Memoir Monday: Shoe Laces

Memoir Monday: Shoe Laces

¨Tie my shoe laces, HAH!! Like if any thing would happen to me.¨ I said. I started to walk the half-mile we had to do every day; I don’t need to tie my shoe laces. The day was beautiful and the sky was a dreamy blue, the clouds, white puffs, rolling across the sky, I don’t need to tie my shoe laces. I kept on walking; kids ran past me, almost making gusts of wind as they passed by, a group of boys went by, I don’t need to tie my sho… CRASH!!!!... Darkness…Pain, I felt thousands of needles piercing my skin… I open my eyes, the light blinds me, a familiar voice, ¨Hey Ines, you OK?¨ he said, ¨Sure, what happened?¨ I said as I placed my hand on the place where the pain had struck, I felt something wet and pulled it back quickly, blood. ¨Nah, nothing, you just tripped on your shoe laces.¨ I rolled my eyes. I then learned that, those dumb little details they always tell you to remember, are for a good reason.

Slice of Life

Slice Of Life: Tuesday

My mouth watered as my mom entered the room with a sizzling stake in a frying pan. She slipped it on my plate and I quickly pierced my fork into the meat and cut a piece off. “So, did you do anything interesting at school today?” My mom asked me as she sat down in front of her plate of meat. “Well, we saw the inauguration of Obama getting sworn in.” I managed to say in between munches and bites. “Really?” She said. I looked up from my plate, that wasn’t her usual, sarcastic, “wow-I-can’t-believe-it” answer. She had her happy but serious face on; witch meant she was really concerned about something. “Yeah, even dough it had a pretty bad signal.” I chuckled.

I suddenly remembered how some boys had told me to move because I was sitting on these cables witch supposedly made the signal worse, and every time someone else sat on them, my name was called again, ordering me to get off the cables. My smile dropped into a frown. “Dumb old boys.” I said. I continued about the rest of it, not mentioning the cable part, and my mom didn’t suddenly stare into the air or look away. I told her about how the singer there almost had to put the microphone into the collar of her jacket of how big it was, and how funny it was to see all the rest of the citizens with big, expensive-looking jackets when Obama only had a suit on and his wife had a short yellow dress. My mother listened closely until finally, the part when Obama was sworn in, and that part was the only part, with a good signal.

Memoir Monday: Normal

Memoir Monday: Normal

I always wonder if there is a rule book on being normal, every time I say I haven’t gone on a roller coaster, or don’t really like playing videogames, or that I’d rather eat a spinach soup than chocolate ice cream or cake, or other things, the kids around me think I’m weird, and for them, that’s bad.

In third grade, as I commented these things I noticed people looked at me as in looking at an alien. They made me think of the thousands of kids in Africa for example that have never maybe even heard of a rollercoaster, that haven’t seen a video game in their life, and that would do anything for soup of any kind, but for them, that was something weird.

What about the people like me? The ones with those unusual opinions, where they treated different, where they looked like aliens? That day in third grade they then said things like ¨ what a weirdo! ¨ or ¨That’s strange. ¨ and then I asked them ¨Is that bad? ¨ and what they answered me confused me, ¨No, its just weird.¨

That made me realize that as kids grow older they judge people by their differences more and more, and I believe that is incorrect.