Skip to main content

Taking a Hard Left into Wackytown

To most, I appear to be a nice, normal, almost 30-year-old with a pretty regular life.  I go to work, I hang out with my friends, and occasionally I manage to stay out past 10:00pm.  However, every so often my boring life is interrupted by a random occurence.  Friends have noted the frequency of such situations and suggested I write them down.  Actually, they suggested I write a book; unfortunately that requires way more time, committment, and attention then I'm willing to devote to something besides watching Food Network.  So, what's the next best thing?  Facebook!  Been there, done that, and some situations require waaaay more than the word limit on a status.  That's what's led me here to the world o' the blog.

To start this little social media experiment off, let's go with a classic.  I was preparing to move from Columbia, MO to Springfield, MO for work.  Thanks to some sort of black hole in my karma, I was shocked to discover that the nice, flat walkway I normally use to get to the parking lot had been torn out and that I would have to use the back stairs to move my stuff.  The night before the big move I found myself with an old computer desk that needed to be taken to the dumpster.  And when I say "taken to the dumpster", I mean "quietly snuck down to the dumpster in the dark because we weren't allowed to leave furniture by the dumpster."  Said desk and I started our sojourn down the stairs, and I noticed a young lady in the breezeway watching me.  Not offering to help, just watching.  Undaunted, I continued to carry/drag/throw/drop the desk down the stairs and -- with only three wheels lost or broken -- we reached our final destination.  Upon returning to my apartment, I noticed that the young lady was still there.  What was she doing, you might ask?  Well, see for yourself:

Apparently it was "Turn Your Breezeway into a Gym!" night in CoMo.  She was actually doing lunges, squats, and various other body-toning exercises.  I guess her living room wasn't gym-like enough for her.  (Note:  This photo had to be taken through the peephole.  I couldn't figure out a valid excuse for being out there with my camera besides "Hi, I think you're nuts and I want to prove it to the world.")

So, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Mallrats, 2.0

Now that the Halloween candy is on clearance, 'tis officially the season all up in this joint.  The stores are already in full Christmas swing.  I even heard "Winter Wonderland" playing, which was hard to take seriously when it was 75 degrees and sunny.  With Black Friday fast approaching, I've already seen some holiday hysteria: * I was in a store looking for lady stuff.  There were three nuns in the lady stuff department.  I was torn between wanting to stay as far from them as possible and wanting to sneak up behind them and see what they actually bought.  I know that they need unmentionables too, but I figured that was just standard issue with their habits, along with the sensible shoes and Clorox to keep their whites looking white.  Do they have to follow a dress code for their underpinnings, too? * A guy walking in front of me clearly had his shirt on inside out.  Was he a messy eater and figured, "hey, it works for the couch cushions..."?...
2 comments
Read more

The Power of Yet

Last week I attended a meeting where the presenter discussed the power of "yet"-- how someone can re-frame his/her thinking so as to have a growth mindset.  For instance, instead of saying "I can't run a marathon," I should tell myself, "I can't run a marathon...yet."  To be fair, I feel there's a fine line between self-confidence and false confidence; no matter how strongly I believe in myself, I'm not sure any amount of positive thinking will turn me into an Olympic gold medalist.  However, my thoughts on the theory were tested just a few short hours later... I discovered that someone was making disparaging jokes at my expense about my weight.  It's no secret that I have a love-hate relationship with my body; anyone who follows me on social media has seen my #runburstinrun journey. And it is indeed a journey -- I feel like I barely remember where I began, and there is no ending in sight.  The source of the jokes claimed no harm was ...
2 comments
Read more

"The Golden Years"

This past week I've been working with my students on writing revisions using the genre of flash fiction. Typically flash fiction is 1,000 words or less; for our purposes, we are sticking between 500 and 750. In order to model for my students I created a piece of my own, and I enjoyed reconnecting with my inner writer.  One of my students, after hearing me read my first draft, asked me why I was a teacher instead of a writer #notsohumblebrag.  Now that I've polished my story, I thought I'd share.  It may still need a little work (I'm still not sure I'm happy with how I wrote the ending), but it sure was fun to create. Enjoy! The Golden Years “Mistakes are ok...but not here.  You’re fired!” Fred started filling a cardboard box with his personal belongings from his locker.  He wondered if they had a room of boxes somewhere, ready to hand out whenever someone was let go -- something that happened a lot.  In his time at the company Fred only b...
1 comment
Read more