Smiling

Today was a very interesting day that created a brilliant end to a mystifying week. Once again, I woke up before my 4:30 am alarm, my dogs, knowing I was awake tirelessly licking my face as if to say: “It’s a new day and we still love you!”

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My wonderful dogs.

I almost did not want to get up this morning, a first for me. My arms and shoulders were so sore from the upper body exercises I did with a young woman who is part of the large group of people I admire and adore yesterday. Needless to say I woke up this morning and was glad I changed into the uniform given to me to work out in rather than sleeping in and proceeding through a boring morning.

So to keep myself awake I sprinted down the hill I live on and straight into the car to get me to my destination. (I am eighteen and have no such thing as a license. I have no need for one because I have friends and legs).

When I got there I perched on my usual spot of douleur and gloominess, wondering if anybody would talk to the high school graduate who has no idea what she’s going to do with her life, who sits around moping and thinking negative thoughts that have no connection to her future. And lo and behold! A man does and he sits near the perch of self-made loneliness.

“Are you going to go through with this?” pertaining to this program and pertaining to my future, which very well could, and I hope, gets intermingled with this program.

As always I’m scared to talk to an older (by two, three years), handsomer man, and I freak out. My cheeks turn bright red and because of my lack of basic conversational skills (in truth, I’m just shy) I babble.

“Not sure really. It’s just hard to believe I should be moving into my dorm now.”

“where?”

“Omaha.” he gets up and stands in his spot in the area. I fumble; my spot changes every day based off of the people and even though the reception has been rather nice since I gained close to twenty pounds of muscle from two months ago I still feel out of place because I can’t hold a conversation.

So we go through the basics. The instructor is a different person this time and expects us to work hard and strong. Being the inexperienced clumsy fool I’ve always been this is a struggle. But I think most of the struggling has something to do with me laughing too much. These people are funny. Although some of them are much older than me, they love to mess with each other.

Eventually I manage to complete the courses, at a slower rate naturally and in small circle time we talk.

Being once again the odd one out I sit as they talk and laugh. One of them steps on me and I start turning red babbling my apologies, which is my clearest sign of weakness.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I shift further back and left.

“He’ll do push ups until you tell him to stop.” the instructor says. Embarrassed, he does the push ups next to me and I can’t seem to think straight.

“You can stop.” I say quietly, letting my inept social skills take over what really needs to be said. Obviously he did not hear me.

“Kid, you can tell him to stop.”

“I did, I think he likes to do push ups.” I say more confidently. One of the older men pops up.

“I think he just likes you.”

In disbelief and with everybody laughing, I fall backwards holding my mouth trying to stifle laughter. Which obviously does not work. The poor man is just as beet red as I am and we both refuse to look at each other out of embarrassment. Songs are made and quick jokes but I’m still beet red thirty minutes later freshly showered.

When I walked to work, smiling, laughing to myself, my cheeks still red from embarrassment (or could it be hope?) I notice that men are looking at my curiously, wondering, as I walk past they see me smile and one of them walked into a pole. Either they’re interested, they’re thinking I’m insane, or something’s changed about me that I haven’t really noticed.

Day 3:

-normal schedule
-off work
-need to find new job
-fantastic (embarrassing!) morning
-I’m changing already and it’s only been day three
-father called from down south
-sister has started school
-mom will be the first person to verbally hear this story.

2 thoughts on “Smiling

  1. I love my dog too. We have an 11 year old pug named Oscar and we just got a new puppy named Tank. One of my characters in “Nowhere” is named Tank, so I had to have this puppy! I knew he was meant for me!

    • memoricprism says:

      Sorry for the long response time. I couldn’t think of what to say.

      It’s funny how dogs are just meant for you, both of mine were abandoned at young ages (one of them, the small brown one was abandoned a lot – he’s four and he’s got the attitude to prove it). Even though he’s really defensive about strangers he will go out of his way to protect me (even though he is only a foot tall and about five pounds!) But not only that, he mimics me in complete temperament, whereas the white one mimics my sister.

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