{"id":1677,"date":"2020-08-05T00:38:23","date_gmt":"2020-08-05T00:38:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/?p=1677"},"modified":"2020-08-05T00:38:23","modified_gmt":"2020-08-05T00:38:23","slug":"a-couple-months-worth-of-nonsense","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/?p=1677","title":{"rendered":"A Couple Months’ Worth of Nonsense"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Everyone knows that anything in miniature form is inherently better than its normal-size counterpart. Those mini glass Coca-Cola bottles. Mini cupcakes. Mini whisks. Try to argue against me, I dare you. I had this thought (as I often do) when I recently passed by one of those mailboxes that look like a miniature house. Which reminded me of a house in Colorado Springs that has a tree house that is a miniature version of itself. People with these sorts of constructions are some of the few that I\u2019d actually like <\/em>to meet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The last couple months have left me brooding as usual, but the revelations have been fewer and far between. I suppose it reflects the COVID times. What was once depression and isolation transformed into glimmers of hope as the nation slowly reopened. Now that we\u2019re reopened and likely doomed, it\u2019s hard to know what to feel. I mostly feel an acute sensation of \u201cmeh.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, in the spirit of \u201cmeh,\u201d here are the few irrelevant, mundane things I have thunk the past few weeks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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I\u2019ve always been irked by people waiting in line. I\u2019ve spent enough time in Cuba to know we do lines all wrong in the U.S. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In Cuba, you wait on line for everything. I mean everything<\/em>. But shockingly, you do little idle <\/em>waiting. When you approach a line, you simply ask, \u201c\u00daltimo?\u201d or \u201cQui\u00e9n es el \u00faltimo?\u201d\u2014\u201cWho\u2019s the last person in line?\u201d Someone raises their hand. Now you\u2019re<\/em> the last person, the \u00faltimo. Once another person arrives asking for the \u00faltimo, you can raise your hand, and then you\u2019re free, essentially. If the line looks long, you can go run another errand, knowing that your fellow line-mates will hold your spot. It\u2019s an honor system that is so obvious and ingenious and would never, ever work in the U.S.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the U.S., people cut in line, grumble and groan, fidget, and generally get under each other\u2019s skin. It\u2019s like being stuck in traffic\u2014it seems like such an inconvenience, until you realize that your presence is creating<\/em> the traffic. The habit that has always irked me is how much people try to close gaps in the line\u2014as if by being physically closer together, therefore closer to the front, they’ll receive attention sooner. But being closer doesn\u2019t change the number of people ahead of you\u2014so could you back off, please?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Enter COVID-19. Not only are there demarcations on the floor separating people in line, but people actually want<\/em> to give each other space. It\u2019s no \u00faltimo system, that\u2019s for sure, but it does warm my heart just a smidge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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I am beyond blessed to have received my grandfather\u2019s 2009 Subaru Impreza this last February (I know, just in the nick of time to drive NOWHERE because you know, COVID). But in all seriousness, I feel enormously grateful for this adventure car to take me on all the climbing and hiking and camping trips my little Colorado heart desires. There are just moments while I\u2019m driving where my heart stops momentarily.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At least when I initially received the car, the interior had a strong odor of my grandparents\u2014my grandparents\u2019 house in particular. I didn\u2019t mind the smell; it was familiar and comforting. However, it quickly turned discomforting when I had the utterly terrifying realization that the smell may wear off. And years from now, I may never smell that smell again. I could forget <\/em>what my grandparents smelled like. Or worse, what if the smell doesn\u2019t wear off, but I lose my grandparents? And then every time I smell it, I break down at the thought that they\u2019re no longer in my life? These are thoughts no one should have while operating a motor vehicle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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I was chatting with my brother on the phone a few days ago. He indicated he\u2019d have to ring off soon, since he had an optometrist\u2019s appointment. \u201cDo you have to get your pupils dilated?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know, but I hope not. Getting your pupils is kind of the worst\u2014in an underrated way. And besides, I have the NBA to watch tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We both chuckled at that. He was right; you never see it coming, and then your optometrist is like, \u201cOh, looks like you’re due for that terrifying puff in your eye that will leave you incapable of doing anything for the rest of the day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I remember one of the last times I had to get it done, I was completely unprepared. Luckily, I hadn\u2019t driven to the appointment, so I didn\u2019t have to get on the road with janky eyesight. My brother picked me up and said casually, \u201cMom was hoping we\u2019d pick up some things at the supermarket after I got you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I assented weakly, figuring it wouldn\u2019t take too <\/em>long. But when we arrived at Shoprite, my brother continued, \u201cWell, I should really stay in the car with the dogs, since it\u2019s hot. So you just go in and grab those few things.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You may as well have told me to do a Biles II. I stumbled out of the car into the store and felt blinded by the lights, labels, and colors. My depth perception fluctuated wildly as I tried to grab boxes of cereal and bananas. It should have been a 10-minute endeavor, but probably took 30. I can\u2019t recall if I did self-check-out or had a cashier, but my eyes were definitely bugging out of my head in the process. I returned to the car to find my brother completely unperturbed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Hoarding runs in the family in a low-key way. My mom\u2019s mother \u2013 who technically is not blood-related to us \u2013 is 100% a hoarder, while my paternal grandfather is just rather sentimental. He clings to things out of the memories they hold. I can\u2019t say I\u2019m any different, though I\u2019m getting better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I made big step away from my sentimentality a couple months ago, I\u2019m proud to announce. After eight and a half years, I finally parted ways with my turtle backpack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I purchased the turtle backpack after witnessing the \u201cturtle backpack turtle spin,\u201d pioneered by my favorite YouTube personality, Jenna Marbles. I was 14 years old. The backpack came with all four colored Ninja Turtle eye masks so I too could be \u201cturtle-y\u201d awesome. Halloween that year would be quite possibly the best yet. As I frolicked around the playground in my turtle backpack, donning my red Raphael mask, a yellow morphsuit, and Converse sneakers, I felt myself the epitome<\/em> of cool.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not even a year later, as I packed for boarding school, I placed the turtle backpack in the clothes pile. It was coming with me, dammit. I genuinely felt faster wearing it \u2013 how could I give up that <\/em>feeling?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Despite not ever fully fitting in at boarding school, I never took any heat for the backpack. On the contrary, people would ask to borrow it, and I was able to happily milk several more Halloween and spirit day costumes out of it. The true test was bringing it to college.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My whole family tried to talk me out of it. They insisted I could not, should not, bring the backpack out to Colorado. People would make fun of me. I\u2019d be the weird turtle backpack girl. But I refused to leave it at home. People could make fun of me all they wanted; if I became the weird turtle backpack girl, so be it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

AND I WAS RIGHT TO BRING IT.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not only did I win numerous costume contests with the backpack, people praised it even more<\/em> than at boarding school. It soon became my ski backpack, and people would call out approvingly all over the mountain. Even biking or walking down the street in Colorado Springs, I\u2019d constantly hear, \u201cHey! I like your backpack!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had found my people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My dad came out to ski my junior year and saw the backpack in action on the slopes. Later, in a family gathering, he even admitted: \u201cI know we were against the turtle backpack, but we were wrong. It\u2019s awesome.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As vindicated as I felt, I couldn\u2019t escape the harsh reality: the pack was falling apart. When I finally threw it out on that fateful day in May, neither of the zippers worked. One of the straps had broken. All of the masks were missing. And it was ripped in innumerable places. That backpack had been loved the way no backpack had ever been loved before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I really thought I should hold onto it as a relic. I could mount it on the wall, right? Or save it for my kids? (Who am I kidding? I don\u2019t want kids.) It was time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I still feel a little pang when I think about that backpack in a landfill. But the memories will last forever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

There was a time in my childhood where it seemed like I broke everything I touched. Vacuum cleaners, pool floats, glasses \u2013 it was infuriating. Because I wasn\u2019t really klutzy, so much as I just couldn\u2019t gauge the necessary force to do things until it was too late.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Though I largely grew out of this stage, one particular item never was safe: water bottles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At my boarding school, everyone carried their water bottle to and fro, idly sipping throughout the day. I was no different, but I couldn\u2019t seem to hang onto a single bottle for more than a few months before something <\/em>happened. I am not exaggerating when I say that in three years, I manage to break, lose, or damage eight water bottles. I broke water bottles you wouldn\u2019t think possible to break. No matter the material, I somehow managed to screw up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I got to college, surrounded by countless NOLS-it-alls with their sticker-splattered Nalgenes, I made a resolve. I too would purchase a Nalgene and cover it with stickers\u2014stickers I really liked and cared about\u2014and perhaps by by fostering a strong attachment to the bottle, I would be less likely to lose or break it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My brother gave me a Nalgene from his college, Wake Forest, and I proceeded to chip away at sticker-ing it. It was perfect. And over the next nearly five years, I never broke it. I lost it a handful of times, but I always successfully fetched it in time. I felt like I had overcome my nagging water bottle-destroying trait.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, just a week ago, I was carrying two large boxes to my car to take to the UPS store. I had balanced my water bottle on top. As I precariously shuffled to my Subie, my family friend, Ann, asked, \u201cYou got it? You\u2019re sure that water bottle isn\u2019t going to fall and break?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m good! The water bottle will be fine!\u201d I assured her, cheerily.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Nalgene fell to the ground and shattered. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rats.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Everyone knows that anything in miniature form is inherently better than its normal-size counterpart. Those mini glass Coca-Cola bottles. Mini cupcakes. Mini whisks. Try to argue against me, I dare you. I had this thought […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1677","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-ponderings"],"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1677","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1677"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1677\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1679,"href":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1677\/revisions\/1679"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1677"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1677"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/excrcl.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1677"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}