There's an awful lot of breathing room,
but I can hardly move.
- Matchbox Twenty, If You're Gone
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I walked towards Price Center for some boba tea, when I noticed a distinctive wiggling amidst the debris. As I came closer, my suspicions were confirmed. It was a little honeybee, limping in a retarded waggle dance.
If it wasn't for my acute eye for bees, I probably would've mistaken her with the yellow debris and grass slowly blowing through the sidewalk, and was en route to stepping on her. I enthusiastically decided, "I'm going to save this bee!" After all, I just got negative test results for bee sting allergies from Kaiser. Nothing could possibly get in my way.
I gently coaxed the bee onto my work ID card and moved her next to a bush. Immediately, she returned to that patch of land on the sidewalk. I repeated my action, putting her next to a nearby tree. Again, she returned to that patch on the sidewalk.
I yelled at her, "BEE, you are what is WRONG with colony collapse disorder, you're all DRUGGED up on them neonicotinoids and now you SUCK and someone is going to STEP ON YOU if you won't let me help you!!"
She just continued with her retarded waggle on the sidewalk. I knew it was time to call it. I gave up, turned around, and went back to my boba journey.
We can't win it all, bee. We can't win it all.
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I am not a private person.
I don't have a particularly private mind, and I'm not good at secrecy.
A lot of it is unintentional. I may very well be one of the easiest people to read. If I feel an emotion, my face probably shows it. Not on some shifty microexpression level either -- if there are classes on reading expressions, I would probably make a good intro course.
On an electronic level, I'd be lucky if my words were half as transparent as my smile, or my pout, or my furrowed brow.
I don't say that lightly. I used to hate how predictable I am. I hated how linear I seemed -- I felt boring and dull. I was jealous of people that had so many layers to them. They would have no end to their mystery, while my mystery ends the moment you make eye contact with me.
Over time, a mix of good company, tribulation, and maturity would help me grow into my own skin. My self-esteem finally fit the curves of my body, and my laugh finally fit the joy I felt internally.
With my blog being more than twelve years old, this Xanga followed me through most of this journey. I used to love that only people who read my blog really knew me -- it felt like I was adding a layer of mystery to my life. Shy on the outside, with my heart worn only on my Xanga -- "Blog like no one's reading."
Where my heart was previously only on these electronic pages, I now try to wear my heart everywhere. Regardless, I admit that I kind of miss my online transparency. I miss having all my cards out on the table. Now, I know just how terrible my poker face is, and I've come to embrace it. I could either be full of depth and layers, or I could be one hell of a snowglobe.
"Swag on, Christa."
tl;dr i know i haven't been updating much lately and hope to start blogging more lol
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P.S.
Yesterday, I came into work and was very visibly out of it. It was my first day back on the job since my trip to Arizona, and my first day in almost three weeks knowing that I wouldn't see Jacob after work (which, I'm sure, actually quickly explains why I haven't been updating recently).
Chris, our Master's student, came in later that day. His mind was also obviously not focused on lab, and honestly, I was thankful for that. My state of mind gave me no room for empathy. I simply did not care about asking him about his life. I did not have the mental energy to ask him what was wrong, and I was glad that he also lacked the capacity to pry into my mood.
So we simply let each other mope. We let each other have a slow start to our Tuesday, and I was grateful for it.