I have no idea what I’m going to write about right now.
But I feel like writing.
It’s been a busy weekend. Wanna hear about it? Well, you have no choice in topics here, so you’re hearing about it!
1. I finished finals. YAY!! On Friday I woke up at 6:00, which is obscenely early for me. The doors would be locked at 8:00 sharp, my class was informed, so I wanted to make very sure that I was on time. The test itself was absurdly easy, and I was done in 20 minutes. I say this not to boast; I calculated out my grade, and I needed a 97% on the final to get my much-desired 4.0. Though I just now calculated it out again, and it turns out that I only need a 95%. I have hope!!
2. I needed to wait for my friend to finish her finals, and I had some time to kill, so I decided to go to the post office. I know; I lead a wild and crazy life. I really do. For a reason I will not be delving into today, I have a lot of older stamps. I also write a lot of letters. I am obsessed with writing letters. Probably for the same reason I’m typing away right now. I can talk about whatever I want, and there’s nothin’ you can do to stop me!!! But anyways, I go to the post office, ask the lady at the counter for “One ten-cent stamp, and two fours, please,” to supplement my outdated stamps, and pop my letters in the chute. Whenever I’m about to drop a letter into the chute, I always stop and look at it, ostensibly to make sure there’s a stamp and address on it, but really to admire my handwriting, or the pretty stickers I used. Don’t judge me.
3. Like the faithful friend I am, I came back to school for my friend. While I was waiting, a very nice young man comes over to my table. Uh-oh. I know what he wants. I try to look engaged in conversation with someone else, but no such luck.
“Excuse me,” he butts in politely, “Sofia, you never got back to me.”
“Oh!” say I with a big fake smile, “I’ve just been so busy, I didn’t have time . . .”
“I’ll give you my email address, then,” he continues smoothly, “and we can set up a date.”
“Great, uh, listen, I have to go now.” Where or why, I do not care, just get me out of here!
This situation is not what you think it is. If it were, it would be a lot easier to deal with. See, this guy is not asking me out on a date. No, he’s asking me out to talk to me about why I should convert to Islam.
What am I supposed to do about this?
I have great respect for Islam, but I’m a hard-core Christian, spend-half-my-life-at-church-with-a-cross-around-my-neck-at-all-times kind of girl. Oh well. It’s Spring break, so I don’t have to worry about it right now.
4. Got bubble tea with aforesaid friend. Realized that I sort-of-kind-of really needed to be getting home in time for the Elementary schoolers’ retreat that I kind of said I would help out with.
5. Got home just in time.
6. Spent an exhausting weekend tramping through mud and screaming at 9 year old girls and chasing 6 year old boys through the aforementioned mud. It was amazing, though.
Tip: to make friends with little girls: treat them like equals and make them feel like big kids. To make friends with little boys: chase them around while roaring like a wild beast and threatening to eat them, wrestle them to the ground, and let them ride on your back. Trust me; this works.
There was one thing that completely blew my mind. It was really scandalous. My whole church group was shocked. During song-time, they had the kids sing a song with “Alleluia” in it. Or rather, “A*******.” See, it’s Lent right now. Don’t know if you are aware of that, but it is. This is a time of reflection and solemnity. This is a time to think of Jesus’ ultimate sacrifice for our dirty souls. We are Lutheran. The camp is Lutheran. Lutherans do not sing “A*******” during Lent. That’s just unheard of. We don’t celebrate during Lent, therefore, we don’t sing that word. Now, if they were Baptist or something, I would understand, but this was a Lutheran camp! Shocking. Lutherans sing the A-word during Lent?! The world is crashing down around me, and I know not how to piece it together again. I will stop using italics now.
But, other than that, it was pretty awesome. I completely lost my voice, but that is very okay. I love camp.
7. On the car ride home, several people in the car decided that I would be their personal radio. Either I’m a pro at telling stories, or these girls are easily satisfied (the latter, I’m sure), but they asked for story after story after story. So, being the positive role model I am, I told them very good, true, and moralistic stories, most of which were entitled, “Don’t Be Stupid Like Sofia.” They were mostly comprised of sketchy men at dark downtown bus stops, what the kids call “hoboes” (and the youth minister calls “homeless people” ), me freaking out while clutching my pepper spray, and miraculous escapes.
They also made me sing songs, so I gave them a lot of 1950s do-wop (if you don’t know what do-wop is, click here. Please do; I love do-wop. I can’t stand to think that there are people who don’t know about it! You might hate it, but I love it!) and hymns from the hymnal that I brought along, just in case I needed it.
I enjoyed myself very much; it isn’t often when I have a willing audience trapped in a car for two hours with me; I desperately love singing and showing off in general, but I never get a chance!
8. I get home to find an email from a 9 year old (not from the camp trip), which contains a 16-line epic entitled “Knitter-inator.” It unfolds the tale of her elder brother who purchased a beginner’s knitting kit in his youth, then, like a typical boy, lost interest, leaving it to lie idle, until one day, a sister of his found it, learned to knit with it, then wrote a poem to an old-fashioned girl who should be in bed right now.
In fact, I think I’d better go now. There is church tomorrow, and I just remembered that I promised three Ethiopian students at school that I would proofread/analyze their final papers before they turn them in on Monday.