Tag: learning

quirkingchange

A Change of Clothes

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When I was six or seven I went to summer care at the YWCA. I learned how to play mancala and swim to the bottom of the pool. I convinced myself the graveyard visible from the playground had a ghost who wore a hat (it was a nice hat). I made a friend named Greyson or Bailey or something and we both agreed we hated it.

So we came up with a plan to break the monotony – we would get sent home.  We had to come up with a way that would get us sent home without getting us in trouble. We decided the easiest way was to pretend that we had peed our pants. So we did, and were sent to the office of the summer care manager lady. She was very nice to us and called our parents, who picked us up. I think Greyson (Bailey?) and I were able to do this trick one more time before they made us bring a change of clothes with us everyday. By that point we were a good bit through the summer and didn’t feel like fighting it anymore, so we threw in the towel and played another round of mancala.

Now I’m not telling you to pee your pants to get out of summer care, but just hear me out. Going home was the “dream” of my seven year old brain, and I fulfilled it twice, but let a change of clothes stop me from pursuing that “dream” further. That may sound silly, but a lot of us get so close to our dreams and stop short because of something little, something like a change of clothes. Your change of clothes might be money or time or motivation or stress or whatever. But let’s make it a goal to get out of that YWCA building and leave our change of clothes behind (but please wear clothes) so that we can fulfill our dreams – even if that dream is just to go home and drink a juice box.

 

*Just to be clear, I know I was a very naughty child, and I did tell my parents about this…a few months ago.

quirkinghair

Hair, Voltaire

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They say the more you change your hair, the more issues you have. Another way of putting it, which I learned through my mother who read it online, is that people who change their hair a lot do so because they feel it is one of the only things they can control in their lives. I have changed my hair about 16 times, only including hair color switches and one major cut. Oops.

I don’t know if these theories are true, but I do know that I love changing my hair. If I could I’d get extensions and then switch to a bob the week after. I’ve had red, blue, purple, pink, and bleached ends before. I’ve had red, purple, blonde, brown, and now dark burgundy colored hair. I didn’t do anything with my hair last summer so I spent around $200 to get purple hair in the fall…which turned into fried white blonde. So at this point my hair has about 1/3 recovered and my mother is about 50% less mad.

But can I say, “Hair, Voltaire? I’d rather discuss Voltaire” (hello Princess Diaries!). I change my hair for me, for fun, for la joie de vivre! It’s cool if you don’t like my hair – sometimes I don’t like my hair. And that’s life yall. Sometimes my hair reflects a change in my life, sometimes it means I’m bored, sometimes it means absolutely nothing. So yeah, last week I cut my own bangs that I don’t even wear today. C’est la vie!

quirkingall

All or Nothing

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With me, it’s all or nothing. Oklahoma anyone? But truly, I’m an all or nothing kind of gal. If I do something, I go all in. I’m pretty sure that if I accidentally stole an orange I’d turn into a full on kleptomaniac. Joking aside, my all or nothing attitude has been both a blessing and a curse (okay, curse is a little dramatic).

In my relationships, I either want to hang out with you all the time, or never. If I don’t see or hear from you for a long time, I’ll forget about you. I don’t say this because I’m callous, but because I’m honestly forgetful; at the same time, I want to give more to the relationships that I can give to. Basically I’d rather hang out with someone who can hang with me everyday over someone who can only hang once every two weeks.

This makes it difficult for me to date, because if I feel “meh” about you on the first date I’ll probably just forget you exist. On the other hand, if I really like you I might come across as clingy…or maybe even a tiny bit creepy. I don’t mean it, I just like to show the people I like that I like them…a lot.

With school, this means I’ll either spend one hour or one week on a project; there’s no in between. I either hate a class or love it. Every professor is my favorite or my least favorite. I’ll either read the whole textbook or none of it.

If I decide I want to do something, I’ll do it or go crazy trying to do so. I’ve wasted hours and hours on study abroad programs, scholarships, schools to transfer into, trips to take, jobs to apply for, projects to audition for, and many more things that never happened. I become obsessed with my next big thing, whether it be a birthday trip to NYC (didn’t happen) or studying abroad in London (also didn’t happen).

But my all or nothing attitude has also served me well. I got my first ever movie “role” (as an extra, not anything fancy guys) through really weird circumstances. I found an article in our paper about the movie filming nearby and decided that I, little freshman in high school Celina, was going to be in this movie. Long story short, I emailed the director and convinced my whole family to drive to the mountains and be extras in a random indie film.

My all or nothing attitude also got me my first paid writing gig, out of school for two weeks my senior year of high school to film, and living in Manhattan last summer. And now my all or nothing-ness has landed me a job right after graduation exactly where I wanted – Paris! So even though my all or nothing life is a bit crazy, crazy can be good. Crazy can be PARIS yall!

So follow your crazy! Feel free to comment below with what that is so we can cheer each other on…and make sure we aren’t too crazy ;)

quirkingadult

I Forgot How To Adult

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In the past two days I have forgotten about two jobs, causing me to be 45 minutes late to one and absent for another. I have never, ever forgotten to show up for a job. Ever. After I forgot the first, I apologized and figured it was a fluke. I felt awful about it but knew that the only thing to do about spilled milk is to clean it up and move on. However, the next day I completely forgot and slept through a gig that I do every month – my head was not in the game yall.

So where does this leave me? Well after everything I sobbed for a bit yesterday and ate some ice cream. It might not seem like a big thing, but forgetting not one, but two jobs where people depended on me really tore me up. I hate letting people down, especially when it’s 100% my fault.

So let me admit it: I messed up. I forgot how to adult for a few days. But that’s okay. I have apologized to the involved parties and moved on. I took responsibility for my actions and forgiven myself. I am determined to put everything in my planner and be a bit more organized (I’m not going to be delusional and pretend I’ll be 100% organized now). I am moving on and letting go of my two mess up days.

So next time you mess up, clean it up and move on. Let’s promise each other we’ll forgive ourselves and work to do better in the future.

quirkinglunch

Lunchtime Lyric Loser

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At lunchtime one day in fourth grade (maybe third), I was asked/made to join a singing competition. The competitors were myself and a girl whom my mother approved of because the girl complimented her hair. The judge was my bully/friend, the girl who I sat with at lunch sometimes when my actual friends had a different lunchtime.

Anyways, the song that was decided upon was called Redneck Woman or something. I had never heard it, preferring Britney Spears and NSYNC.  Needless to say, I did not win. I did not have to country grit the judge was looking for. So I can’t put “Elementary Country Song Lunchtime Winner” on my resume. But I can still sing you 3 lines from the song.

This wasn’t my first brush with rejection, and it definitely wasn’t my last. Losing a singing competition to the girl who compliments your mother’s hair is a bit upsetting, but nonetheless, I shouldered on. I went on to audition for solo after solo, role after role, to end up with what could be considered disappointing results: one solo in all of middle school chorus, none  in high school, and one lead in a musical throughout my whole career.

Maybe this competition set the tone for my singing career. But I think that losing a redneck song competition helped me deal with rejection and continue to try. So thank you to the little 4th grade redhead who called me names and queened me the lunchtime lyric loser; you helped me lose with grace.

 

And anyways, she got engaged to a boy with ramen noodle hair, so who’s really the loser here?

idk 126

Disappointment

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I’m disappointed in you. You used to tell me you dreamt of working with girls like me, showing them how to be strong and kind. You used to hold me accountable and teach me lessons. You used to say you weren’t dating, you said you’d take a year off, you’d focus on yourself. You promised a lot and didn’t come through. You used to text me daily, now you won’t answer me at all.

I’m disappointed in you too. You used to drive me around and tell me about yourself. You helped me live here, and now you’re gone. You used to send me updates and laugh at my silliness. You helped me through dark times. You supported my crazy ideas.

I’m also disappointed in you. You have it all together, and that together doesn’t include me anymore. You used to meet up with me and let me tell you funny stories. You tried to set me up with a guy, and I was so happy, but it fell through. You let me volunteer in your office, and now I don’t know where your office is.

But I’m not really disappointed in any of you; I just miss you all. I can’t send you my writing, I can’t talk to you about my selfish desires, I can’t text you when I’m lonely and want a shoulder to lean on. You all grew up. You moved, you started a business, you had a kid. I didn’t want you to grow up and move on. I wanted to keep reading with you, eating with you, talking with you.

So I guess I’m not actually disappointed in you; I’m disappointed in me. I guess I have some growing up to do.