get awkward party!

Good morning, fellow Lomans and random assortment of people who are obsessed with me, it's good to be back. Another year, another world of Point Loma potential! I think I'm going to start a pool for who can correctly guess the number of times Mark Carter will cry this semester. He's on the schedule four times, so I'm gonna say about 12. Don't get me wrong, I love his sensitive side! I love it so much I might as well profit on it.
Since I have been away from my blogging post for a fortnight, I thought it'd be good to do some back to school catch up with my Five Top Awkwardnesses of Week One. Follow me!

5. Sitting five feet away from yet another student wearing footie pajamas to the movie in the Greek, Olivia and I debate the merits of such fashion. It ends with a too-loud declaration of, "Footie pajamas? Come on Loma. I thought that was funny three years ago..." Hope I didn't hurt those fragile 12-year-old feelings.

4. An acquaintance of ours who will remain nameless (whose last name is violent!) makes his way through the caf innocently enough. He glances in our direction, appraises, does not reciprocate our friendly eye contact and nods, and walks by. We giggle at our inadequacy. Meanwhile, acquaintance boy (let's call him Justin) continues his quest for caf seating to no avail. We watch him pause mid-ramp, consider his very limited options, and very half-heartedly turn around and come crawling back to us. "Oh hey guys!" Oh hey my arse, Justin Munches. We know utter desperation when we see it.
It turned out to be a very pleasant conversation, and I am actually a big fan of old Justin, but next time RECOGNIZE FRIEND GLORY WHEN YOU SEE IT.

3. This is more like a daily battle than a weekly highlight, but raise your hand if you've ever experienced the walking-past-each-other-conversation. You know, that thing where you're walking towards each other and care just enough to make contact, but not enough to pause your life in any way for this person. (Now Simon says put your hand down). I'm as guilty of it as the next person; I'm walking, I see that girl I took communication with when I was too young to know better, I throw out the requisite, "How's it going?" and pray that her answer is two words or less. Really, people, think of it as a challenge to sum up the entirety of your being into a handy phrase like, "Fine, thanks!" or, "Hanging in!" That's the courteous thing to do. But just once I want to try a response like, "Planning to jump off sunset cliffs later, you?" to spice things up a bit.

2. More of my favorite caf drama: The Beverage Showdown. I wait patiently on one side of the Pepsi machine, cup in hand, when all of the sudden some hussy gets in line on the other side, plotting her move! Cue 8 Mile theme. The guy innocently filling his Mountain Dew in front of us steps out of the line of fire, unaware of what he is narrowly missing, and it's on. She moves forward, hesitates, and decides to play the Loma way instead: "You go ahead :)" Honey, two can play at that. "Oh no, you go :D" She glances at the growing crowd behind us (okay, the sad freshman just wanting to get a damn soda), and submits.
That's what I thought, inferior lower classwoman!
Yes, I realize that I originally wanted to get my drink first, but it became so much more. It was about the principle.
Besides, all of this became a moot point the next day when that machine started vibrating uncontrollably...really, if the thing explodes we all lose.

1. My moment of shame. It pains me to write, but this is a place for full disclosure: I, who know the names and background stories of so many many people who will never know mine, forgot someone's name. Not just anyone, a girl I've had three classes with. What would Katie Purcell think of me?
It started off in class the other day. (To make matters worse) she greets me by name: "Hi Hallie! I like that shirt." No need for a first-name response, so I'm in the clear. She's such a nice girl too! But the really great thing about her is this canvas and leather, neutral tone, perfect-sized backpack that I have been searching for all summer. Really. So here comes the ethical dilemma: to keep my mouth shut, know that I have not called her by the wrong name, and allow the most wonderful backpack in creation to slip through my fingers? OR, to take a stab at the name, query about the backpack, and find out where to purchase such a piece of accessory heaven?
I figure the spirit will move me toward the right name. So I think about it. Stare at that face waiting for it to speak to me, scan the skin for a very narcissistic yet helpful identifying tattoo...nothing. Then a little voice in my head says Kat? Hmm, Kat. Sounds plausible, nice and short, backpack in arm's reach...yes, Kat will be your name! As we are leaving class, I see her walking away and I almost miss my chance. Desperate for double-strap comfort, I call out, as indistinguishably as possible, "katilikeyourbackpackwheredyougetit?"
She frowns a little, pauses, and says, "Urban."
Great success!

3 hours later, mid-Problem Solving, it dawns on me: Katie!

"NOOOO(slow motion falling from chair, papers flying, heads turning)OOOOO!"
And I wake up in the wellness center.

Okay no. But I did feel sort of bad about it.

And that, my friends, is just the first week. Stay tuned.