Tuesday, January 27, 2009

what do you mean Harry Potter isn't real?

I'll admit that while walking around campus listening to my iPod, I frequently forget where I am, or where I'm going. This afternoon was no different.

While walking from the library to my apartment, my iPod on shuffle, Hank Green's Accio Deathly Hallows began to play. With a skip in my step, I began humming this song, thinking of Chicago, Summer 2007 and other days long past. My humming turned to mouthing the lyrics, my mouthing to whispering, and apparently my whispering became louder and louder. After singing I couldn't care less about Harry Potter if Hogwarts was my alma mater (at the top of my lungs, apparently)I looked around, and everyone was staring at me. I paused the song, and was thrust back into reality.

I figured I had three options at this point. One, I could keep singing and continue on my way home. Two, I could publicly apologize for "disturbing the peace" or three, I could start singing Lean Like A Cholo, the next song on my iPod, and attempt to redeem myself. I did neither. Instead, I tripped down the stairs as I tried running away from the situation.

Well, I guess becoming "that weird Harry Potter girl" here at BYU was inevitable. Maybe if I continue to build this reputation, they'll start letting me bring my wand to class.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

The Talk.

Today I was at work, making brownies as usual. One of my co-workers was in the back, washing dishes. We’d never really spoken before, but we’d been working on the same shift for months. I was cleaning things up when she came over.

“Have I ever told you about my boyfriend? Er, ex-boyfriend now.”

I knew it was time. Time for “the talk”. No, not the talk your parents give you about the birds and the bees in elementary school that makes you feel like throwing up because boys still have cooties, this is the other talk, the girls have before coming friends. Never fail, in order for one female to bond with another, the two must discuss boys. And not just “I have a wonderful boyfriend!” or “I’m going on a date with this super cute guy tonight!” This is a discussion of a history all girls share, the history of crappy boys who have done crappy things.

“No, you never told me about him” I replied (had she ever told me anything?)
“Well, you’ve got to hear this.”

She proceeded to tell me about her psycho now ex boyfriend who was such a jerk. He yelled at her, he never called when he promised, he was controlling and lazy. I nodded my head in sympathy as she told me all the horrible things he had done to her. I found myself saying things like “he totally doesn’t deserve you” and “you’re so much better than him” and then it hit me. I didn’t know this girl. I’d never talked to her before, but I’m taking her side without question. For all I know she could be the crazy one, and her boyfriend could be the saint.

But that didn’t matter. It’s what holds us girls together, united for a cause (heartache to heartache we stand?).

I may never talk to this girl again, but I do know one thing. If I ever meet a boy named Mike from Arizona… I’ll steer clear.