Defeating Meeting

My sophomore year of high school I was privileged to be the JV cheerleading captain. At this time sophomores were not allowed to be on Varsity for cheerleading so it was an exciting time to be moving on from the freshman squad and to be captain of my friends and peers at a higher level. 

Becoming captain did not change many aspects of how I treated everyone else or even how we all worked together. The title just put me more as the person to keep everyone on target and to make quick decisions if needed. However, about halfway through football season Taylor (the Co-Captain and one of my best friends) and I decided it would be fun to sneak in our coaches desk and look at the homecoming nomination votes for the senior cheerleaders. At the time it did not seem like a big deal, because we had looked in our coaches desk many times before, but of course this time was a little bit different and we ended up getting in trouble with not only our coaches but with the school principal. Our coaches understood that we were not trying to change any of the votes or do anything bad, we were just being dumb as usual. However, because one of the other cheerleaders saw us and told her mom, action had to be taken. 

Both Taylor and I had to have individual meetings with the coaches and tell our sides of the story. It was difficult telling the different actions we had made knowing that they were not what our coaches wanted to hear. When it was all said and done all the two of them could say was that they were sorry that they had to do this but they had to remove us both from captain. Mortification was plastered all over our faces. Yes we got in trouble, but the subject that made it necessary for us to hide our heads was that we caused enough trouble to be downgraded. That was the first time in my two years of knowing Taylor that I saw her shed a tear.

The next step of the process was the most difficult to gulp down. Telling our teammates the consequences was terrifying. I had to look my best friends in the face, the girls who had believed in me so much that they lifted me above themselves, and tell them that I had let them down. I could hardly spit the words out, but I knew it would better for me to tell them than my coach. 

Looking back it is such a dumb occurrence all together but I will never forget the pit in my stomach throughout this time. It has challenged me to question my decisions before I make them rather than act on a whim. 

My Best Friend

When I was in second grade Mrs. Karen Powers became my Sunday school teacher at church. I did not know at the time, but this is probably one of the best things that could have ever happened in my life. Not only did Mrs. Karen, become apart of my class, but because they just moved to town,  her white-haired, freckled face daughter Cassie joined the second grade class as well. 

We must have been polar opposites because in no time at all we were inseparable. I can honestly say that I cannot remember a summer from that point until 8th grade that we did not spend almost every day together. It did not matter that we went to different schools and lived in different school districts, that just made it more fun to have a friend that no one else knew; It made it special. 

Like every other middle-schooler we wanted to grow up, so when high school started both of us were really excited about the new changes that were coming our way. I do not think either of us expected the toll growing up would bring on our friendship though. It happened so slowly at first that it was not even noticeable. Freshman year we helped each other through life’s hard struggles of boys and drama. However, Sophomore year I became more involved in my cheerleading and Cassie become involved in playing tennis. More and more we would forget to talk during the week and became satisfied with seeing each other twice a week at church. 

Junior year I finally started dating a guy that I had liked for forever and that is when the real distance began to form. Cassie and I had times where it had been bad, but we always seemed to get out of it. When I got a boyfriend though, he became my best friend and although Cassie and I still talked it wasn’t as frequent as it should have been. I remember it got to the point where Cassie straight up told me that she did not want to be my friend anymore because she knew that Russell was my best friend and what was the point being friends anymore if neither of us was trying. Of course we worked through it and whenever Cassie got a boyfriend several months later, she came to me admitting that she understood now and was sorry for being so harsh on me before. 

All through Senior year our relationship had its ups and downs. We had learned to accept that seeing and talking to each other all the time just was not a priority in either of our lives. It was not until summer before we left for college that we realized that boys are no boys we needed each other. We began to talk and hang out more frequently again. We finally shared life with each other that had been happening the past several years. It was seriously some of the happiest conversations I have had in my life, however they were so sad too. We had been missing out on each other for far too long. We had let high school conquer and separate us instead of conquering it and showing it who is boss. 

College has brought us together in so many ways even though we are farther apart than we ever have been before. I can honestly say that the same short bleach, blonde hair, freckled face girl that is now a super tall and thin and beautiful woman is still my best friend. We have grown apart and together a lot throughout the years but overall we have decided to live life together and be their for each other every step of the way. 

My first real moment of embarrassment

There are always those get-to-know-you games that bosses, camp counselors, or teachers make you play whenever they want the people they are working with to get to know everyone else. Someone that one question always come up, “What is your most embarrassing moment?” Every time this one question comes up I can only stare blankly and slightly smile at the person or persons I am talking to and nicely tell them that I really do not have a moment that I find most embarrassing in my life. Nothing had ever really happened to me that was truly mortifying before this year, my freshman year of college. It is comical, because not only is it a recent occurrence, but a lot of people do not find it as embarrassing as I do. 

All of my friends and I had decided to meet in the lobby so we could all walk to honors’ banquet together. All of us were dressed nicely and were looking pretty spiffy if I do say so myself. We decided that we had everyone and started out the door to enjoy a delicious meal and hear a profound speaker. With laughter in the air we began our decent down the stairs and this is where the problem began. 

I still do not know quite what happened but one motion led to the next and as far as I could tell I was crumbling down the stairs. With each new slip I forced myself upright and tried to regain my balance but it was just no good.  I slid down 10 steps and ended up ripping my new dress. Of course, to make matters worse, this also happened to be the one time of day in which peering eyes seemed to be seeping out of the bushes. I could not feel the pain of my scrapes or even the real embarrassment that I would feel mere minutes later, all I knew what that I had to get out of there and get redressed for the banquet. 

I quickly scampered up the steps and back to my room to make the quickest change I think I have ever made in my entire life. The only thought that consumed me during this time and the rest of the night was how? How did that happen? It may sound dumb to most people, but the part that frustrated me the most was not that I simply fell but that I fell walking in heels. I had never fallen in heels. For some reason I did not mind being the girl who lost her step on the stairs, but I could not fathom being the girl who could not walk in heels. I never realized how much pride I had taken in being a girl who could walk well in heels, but from my thought process I could now tell that it was important to me. 

No one made fun of me or gave me a hard time. Honestly, everyone just felt bad for me. It was a pathetic occurrence, but at least now I have a most embarrassing moment right?

A room no more

Just last summer, my parents decided to finally fulfill their dreams and build the house of their imagination that they had been planning for over ten years. Of course, I was excited about the process because not only would I be getting in a new, beautiful home, but I would not even be living at home during the majority of the construction. It seemed like a win-win situation to me.

The unusual part about our rebuild was that my parents decided they wanted to live in the same place, just a different house. To begin the progress on the house though, we had to knock down every nut and bolt of our old, faithful house. The deconstruction of my beloved home was piece by piece but when the giant machine of destruction finally got to the end of the house, got to my room, it was difficult to imagine never setting foot in that space again. 

I had lived 17 years of my life in that small room. The same room that had a light pink stripe going all the way around and had a shelf of dolls by the ceiling. The same room that shared a bathroom, and usually a locked door, with my older sister. The room that Little Mermaid tents were built in and forts made of blankets were designed and brought to life. The same room I had successfully killed multiple fish in and the room that I used to share with my little brother. Looking at the familiar room that I lived life in, I could not help but feel as if I was about to lose part of my childhood, part of my growing up, and inevitably part of me. 

It was and still is surreal to me knowing that I will come back to my new house time and time again and not feel the same connection and homeyness that I once did in the place that built me. My house left when I left for college, the only difference is I will be returning and it will not. 

The Blues

Today as we were reading more of Billy Collin’s poetry in class, I came across a poem that I had overlooked before. The poem is called “The Blues,” and I feel it is true in a our society today. 

The poem goes to describe how people my generation do not necessarily like hearing about other peoples’ pains. When it comes to heartache, sickness, and troubles, many would rather just turn the other way and pretend that no such thing exists. 

However, when pain and hurt are turned into music and lyrics people automatically become interested. It is as if adding a guitar to the background of a story can change the meaning altogether. 

This is because everyone relates through music. There is something that speaks to our souls when we hear it. Almost as if each song was written just for us or about our own specific situation. It does not matter what kind of person is singing the song. They could be a huge, muscular man or a petite woman or a skater or any other persona imaginable, but no matter how much they would seem to differ from yourself physically they can and probably are feeling a lot of the same emotions that you are as well. 

Reading this poem, all the lines that Collins wrote are so obvious and simply, but it is something that is not always spelled out. Collin’s definitely has found a way to connect with people through poetry in an uncomplicated way. 

Milk-Tea

Last Friday I picked Zhiqi up outside of the front of the BLUU after my class let out at 2 PM. We had not been able to see each other for a long time, but last time we met she talked about wanting to treat me to milk-tea. We drove over to New Asia, an asian restaurant off Berry St, and sat down and ordered. It was a small place but it was clean and the lady at the counter was welcoming. 

The milk-tea came and even though the name pretty much tells what it is I honestly did not believe that I would be receiving milk mixed with tea, but that is what was put on the table in front of me. It was not bad though. It was just different and it made me like tea a little more since I do not like tea by itself at all. The thing that is strange about the milk-tea though is there are these dumpling balls at the bottom of it. They do not have any taste, but they are chewy and slimy in a way that my mouth did not agree with. I tried to keep my straw from going down to the bottom of the glass in order to avoid sipping up many of these unfamiliar spheres. 

We talked more about Spring Break and how she went to Canada. She said that she could never live in weather that cold, but as we continued talking about the remaining years of college she said she may transfer to Syracuse for college. I just laughed and informed her that it may not be the right place weather-wise, because it has been named “worst weather” in the United States, with many ice and snow storms. That freaked her out to a certain degree but I reassured her that it was a great school and if she attended there she would definitely be equipped with the right wardrobe to keep her warm.

We talked some of summer and how it is going to be so weird leaving TCU for three months. We both have created families and a home here and not having that for an extended period of time is going to be strange. However, neither of us complained about actual summer vacation or having no homework. It will just be a big change in atmosphere. 

The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber

It is obvious from the beginning that Mr. and Mrs. Macomber are having problems with their relationship, but I never expected her to end up killing him. It is hard to tell if it was an accident or if she did it for the sole hatred of her husband. She is obviously torn up about it because Hemingway mentions that she is crying over him. However, Wilson makes much fun about the whole incident. He teases her as if it were a funny joke.
Something I did not understand about this story though, is why it was such a big deal that her husband was a coward against a lion. I understand that times were different then. Women expected certain things of their husbands and the same goes from husbands to their wives. I can even understand Mrs. Macomber to be upset that her husband was a coward in general life, but when facing a lion I feel as if it is perfectly fine to be a coward. It is a lion after all. Lions are huge and violent creatures.
My only thought is that maybe him being so afraid of the lion to the point of running away was the last straw for her. There are hints of previous unhappiness and troubles in their relationship so it is possible that this last act just sent her over the edge.
It was also very interesting that Macomber immediately knew that his wife had slept with Wilson when she came into the tent late. The way they spoke about how they had agreed that she would not do that this time proved that she had cheated on him several times before. Even Wilson picks up on the fact that this cannot be the first time that this has happened.
It is painfully obvious that this couple should not have been together. Neither party was happy, but both of them gained from being with the other. She gained money and he had a beautiful wife. It is sad that many relationships go back to this. That the only thing keeping people around are how they can use one another.
This story was interesting, but I honestly did not like it. It just left me getting angry at the different characters. It does show a pattern that our world tends to have however and I feel like Hemingway likes to add real world concepts into his writing.