... 20.
In other news, I started assisting at a local cotillion/school of etiquette last night and it was so much fun! The kids were all so cute, doing their little formal introductions, and tiny merengue dance steps! I did, however, scare a child.
The evening began with the 3rd-4th graders. We numbered both the boys and the girls off one to four and told the children to go the corner with the corresponding number. From there we had the girls get into a circle facing outward and the boys get into a circle facing inward toward the girls. My group was short a girl, so I stepped into the girl's circle. As I expected, none of the boys wanted to be partnered with me for too long, but most of them were relatively nice about it. They would quietly tell the boy next to them "I hope we rotate soon..." but they made the effort to spare my feelings about the matter. All except for "Timmy" (Name has been changed... just because I felt like changing it). "Timmy" did NOT want to be my partner. Unfortunately for him, I ended up being his partner for snack time. This meant that he would have to offer me his right arm, take my gloves (if I had been wearing any), introduce me to the Snack Patrons, get me a snack, and converse with me for the ten minute snack period. He wouldn't have any of it. Reluctantly, he offered me his arm, and I tried to assuage his disappointment by telling him that unlike the other boys, he didn't have to take my gloves, because I didn't have any! This did not make him happier. We waited in the line--almost silently, except for my futile attempts to make small-talk-- until we made it to the snack table. The Snack Patrons prompted "Timmy" to introduce his partner to them, to which he said, "I don't have a partner." He kept his head down all the while, as he poured himself some lemonade and grabbed himself a cookie. The patrons, bless their hearts, tried once more to get him to perform properly, and they asked him if he would like to offer his partner a snack. He simply said, "Nope," and walked away.
I was not going to give up. I followed him to his seat and sat down beside him as he scooted as far away from me as he possible could get on his two foot-wide seat. He tried to talk to the couple next to him, who clearly sympathized with his having to be paired with one of the patrons. So I talked with them. The other little girl was perfectly amicable while the other boy made a point not to make eye contact with me. "Timmy" begged the girl to switch seats with him so he could sit next to the other boy, which she politely did. The girl was nice and tried very hard to make me feel better about the situation, but then she decided that it was best to return to her proper seat and follow the rules that had been set forth by the coordinators. So "Timmy" slunk back into his seat beside me. I tried again:
Me: "'Timmy' why won't you talk to me?"
"Timmy": "Because you're scary!"
Me: "Oh I'm not scary. I really don't mean to be scary."
::SILENCE::
Me: "So 'Timmy,' do you play any sports?"
"Timmy": "Soccer."
Me: "Oh I love soccer! I used to play every year. What position do you play?"
"Timmy": "Defense. And offense."
Me: "It sounds like you like to play all over. Do you like to play midfield?"
"Timmy": "Yes."
Me: "Midfield was always my favorite position."
"Timmy": "I don't like it."
Me: "Oh okay. So how old are you 'Timmy'?"
"Timmy": "Almost nine."
Me: "Wow, that's cool! I'm 20."
"Timmy": "THAT'S WHY YOU'RE SO SCARY!"
Luckily, at this time they called the end of snack and said that we were about to begin dancing. As I expected based on his snack time behavior, "Timmy" did not want to dance with me. He would not grab my hand and he would not move his feet as the dance instructor began explaining the simple steps of the merengue. I told "Timmy" that he didn't have to hold my hands, but I tried to get him to move his feet. He wouldn't. Well, that's incorrect. He DID move his feet, but only to get as far away from me on the dancefloor as he possibly could. I finally decided to recruit another patron to get him to dance so that I would not scar poor "Timmy" any more on his first day of cotillion. He was a very cute boy and I am determined to become his friend within the next 6 months of classes! I guess I'll just have to be less "scary"-- less... 20.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Sore.
Three nights in a row of 6 hours of serving plus two hours of softball and going on 1-2 walks per day, while getting very little if any sleep has left me a bit tired and sore.
But luckily everything else is beautiful at the moment! It's a gorgeous, sunny day and I will most definitely be spotted lounging around the pool reading "Down and Out in Paris and London" within the next two hours :)
But luckily everything else is beautiful at the moment! It's a gorgeous, sunny day and I will most definitely be spotted lounging around the pool reading "Down and Out in Paris and London" within the next two hours :)
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
3 Hours and counting...
Some people might say that I'm pathetic for sitting at home on a Friday night, eating Dove chocolate and Jolly Ranchers and watching the Disney channel. Lucky for me, I have an excuse! As I mentioned in my last post... BOYFRIEND COMES HOME TONIGHT! I turned in my last poetry essay, took my poetry final, washed my car, got the sparkling cider and champagne for my WONDERFULLY ROMANTIC scheme tonight, and I had RA for dinner :) Today is basically the best day ever!
I do have a moderately exciting story from today as well!
As I'm driving home from school, I come across a small queue of about three cars that seem to be stopped at a green light. I began pressing down on my brake pedal about 100 feet behind the car in front of me and come to a stop a safe distance away. Had I been in a hurry I probably would have changed lanes and avoided having to wait behind the stopped cars altogether, but I was in a good mood, a good song was playing, and I wasn't in any rush. I had been stopped for all of five seconds when I look into my rearview mirror and see a cream-colored '66 Mustang driving full speed towards me. I saw the old man's face as he realized that my car was not moving, and he quickly pulled the e-brake and fish tailed to avoid rear ending me. My heart stopped. I can only imagine what his poor old heart was doing. Luckily there was no one behind him or to the right of him, so his maneuver didn't affect anyone. It's times like those that you realize how lucky you really are. Worst case scenario the man could have slammed into me, causing me to hit the car in front of me, possibly causing any other number of cars to hit each other (yeah, he was going THAT fast) and any one of us could have been seriously injured. I drove away from that intersection feeling even more refreshed than I did yesterday when I had had no "near-death" experiences.
I attribute my good fortune to my safety shell. If you're ever in my car feel free to ask me about it. I'll show you :) It has protected me since I was sixteen (aka no accidents/tickets/etc.)
Good story. I know.
I do have a moderately exciting story from today as well!
As I'm driving home from school, I come across a small queue of about three cars that seem to be stopped at a green light. I began pressing down on my brake pedal about 100 feet behind the car in front of me and come to a stop a safe distance away. Had I been in a hurry I probably would have changed lanes and avoided having to wait behind the stopped cars altogether, but I was in a good mood, a good song was playing, and I wasn't in any rush. I had been stopped for all of five seconds when I look into my rearview mirror and see a cream-colored '66 Mustang driving full speed towards me. I saw the old man's face as he realized that my car was not moving, and he quickly pulled the e-brake and fish tailed to avoid rear ending me. My heart stopped. I can only imagine what his poor old heart was doing. Luckily there was no one behind him or to the right of him, so his maneuver didn't affect anyone. It's times like those that you realize how lucky you really are. Worst case scenario the man could have slammed into me, causing me to hit the car in front of me, possibly causing any other number of cars to hit each other (yeah, he was going THAT fast) and any one of us could have been seriously injured. I drove away from that intersection feeling even more refreshed than I did yesterday when I had had no "near-death" experiences.
I attribute my good fortune to my safety shell. If you're ever in my car feel free to ask me about it. I'll show you :) It has protected me since I was sixteen (aka no accidents/tickets/etc.)
Good story. I know.
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