Spring has sprung! Yes, it’s warm out. Yes, the birds are chirping. But the reason I know it’s spring: People at my bus stop were smoking pot. Outside! That means it’s beautiful out. People are enjoying their activities outside! Even me.
I decided to take a bus trip to somewhere new and exciting for lunch. I wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the newly found warmth was enveloping the outside world. This meant eavsdropping! Because my adventure into the world outside my piles of pringles and dirty sweatshirts occured at 2:30, my fellow outdoorsians were all getting out of school. Whether they be coming from middle school or high school, these kids thought they had something important to say adn didn’t realize that the creep with the half face of facial hair writing fervantly on his LeeAnn Chin napkin (yes LeeAnn Chin was my adventerous food choice) was actually scribing glimpses of their conversations: (Note: none of the following things were said with any hint of sarcasm)
High School Girl: It’s so cool that you’re gay. I love it.
HS Girl: Mexicans are dying
HS Boy: Americans are dying.
HS Girl: Yeah but the people in Mexico are suffering… er… more people in Mexico are dying.
(I can’t hear so I move closer, just in time to hear:)
HS Boy: Note – The Mayans! Note – The people in the Argentina place.
HS Girl: The Incas?
HS Boy: Yes.
Fat Girl: I have a huge ass.
Friend Girl: Your ass is adorable.
Older HS Girl 1: I am not scary.
#2: You can be scary
#1: I am not scary. I’m nice.
#2: You can be a little scary.
#1: I give candy and hugs and kisses.
#1: Oh, by the way, I was making fun of Jews in front of Sarah today. I forgot she was Jewish.
Fag Hag 1: (To gay boy) When I first met you I thought you were fat.
Fag Hag 2: You’re terrible.
Fag Hag 1: No, I met him like three years ago.
#1: (on phone) Okay, I love you, bye.
#2: Who was that?
#1: My ex-boyfriend.
Student 1: My uncle was telling me about when he went to war, and I was like: “Oh my god, did you die?” and he’s right in front of me
Student 2: Oh my god, you’re so retarded, and I love it.
All these stupid people made me feel a lot better about myself, becasue even if they all became more successful than me, I was smarter than them and knowledge equals power. Though ignorance is bliss. Let’s hope power > bliss. Either way, it made me think about my childhood and how different it was than these kids. I recently found a piece of writing from my creative writing class than wraps up quite nicely how I felt/acted as a child.
I stared impatiently at my dad as he slipped the veggie patties into the oven.
“Mom’s gonna be home in 5 minutes.” He warned me.
“Then I’ll go ice skating for 5 minutes.” I replied, knowing that her arrival would be at least 15 to 20 minutes from now. “Will you please check my skates?”
He walked to the cabinet and pulled out three plates.
“Set the table with me and I’ll check your skates.”
I clomped my skate-ridden feet to the other side of the kitchen – each step a chore worthy of a sigh and a groan. I picked out three knifes and three forks. My skates balanced perilously as I moved toward the cupboard and pulled out three glasses. I set them down on the table and sat down in a chair with my feet up – ready to be checked.
“What are we going to drink?” My dad questioned.
“I don’t know. We can cross that bridge when we come to it.” I answered as I got up and balanced my way over to the refrigerator. “What do you want?” I said, looking in the refrigerator and pulling out the juice I wanted and the iced-tea that my mother would want.
“I’ll just have water.”
As I returned to the table, I checked to make sure there wasn’t anything else I could be forced to preemptively get for dinner. Catsup. I knew my dad was going to make me get Catsup. He hates Catsup. He hates Ketchup. He says that he liked it at one point in his life, but I don’t see how someone could like Ketchup and then learn to dislike it. It’s delicious. He hates Catsup, therefore he won’t notice it’s not there. He’s going to eat his veggie burger plain like a freak, so he won’t care that there aren’t any condiments.
“Ready when you are.” I tried to instigate the final steps of my pre-ice-skating-check-up.
“What are you going to put on your burger?” asked my dad. It’s not a burger, but he refuses to accept the fact that a veggie burger is a completely different animal than a burger. In fact it isn’t an animal. He also used to love burgers supposedly. He used to eat burgers with ketchup for lunch every day, mom says. When they lived in New York he used to pour Ketchup on his pasta, and get a McDonalds burger after work. Now that we’re in Maine, my dad eats plain veggie burgers and says that iceberg lettuce is unhealthy.
“Nothing.” I responded. “I don’t feel like having Ketchup. I’ll just eat it plain.” I would have to eat a gross ass veggie burger without anything on it just to prove my point. Maybe mom would need ketchup and bring it out. Then I could use it without being a big hypocrite.
“Fine.” My dad started. And he came to tighten my skates.
I grew up analyzing and sometimes embodying the hypocracies and injustices around me. But they were small. I like to think (hope to think), that if I had grown up around the place I live now that I would have said the same type of things that the kid I tutor said to me yesterday: “I don’t watch Cops, I just look outside.”