Story time......
I remember the crumb-ridden front seat of my mother's blue Windstar. It was a huge piece of shit that Ford came out with in the 90's and we were so lucky to have unknowingly been burdened with its malfunctions. I was seven years old on my way to school, picking around in my pockets and fidgeting like I always did. I found a rubber band. Tangling it within my hands, I watched my stubby fingers turn a greyish purple. My mother saw and made me stop immediately, lecturing me on how that could "make my fingers fall off". She scared me into a momentary yield, but when she dropped me off I continued to play with it in my pocket.
One of my friends, Mac, asked if he could have the rubber band, and I had the obvious response for a second grader: I stuffed it in my mouth and shook my head teasingly. 7-year-olds don't easily become uninterested in weird things like this, so he began to threaten to take it out of my mouth. Then Zach raised his hand. All eyes warily turned to his attention. Oh shit.
Zach was the biggest tattle-tale of all time, and everyone in the class knew it. What had we done to deserve such an inhumane punishment as to be tattled on?? Zach had no mercy.
"Yes Zach?", wondered Mrs. Schultz.
"Em has something in her mouth and won't let us see it!", Zach replied. As if. I would never even consider showing the enemy my pocket prize!
"Emily, please come here. Spit it into my hand", demanded Mrs. Schultz.
Ew. I instead walked over to the garbage and released the rubber band into a pencil shaving abyss.
"Now tell me what it was".
I couldn't tell her it was just a regular rubber band. Then I'd have to explain what I was doing and where I found it and that was just a lot of work. I also didn't want her telling my dad, who was also a teacher in the same school district. "Rubber braces", left my mouth as soon as it entered my head.
Mrs. Schultz frantically dug through the garbage to retrieve the "rubber braces", washed it off in the sink, and apologetically handed it back to me. I felt so bad for her - somewhat because I made her go through all this trouble so I wouldn't be embarrassed, but mostly because she believed one of the most absurd lies I've ever fabricated - and I should be listed under the top 5 worst liars ever. (That's why I don't lie anymore. It's like if you're naturally bad at basketball or math, you should give up once you've figured it out that even practicing doesn't help. Yes, I am also bad at both of those activities).
I took the rubber band and put it in my mouth when I was in front of her; but when I sat down, I spat it out into my hand and put it back in my pocket. I thought from that day, forward, that I was surely going to hell. Satan was marking my very cell with Roman numerals as I regretfully sat across from an astonished and infuriated Zach. I had beat him, but at a cost to my eternal afterlife.
I could no longer dream about being the leader of the free world. I had given up the life of ice cream and horse-sized dogs to lead my chariot across the capital grounds. I had a tremendous misunderstanding of what being a president entailed.
This is the hugest, most horrible thing that I'll take to the grave with me, which I personally know is ridiculous.
Another thing that might haunt me for a bit:
Today, I was exiting a building that usually has issues with it's doors on windy days. It was especially windy today and the door wasn't closing behind me, so I tried shutting it, but it seemed to push back. I looked through the glass to see if the rug was caught or something. There was a man trying to get out of this building. This poor guy was so incredibly confused, that he walked away from the door and waited for me to leave. I wanted to apologize, but then I'd have to explain this really stupid habit of the doors not closing that he wouldn't understand and I'd just seem crazy. So I went along with it and ran away from the door as fast as I could and into another building. I waited and watched until the man successfully exit the building and enter a different one. I went back outside and continued my venture back to the dorms where I hate-watched YouTube vids of bad Pearl Jam covers and ate a really bad sandwich.
On a completely different note: This has really been bothering me lately (I'm about to complain a little). There are some topics that are okay to discuss in small-group conversations, but shouldn't be taken to global levels or even internet levels.
1. Abortion - it's the patient's decision, other people shouldn't get involved in it and there is always more to their story than face-value. So just leave people alone about it. Women deserve their rights. I see crazed Christians and Republicans on my Facebook feed condemning the women who go through with the procedure. There are petitions. WHAT! STOP! It's no one else' business but the patient and the doctor. Jeebuz, stop making it your problem. And your own vision of God isn't everyone else' so stop telling people "it's all in the Bible". 'Cause we know it, you've reminded all of us on a fucking daily basis. That's my piece on that. I don't really care if anyone agrees with me or not, and I know no one really comments on these, but if you have something to say, don't, because I avoid conflict so I'm not going to respond or care. This is all just my opinion and I'm not going to force it onto anyone else, which is how everyone should be acting about it. (Really it's like a group of people who's favorite color is yellow and they're screaming at everyone who likes blue or green or red better).
2. Religion - ugh........ I don't even know where to start on this. I was raised a Catholic; however, I have my own beliefs. I feel like a lot of people are this way nowadays. Just figure out something you can find comfort in and don't tell other people that they're wrong about it.
3. Politics - I get really mad at people who don't know what they're talking about so I just try avoid this conversation altogether. EXCEPT GAY ISSUES - NEVER STOP TELLING HOMOPHOBES THEY SUCK, BECAUSE EVERYONE DESERVES ALL BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS!!!
4. Country/Pop Music - stop telling people how you think Katy Perry is really on top of her game lately. These are all computer-generated shit genres, filled with artificially beautiful faces and boobies and booties. There are so many other artists that actually deserve the adjective "fierce" in the same sentence as their names. ex: Matt Corby, Cherub, Future of Forestry.
5. Your Herpes - the other day I was on Twitter, and there were at least four posts on CMU Confessions about how "some dick" or "some bitch" at a party gave them herpes and neglected to inform them beforehand. No one with herpes is going to tell you to your face that they have herpes when they're intoxicated and 20 min away from banging you. Also, I don't know if you should be going to drunken parties if you have herpes; you're much more prone to "spreading your wealth" (or misfortune). Herpes is like a love for Leonardo DiCaprio: it's for life.
I'm done now.
Also: I answered my own question last night as to whether or not I have roommates. One of them was getting laid! Loudly. Very, very, loudly.
Main point of all of this: you will definitely make stupid mistakes that will have you laughing when you're dying. Maybe you'll laugh to death. What a lovely thought to possess. (The complaining part was strictly venting).
Something that I've never done before:
GET A WEIRD PIERCING (LIKE ON A BUTT CHEEK OR FINGERNAIL)
One last thought to entertain:
What would you get on your tombstone? It's kind of a morbid thought, but, like, you're gonna have it 6 feet above you for all eternity, so why not make it personal. Although, I guess you really couldn't care after you're dead. I want someone to put a fake cause of death on mine. Something like, "It was one cheesy gordita crunch too many", or "Bare-handed bear hunting is what did her in". Very blunt, but original and funny. I don't want my friends and family to be sad if I die. I want them to be happy. But not the kind of happy people were when Stalin died. Like, the kind of happy people were when they celebrated the life of Nelson Mandela... or Julia Child. I really think I might ask for the bear hunting quote on my tombstone.
Night.
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