Nora: Journal 16

Working at Cherry Street today was very... repetitive. Can you go into shock from being around too many green beans? The whole day was carrying boxes, cleaning cans, stacking cans, re-stacking cans, putting them on racks, then lather, rinse, repeat. Just kidding. I did talk to one of the guys volunteering there. I never got his name, but he had tattoos. He was really nice (cue the internal laughter at the fact that people probably get scared of him all the time because they think he's a gangster). It kind of gives me pleasure to see stereotypes being so blatantly proven wrong. I'm not going to lie, there were times when I thought, Maybe I should help them with the heavy boxes, just because I can be too proud for my own good. Maybe it's because I'm stubborn (or, if we're putting it nicely, strong- willed). But I'm not that weak. And I have this weird need-to-prove- people- wrong thing going on. But only when my ability is underestimated. But I digress. They didn't actually underestimate my ability. It was just one of those things where I saw them lifting those heavy boxes and felt the need to go prove myself...and... represent. But again, I digress. Lunch was entertaining. I was amused by the conversation about preferred arab dishes. And a certain someone trying to drink from an upside down straw. We have a nice, fun little oddball group.