Freshly Sliced

I am the epitome of sliced white bread, as I enter campus.  I have on my dance top and shorts and my hipster tie-dye Oakley sunglasses.  I am eating a Trader Joe’s snack bar and holding a large bottle of cold Trader Joe’s electrolyte water, and am walking with a cool green backpack on my back, and my dirty blonde hair in a messy bun on top of my head.

Two black guys are walking towards me.  The larger of the two, a very large and very dark guy, asks me how I’m doing and what I do here.  I tell him that I go to school.  He asks if I do any sports or anything, because I look like I do long-distance running; I look very thin and fit.  I say that I did.  He says that ‘you see there, I was right – you look like it’.  I notice that I’m also wearing running shoes – the ones I used to wear for all my walking and bike riding at my Japan job – and that I haven’t just been doing exercise, despite my complete outfit for it.  He hands me a flyer while saying that they hope I can join them on the 20th, and then I continue onward.  Based on the flyer, it looks like some sort of DJ dance party with stereotypical black advertising and expected attendees.  Not that I’m opposed to the party, but I’m not exactly the target audience of the flyer, making it surprising that this guy would have stopped to invite me…I mean, did he see me?  Again, not opposed to it.  I’m in full support of it.  I’m just a little surprised by it.  However, I recall that this is a college campus, so they’re probably inviting just about any girl they can find (who doesn’t look like a total nerd, that is), and my surprise lessens significantly.

After a few hundred yards of walking onward, I see what I originally think is a dead snake on the ground.  As I approach it, I see that it is a strand of weave, of false hair.  A gurgling chuckle rises within me.  This is definitely not my typical territory, and I feel as though my thoughts of being stereotypical white bread have just been proven by my surroundings of very much black culture  – not to mention the fact that almost everyone I can see is black to some degree – showing up in stark contrast to me.

And then I remember that I also am wearing a drape-y scarf, despite the fact that it is still technically summertime.  I’m even more white bread than I had thought.

Post-a-day 2018

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“You could tuck in the mullet part”

The things we say in our family member text messages – things which, at the time, seem normal enough to us – never cease to amaze me… and today’s was no excuse.

We were looking for a reasonable Elvis wig in the costume shop, for a Catholic Life Insurance party this weekend, you see, and one wig was really rather good, minus the few mullet hairs in the back.

Simple, and totally normal, right?

😛

Post-a-day 2018

Granny at heart?

I’ve never really been one for people my own age.  I’m not sure what it is about me or about them, but I just have never much meshed with people my own age.  A recent party was no exception in proving this.

See, I was attending this party, and there were people of various ages.  The handful around my own age all got on really well with one another, in a few groups that all would mix and mingle off and on with one another.  I was not part of any of them, really, at any point, though various individuals greeted me briefly throughout the evening.  Near the end of the party, they all started going on about whether everyone else was going to the afterparty.  They weren’t really asking the older folks; just the youngish people, the ones around my own age.

Except, in all of the inviting and discussing, no one ever mentioned the after party to me. And it wasn’t as though it had been announced or anything, and so I had heard all about it, and everyone was invited.  No.  Someone commented publicly the day before that there would be an afterparty, almost in a joking manner, yes.  But, at the actual party, it was a one-on-one or one-on-two topic of discussion.  And I was never included in any of those small groups.  I only heard the, “Are you going to the afterparty?” questions posed among friends as I passed by them.  Multiple times.

And it’s not like I really wanted to go to the afterparty, anyway.  They were going to some bar, it sounded like, and in the opposite direction of my home (which was already half an hour away).  Neither of those ideas appealed to me.  Plus, throw in the factor that I’m not exactly wanted there, and I definitely am less than thrilled at the idea of the afterparty.

The thing is, I wanted to be invited.  It hurt ever so slightly that I wasn’t even invited.  That I never expected them to invite me made it hurt that much more.  I spent most of the party chatting with people quite older than I am (at least a decade or two), and I loved that.  It felt almost like I actually belonged in that group.  But I still am a tiny bit disappointed that the my-age people seem not to like me.  I’m not sure if they dislike me, or if they think I dislike them or something.  I am, at the very least, unimportant to them. And, while I don’t really like them all too much, anyway, – I don’t dislike them, let’s be clear – I would invite them along to something, if I were doing something tied to that group of people.  I wouldn’t exclude them.  I don’t wish the feeling of exclusion on anyone.

Anyway, the bottom line is: I really just don’t get on easily with people my own age most of the time.  This party the other night emphasized the fact that this has not changed as I have aged.

Post-a-day 2017

High School Fun in the Club

In high school, a friend convinced me to go to a Benny Benassi concert with a small group of friends.  It was the three guys and my best friend and I.  It was my first time going to a club with friends who weren’t dance friends, but just regular friends, and I think it was my first club concert experience, too.  Whatever the case, it was an exciting night for me, and for the others.

We had arranged for everyone to sleep at my house that night.  It wasn’t ideal, but it was our best option.  My best friend and I had to be up early for graduation the next morning (Yes, our own graduation), and the guys had to leave a few hours later, when my mom was heading out to come to our graduation.  So, the guys were getting more sleep than we were, but not too much more.  (Their graduation wasn’t until the Sunday morning.)

At the concert, we all had a great time.  It was my first experience of noticeable public smoking of marijuana, which was oddly neat, finally seeing that world, but in a safe environment, and where it wouldn’t affect me in any way.  But the best part of it all was the dancing.

Being trained in something is cool and all, but being able to be free from the training, and just do my own thing is always way fun.  It was a blast just dancing around without concern, surrounded by friends.  Okay, we did have a concern for space at times, but we were really good at getting people to spread away from us, so we had our space to dance comfortably.

In the later dancing, however, came the unforgettable part: My self-given challenge.  You see, my friend Victor had worn a sideways baseball cap, and that apparently was enough for me to devise myself a fun little challenge to get as much off of Victor as possible.  The key challenge was to do it without his noticing.

I think the others each found out about my challenge at some point or other – heck, I think the idea partly sprang from their suggesting I try to steal his belt.  (We were not being sexual about it at all – it was totally surface level fun… just so we’re clear.)  And so, we all knew, and Victor had no idea that anything was up.

After a great time of dancing and cheering and whatnot together, we all were ready to head home.  Walking in the parking lot, after exiting the club, not one of us comments on what I am wearing.  Victor, however, looking down at himself, practically exclaims suddenly, “Woah!  Why does my shirt only have two buttons closed?!”

We all keep our silence as we struggle not to burst with laughter.  After what felt like forever, but likely was only a second or three,  Victor figures it out.  (I think it was a combination of our telling him and his realizing bits on his own.)  in addition to my own clothing, I am wearing Victor’s hat and belt.  And I was so close on the button-down he was wearing – there were a million buttons on it, and I had all but two undone.  I believe I also had his wallet, and possibly his car keys.  And he had no idea about any of it.

For whatever reason, I was proud of my accomplishments.  Being stealthy took skill, and I was proud to have had it in abundance that night.

Yeah, that was a good time.  🙂

Post-a-day 2017

Ooh, ah, ow!

Everything hurts.   Like… really… everywhere that I have muscles hurts.

I’ve been going to my gym most days these past three-ish weeks, and my body hasn’t stopped hurting since that first Angels Training class on a Thursday afternoon.  Mostly, it was only the lower half of my body.  Now that I’ve gone to ballet and barbell workouts, I’ve got the full-body pains going.  So much so, that belly dance class (my first!) was actually quite hard, simply because I could barely control my own muscles.  Ugh.  Just ugh!

It’s all really good, of course, because it’s just part of being healthy and getting fit again and all that yada-yada.  That in no way changes the fact that everything hurts, and doing anything  – even existing, let alone walking or going up and down stairs and such – hurts.

And, what am I doing tomorrow?  Going back.  And for an undetermined amount of time, too.  I want to stay until the last class, because Tai Chi is quite fun and relaxing-uplifting, but I think I won’t.  I have a Lindy Hop party/social happening in town tomorrow night, and I want to go to the lesson that is at the start of it, so I have to head out before Tai Chi even starts, if I want to make it on time to the Lindy dance lesson.  I wonder if I’ll even be able to dance.  I might just keel over in pain, and just fall asleep on the side of the dance floor after my first and only dance of the night.

Anyway, I’m actually unable to see clearly or straight right now, I’m so exhausted from this week.  I think I went to bed close to or long past midnight …oh, my… since last Friday.  Ugh.  No wonder I’m so exhausted!  Haha.  Okay, goodnight!!  😀

 

Post-a-day 2017