It's been a while since I've written anything. So here's a big sorry to all of my fans (there are probably five of you...or less). It's not from a lack of time, I've just kind of felt empty on the blog-writing front lately. My cousin Sophee told me to write about swimming but other than the fact that I smell like chlorine all the time and swimming with teenagers is very entertaining there's not really enough to write about on that front.
Last week I was thrown deep into foreign territory, far outside of my comfort zone. Someone made me the center of attention by thrusting me into the middle of an impromptu art show. If there's one thing I don't like, it's being the center of attention. My aunt, the perpetrator, says I need to get used to it if I'm going to be an artist, but it's hard for me to take all the attention in a room full of people I barely know or don't know at all.
People who don't know me very well think I'm a really quiet person
who pretty much never talks. People who know me well know that that
assumption is only about 10% true. I'm not much of a talker sometimes
because when people I don't know ask me questions my mind goes blank and
I get that deer in the headlights look. I panic. I don't really know
why, but that's what happens.
When I'm around my
friends and family everything changes. I become this crazy weird
person, in a good way. I'm very fond of goofing off. It's my favorite
thing to do with my friend Caroline. Our version of goofing off isn't
normal, though (Ha, normal goofing off). We talk about epic pigeon choirs and beards with magical powers and give
people weird nicknames. We laugh uncontrollably and enjoy riding the
bus so we can listen to other people's conversations about vegan
hair care (whatever that is). We're not typical twenty-two-year-old's in any way shape or
form.
There is at least one true conclusion that you
can make from this: If I'm a weirdo around you, I've become comfortable
enough in your presence to seriously be myself. If I'm not a weirdo yet, give it
some time and I'll get there.
Wow, this post was really short...and there were no pictures.
I'm a strange person.
Oh, wait, here's a picture of me and my cousin's being weird:
And I just really wanted to give you this:
DALI LLAMA!
Around this time four years ago, I was here:
And here:
And here:
But before I got anywhere near that, I had to be here, wearing this:
I remember the forecast not looking good that day. I remember it raining and I remember the sun coming out and sending up humid waves off of everything it touched. I cringed at what it and that ridiculous hat would do to my hair, my perfectly flatironed hair. We walked in loud and horrendous lines out to the soggy football field and got into place. I was nervous and smiley all at the same time. We walked in two's on cue, just as we had practiced. My walking partner kept pace with me after I threatened to make him carry me if he didn't slow down. I wasn't in heels or anything, I'm not crazy like THAT, he just had ridiculously long legs. When we all made it to our seats I could only imagine what we looked like as a sea of hideous purple. A lot of people talked and a lot of hot sun beat down. I was a sweat monster, but that's what Florida in May does to you, and the robe didn't help. I remember whispering things to the people next to me, but I don't remember anything of what I said. I managed to snag a seat on the front row too.
For weeks all anyone talked about was class rankings. People were constantly going to guidance to see where they ranked in GPA, what number in the class they would graduate as. I ignored them and focused on getting through my last classes. When anyone asked me I would just say I didn't know. People expected me to graduate high, and they wanted to know if they were right. I decided it was none of their business.
At graduation practice we all sat in the stands of the gym while teachers called names to tell people where to sit in the array of folding chairs set up on the floor. I heard my name called and went to sit in the last seat on the right side of the first row. Apparently I was 11th in my class. Who knew? Umm...not me.
So there I was, my name being called again out there on the field. I walked through the soggy grass, I shook hands, I got a medal....and an empty diploma case. More talking, more crying, more sentiment. Then we got to file back out. I didn't care anymore if my walking partner was in line, or if I was too close to the person in front of me. By the time I got to the goal post we were pretty much all celebrating, and then the families came down from the stands and we all became a seething mass of really sweaty emotional people. Pictures abounded, everyone was hugged to death, and there was a lot of searching. For me, though, We couldn't leave soon enough. I'm not fond of squished masses of people unless they're doing something funny and I'm not in it.
As I looked around at all the graduates before I left I saw a lot of partying in their near future. I prayed that no one would kill each other with drinking and then I left. I saw partying in my future too, but I don't party like normal people. When I got home, my cousins and I jumped into the pool. Just the three of us under the moon. It's a memory I'll never forget. Who knows how late we went to bed...who even cares?
Two weeks later we set off on an adventure, we being my mom, my aunt, my two cousins Lauren and Sophee, and me. Destination: Grand Canyon. We drove a rented minivan all the way there and camped along the way. Yes, five females camping. There was lots of craziness and lots of drama, but it was so worth it. I had a lot of firsts on this trip...
First visit to a national park:
First time experiencing snow:
First time visiting a dam:
First bear box at a campsite:
First time going to the vertex of a graph of a quadratic function...I mean, first time going up in the Gateway Arch:
And those were just SOME of the highlights...
I've concluded that some of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life I saw on that trip. There were times when we were sleeping in freezing weather and heating ourselves to death when we all kind of wished that we were home, but I honestly could have gone all the way to the Pacific. Our trek west stopped at the Grand Canyon, though, which really wasn't a disappointment.
We all kept journals for the trip and we recorded some pretty interesting stuff. I also ended up writing an essay a couple years ago about one of my experiences. I would have never gone on a trip like this alone, you know, and not because it would have been frightening by myself. The five of us forged some seriously unforgettable memories on that trip.
Four years later a lot has changed, but every year people still walk across that field and graduate. So if you're not a squished crowd kind of person then stop looking at it like a seething mass of really sweaty emotional people and start looking at it like a teeming mass of emotional memories being made. I think it's a kind of art.
Seeing things differently yet?
