It’s been one of those days. Yes, you know exactly. The day you’re sitting in class chewing on your thumbnail, you hear a crack, and notice you were actually chewing on your thumbnail. Or how about that day you forgot to put on deodorant that morning. The rest of the day you end up sitting arms crossed, stiff, and looking slightly constipated. In other words, you just feel like a complete dork.
School is intimidating enough. 2000+ teenagers in one building is sure to frighten any parent away. Especially with girls- let’s call her Suzie- running around the school with gorgeous hair and perfectly un-chipped thumbnails. What makes these Suzies so damn flawless? Their confidence.
Going up the stairwell to journalism today, I saw the Suzie. She was right in front of me wearing the absolute prettiest shade of light blue. With each step, her curls bounced in unison. Suddenly, a voice called out Suzie’s name from the top of the stairs and she looked up. With one graceful misstep, she lost her footing. The stairs caved beneath her and she rose un-phased with only a smile strung across her face. Her friend, still laughing at the klutz move, shook her head and both girls went off down the hallway.
If girls like Suzie could fall down, then there must be hope for the rest of us but to get back up with a smile takes a whole different kind of self-assurance. The truth is we are all just closet dorks but some of us are just better at hiding it.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Day in the Life of an Islander
I live on an island. Although you may think it would be relaxing, sometimes the hardest part about living on an island is trying to relax. The weather isn’t always 60 and sunny, the tourists aren’t always nice, and the nearest bar is 20 miles away.
As I said before, visitors sometimes stop by. A couple of them show up with black suitcases around 10 AM. Stragglers. Curious, they step off their boats and meander around the grounds. I watch them closely; some are not always welcome on this island. Alarmed by my unforgiving stares, they hurry back into their boats. As much as I hate to chase people away, it’s one of my jobs to protect the island.
A call comes through around noon just as I’m about to take a nap. It’s from the mother country. I pick up immediately, “This is the Island, what can I do for you?”
“A new shipment of residents is coming in, could you handle that?” asks the mother country councilman. I agree, groaning. New residents from the mother country were often very nice but were significantly flawed personality wise. They never stayed too long either.
At 3 PM, I left my post to go to the Cloud Nine Café. No one was there. “How’s business?” I asked the man at the counter unrolling a new pack of quarters. “Not so good,” he replied, “people don’t come around like they used to”. I sighed and looked down at my cup. “It will be fine,” said the man seeing the thoughts of hopelessness running through my head, “the island’s drift might do some good”.
“Island drift?” I asked looking up.
“See the building over there?” I fastened my head toward in the direction he pointed. Squinting the hardest I could, I only saw a faded lightening rod poking into the horizon. “No, I can’t,” I said.
“Exactly, we are drifting. Why a couple years ago you could see the whole building from here.”
“If there truly is an island drift, then wouldn’t that mean less people coming to the island from the mother country?”
“Probably, but who knows? Maybe we’ll have better luck without the mother country.” The man finished sorting the coins and went back to the backroom. Who ever heard of an island without a mother country? The man obviously had too much Cloud Nine juice…
As I said before, visitors sometimes stop by. A couple of them show up with black suitcases around 10 AM. Stragglers. Curious, they step off their boats and meander around the grounds. I watch them closely; some are not always welcome on this island. Alarmed by my unforgiving stares, they hurry back into their boats. As much as I hate to chase people away, it’s one of my jobs to protect the island.
A call comes through around noon just as I’m about to take a nap. It’s from the mother country. I pick up immediately, “This is the Island, what can I do for you?”
“A new shipment of residents is coming in, could you handle that?” asks the mother country councilman. I agree, groaning. New residents from the mother country were often very nice but were significantly flawed personality wise. They never stayed too long either.
At 3 PM, I left my post to go to the Cloud Nine Café. No one was there. “How’s business?” I asked the man at the counter unrolling a new pack of quarters. “Not so good,” he replied, “people don’t come around like they used to”. I sighed and looked down at my cup. “It will be fine,” said the man seeing the thoughts of hopelessness running through my head, “the island’s drift might do some good”.
“Island drift?” I asked looking up.
“See the building over there?” I fastened my head toward in the direction he pointed. Squinting the hardest I could, I only saw a faded lightening rod poking into the horizon. “No, I can’t,” I said.
“Exactly, we are drifting. Why a couple years ago you could see the whole building from here.”
“If there truly is an island drift, then wouldn’t that mean less people coming to the island from the mother country?”
“Probably, but who knows? Maybe we’ll have better luck without the mother country.” The man finished sorting the coins and went back to the backroom. Who ever heard of an island without a mother country? The man obviously had too much Cloud Nine juice…
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)