seb546's Xanga

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Tue, 11 Apr 2006 01:28:12 GMT

I have been having some rather awkward encounters with strangers lately. I'm all about being friendly to strangers- I mean, I'm not one of those who is willing to completely have an all-revealing conversation with someone I've never met, but I'm all about smiling, saying "Hi, how are you..." that sort of thing. However, there are just some things that I (a) do not want to know about someone that I've just met and (b) don't feel someone else who has never met is qualified to say about me.

As for (a):
I was at a store yesterday, having someone ring up all my items. Anyway, the cashier (who looks around my age) looks at me, and says: "Ah, long day."

I, being polite reply: "Yeah. How long have you been working today?"

Cashier: "Since 10 a.m.."

Me: "Wow, that's a long time" (It's about 6:00 p.m. at night now). "What time do you close?" (this question actually had ulterior motives, as I wanted to know what time it closed for future notice.)

Cashier: "10 p.m."

Me: "Really?" (shocked since it's a Sunday)

Cashier: "Yeah, it's Saturday, so we close at 10." (Yet again, it's a Sunday)

Me: "Well, I'm sorry."

Cashier: "Well, like my dad says to me: if you're man enough to have a baby, you've got to be man enough to support it."

Pause.

Me: "Ooohh, so you have children?"

Cashier: "I have one."

Pause. Long pause.

Me: "How old is it?"

Cashier: "3 months."

Pause. End of conversation.

I'm sorry. That is something I do not want to know about someone I just met... It was just a little awkward.

Anyway, so on to awkward stranger encounter number 2.

So, I'm studying in the library, and a girl walks in talking very loudly. I, being disturbed from my studying, turn and look at her. She catches my eye and says, "Man, you look really tired." Me, thinking to myself that I got 8 hours of sleep, completely lied through my teeth and said: "Yeah, I am."

Okay, so being told you looked tired, which is codeword for looking bad, isn't that great- but from a total stranger, who doesn't know what you look like in the first place- it just seems a little odd. I mean, what if I look tired all the time?

So, an hour later, she sees me again and says, "You still don't look good."

Great, thanks...

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Thu, 06 Apr 2006 03:36:15 GMT

Now, I'd categorize myself into the category of "friendly people." I generally like to say hi to people, generally smile at people when I pass them. This is not the case for everyone, which I totally understand. There are many people in the world who do not enjoy saying hi to strangers as they pass them. And when I say strangers, I mean fellow students. I'm not talking about saying hi to completely random people- that could get a little dangerous. But, just acknowledging that the other person is there would be nice.

I do not think this is really a strange concept- saying hi to people who are your peers as you pass them, regardless of whether you know them or not. I mean, it's not that risky. It's kind of a nice gesture, really.

However, I understand that this may be my extroverted self talking, so I offer some tips for ignoring someone as they pass you:

Okay, if you are going to pretend like you don't see someone as you walk towards him/her on a sidewalk, there are certain things you cannot do.

(1) You cannot simply be looking ahead because there is no way on earth that you do not notice someone as you walk past him or her. No way. None whatsoever.

(2)You cannot all of a sudden look down. It doesn't work. Just doesn't. People don't randomly look down just as other people past them unless they are avoiding eye contact.

So some completely believable ways to avoid acknowledging someone's existence on a path:

(1) Phone- I have been known to get on my phone/act like I'm text-messaging someone as I'm passing. However, this only works if you are still a far ways from the other person, so it does not look obvious. Talking on the phone doesn't work as well because your eyes are still busy and your head is up, so smiling would be required. (I'm sort of embarrassed to admit that I've used this one.

(2) Act like you're talking to someone else. This, obviously, only works if you're walking with someone. I get very involved in my conversations, so it could be very possible for me to be turned in such a way to not know someone was walking by me...

Along this line of thinking, I would like to apologize to the guy that I tried to avoid eye contact with one time as I passed him. I don't know him, but I most definitely looked down as he passed by, thinking he would think I was just lost in thought. He actually acted like a nice guy, though, and said hi to me, which startled me so much (as I wasn't expecting someone to actually say hi as I passed) that I jumped and spitted out, "Hi! I'm good." Embarrassing, and I apologize.

The moral of the story is: Say hi to people, be friendly. They'll be appreciative.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Tue, 04 Apr 2006 02:47:26 GMT

I have decided that perhaps I should start writing in this again. We'll see how long this actually lasts.

I have formulated a list of things that I find particularly charming in people as of late:

(1) I love when people sing and dance in their cars. There's something completely refreshing about it, particularly when the music is from the 90's. There's an entirely different connotation when the person is dancing to 50 Cent's "Just a Lil Bit" (though the song is a favorite of mine). Yes, I'm talking about the people who are dancing and singing to Natalie Imbruglia's "Torn" or to any song by the Backstreet Boys. I love those people. They're so free and uninhibited and completely awkward at the same time. I think it's the juxtaposition of freedom and awkwardness that is truly charming about the situation.

(2) I also love people who get dessert before they get their meals and then munch on it as they wait for their food. It's their snack, their appetizer. Of course, this can only be the case when one goes up to order one's food at a counter of some kind and then receives the dessert right there. I love that, too. They're doing what we all secretly wish we can do, and what our parents told us we could never do all while we were growing up- eating dessert before meals. They're getting the same satisfaction I get when I have a peace of cake for lunch and call it a mea, even though my mother would probably be appalled at the lack of anything really organic in my diet.

(3) I also have decided that I love people who wear boots with everything- cowboy boots, lace-up boots, any form of boots that in no way match the style of the rest of the outfit. I love it all, particularly if the boots are black and the outfit is lime green. That's my favorite combination. It's charming and unexpected and completely adorable, really. I could never do it, but I give those credit who do.

(4) Finally, I love people who drive incredibly old cars and listen to folk music. It's only the two together that possess such charm. Individually, the two can be sweet but not always. In actuality,I have become incredibly fond of folk music as of late. It's quite quaint and simplistic and serves as a contrast to the emo music playing upstairs at all hours of the night. The lyrics don't involve teenagers whining about how their parents won't let them out of the house or about how some girl doesn't give them the time of day. It's sweet and meaningful and involves acoustic guitars (however, not in the Howie Day acoustic guitar way). Old cars... I admire people who drive old cars because they require work and love. You have to talk to them to get them to run well, and I admire people who talk to inanimate objects- particularly ones who name inanimate objects. All things should have names. Names give them personality.

One comes to embrace the unexpected at college- it becomes peculiar and charming and sweet in its own way.

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Sat, 13 Aug 2005 04:10:39 GMT

Off to college!

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Wed, 10 Aug 2005 03:58:44 GMT

I'll write an entry tomorrow... I promise. Another good one, too. It'll detail the numerous tribulations facing the teenage girl as she gets ready to go to college- and you'll be touched (don't hold me to the last part...).

Today, you may be satisfied in knowing that I (a) learned how to wash clothes in the sink. Yes, it's rather quaint, isn't it? and (b) bought a pair of hot pink soffe shorts. They're just great.

Edit: I completely lied- I apologize. Tomorrow is the day for the entry.

Monday, August 08, 2005

Mon, 08 Aug 2005 03:03:39 GMT

I hate the days before something big happens. It's the calm before the storm, and I always hated the calm. I just want the stupid storm to come so that it's over with. I was always one of those kids who volunteered first to present a project. The fact that I'm impatient probably led to this- and also the fact that I like being the teacher's favorite. However, mostly, I hate the waiting. I just want to get it over with and deal with whatever happens. I want to DO the thing is waiting for me. Face the storm. Deal with the wreckage.

That is why I've decided that the next week is going to kill me. Not literally, of course. Not only do I hate packing, but I hate the so-called "goodbye factor." Particularly from grown-ups. Kids, I can manage. We aren't quite as sappy about it, really. I mean, we say good-bye, say we'll keep in touch and see each other at Thanksgiving or Christmas. There may be some crying, but, a lot (emotions-wise) remains unspoken.

See, grown-ups, they add the corny goodbye sayings, the "Go get 'em, Tiger" and "We'll always be here for you." They're the ones who invent the emotional productions in which it seems like you will never return from college. Like, you are entering the black hole of adulthood from which you will never return.

Not to say that I don't appreciate all this. I'm glad the adults say it. It'll be something to think about when I'm homesick. However, it's just akward. All the emotions stuff, that is. Just hearing all the things out loud that you've known all along. We need to hear them... but once they're actually in the open... the words are simple... the meaning simple... but, most importantly, permament. Words are so much more complex when they aren't spoken.

I just want to get past the "goodbyes" and the anticipation and be there, you know? Be at the storm.

Friday, August 05, 2005

Fri, 05 Aug 2005 14:49:27 GMT

I have always loved the first day of school. Even senior year, I still was excited for that moment when you walk into the school and see everyone again, start your new classes, meet the teachers, etc. It's not that I looked forward to the actual starting of school- the homework, the stress, the waking up at the crack of dawn to drive to school, so that I could be at school by 8:00 (Zero hour does not get any easier the longer you do it- trust me on this one). I love the walking in part- the part where everything is new and exciting and there's actual good expectations for the year and no homework assigned. That's the part I always loved.

To this day, if I smell vanilla lipgloss, I think of the first day of 7th grade, my first day at a new school. Funny how smells are inexplicably linked with memories.

However, the first day of school is not the point of this entry. In light of tax free weekend, I thought I would write an entry that confesses my love of school supply shopping. Ahh... it was always exciting to me to walk down the rows of binders, folders, pens, pencils, hilighters, deciding what I wanted. It's always crowded at Office Depot- you saw everyone you knew shopping for the exact same stuff. But, still, it was exciting- picking out the colors, wondering what the binders, notebooks would be filled with by the end of the year.

And, then getting it home and writing your name all over it. Ooh, I loved that part. My friends used to make fun of me because I put my first and last name on everything- each individual marker- everything. It's not because I was worried things would get stolen- I knew it would whether my name was on it or not. It's because I liked the whole process- the whole school-is-starting-but-hasn't-started-yet phenomenon. The whole mystery of the school year ahead of me was still with me.

I bought some of my school supplies for this year already. Though still fun, somehow the true charm of school supply shopping was lost. To my regret, there was no need to write my name all over it, particularly. I mean, it would just stay in my dormroom. And there wasn't the quantity of stuff to buy like in years past because I don't know what exactly I need and feel the need to buy notebooks with Rice plastered all over it. The real difference was that I actually had to purchase things for myself- not for use by the whole family- staplers, whole punches, etc. That felt kinda odd.

Anyway, have fun, kids, shopping for school supplies. I certaintly would. Ahhh.... the memories.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Thu, 04 Aug 2005 21:36:28 GMT

We're all fixing to leave for college, and it has struck me lately how awkward the whole process of saying goodbye really is. I mean, take, for example, the last day of school. We all sign each other's yearbooks and say "E-mail me!" and say "We'll see each other this summer" even though you didn't see the person last summer or the summer before that- all in an attempt to prolong, postone the saying goodbye process because we aren't ready to do it. Don't really know how, don't want to deal with the fact that we won't see these people again, regardless of whether we really care about them or not. They're a part of our childhood, and letting them go means growing older, moving on. But, you think to yourself, this summer will be different. This summer, I'll actually call all the people I never call and get together with them. But, you don't. There's vacations and shopping and other things to do. Calling can be such a pain, and it's annoying when they don't call back because did they not want to call you back? Do they not want to see you? Or, are they just on vacation?

So, you don't see the people you said you would, and you successfully avoided the goodbye that you thought you'd postpone until later that summer when you'd "get together" with the people.

And, then, there's the people you do care about. I just saw a friend of mine two nights ago, and we claimed that we would have lunch next week. However, I doubt that will happen. We'll get busy, and I have to pack. But, we said that anyway, to avoid saying goodbye. And, I'll seeing other friends this next week. But, we won't say goodbye. We'll say that we'll have lunch one more time before we go, an unlikely event.

Saying goodbye- the space right before you say goodbye, I mean. It's like you two have climbed up a mountain and looking around at the lands around you- the land being the future. And you're fixing to walk down the mountain, but on separate sides- the left and the right- versus just heading straight in ahead. So, you're parting, but you haven't parted yet. And, you're not in the future because you haven't left the past behind. But, the past isn't your reality either because the goodbye is inevitable, and you feel that. So, you're just stuck in the present. It's an odd feeling. Being on a threshold.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Wed, 03 Aug 2005 14:56:07 GMT

The art of dressing one's age. It's a tricky thing, I understand, particularly for the middle aged woman. Faced with competition from their newly of-age teenage daughters for men's admiration, they often times turn to the lure of the adolescent clothes department at Neiman Marcus to pull attention away from their maturing offspring and, instead, to themselves and their so-called "cool factor" (in other words, their grasp of the art of understanding teenage pop culture and dress trends).

This first type of woman is easy to spot. Walking into Neiman's, she has long, bleached-blonde hair that is blown out straight. If she does not wear her dark, Chanel glasses on the bridge of her nose (a la Jackie O), she pulls them up casually to hold back her long hair off her leathery skin, damaged from years under the tanning bed's rays. She wears tight jeans (designer of course), platform heels, and the tiniest white tank she could find that does not quite reveal her stomach (which, though firm, has never recovered its pre-childbirth form). She wears a Rolex on one wrist and has large gold and silver bangles on the other, with a large necklace around her neck that matches her expensive bangles and is used to add some pizzazz to her tank. Her earrings are long and dangly, usually following some sort of trend. Her nails and finger nails have French manicures on them and are kept extremely long. Her make-up is harsh, particularly the under-eye concealer, which she packs on in an attempt to mask her lack of sleep and excess of wine. She carries her make-up, along with everything else found in a pharmacy, in a large, black Chanel bag that could easily fit a small child. She walks easily on her heels but looks around nervously behind her glasses, eager to spot admirers.
However, that woman, is only one form of the woman who does not dress her age.

In extreme cases, the woman may revert further than the adolescent department of Neiman's, opting, instead, for the children's department. This woman is in denial that her children have reached adolescence. In her denial, she buys clothes often found on elementary school teachers or young mothers attempting to match their children's clothes (you've seen the mother-daughter lookalikes in pre-school, where the mother pulls up to drop her kid off wearing the same outfit as her daughter). Bows, Lace, and bright colors and patterns are often the crimes of this middle-aged woman. She wears a shirt and capris that perfectly match in fabric and design, bought as a set at a little boutique in some strip shopping mall. She wears pink Keds on her feet with socks that lace along the top. In her ears are large, plastic earrings that she, undoubtedly, bought at the the same little boutique that she found her outfit. Her nails and toenails are painted bright red or bright pink, the same shade as her lipstick. Her purse is usually some knock-off of the colored Luis Vuitton or Dooney and Bourke bags so popular last year. Her haircolor is unnatural and each shoulder-length lock each curled with hot-rollers.

Ah, the art of dressing one's age. It is, indeed, a tricky thing, but one that can be mastered with two tips that I have discovered. (1) Shopping in one's own department (2) the elimination of over-accesorization (yes, a new word). However, I do not harbor much hope in the problem being solved, and, in all honesty, this dilemmas of the middle-aged woman do not bother me any significant amount. The dressing issues of the stereotypical woman above, in fact, prove to be quite humorous.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Wed, 03 Aug 2005 04:43:12 GMT

I had a great entry planned... but, no time. I just got facebook!