Priority Use

My last post got me thinking.

Exaggeration makes stories so much more interesting. I've been trying not to exaggerate as much. Like, instead of saying "I think I gained 10 pounds this weekend," I'd say "wow, I really ate a lot." Or, "I cut myself and it bled practically all night," I'd say "I cut myself and it bled for about 10 minutes and I just put paper towel on it and it stopped." Or, "I stubbed my toe and that hurt really, really bad," I'd say, "I stubbed my toe and that hurt for a few seconds."

But, it's not that interesting to tell stories like that.

This all stems from my desire to recount people's stories in my own head. I always wnat to know exactly what happened and how it happened. But, when people say things such as "it was 100 degrees in there," it's hard to write the story. I like to know how things are, not how they could be. You know?

So, I've decided to stop this terrible tendency to exaggerate once and for all!

Someone is trying to escape from the Reg.

He keeps walking over to the windows and running his hands down them like he's trying to get out. It makes this odd squeaking noise.

We're on the fourth floor and this kinda makes me nervous. I hope the glass is glued in really well. He's a little Asian guy (probably weighs about two-thirds--I've been trying hard not to exaggerate--as much as me--not including his glasses cause those are kinda big), so I guess I shouldn't worry.

I want to go sit with him, put my hand around his shoulder and just tell him to leave. Take a break. Come back later.

But, who am I to talk? I'm posting in my blog.

He must have heard me typing, cause he's packing his stuff to leave.

I don't often commit a fashion faux pas. I don't generally try to avoid them, it just so happens I get lucky most of the time. My getting dressed routine most often consists of me pulling whatever shirt I can find out of my closet (although I do consider short sleeved or long) and then throwing it on top of one of my two pairs of jeans. So, no faux pas, more than having anything to do with how much I care about how I look each day depends, frankly, on the lack of diversity and selection within the three walls of my closet. It just so happens that it wouldn't be that easy to commit fashion faux pas when you have what I'm working with.

Today, though, was a big exception.

I knew the moment I locked my door this morning that I chose wrong--very, very wrong--but it was too late to turn back. I gave myself a quick once over and prayed that no one would notice.

Unfortunately, my first friendly encounter couldn't not notice if she tried. "You look like spring," she joked. Ha ha. I don't think she realized that I was already very much aware.

Now, as I walk across the quads, into coffee shops and the library I can't help but feel like a giant piece of pastel Easter candy. Pink on the bottom, blue on the top. Whatever was I thinking? I can only hope that my black shoes and black hat buffer the cutsey-ness just a bit. I've even thrown in a black scarf for good measure.

I can see it in everyone's eyes too. I think most people, recognizing that I am generally aware of the world, probably pity me more than anything else. I, in fact, pity myself. The girl who sold me my peanuts gave me a little glance and smiled a bit. A smile that revealed her sorrow for the fact that I still have much of the day to get through before I can go home and change--thank goodness for winter's early sundown.

Well, I suppose it could be worse. I could have forgotten to get dressed all together. Yeah. I'll keep that in mind.

"Bad people wear fur."

Today as I was walking to class, I noticed this very interesting bumper sticker and it prompted me to think of a few interesting things.

Like, for example, how this person knows that bad people wear fur. The statement is quite a generalization and it is also rather unclear. Does this mean that only bad people wear fur? Or that all fur-wearers are bad? Or perhaps, the only bad people are those that are wearing fur.

Do I think it is pleasant to wear a dead animal's skin and fur? No, not really. Does that mean that someone who thinks it is, is a bad person. Well, no, I don't think so. Maybe they're just a little unconcerned. Or, maybe uncaring. Or,
maybe just carnivorous. But, I don't really think they're bad.

Plus, who am I to judge? I own more than a few pairs of leather-clad shoes. I'm not sure there's a difference.

The funniest thing about the entire situation is that the bumper sticker was placed smack-dab in the middle of the trunk of her SUV. Um. Okay. I certainly don't think that SUV-drivers are "bad" people. My dad drives an SUV. And, while I attempt at persuading him to get a smaller car about every time I ride in it, I don't think he's all that bad. In fact, he's pretty good as far as I'm concerned. Plus, I can spout out all I want about saving the environment, but unless I'm Miss Perfect, do I really have that right?

The point being, someone should tell her (I say "her" for simplicity's sake but I don't mean to know that the driver/owner was definitely a female--though I have my suspicions), or at least politely remind her, that her fuel-inefficient vehicle is doing a lot of harm to the environment--killing off and damaging ecosystems (along with her little furry friends).

It's funny that this little discussion should come out of my own little head. The other day, Sunday, in fact, I was talking to a friend totally pissed off about how mean these certain people are in this certain coffee shop on campus. She politely reflected upon the fact that she "has never met any mean people." Once she gets to know those who seem mean at first, she says it's hard to see anyone as truly and honestly, deep down being "mean." While this made me really mad at first (I think I've met a few mean people), I think she might have a point. Maybe there aren't really any (well, I think there are a few) "mean" people in the world, just people who are misdirected at a certain point in time.

Which brings me back to being "bad.

Maybe there aren't really any "bad" people. Just misguided, unconscientious people living for values that you or I might not understand.

Since when did having school pride become a bad thing? I am particularly fond of my (soon-to-be) alma mater and don't understand why that's a problem. I have a number of shirts (a few of them purchased, many more collected for free) that help me outwardly display my affection, and I would have no problem purchasing a few more before I leave.

I think, though, this pride thing goes way deeper than just school spirit. It seems to me that many individuals feel awkward about feeling good about something (be it oneself or someone/thing else). It's like people trump modesty for something grand and depressive--that state of melancholy, "I'm too good to really care" sort of stuff. Well, I think that's ridiculous. Why spend countless dollars, emotional well-being and time engaged in something that you can't be proud about? But, on a grander scheme, why go through life doing things that you're "just beyond caring about"?

Ultimately we're all stuck with our decisions and ourselves for the rest of our lives. Why not be happy about that? Or, if not happy, at least a little proud?