People Say.

I love my school.
It's splendid.
It's rather small, which means you really get to know people.
The down-side to this, is that you also get to "kinda" know people.

I hate "kinda" knowing people.
I wish I could just know someone, or have no idea who they are.

Maybe I should define "kinda" know.
"Kinda" know = someone you definitely recognize, but have either never met or only met once. You may or may not know this person's name, but you definitely don't know them well enough to break bread with or even really hold a conversation with past, "Hi. How are you?"

This might sound odd...but believe me, this realization has become my nightmare.

So hear me out, I'm walking, alone, toward my apartment (or class, or the library or wherever) when suddenly another person (a "kinda" know person) is walking toward me, also alone.

What do you do?

Well there are several options.
Personally, I choose to smile and say "hello" because I feel this is the polite, friendly way to resolve such a pressing issue.

But here is how I have noticed OTHER people approach this dilemma:

1. The "look straight-ahead" tactic. Their eyes will not be averted by the person who is walking seemingly, straight toward them. They hold a steady gaze, almost to the point that you wonder if they actually think you can't see them...(you're not fooling anyone!)

2. The "cell-phone" maneuver. This one is probably more common in youth today, as it seems like everyone has their phone within reach, at all times. So this person, who sees someone they "kinda" know but doesn't want to confront the issue, will pull out their phone as if they all of a sudden received an unstoppable stream of texts that they must attend to right away! (We all know you're just reading old texts, pretending to reply to past conversations...or looking at your pictures...or if you're an impeccable actor, just looking at the background of your phone. (To you, I tip my hat.))

3. The "polite" approach. This one is my favorite and least-favorite. Favorite, because it's pleasant. Least favorite, because let's face it...it's a pretty fake/forced attempt at a conversation. Basically a person says, "Hey." To which you reply, "Hey." (or some other one-word greeting.) Then they say, "How are you?" while walking by. Then you say, "Good. How are you?" At this point you both have your backs to each other, as neither of you stopped walking, so really, it's a mystery how they are doing, but I'll go out on a limb that they too said, "Good." It is here you'll notice that all responses are kept to one word, because the last thing you want to do is engage in conversation with someone you "kinda" know. Awkward...

These are my thoughts so far on the exchange of awkward pleasantries.
So "hello" to the people I kinda, sorta know.
Don't bother pulling out your cell phone, I know you're just looking at you calendar.

Fluorescent Half Dome.

It might be slightly sad/pathetic that my diet now consists of 67 cent boxes of generic brand, macaroni & cheese and sandwiches.
It's not something to be proud of, but I slightly am.
I'm not sure where mac and cheese/pb&j land on the food group pyramid, but I know I'm lacking in some general basics.
I try to make up for it with twizzler's and red bull, but that apparently landed me with a vitamin deficiency.
Thanks college.

So here it is...
I was making a delicious sandwich the other day, with all the trimmings. (What is this, Thanksgiving?! Where did I get trimmings?)
It was your basic deli sandwich...salami (this spelling doesn't look right at all...), turkey, mustard, and TWO (I was feeling crazy) kinds of cheeses. The fancy kind too...with the parchment (that can't be right either, this isn't Harry Potter, but I dunno what else to call it) paper in between each slice.

So I'm eating my sandwich at the kitchen table with my roommate.
It was aiight. (That's how P Diddy says it.) (And by P Diddy, I mean Patti Johnson.)
I was about halfway through, when I noticed there was a foreign object in my mouth.
Something just didn't seem right.
Turns out I had been chewing on a little piece of paper.
Whoops.
No big.
I keep eating.
I took a few more bites, when I realized, again, I was chewing on paper.

I look inside my sandwich...and sure enough...there was a WHOLE piece of paper that is used to separate the cheeses, slyly sitting in the middle of my sandwich just mocking me.
My roommate starts laughing.
I hang my head in shame.

I had just consumed half a piece of that stupid, freakin' paper.
I'm sure it didn't hurt anything...except my ego.

Lately it seems like I am just missing things.
Like taking the paper off my slices of cheese.
Or reading footnotes...

So I'm sitting in class, reading the Wife of Bath with my class.
It is written in Old English (not the wood finish product), so a lot of the words, though they might look familiar have entirely different meanings.

Basically the Wife of Bath is some crazy lady who has had 5 husbands, who have all unfortunately passed away.
She has this huge prologue at the beginning, where she's trying to defend her honor and basically says it's okay for her to marry so many times and have her husbands all mysteriously die.

Well there was one line in the story where she says marries men for "both their nether purs and chest."

So I took that to mean money, as in money purse, and I just kind of ignored the chest part.

As we are examining the text, I notice some snickers but no one really says anything.
Our professor is lecturing on something, I can't say I was really paying attention.

When looking over the sentence again, I notice a number next to 'purs,' indicating a footnote.
The footnote says, "purs, as in lower purse, ie: testicles."

Upon reading this I let out an audible, "oh."
To which my professor replies, "Apparently someone has just read the footnotes."
And then my whole class laughs.

1. I hate that class, because everyone is ridiculously smart.
The fact that someone realized the obscure date chosen to begin the literature survey was for the invasion of Normandy just disgusts me.
2. I try to draw the least amount of attention to myself, in hopes that he won't call on me for opinions or smart kid statements, like the stupid, freakin' invasion of Normandy.

I also hate the fact that I was the only immature, 12-year-old in the class, who was absolutely tickled that our text used the word 'testicles.'

Anyway, with the events of the last week I have realized something.
Sometimes in life we get too caught up in going.
We get too caught up in getting places that we forget to enjoy the ride.
We are too set on the destination, we forget about he journey.

Tunnel-vision has corrupted my sight.
I know you are supposed to look at the big picture, but sometimes it's those small details that truly make you appreciate life.

So in the end, I've learned to not just look, but see.
Maybe start paying attention to the footnotes.

And perhaps to even slow down while making sandwiches.