Shock and Fright
I had big plans to go to IKEA this weekend and buy furniture. Shelves for the pantry, shelves for my bedroom and closet for my clothes, maybe some curtains. . . and after that, put away the rest of my stuff so I’m out of boxes finally, take out the garbage, mop the floor, go to the grocery store, call Comcast and get cable internet set up, buy a new bus card. . . .
You'll notice I said these were my plans. My actual weekend consisted of staying home and watching 1½ seasons of Buffy (so many Buffy episodes! My downstairs neighbor must be tired of hearing all the screaming and fight noises), cooking a beef dish that didn't turn out very well, and eating junk food until I felt sick. Not one instance of productivity. (Well, I did charge my phone. Can you count charging your phone as a productive activity? Also, I took a shower. 10 points for showering on a Sunday.)
But hey, big plans for today.
Two blasts from the pasts for you. First, there is a former college friend of mine whose name I had forgotten. A few months ago it was really bugging me that I couldn’t remember her name, because we had class together and hung out a lot. I could picture her face but not remember her name. After mentally going through the alphabet letter by letter numerous times (which usually works), I eventually gave up trying to think of it. Well today, I randomly happened to see someone who looked like her, and BAM! Instantly I remembered her name. Isn’t that weird? It’s happened before. Somehow actually seeing that person (or someone who reminds you of them) makes all the difference. It somehow gets your brain synapses firing. (Do synapses fire? Or is it the nerve endings that fire across the synapses? I wish I knew this stuff.)
And secondly and more interestingly, Friday. We got out of work early (Yay) and I decided to go shopping (clothes, not furniture). I was at H & M (love that store) and this guy looks at me and says, “Becky? That’s gotta be you. You look just the same.” I was completely at a loss for who the guy was. (He obviously didn’t look “just the same.”) He was tall, white, wearing glasses. . . . After an almost inexcusably long period of time (I hate being put on the spot like that—people should just tell you, if you’re having trouble, instead of making you squirm like that), it finally dawned on me. It was Paul Hannah from high school! The one I went to the Valentine’s dance with sophomore year and then dated. He introduced me to the woman next to him, his wife (of course he had a wife) and told me he was an engineer now (of course he was an engineer). I guess I was kind of rude the way I talked to him—I was happy to hear he was doing well, and his wife seemed really cool and nice, so go Paul—but I probably shouldn’t have said, “Of course” so many times to him. Woops. I just was feeling a little. . . . I dunno. Irritated. It was good to know, though, that since he was way big into airplanes even back in high school, that’s what he ended up doing. It’s nice that he got what he wanted.
Do you think, if you ran into someone you know 10 years ago, and they found out what your life is now, would they say “Of course,” or would they say, “Wow. That’s definitely not what I thought you’d do”? And which is better?
So anyways, Paul also tells me that his best friend Aaron (my high school boyfriend) is getting married, too. Of course he is.
My high school reunion is going to suck. I keep telling everyone how they have to go, why wouldn’t they go, it’s a travesty (I like the word travesty) not to go, but now I’m thinking of not going. Okay, I’ll probably go, but it’s going to involve a lot of lying.
Sorry for the rant. Woops-—slipped out.
So I woke up this morning in my least favorite way--having the bejeezus scared out of me.
See, the headboard of my bed is a shelf thingy, and inside the shelf there is a Claire's bag--a small white plastic bag with holes for handles--that had some of my jewelry in it (yes, we are high class--we use plastic bags instead of jewelry boxes). And above that, on the next shelf, is my alarm clock. So when I heard my alarm clock go off this morning, I turned and half sat up to hit the snooze. But when I did, I thought I saw this big white face with eyes looking at me, 4 inches from my face! I'm sure I was still mostly asleep, tired because I always go to bed late on Sunday nights, and let's not forget the insane amounts of Buffy-watching I was doing--so I obviously thought it was this sinister thing instead of a little plastic bag. I gasped/screamed (Now I'm glad I don't have a roommate, to avoid further embarrassment) and sat straight up, heart pounding. You know, I never really had nightmares when I was a kid. Hmm.
Anyway, since we're on the subject, I'll tell you about the other time I got woken up to having the bejeezus scared out of me. This was when I was in Ecuador, renting out a room from this young couple and their kids. They were like a lot of upper-class Ecuadorians--wanted to be just like Americans. Anyway, I'm not sure if that was the motivation or not--maybe they didn't even know who Abraham Lincoln was--but they had this awful lamp that had a bronze sculpture of Abraham Lincoln for a base. It was on the nightstand next to my bed. Well, one day I woke up and this statue, through my blurry eyes, was the first thing I saw. And it looked like a random Ecuadorian man (he had brown skin, you know (although about half of the city Ecuadorians are white--generally the upper class)) standing right next to my bed, staring at me! AHH! For me, who was living alone in Ecuador at the time, this very machista (chauvanistic) culture where girls get hissed and hollered at at every turn and boys have to walk you home to protect you (although I'm too stubborn sometimes and I occasionally went off by myself when I had no business doing so, just because I took issue with the fact I should let the same species of man who is hunting me be the one that protects me from same). . . anyway. So for me, to wake up to this Ecuadorian stranger next to my bed was scary. That time, a little scream actually came out. . . . . Uh... cut to me, looking around my room and discovering there was no one there except me and a lamp with a 6-inch high Lincoln statue.
Weighing the two, the white plastic bag wasn't that bad.
I'm out. Bye for now. . .
You'll notice I said these were my plans. My actual weekend consisted of staying home and watching 1½ seasons of Buffy (so many Buffy episodes! My downstairs neighbor must be tired of hearing all the screaming and fight noises), cooking a beef dish that didn't turn out very well, and eating junk food until I felt sick. Not one instance of productivity. (Well, I did charge my phone. Can you count charging your phone as a productive activity? Also, I took a shower. 10 points for showering on a Sunday.)
But hey, big plans for today.
Two blasts from the pasts for you. First, there is a former college friend of mine whose name I had forgotten. A few months ago it was really bugging me that I couldn’t remember her name, because we had class together and hung out a lot. I could picture her face but not remember her name. After mentally going through the alphabet letter by letter numerous times (which usually works), I eventually gave up trying to think of it. Well today, I randomly happened to see someone who looked like her, and BAM! Instantly I remembered her name. Isn’t that weird? It’s happened before. Somehow actually seeing that person (or someone who reminds you of them) makes all the difference. It somehow gets your brain synapses firing. (Do synapses fire? Or is it the nerve endings that fire across the synapses? I wish I knew this stuff.)
And secondly and more interestingly, Friday. We got out of work early (Yay) and I decided to go shopping (clothes, not furniture). I was at H & M (love that store) and this guy looks at me and says, “Becky? That’s gotta be you. You look just the same.” I was completely at a loss for who the guy was. (He obviously didn’t look “just the same.”) He was tall, white, wearing glasses. . . . After an almost inexcusably long period of time (I hate being put on the spot like that—people should just tell you, if you’re having trouble, instead of making you squirm like that), it finally dawned on me. It was Paul Hannah from high school! The one I went to the Valentine’s dance with sophomore year and then dated. He introduced me to the woman next to him, his wife (of course he had a wife) and told me he was an engineer now (of course he was an engineer). I guess I was kind of rude the way I talked to him—I was happy to hear he was doing well, and his wife seemed really cool and nice, so go Paul—but I probably shouldn’t have said, “Of course” so many times to him. Woops. I just was feeling a little. . . . I dunno. Irritated. It was good to know, though, that since he was way big into airplanes even back in high school, that’s what he ended up doing. It’s nice that he got what he wanted.
Do you think, if you ran into someone you know 10 years ago, and they found out what your life is now, would they say “Of course,” or would they say, “Wow. That’s definitely not what I thought you’d do”? And which is better?
So anyways, Paul also tells me that his best friend Aaron (my high school boyfriend) is getting married, too. Of course he is.
My high school reunion is going to suck. I keep telling everyone how they have to go, why wouldn’t they go, it’s a travesty (I like the word travesty) not to go, but now I’m thinking of not going. Okay, I’ll probably go, but it’s going to involve a lot of lying.
Sorry for the rant. Woops-—slipped out.
So I woke up this morning in my least favorite way--having the bejeezus scared out of me.
See, the headboard of my bed is a shelf thingy, and inside the shelf there is a Claire's bag--a small white plastic bag with holes for handles--that had some of my jewelry in it (yes, we are high class--we use plastic bags instead of jewelry boxes). And above that, on the next shelf, is my alarm clock. So when I heard my alarm clock go off this morning, I turned and half sat up to hit the snooze. But when I did, I thought I saw this big white face with eyes looking at me, 4 inches from my face! I'm sure I was still mostly asleep, tired because I always go to bed late on Sunday nights, and let's not forget the insane amounts of Buffy-watching I was doing--so I obviously thought it was this sinister thing instead of a little plastic bag. I gasped/screamed (Now I'm glad I don't have a roommate, to avoid further embarrassment) and sat straight up, heart pounding. You know, I never really had nightmares when I was a kid. Hmm.
Anyway, since we're on the subject, I'll tell you about the other time I got woken up to having the bejeezus scared out of me. This was when I was in Ecuador, renting out a room from this young couple and their kids. They were like a lot of upper-class Ecuadorians--wanted to be just like Americans. Anyway, I'm not sure if that was the motivation or not--maybe they didn't even know who Abraham Lincoln was--but they had this awful lamp that had a bronze sculpture of Abraham Lincoln for a base. It was on the nightstand next to my bed. Well, one day I woke up and this statue, through my blurry eyes, was the first thing I saw. And it looked like a random Ecuadorian man (he had brown skin, you know (although about half of the city Ecuadorians are white--generally the upper class)) standing right next to my bed, staring at me! AHH! For me, who was living alone in Ecuador at the time, this very machista (chauvanistic) culture where girls get hissed and hollered at at every turn and boys have to walk you home to protect you (although I'm too stubborn sometimes and I occasionally went off by myself when I had no business doing so, just because I took issue with the fact I should let the same species of man who is hunting me be the one that protects me from same). . . anyway. So for me, to wake up to this Ecuadorian stranger next to my bed was scary. That time, a little scream actually came out. . . . . Uh... cut to me, looking around my room and discovering there was no one there except me and a lamp with a 6-inch high Lincoln statue.
Weighing the two, the white plastic bag wasn't that bad.
I'm out. Bye for now. . .
posted by Becky at
11:08 AM
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