Tuesday, March 5, 2013

This Post Is About Tacos, But Not On Purpose

     I am a woman.  I am a young-looking young woman.  I am a small woman.  Also, I am a woman.  All of these things make me approachable in other people's eyes.  I suppose this is why people think it's acceptable to interrupt my iPod time to hand me things and make a speech about whatever it is they're promoting.  I'm generally a friendly person, but as a rule of thumb:  if I'm walking, I have my ear-buds in, and you are a complete and total stranger, I suggest not trying to talk to me.  Muy emphasis on the stranger part.
     
     Now everyone thinks I'm an extrovertedly rude introvert.  (Is extrovertedly a word?  I thought it was, but there is a wavy red line underneath it that makes me think I invented it.  I am a genius.  It should be a word.  When they add a new word to the dictionary, do they give people credit, like in the back of the dictionary or something?  I'm going to look into that.)  I'm actually a nice person and there actually is a point to all of this nonsensical ranting.  The point is that I have a story about people handing me things on campus.  Nay, I have TWO stories about it.  Buckle up, boys and girls!  (Either do that and keep reading, or realize you're bored and leave this blog.  Go ahead and choose the latter.  Crush a girl's dream.)


Exhibit A

     The date was February 3, 2012.  (Remember that detail!  It will come up again later in the story!)  It was a Friday (Also remember that.), and a gloomy one at that.  Sometime late in the morning, a girl who is almost always happy was walking across campus, and she was not happy.  This girl was me.  I was cold and hungry and tired and lonely and overwhelmed and grumpy for reasons I will not go into.  I decided that the only thing that would comfort me was a taco, which is a conclusion that I come to quite frequently.  Fortunately, whoever's choice it was to put a Taco Bell in the student center had had a vision of me, and they knew that I would one day celebrate my victories and mourn my sorrows whilst snarfing their mainstream beans and cheese.  (Sidenote:  My mom knows me so well, she got me a Taco Bell gift card for Valentine's Day this year.  Best.  Mom.  Ever.  Also, I should think about eating better, but let's not dwell on that.)
     
     Unfortunately, I made the mistake of walking through the main hall of the student center.  This is the dreadful place on campus where horrifying things called organizations set up hideous things called booths and pass out disgusting things called flyers.  I had battled my way through most of the hall unscathed, using a tactic I like to call "Keep Your Head Down," when somebody thrust out their hand and shoved a flyer directly in my face.  I stopped dead in my tracks, kept my hands in my pockets, and slowly raised my head to look this trespasser squarely in the eyes.  The person that stood before me was a huge Polynesian man.  Did this intimidate me?  No.  Did I back down?  No.  

     Instead, I gifted him with one of my notorious frowns:



(This is a very accurate depiction of my real frown.)

     I am not a very intimidating person, but this very large man-full-of-muscles looked absolutely terrified.  He managed to squeak out a, "Hockey?" before I grabbed the flyer and walked away.

     I was about to crumple the demon scrap and throw it away, when a short wave of curiosity spilled into my soul.  I read the flyer.


     That was when I remembered that the universe has a sense of humor, and that it likes when I'm happy.  When I read this, I laughed so loud and so long and so by myself that everyone in the student center thought I'd just lost my marbles.  If anyone had just witnessed the entire exchange, they were thinking that I was a sick person who reaped joy from frowning at others.  But the flyer was incredibly hilarious and it had accomplished it's heaven-sent intent (rhyme, rhyme, rhymity-rhyme) of making me happy once again.  Then, as an added bonus, I went home and posted the picture on Facebook and said something like, "Sorry, hockey team, but Friday is actually the 3rd.  Nice tries, though." and more than two people LIKED my post!  Everyone knows that getting likes on Facebook equates true happiness.


Story #2

     'Twas a good time, the new year.  A new semester had just begun and I was already making new friends and conquering life and feeling good about myself.  I was enjoying a glorious day of classes and decided to celebrate by purchasing myself a (you guessed it) taco.  I was walking through the student center once again when a mystery approached me from afar.  I noticed her long before we came in contact because of the way she was dressed.  She was wearing a plaid pant-suit and a very large, very strange red hat.  She looked a little something like this:


(I swear all I did to find this picture was google "crazy red hat."  The internet loves me.)

     She came up to me and gently placed a paperback novel in my hands.  "Would you like a free novel?" She asked.  "Sure," I said nonchalantly, even though what I was thinking was, "Only an insane person would pass up a free novel."  I thought later that maybe I should be wary about a novel given to me by a stranger in a red hat, but I read it nonetheless.  It was free and it was a book, both of which are weaknesses of mine.  It was called Mind Games and it was actually an entertaining read with a fairly compelling story and it looked like this:


     




     The moral of these stories is that you should never be afraid to accept something that somebody is offering you.


     Unless it's drugs.


Monday, March 4, 2013

Note to Self

Going to school full time, working part time, working on three separate film projects, being involved in church, having a social life, and getting enough sleep all at the same time = impossible.  Some of these things will inevitably get less attention than recommended (these things will most likely be school and sleep).*





   

   


     *Despite an obvious lack of success in some areas of your life, you can still somehow be incredibly happy.  Sorry, bitter and/or pessimistic people, but MY LIFE ROCKS.