Not Dead

You might not believe this, but I actually didn’t forget about/lose interest in this blogging thing this time. I remembered! A little too well, in fact, seeing as I couldn’t stop thinking about how I already blew my intended bi-weekly schedule before I even started.

So I’m really here because of the guilt.

Not because I’ve got time. I’m typing this at 9:30 PM and I have to sleep at 10 to wake up for 6 AM morning practice. Where, you might ask, did my time go?

I know exactly where it went. It didn’t go to things that should have been done, like studying for my APUSH test, planning my French and English essays, finishing Bio worksheets, learning the counts for a dance, mentally preparing for the PSAT, figuring out what I want to do in life—

No. None of that. I, my friends, have spent the past few hours watching videos of fish hatchery tours and reading articles on how to safely breed goldfish.

I don’t own a fish farm. I don’t even own a fish.

Yet here I am, now well-versed (at least compared to before) in goldfish care. And I’m in the loop on their current events, of which there are a lot more than you’d think. I’ve linked two articles for your perusal. (Or, I guess, you could just read the headlines in the links.)

… The fact that I just wrote that much about goldfish (of which, might I remind you, I have none) just goes to show how I make zero sense as a person.

Aaaanyway. In other terrible news: on Friday, I went out to dinner with some people and had to get a ride home.

This is important because I am directionally challenged. People find this surprising because they either don’t believe me or just underestimate the magnitude of my problem, not because I don’t tell them. I usually give warning whenever I get the chance because honestly, this information could save lives. (If you are in a life or death situation and you need directions, DO NOT ASK ME. EVER. Phone another friend.)

So I’d prepared for the ride home by setting up the directions back in my phone. But, long story short, I somehow managed to screw that up and we circled around for ten minutes longer than we should’ve. I could tell my friend was trying not to get annoyed and I was so mortified I actually wanted to cry.

Here’s a list I compiled of times this problem has caused me embarrassment:

1. This time.

2. That one time my history teacher asked which direction I lived in. I pointed in a random direction so I wouldn’t look like an idiot, which actually made me look like an even bigger idiot when he decided to look up my address.

3. That one time someone picked me up and knew the way back to my house better than I did.

4. That one time someone asked me what neighborhood I lived in and I forgot. She proceeded to ask me which streets and neighborhoods were around it and I had to quickly change the subject.

5. The multiple times I have had to ask my mom to draw me a map of the streets so none of the above would happen again.

This is my third year living in this city and I still don’t know the other way back to my own house.

I honestly think school has made me dumber. Like, so much of my brainpower is spent memorizing and regurgitating that I can’t even pay attention to my surroundings anymore.

2 thoughts on “Not Dead

  1. I’ve gone through a few of your posts and I think you’re great! Being ‘directionally challenged’ like you put it is the story of my life. I could swear I teared up a bit with all the deja vu when I read that part about you not knowing how to get home. Could have just been the dust in here though. Did I mention I love your writing?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I shed a tear upon reading this comment, but I suppose that can also be explained by the dust in this room, too. Maybe I should be spending my time cleaning instead of lounging around and being useless.
      Thank you so much! I’m sorry about how late this is; it’s just hard to find Wi-Fi spots when you’re travelling!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s