The time when I had just bought eleven plus bags of groceries and apartment supplies and had decided I did not want to carry the items in two trips from the parking lot behind my apartment, up the stairs, and into my living quarters. Instead, I decided to put most of the bags on one arm, a few on the other, and, with the arm that had less groceries, pick up the free 12 pack of kiwi strawberry soda I was given at the store. As such, I hobbled around my apartment building with a vast white wreath of goods that adorned my midsection. I say hobbled because it was heavy and I had to move slowly. As I proceeded up the stairs, I was too wide to walk up facing the stairs; I had to turn slightly and grapevine myself up and around the corners. While I was carefully maneuvering myself, my neighbor, on a smoking break, decided to be friendly and chatty. I am pleased we are becoming better acquainted and that he started the conversation this time. Maybe it helped that I looked ridiculous.
I needed a frying pan for cooking and wanted it for the immediate future so I could make crepes from the six eggs I had broken the day before when I had tried to push too many bags of groceries onto the counter and two bags did not cooperate (please see story above). I bought a frying pan and had not taken a bag in my efforts to not take bags when I don’t need them for my current task or for use at home. This meant that when I walked to my apartment that evening, I was carrying my purse and a frying pan. It was evening when I got close to my apartment and something startled me. I held my frying pan at attention until my nerves settled. A few seconds later my mind evaluated the last few moments of my life and passed judgment that I looked ridiculous.
I believe in the literal running of errands. That meant that today for my morning run I ran to the grocery store to pick up butter and salt so I could make crepes with the frying pan I had bought the day before (please see story above). I ran through the store—pretending I was on Supermarket Sweep—and found the butter and the salt. I proceeded to check out. The bagger asked if I wanted a bag; I politely declined (please see story above). I dashed out the store and began to wonder what I looked like. I was a girl in running clothes, jogging up Main Street, carrying a box of butter and a cylinder of salt. I pretended to pump the salt like people who run with weights but then I stopped because I looked ridiculous.
I am now sitting in my kitchen and typing out this these stories in between the flipping of crepes. I have a pretty good stack now, but I keep burning the second side because I am not paying full attention to the crepes. This is my last one; I am determined to time it right. I wait to flip it and quickly try to turn one side over. Well, too quickly. This crepe is a little thicker than the others and so he folds in half like a little taco shell. No! I try to pull his sides apart but he is slowly fusing together. This will not do! I try, again, to pull apart the half circle sides but he will not bend and the tips of my fingers burn from the heat of the crepe in the pan. The heat on my fingers causes me to pucker my lips and suck in the air around me doing an inverse whistle. Desperate times come; I take the pan, tip the side and watch the crepe fall onto the counter. I grab a fork and knife and rip the two parts aside, making three pieces of mutilated crepe. I drop the uncooked sides back on the skillet and watch the fragmented pieces begin to cook fully comprehending that I still look ridiculous.
Friday, August 28, 2009
The Unsavory List
A few weeks ago I had an odd dream. I had forgotten all the details until today. I was sorting papers and came across some quickly written notes. After reading the first few bullets, I had refreshed myself with this dream that has intrigued me in my waking hours.
I found myself at a setting I knew to be school—I believe it was college. We were involved in an Armageddon war of good vs. evil. I—luckily—was on the good side and was anxiously engaged in the success of goodness and virtue. I remember walking around the school reading signs and watching others as we all pretend to live normal lives. The strategy of the evil side was through media. They worked to distract people. They made music, television, movies, and entertainment cheap. With cheap media and instruments to access it, they toiled to have people constantly distracted by these items and entertainment. My dream had a feeling of noise being all around me with images and requests consistently grabbing my attention.
Both sides worked to petition people to join their side. My friend and I received a special assignment to become spies and gather information about the evil side’s recruiting efforts. We began our work and met with an evildoer who showed us a small room that had a set up that could be compared to a blood drive. At the front entrance you were given some forms to read and then you had a personal interview—it was personal in the sense that it is just you and the interviewer but not in the sense that it was private; everyone could see you talking with the interviewer. In this evil recruitment room we could see all the people reading papers and then, because it was a small room, you could overhear bits of the conversation between the evil recruiter and the potential evildoer.
As we walked in we were handed a stack of papers. I looked down at the sheet and was surprised to see my name printed at the top. The sheet looked liked something a person would print off the internet. The sheet contained my name and then a list of all the unruly things I had done in my life. They were usually short statements and were written from an observer’s point of view.
As I read through the items mentioned, I felt like the list had been compiled by people with whom I had made daily interaction (people from high school, coworkers, etc). I realized that these people would get on this website, write an anonymous statement about the wicked acts I had performed, and then link the statement to my name. The list was accurate. They were things I had remembered doing and that were regrettable to me at my current age and maturity in life. I read the several sheets and was embarrassed that others had noticed these unsavory moments of my past.
I looked around the room and examined the people that were going through the recruitment process. What astonished me was that I knew some of the people in the room. There was a person from high school, someone I had worked with, Mickey Mouse (odd, I know, but it is a dream), and other random acquaintances among the nameless—to me—people. I was disappointed that they were there and had decided to join the evil team. There was also a deep sadness. I was sad that they had felt alone and that no one had reached out to them in kindness. It was distressing that the only association for them where they felt a belonging was with evil.
My friend’s full name was called to be interviewed and I began to be nervous for him. I could hear him talking to the interviewer. I knew he would be able to defend himself and be strong, but I felt weakened and was nervous for my interview. I was still strong in my cause for goodness, but I had lost confidence in the interview I was about to be put through. My friend was still at the beginning of his interview when I woke up.
I found myself at a setting I knew to be school—I believe it was college. We were involved in an Armageddon war of good vs. evil. I—luckily—was on the good side and was anxiously engaged in the success of goodness and virtue. I remember walking around the school reading signs and watching others as we all pretend to live normal lives. The strategy of the evil side was through media. They worked to distract people. They made music, television, movies, and entertainment cheap. With cheap media and instruments to access it, they toiled to have people constantly distracted by these items and entertainment. My dream had a feeling of noise being all around me with images and requests consistently grabbing my attention.
Both sides worked to petition people to join their side. My friend and I received a special assignment to become spies and gather information about the evil side’s recruiting efforts. We began our work and met with an evildoer who showed us a small room that had a set up that could be compared to a blood drive. At the front entrance you were given some forms to read and then you had a personal interview—it was personal in the sense that it is just you and the interviewer but not in the sense that it was private; everyone could see you talking with the interviewer. In this evil recruitment room we could see all the people reading papers and then, because it was a small room, you could overhear bits of the conversation between the evil recruiter and the potential evildoer.
As we walked in we were handed a stack of papers. I looked down at the sheet and was surprised to see my name printed at the top. The sheet looked liked something a person would print off the internet. The sheet contained my name and then a list of all the unruly things I had done in my life. They were usually short statements and were written from an observer’s point of view.
As I read through the items mentioned, I felt like the list had been compiled by people with whom I had made daily interaction (people from high school, coworkers, etc). I realized that these people would get on this website, write an anonymous statement about the wicked acts I had performed, and then link the statement to my name. The list was accurate. They were things I had remembered doing and that were regrettable to me at my current age and maturity in life. I read the several sheets and was embarrassed that others had noticed these unsavory moments of my past.
I looked around the room and examined the people that were going through the recruitment process. What astonished me was that I knew some of the people in the room. There was a person from high school, someone I had worked with, Mickey Mouse (odd, I know, but it is a dream), and other random acquaintances among the nameless—to me—people. I was disappointed that they were there and had decided to join the evil team. There was also a deep sadness. I was sad that they had felt alone and that no one had reached out to them in kindness. It was distressing that the only association for them where they felt a belonging was with evil.
My friend’s full name was called to be interviewed and I began to be nervous for him. I could hear him talking to the interviewer. I knew he would be able to defend himself and be strong, but I felt weakened and was nervous for my interview. I was still strong in my cause for goodness, but I had lost confidence in the interview I was about to be put through. My friend was still at the beginning of his interview when I woke up.
Studying for the GRE
I know a job I would be good at. Groups that give standardized tests can hire me to take their tests and report the answer I get so that they can use my wrong answers as one of the options for their A through E choices. I know the difficulties of making up wrong answers—let me help!
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