Weirdie

Sunday, I walked out of what they call the “Sunday school room” in the Clark building on campus—on weekdays this room is used for home economics and family management classes. My intention was to walk home as quickly as is possible in heels, to heat up the last of our leftover Cholent. My social apathy set in, and I shuffled my way past the crowd of recently released church-goers, to the large glass doors, avoiding any eye-contact.

He swooped in front of me. “Hey. What’s your name?” I stopped. My roommates broke past the crowd from behind me, and one stood at the door with her hands on the long metal push bar. She looked back at me.

“Aly,” I told him. I noticed I was taller than this guy in my grey heels.

“What semester is this for you?” Really? I’m hungry, dude, I thought. He had a huge bottom lip, his suit was brown, and he had straight, semi-white teeth. I looked to make sure my roommates hadn’t abandoned me altogether. They were still there.

“Oh, this is my last semester. Then I’ll be going on a mission,” which means I already don’t want to date you, so please stop trying.

His eyes widened, and he bounced on his toes. He dangled his arms in front of his body the way a thug would and said, “No way, that’s awesome. . .” I smiled and nodded. “That’s really awesome.” His eyes fell to the floor. K, can I go now? He wasn’t finished. “Well, cool. Um, well we should hang out sometime.” Based on what information? I asked myself. Unless I’m totally oblivious to your ability to read minds or to decipher really awesome people from others, how would you know we should hang out? I smiled without my eyes.

“Yeahhh. . .” He pulled out his phone, got my number, and texted me that same night.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

Surfacing

Today, I stuck leaves on the head of an already-built snowman and laughed at the tree bark mustache Jen put under its orange popsicle nose when Sister Morgan wasn't looking. I walked in foot-deep snow and pushed branches out of my way, sometimes forgetting someone was walking behind me. I crunched open a cattail and blew flurries onto Britt's Northface jacket. Some landed on my teeth when I smiled. I looked past naked trees to see the pastel sunset, and I inhaled. For lunch, I ate cookies with carobe chips, instead of chocolate, and agave nectar, instead of sugar. I didn't shower until 6:00PM. All of these things were beautiful.

But there's this feeling that I still have. It comes when a good friend no longer asks me what my favorite part of my day was anymore. It comes when people come to visit the collective Aly-Britt, instead of just Aly. It comes when my brothers don't call. It comes when a guy asks me if we should go to the group home evening together or watch a movie one-on-one, and my response is, 'you're the man, you decide,' because I've been hurt, and thats his job. It comes when I need to finish a novel by 8:00AM tomorrow, and I'm only halfway through; I'm left wondering how I will ever get through a literature-based graduate program. It comes when I'm pretty sure everything is telling me that I need to go on a mission, but all I want is to be married before age 25.

Maybe that feeling is there because, when I walked through the snow today, I watched my footsteps instead of the clouds and the trees. Maybe it's there because I thought about my close reading essay when Sister Morgan rolled the bottom sphere of our snowman instead of being there to start the second sphere. Maybe it's there because I didn't inhale enough cold air or touch enough snow. Or maybe it's there because I forget to remember that God is in control. And I was too busy to let that sink in.