Last night I went to bed around 1:30 in the morning. I was sleeping peacefully, when Jessica grabbed my leg and said, “Olivia, COME OUTSIDE!” So I got out of bed, grabbed my favorite quilt, slipped on my flip flops, and followed her out of the room. It wasn’t until I was walking down the hall that I realized that the fire alarms in our dorm were going off. Although I am somewhat concerned for my future safety, I am mostly just confused and amused that someone can walk up to my bed at 2:30 in the morning and tell me to go out in the cold and I will.
Reason to Smile #26: Smiling Fish
Meet Gwendolyn. She lives in a small glass bowl with a plastic plant and a few dirty marbles, and still she smiles.
Meet me. I live in a dorm room with a fun roommate, I have six containers of play-doh sitting next to me on my desk, I have amazing friends and family who make me laugh every day, and I can smile too.
The water turned to cloudy grime, but Fibby, she was brave
I saw her situation, and my fish I thought I’d save
So drawing fresh, clean water from the sink was my best plan
And hurriedly, I did so as I filled my little pan
And Fibby waited patiently within her dirty bowl
She watched me as I tried to make her happiness my goal
I switched her water swiftly, and I put her on her shelf
And sat down to my homework, feeling quite proud of myself
But then I caught some movement in the corner of my eye
As Fibby zoomed around her bowl and frantically swam by
I hadn’t waited long enough to let the air seep through
My fish was suffocating; there was nothing I could do
She chased each tiny bubble, gasping desperately for air
And must have wondered why I watched as if I didn’t care
But I was horrified at Fibby’s tragic midnight plight
I watched her helplessly as Fibby fought her final fight
She threw herself into the air and smacked the hard glass wall
An effort to escape the pain and horror of it all
Her last swim was heroic, loops and twirls, around and round
Until she finally slowed her pace and rested upside-down
I know that I’m her murderer, but I’ll still miss my pet
And now I know when I grow up, I won’t become a vet
Remember making play-doh spaghetti and cutting out play-doh butterflies and rolling play-doh into thin sheets? Remember smelling it and wondering what it tasted like? Remember mixing all of the colors to make a pretty, swirly ball, only to watch the whole thing turn into an ugly brown glob? Guess what. It’s just as amazing as it ever was. Eighty-eight cents can’t possibly buy this much happiness in any other form.
So today I was listening to “Watching Airplanes” by Gary Allan. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard this song before, but this time I realized for the first time that he says, “I wonder what would happen if you looked out your window and saw me running down the highway, just like I was crazy. But this fence is too high. And so am I.“ And then he bursts right back into his “I’m just sitting out here watching airplanes,” very energetically. It cracks me up. The song has nothing to do with drugs or partying or anything even remotely related, and it’s just randomly thrown in there in the most awkward place. I shouldn’t be so happy about this, but I really am. How did I never hear that before?!
Yesterday I went to the TMC to find puppets for tonight’s night check performance. Our R.A.s always expect us to do something crazy, so I chose the three most unique puppets I could find. The first puppet was a puffy elephant with a maneuverable trunk, my second choice was a cheerful-looking cow, and the third was a rather awkward chicken. After whisking them up to the counter, I asked if I could check them out, and the girl behind the desk asked for my name and information. Before I left, she asked me if I wanted a bag. How heavy does she think three puppets can possibly weigh? They aren’t even cumbersome to hold; they squish effortlessly in my arms. Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned HOLDING things? A bag. Ha! “No, I’ll be fine.” I swept up the elephant, cow, and chicken in my arms and traipsed down the steps from the TMC. A girl walking past me stared at the menagerie contained in my arms as I continued on my merry way, out into the sun. Then another person passed me and another. After being asked if I needed help (which I declined), I began to wish that I had some way to conceal my small zoo from sight. Then I remembered the bag.
We got a new copy machine at work. It’s beautiful—big, smooth, and heavily layered. After admiring it for a brief moment, I started to make copies. I have always prided myself on my ability to punch in the passnumber at lightning speed, and I poked away at a frightening pace when I suddenly heard a loud “SMACK!” Startled, I looked toward the sound and was surprised to see my hand bouncing off of a completely empty section of the copy machine. Evidently, the manufacturers found a more efficient place to locate the “start” button. Thankfully, nobody else was in the workroom. I smiled sheepishly and gently tapped “start.”
“New message from Marjorie!”
This is one of the most startling things I have seen in awhile. Since when does my grandma use facebook chat? Then I read the message:
“I hope you are feeling better. I know you must have done well on your finals and are anxious to go home. Have a good trip.”
Although she began and ended a conversation in a single message, I felt like I should respond, since it was a chat conversation and all.
So I did. And then I waited.
Pretty soon, the bubble popped up to show that she was replying. I waited. After a while, the bubble went away. I waited. After a while, the bubble reappeared. I waited.
“New message from Marjorie!”
Anyway, I love my grandma.
When ten minutes in the exercise room turns into a half-hour of intermittently slaughtering the punching bag, you know that it’s time to take a chill pill.