Monday, November 22, 2004

The Holiday of My Dreams

It is undeniable that the pilgrims displayed tremendous amounts of courage during their first year here. They abandoned a country that suppressed their religious beliefs, sailed to a completely new world, and created a new freedom-based government by signing the Mayflower Compact. This Mayflower Compact, the precursor to the Declaration of Independence, represented the first sign of democracy and the first time that citizens were allowed to govern themselves. I stand in awe of the genius that our forefathers possessed.

However, the true basis of my admiration stems from their determination to celebrate that first Thanksgiving- with food! The ingenuity required by these people to even perceive of dedicating a whole day to eating is worship-worthy. What an amazing, astounding, stupefying concept!

Fast foward three hundred and eighty-four years later, and I am steadily involved in the countdown of the days until Thanksgiving of 2004. The day will commence with warmed, fresh-from-the-oven Sister Schubert pigs in blankets, scrambled eggs dripping with cheese, and hot, black, simmering coffee. Naturally the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade will follow. I will hardly be able to contain my excitement as I observe enormous balloons and pretty floats. My largest anticipation, however, centers around the closure of the parade. You know what I'm talking about- SANTA! Yes, after I spend five minutes jumping up and down and waving at the television to the big man, I regain my composure and begin to prepare for the main event of the day: Thanksgiving dinner. This involves changing into my turkey-eating pants ( i.e. anything stretchable) and settling into a comfortable mid-afternoon nap, during which the he-men of the house proceed to surround the television, examine the various football games, and generate assorted man-like grunts.

Upon awakening I feel refreshed and rejuvenated. A growl rumbles with quiet intensity from the inner workings of my belly, and a sharp hunger pain penetrates my side. There is no doubt- this meal doesn't stand a chance. Arriving at the table, I observe the sea of delectable edibles stretched before me. Golden brown turkey, bright red sweet potato casserole, fresh green beans, spinach casserole, steaming dressing, lucious cranberry sauce, classic giblet gravy, and then, of course, regular gravy (because, honestly, who could eat anything that contains the word giblet?) I shake with anticipation.

Twenty minutes later, the decimated entrees resemble the aftermath of a horrific tornado. That's right, in one sitting... in one tiny interval of time, I have consumed enough food that would have ordinarily lasted a week. That turkey never had a whisper of a prayer for hope.

I conlude with deepest gratitude to our early ancestors. Were it not for you, the greatest and most successful country in the world would never have come to be. More importantly, I would not have an excuse to stuff my face.

Friday, November 19, 2004

On Becoming an Elementary School Janitress

That's right. I am an elementary school janitress. It is my job every Tuesday to vacuum the classrooms of Oak Mountain Elementary School. Earlier this year, I somehow temporarily lost complete and utter sanity long enough for the boyfriend to persuade me to take this horrific job with him. How hard could it be to vacuum classrooms on one hall, one day a week? Oh how naive, how completely innocent were those days!

Tuesdays are dreaded days now. The tedious, deathly boring monotony of pushing a vacuum back and forth, side to side, back and forth.... It never ends. Just as I am beginning to tire, the hallway stretches forth as if it were elastic, the rooms seem to multiply, and every child's happy face drawing sticky-tacked to the wall mocks me in silent amusement.

It is, by and large, the worst job I have ever had.

Fortunately, there are two lessons to be learned from this unique experience:
One: Never trust boys. They will, in some way or another, get you to vacuum!
Two: Stay in school so you can get a decent job, kids!

Monday, November 15, 2004

Title?

Yes, Pizza and Asparagus is an odd title for a blog. Perhaps the time has finally come to enlighten you to its origin. I have worked at a special needs camp for two years. A particularly cute camper by the name of Linda is the inspiration for the name. She would always finish our phrases. We would say, "peanut butter and...", and she would shout "JELLY!" Another was "milk and..." with the response, "COOKIES." After several impressive rounds, we prompted her with "pizza and...", and sure enough the response rang loud and clear, "ASPARAGUS!"

I can see where that makes sense.

The game ended when she overheard us discussing a particularly feminine counselor, and could finish the prompt of "Zach is..." with an overwhelmingly strong, "GAY!" Hysterically funny- yes; my proudest moment- definitely not.

Monday, November 08, 2004

One Starry Night

Some nights, like tonight, when I look out of my sixth floor bedroom window and observe all of the glittering street lights and busy traffic, I think, "This is the most beautiful place in the world, and I am the luckiest girl." I am surrounded by life and energy. There are concerts to go to, clubs to dance in, restaurants to eat in... I never want to feel like I've taken for granted this opportunity that I've been so fortunate to have.

Then there are days like last Wednesday, when nothing, not even the majesty of this new city, can help save my mood. It started sprinkling Wednesday morning. Both of my umbrellas have already broken in previous rainstorms. I think, "sprinkling= not very wet." Wrong. I was dripping, soaking wet after walking the fifteen minutes to my first class. Then I stayed dripping, soaking wet for two more hours during class. So then, I return to my dorm, where I proceed to dry my jeans for seventy-five whole cents (which does equal about five dollars in grown people money since I am the typical college student and I am poor). After this, I attend my Chemistry class where I discover that thirty people have completely aced (yes, that equals 100%) a test that I found extremely difficult. Definite self-esteem booster. Then I sulk in my dorm room for a couple of hours, procrastinating on a paper that is due the next day. At 7:00, my boyfriend heads to a football game that I can't go to because I have to write a paper that I've been procrastinating on. Around 8:00, I begin on the paper only to discover that my printer doesn't work. So I spend the next two hours on the phone with my dad trying to figure out what exactly is wrong with my printer, which completely ends up being a lost cause. So, it is 10:00 and I have not written my paper, my printer doesn't work, and my boyfriend is already heading back from the football game that I could have gone to after all because my paper still isn't written. So I spend the whole night hand-writing the paper, grab a couple of hours sleep before I awake at 8:00 A.M. (yes-A.M.) to take a math test that I didn't study for because I was writing a paper.

But seriously, folks, not everything can be roses all of the time. One bad day compared to the life I'm living- I'll gladly deal. Also, it makes for an amusing story that everyone can laugh at.

Monday, November 01, 2004

Home For The Holidays

I recently made my first trip home since beginning my new college career. Even though I was warned incessesantly about the changes I would undergo during my first year of college by others who had already made the transition, I was still surprised at the life I left behind.

No one has changed; life continues the way it always seems to in a small town. However, my role seems to have disappeared from the radar screen. Maybe it was the lack of my towel hanging in the bathroom or the funny looks I received at church, but something gave me an incredibly quesy feeling in the bottom of my stomach.

See, this is what it boils down to: for eighteen years, my life and goals have centered around being accepted to and receiving scholarships to a respectable university. My church family, school teachers, music teachers, and family were all very active participants in my achievement of this goal. All pushed, encouraged, molded, and made me into the young woman who would be able to leave to pursue a new life of my own.

But leaving and attending college involves much more that your leaders and role models either choose to ignore or don't realize. It involves pursuing a new life with new goals, new role models, new friends, and a new family. I don't have to completely break the ties with my old life at home. I do, however, have to be shared.

This idea of being shared between two separate worlds is perhaps the largest factor in the production of the quesy feeling in my stomach. At home, the beliefs, values, and traditional thought patterns prevail in my mind. There is only one way to accomplish things, and it is force-fed into your brain from the instant you open your eyes. Here, I am meeting so many new people, and learning so many different views of controversial and touchy subjects. It seems that I am stagnant in regards to my views on these subjects or even life in general.

Do you know the feeling you get when you return home after you've been on vacation? You may or may not have had a wonderful time, but nothing compares to the feeling of "coming home." I suppose my biggest problem is that I do not get that feeling when I return home or when I return to Birmingham. I am floating.

So life is tough, huh? Try this double life that I am being forced to lead at so young an age. Next time the sarcastic remark, "You can come home, you know," forms in your mind, remember all of those floaters out there, who just haven't found themselves yet.