Sunday, April 26, 2009
It is not that I mind social gatherings; I just hate gatherings that last longer than necessary. I have gone to so many, that I have created several ways of getting around the pointless small-talk that is apparently mandatory to engage in upon entering a room.
That is not to say that I subtract socializing from my short-term to-do list altogether. There are just so many people whose names have escaped me, who I remember but wish otherwise, and who I don't know and have never met but will expect me to know them anyway due to some obligation of other family members to point them out to me before I get within earshot of the other, and shake hands.
One maneuver I use, I cannot take full credit for as I learned it from Gilmore Girls, but is what I like to call the "gulp-and-shake." To successfully complete this, you must have someone with you and a drink in your hand, any drink--just preferably something not comparable to Laws of Attraction's huevos de chivos--unless, of course, you fill like being the comic relief of the evening. Go up to someone you do not know and let the other person say something; during such, you take a gulp of your drink. With your mouth full, it would be rude to try and speak! In that time, you have gotten a name and possibly a remark of whom they are in relation to, as they speak to your companion. When you swallow, you can stick your hand out and say something like, "Hi, Bill! I'm Jennifer. Remember me?" Works every time!
I wish I was more assertive sometimes. Instead, I end up looking like a nervous twit every time someone approaches me--weak handshake and soft "hello." Though, the older I get, the less I seem to care about that sort of thing, which makes me feel cold and uncaring. I probably should care, which is why I try to stay cordial while I am at whatever social obligation, and I make sure to put on a happy face and smile for the ridiculous amounts of "candid" shots.
I would probably have been happier about it, had it not been for the fact that I had no one to talk to, really, and I had to miss church for it.
Friday, April 24, 2009
I kept walking on that pavement, blisters on my feet, and The Cure ringing in my ears, hoping the sound would live up to its name. The bus drivers were late picking us up, by an hour. I was annoyed. I was tired. I was sunburned. But I had had an amazing day at Six Flags.
Friday was "Physics Day" and one of the best times to come to Six Flags. It is not a strange mixture of people running around as usual, but just a bunch of people your age with the exception of a few schools that actually had chaperons. Moriah and I teamed up together, but we spent the whole day with Dwayne's group, which consisted of, Melanie, Trisha, Shanequa, and of course, Dwayne. We had an absolute blast.
I had forgotten how dehydrated and sore you can get from being at Six Flags. It has been awhile since I have spent six hours straight there, under the blazing sun.
So, in summation, here are the things that happened: Tyler stole an orange cone from the parking lot and brought it back to school with him; Melanie was giving Glenn a massage in one of the seats and we all, teasingly, took pictures or attempted to record the act which followed by her shrieking and us laughing in the aisle of the bus; Dwayne nearly got gang-banged in the backseat when he got some water from this woman selling them on the road coming from the park, and we all were dying of thirst; Shanequa decided to never trust my judgment on rides again because I said the Wheelie was relaxing; I discovered that bumblebees at Six Flags are taking drugs--they were at least twice the size of bumblebees at home; the guys on the bus explained to us what "that guy" and "that girl" meant--trust me, you don't want to be "that girl;" and I think Moriah and I might have aced our semester project while there!