Friday, December 12, 2008
I walk into this old familiar house and see her, that "bouncing bundle of joy," standing at three years old, named Abby. The girl wanted to tell me everything and show me everything. It was comforting to know she wasn't one of those kids that would kick and scream like a little Who during Christmas in Whoville playing with her toys and making tons of noise. She was so outgoing and so outspoken, it almost made me feel more pathetic for how typically quiet I am. If she keeps up the outgoing nature, she'll have a nice life ahead of her.
That is, if she drops her somewhat schizophrenic nature. I'm slightly exaggerating, but only slightly. The first thing Abby wanted to do when her parents walked out the door was play the "pirate game" - a game of which I have never played. She took my hand into her room and told me I was the princess and she was the evil pirate. The only catch was, there was only two of us, and a game with only two characters is no fun. Without warning, she throws my pretend-mother into the game and decides that she should play her as well.
I am not kidding...
In between each outlandish "arg!" there was a sudden pause and a, "Honey..." Followed by a gentle hug... It was a little strange. I really didn't know what to do. I just sat there like possibly the most boring play-mate/babysitter on the planet.
I was confused, though. Here is this pirate with Keith Richards and Captain Hook moves that suddenly switches over into this maternal figure like she's Sybil. I let her mother know, but only because she and I have known each other for a long time, so we can joke around about it.
I got thirty bucks for those three-four hours, so I am definitely not complaining. It was a nice night...
Saturday, December 6, 2008
It is completely ridiculous to me to think the world is full of hate. I must say, for a world full of hate, there are still so many imaginations that run wild with fantasies of love. Some of these people use their imagination for good and release it to the public in the form of some literature or put it directly to film for all of us to see. They know what it is like to love. They keep the idea of love going.
Whenever I start to feel sinister and as though the world is full of nothing but losers who have all forgotten what it means to love, I like to think about the computer lab at school. There is where the magic happens that is The Stang, our school newspaper, and what I like to think of as a home away from home. While in the "news room," that crowded computer lab placed conveniently on the 100 hall becomes a door to frantic students and of course many laughs with friends.
Many of us have close friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, or just new friends that can find all sorts of ways to make our time enjoyable while we work diligently (sometimes) on our assignments.
My seat has been a comfort seat for me. I sign in everyday to the same computer, with the same password, and the same routine: plug in my jump-drive and open up Microsoft Word to my latest article. There I work. I work while every now and then getting interrupted, quite welcomed usually, by laughs from others who sit nearby wishing to tell me a joke or tell me a story that could have won them the Spaz of the Year Award. While I sit at the computer and work hard to perfect syntax and my diction, there is usually a flock of people running around me and loud voices carrying in the somewhat small room.
Next to me, there is always a boy that loves to do nothing but sit and play a racing game that he downloaded onto his own jump-drive. It is usually to his direction I refuse to lean. I turn my ears to the voices on the other side of me. It is the most exciting part of the room. The editor-in-chief runs around making sure we are doing what we should, while the newspaper sponsor walks around occasionally and answers questions, and the sub-editors (news, features, sports, etc.) walk to their writers and critique them. Usually this routine follows arguments or just plain frantic because the writers realize that there is ten minutes before the bell rings and they only have one paragraph written.
It is the only place where routine and frenzy come together to make a world I can say I do not want to live without. Yes, we all have had our moments of wanting to pull our hair out or wanting to punch someone in the face... But it is an environment suited for love and perfectly suited for a team willing to work hard to get the job done.
It is the first time I can truly say I have ever been a part of something like this. We all love what we are doing, and will admit we do love each other. I love reminding myself of how much I love print journalism and how much I love newspaper class. It is one thing that keeps me going and keeps me believing that the world is not full of hate.
After all, it is true that hate comes from the passion that we have for something or someone. Instead of simply admitting to it, we run away and hide behind anger. But when we finally decide to express our love, we become better people for it. When the love is true, it never leaves your heart; you'll always remember it. We choose to love, we do not choose to cease loving. It is out of our hands.