April Showers, Fools and I.D. Card part 2...

Picking up from part 1, so I am at the library, all the way on the top freaking floor going on a book safari for these books I needed for my research paper. I had a few of those back and forward moments looking for all the books because I didn't realize that the different call numbers on these books were all located on the same floor. So after obtaining all the books I needed, I proceeded to hop on back to the elevator, with books in one hand, backpack on thy shoulders and my student I.D. card in my other hand, ready to head to the circulation desk to checkout my latest books I found. While I was on the elevator heading down, I realized that the ride down was smooth (no one got on or off, no random elevator noises). So because of this smoothness, I started singing in the elevator (mind you it was just me), I believe I was singing “Here with Me” by Dido because that is one of my favorite songs to listen and sing to. So as the elevator stops on the 1st floor, I collect myself, and proceeded to get off the elevator. Some reason, I had to look out the elevator with caution, and as soon as I felt that all systems were a-go, I started to walk out of the elevator. But apparently the elevator either thought I was being too cautious getting off of it or it was in a bad mood or that the elevator doors just felt like hitting me. So yeah, the elevator door hits my left hand, which happen to hold my i.d. card, and next thing I knew, my i.d. card was out of my hands, apparently when the card fell, it fell in the gap in which the elevator door opens and closes along, and I could hear my i.d. card as it went down, echoing down the elevator shaft, singing to me (and I kid you not) "Bye, Bye, Bye" by N-Sync. I had this utter look of surprise, what the fuck and shitting bricks occurring all simultaneously. I could not believe what just happened with the elevator and what did to me and my student i.d. card. Realizing now that Houston we may have a problem, I had to go up to the circulation desk (Because that was the only way I was going to be able to check out these books)and ask for help. So I told the lady at the circulation desk what happened and she grabbed some keys and went to head to the basement to see if she could my i.d. card. So as she was gone, my mind was temporarily blank, to put it nicely. When she came back, she told me that the card probably ended up on the sub-sub-sub basement in the building and that they had no way of getting to it. (I was like shit). So she told me I am probably going to need to get an I.D. card, but that I could check out the library books by just showing another picture i.d. Well, because of my paranoia of losing my license/wallet really, I didn't have it on me, so I had to trek 2 buses back to my apartment to get my driver's license and trek another buses back to the library. I was able to get my library books, but in the midst of me getting back and forward, I realized that the building where my office is at automatically after 7pm (and it was already past 7pm) and that I needed card access to get to the floor my office is on. So I was like dammit, so first I had to trek back to my apartment and eat because my body was telling me that you might want to eat again, it’s been 12 hours already. After I ate, I was debating whether to take a chance to trek to my office, pray that the security guard was actually on duty, and use my infectious smile in hopes they would let me in. But in the long run, I decided to stay at the crib, read the books I had checked out for my research and jot some notes. But unfortunately, about 20 minutes later, I was knocked out on the couch, asleep. I had to go on ahead and call it a night at 10:30pm last night. But at least I woke up at 6am this morning to get the day going by getting my i.d. card replaced. (which is another side funny story in itself that I will save for a little later)

The Clumsy Monster

So for some apparent reason, ever since I have been a little girl, I always, always, always at least once a day, manage to spill something on my shirt, sweatshirt, dress, blouse or something similar. I have even found ways to have food, drink, oil spills land on my pants, shoes and socks (don’t even ask how on the socks). I used to think I was just sloppy because that was my uncle was said I was being. But after a while I grew up, but the mishaps of spills upon my clothing did not go away. So it got me thinking, perhaps, just perhaps I am very clumsy. Me being clumsy-is a very shocking revelation for me, why? I always tried to do everything I cannot be clumsy, but do I succeed, usually only about 75% of the time. Every once in a while, I have my moments where I cannot grip a drinking cup correctly, carry only one thing in my hand, hold books whatsoever, drop my eating forks every single time and so and so forth.
And somehow clumsiness seems to follow me. For instance, this past Friday I was at Krogers looking for harcissa paste for this dish I was preparing and I ended up on the aisle with the spaghetti sauces pre-made and this woman next to me picks up like a couple of big jars of Ragu sauce. Then she proceeds to head down the aisle towards the checkout area of the store. Cool right? I turn back to looking at the items and not even 10 seconds later; I hear this loud crash of glass just shattering all over the place. I look back left, the woman has this utter look of disbelief on her face, I was thinking awww, until I looked down at my shoes and realized there was spaghetti sauce all over my left shoe. Its almost as if my shoe was shot with a bullet. Jeesh. She did apologize profusely and I was like that’s ok, don’t worry about it, but dang, even my shoes couldn’t run for cover.
So I figure the only way for me to avoid such things is to have a talk with myself everyday to control this undesirable condition, to wake up every morning and pray that I don’t waste anything, and finally start wearing fashionable bibs or somehow embroider these bibs into my shirts to create a whole new fashion statement and yet not feel guilty about the state of them by the end of the day. Woo-hoo.

Valentine’s Day-the 09 story (part 2)

I think part of the reason why I have learned to become strong and to get used to being independent when it comes to romancing and palling around with the opposite sex is my track record of rejection. Oh yes, I have lost count, but I suspect from about 1st grade to now, I must have been rejected by like at least 15 guys (and I believe this number is pretty darn conservative too). Not being schooled to reading signs and spitting game, my approach to dudes (up until the first couple of years of college give or take) was after getting to know the guy, and if I decided I like him, I would eventually tell him that I liked him, straight up with no strings pulled or attached. After I told the guy how I felt about him, the usual responses I would get would be a: physical facial feature of disgust; b: silence; c: utter and shockingly surprise. Believe me, I know how to catch people off guard. So after senior year of high school (and literally the day of graduation) I decided that my frank approach was not of wise making. So I decided to never tell a guy I liked him unless he asked me first. So this one guy I liked my freshmen year for some reason seemed to be afraid of me (sure I would check him out often in the couple of classes we were in I tell ya) and I think my homegirls told him for me that I liked him, needless to say for the rest of the year he avoided me like I had the bubonic plague (kinda hilarious when I think about it). This other cat I liked a lot in college after home dude was at my undergrad. I never told him but he claimed that he always knew that I liked him. I guess you can say we have had an up and down friendship. (that’s another blog for another day, damn). And then my final major guy I am actually still really close to this day. When he proceeded to reject me, I expected him to the following facial expressions as I mentioned previously but he didn’t. he just said that he cared for me as a friend and only that, and that he wanted to continue to be my friend. I was shocked; I figured there must have been catch. But needless to say, there wasn’t, even though it took me a long time to get over him and just have feelings for him as a friend. Whenever I would spend time with him, I felt tortured at times because we would do all this stuff together as if we were a couple but we weren’t. but over time, I got over him and I am glad for it because he has been there for all the up and downs I have had since I have been in college (and believe me I had a lot of terrible downs and eventual and hopeful ups) and I don’t think without him being there for me, I may not have gotten to where I am at today. At this point, I feel that if I had to just settle for a guy, I would have to settle for him just because he is the only man who really knows how I think how I tick what makes me happy, what pisses me off and can actually put with me. Go figure.