Asian Ladies and Chocolate

I was in the grocery store yesterday when I noticed that there were these Asian women ahead of me in line and they had SO MUCH CHOCOLATE. There must have been several dozen bars of chocolate of all kinds, thin bars and truffles, thick, bite-sized pieces, and round pieces of chocolate wrapped in shiny foil. The three women had their arms loaded with chocolate and there was so much that they spilled out onto the checkout counter. The lady ringing them up looked appalled, her eyes wide, but she did not say anything as she rang them up. "Are you okay?" I asked the cashier. She just glanced at me but did not say anything. After she rang them up, the Asian women paid and left, still talking about the chocolate. I think they might try to resell the chocolate or maybe they're having a chocolate tasting party or something. Or possibly they might be sending them back home to their families. I remember that when I went to visit my home country when I was fourteen, my mother bought bars of soap and chocolate to give out as gifts to everyone there. At least, I hope those ladies were not just going to sit and eat all the chocolate themselves. Think of the diabetes. And the cavities. And the unhealthy weight gain. Goodness. I don't know what they're going to do with that much chocolate but I'm curious to find out. Maybe one day, I'll run into them again. Or hear about them in the newspaper: Asian women try to win chocolate eating contest.

Soaked

I came home from school soaked today. I saw how it was raining this morning and I briefly thought about driving to school instead. Then I remembered that driving to school meant that I would have to find a parking spot and still have to walk 20 minutes to class. Either that or wait for a bus which may never come. I decided to walk. I have my trusty umbrella, I thought. What's the worst that could happen? (How many times has someone said THAT in a story?) By the time I got to class, my shoes and socks and pants were soaked. I spent the next two hour and forty minutes in class shivering in my wet socks. Then, stupidly enough, I decided to walk home, too. I should have just asked my friend Julie to give me a ride home, but I thought, It's just drizzling. I'll be fine. I got about a fourth of the way home when I heard this C-C-R-R-R-A-C-K! Lightning, my dear readers. Lightning. And thunder. And then it started POURING. Just bullets of rain and rivers of rainwater. Great, I thought. I'm in for it now. Still, I had to get home somehow.

Walking home was a bit of an adventure. There were some places where the sidewalk dipped and I sloshed through about three inches of rushing rainwater. There was also so much water soaked into my socks and sloshing around in my shoes that I could have started my own beach. Why didn't I wear my snow boots? I thought halfway home. Of course, by then, it was too late. I also had to play some tricky dodge game with nearby traffic in order to keep from being drenched by the cars driving by. Their wheels would dig into the rushing streams of rainwater in the gutter and spray waves onto the sidewalk. It took some fancy footwork to survive this onslaught and even then I wasn't always successful. I think my leg and right side got sprayed twice by flying tsunamis of gutter water. By the time I got home, I was soaked from the waist down and there were droplets of water that had seeped into the faux fur of my jacket. Needless to say, I won't be doing that again. Next time, I'll just drive. On the other hand, a part of me still holds that it is safer to walk in the rain than to drive. Sure, driving keeps me dryer, but it also has the chance I might hydroplane and crash into something. Ah, pros and cons. We'll see what happens when it rains next time.

Friendly No Longer

Today I decided to stop being so nice. I know that it sounds counter-intuitive to everything we are usually raised with, but there is such a thing as being too nice. When I try to hang out with too many friends, I make too many commitments. And the thing is, it's usually me making the commitments, it's usually me taking the initiatives. I go around chasing people, actively trying to make friends and it isn't until I stop to take a breather that I realize no one is chasing me. No one is actively trying to be my friend at all. It's always me calling other people to hang out, it's always me setting up appointments to get together. Whatever happened to reciprocity? And while I have fun with my friends, it also creates a bit of stress when I have to drive an hour to meet them, or find their place, or rearrange my schedule to make time to hang out with them.

While I think that all the effort and stress is worth it for really good friends, I'm starting to realize that no one does the same for me. It's not even that I'm  a particularly lonely, needy, or clingy person. Anyone who knows me well knows that I'm pretty emotionally independent. If anything, I dislike it when other people are clingy. Now that I'm having this revelation, I know it's time to just let things go. Let go of my so-called friends and contacts. Let go of scheduling and making phone calls and chasing after people. Maybe this is time just for me. Maybe I can explore myself again and continue with solitary pursuits.

Maybe this is what Craig has been trying to tell me all along, that I don't always have to be so nice, especially for people who don't reciprocate the same kindness. That's what makes me a doormat; that's what allows people to walk all over me.

From now on, I am no longer friendly. I'll still be courteous and polite. I'll say hi to people and conduct polite conversation if they seem inclined. But otherwise, I'm going on with my life and going it alone. There's no need for friends who don't bother to be friends with you.