I stand at the front of the room. It's intimidating in its' pristine neatness. Rows of desks gleam, almost in anticipation. A meticulously penned name tag is affixed to the front of each one, proclaiming its' occupant.
The beige ceiling tiles, yet unadorned with colourful art projects give the room a cavernous air. My palms are sweating and I'm backing up against the clean chalkboard. My hand reaches up and grazes the perfect white cylinders.
I am swallowed up by silence and blank stares. It's the first day of school, I don't know the people around me yet I am told to address them. Heart pounding, I finger the hem of my new t-shirt, bought especially with the aim of warding off dork-dom. I can't put this off any longer; the teacher is waiting for me to speak. Have I been standing at the front of the classroom for hours in silence? I must look so dumb, I'll never live this down.
I'd better at least say something. After the first word it won't be so bad and maybe I'll ever impress people with the stories of my amazing summer vacation. Then I might stand a chance of being liked. If I cannot be cool I can at least fly under the radar with 'liked'.
I take a deep, albeit shaky breath and begin to recount my summer vacation:
'Um.'
~~~
No matter how hard I try, I can never overcome that very first 'um' of the year. Like I mentioned in my last post, I shall be giving a lot of thought to my accomplishments of the past summer. This is an exercise in looking to the bright side. Of course, such reminiscing brought back vivid images of the very first days of grade school.
I am no longer that awkward little girl with a pre-braces smile and hair done up in embarrassingly short pig tails. I so wanted to wear my hair long like the other girls.
Just over a decade later and I like myself much more than I used to. But this piece is not about my self-perception. I cover that enough when I speak on Operation Beautiful. I promised you stories of my summer vacation, and stories you shall have, my friends.
On my summer vacation I helped a good friend design and paint her new apartment. While I am sure that I will do this many more times in the coming years, the first few are always representative of a great transition in which I soon hope to take part.
Moving Out. It deserves to be capitalized.
One of the greatest endeavours in a young adults' life is the ritual of freeing oneself from the childhood home. Some are blessed with an easy escape. Others have to go through painful separations which often require crow-bars. Some leave as soon as they are able, others choose to bask in the parental tent for a much longer time. Either is acceptable if the aforementioned young person feels it's the right thing for them.
Philosophy gives way to paint which gives way to good friends and pretty good wine. I do not envy my friend the plaster dust which clung to her hair and skin for weeks on end. I do not begrudge her having to wash her long brown hair in the sink because the bathroom was freshly painted and could not be exposed to moisture. I greatly enjoyed helping though. We picked colours with due consideration and grew very excited about the subtle differences between chocolate brown and therapeutic mud (names which I am making up).
I has taken a few months of work since it had to be done amid other projects. But it is nearly there. Just in time for the new school year. I shall of course post picture of the finished project because I am proud of all my work and all my friends. And as a humourous aside, if I'm going to crash at a friends' place after a night of drunken debauchery, it might as well be a nicely decorated place.
More stories will come as I think of them.
Cheers everyone, enjoy the vestiges of summer if that is indeed your case.
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