inTENSE

As I type these words in the library, there's a man sitting a couple seats away. He types loudly, at an unnecessarily high volume. Sometimes it's like he's playing a note on the piano, in super forte. Every once in a while he sighs. Actually, he just exhales. Everyone can hear him. Well, everyone as in me and this other girl in the room. I mean, it is the second day of classes. What's my excuse? I'm typing applications for a research position. Cover letters are bitches, with resumes as their complementary pair of Uggs boots. But enough about those.

People probably find me rather odd, because I get so excited about things that seem anything but. Like this talk about mushrooms (link). Or a project (more commonly referred to as work).

I had a friend in high school who brought up to my attention one very important thing: I needed to chill. Sometimes he'd even get sick of me and shun me away. Then one time during class, I brought out an egg beef and lettuce sandwich. People turned, looked, and started asking a slew of questions. "What's in it?" "Where'd you get it?" "You gonna eat that?" And I responded "Guys, it's just a sandwich. Chill the fuck out." My friend then noted that if I of all people wanted people to chill, then people really needed to chill.

Since then, I haven't had a similar moment. It's usually the other way around. I'm frightened. I am damn well going to stay passionate. Life is awesome for me that way. But I don't want to end up like that guy, typing madly on the computer. I don't want to intimidate people with my behavior. And I definitely don't want to be the douche imposing their "passions" onto others. As much as I want other people to get excited, people should live at their own pace.

I guess I'll have to watch myself.



Fill the chuck out