Nora: Journal 17

Whoa there. Winterim Fair was just today. My days of service learning and blogging have met their end. This would be the part where I get up from my chair, unfinished blog post on the screen, this typing- cursor thingy blinking, and go bring back a box of tissues. Just kidding. But, in all seriousness, I will miss our class (and it's not just because I don't want to go back to regular school and have to do regular homework again). I really did enjoy this winterim. Last year I would have been uncomfortable and socially awkward (I'm still socially awkward, but last year it would have stopped me from actually talking to people), and I probably wouldn't have missed it so much. I was surprised our group got along so easily. Last year, I know there was definitely some clique- like activity going on. But one thing I've learned this year in general that I didn't see last year was that everything isn't going to suddenly get better all at once. Sure, you'll be thrown into some uncomfortable situations or environments, but I've learned to take it one day at a time, one relationship at a time, one step at a time. So I'm glad that I didn't give in to my friends' constant badgering about going to Italy. I'm glad I didn't end up putting forensic science as my first choice, even though I know some people who thought that was stupid too. I'm not going to lie- I did second guess myself a little bit. But despite the fact there were one million and one trips and several other winterims to choose from, I honestly think I wouldn't have learned as much or enjoyed them as much.

Assembling the food packages at Cherry Street today didn't require any sort of intense labor... the assembly line made the process so much more efficient. It left more time for talking too. However, as I complained earlier, the nice tattooed guy (I still don't know his name. Argh) helped me with one of those plastic crates of cans. It's not something I had a problem with; I really appreciated the help. It seems that he interpreted the over dramatic mini- scream/ sound effect as a response to the weight of the crate, rather than a response to the fact that I was watching a pretty big can of yams roll off the table and I didn't have any hands to stop it. It almost felt immoral to just let it fall off the table as I watched. Like I was witnessing a crime and doing nothing to stop it. That's a bit dramatic. But anyways. The point is, he was being nice, but I was in fact able to lift the crate of cans. One thing that just kind of threw me was seeing my neighborhood, seeing the MV community, and then seeing the houses by Cherry Street. They looked pretty run down. The whole downtown area looked pretty shady. I just wondered how it would be if I lived there. The difference is so huge and I wonder how people could just look the other way when they see that.

As I said earlier, sometimes I do prefer talking to adults. This would be the part where I explain myself. Sometimes I feel that I can have more meaningful conversation with adults. I know there are plenty of mature high schoolers. Of course there are. But if I were to speak from personal experience, the instances where I can talk about, for example, politics or *ahem* gender issues with my friends are far and few. I know MV has plenty of smart students who are very informed on important subjects. Then again, speaking only from my personal experience, that's not really popular lunchtime conversation. Most of the conversations I hear have to do with screwing up a test, romantic troubles, last night's Jersey Shore episode, etc. You know, teenager stuff. Sometimes I like taking a break from all that and discussing issues that are important to me. And the adults I know usually don't refuse that kind of conversation. For instance, I really like it when on a given weekend, my dad and I will go out to dinner- just the two of us without my mom or my brother. My dad and I get along really well. My favorite part about this though is that we can talk about politics, or maybe something happened that reminded me of a certain social trend that I can't stand, or maybe something happened at my dad's office that we can make commentary on. I think I like it so much because my dad doesn't treat me like I'm some kid that doesn't really know anything about the real world. When I talk to my dad, I feel like my opinions are valid and what I have to say is valuable. It's this feeling that I'm an intellectual equal. Or at least I'm being treated like one. Maybe that's why we get along so well. He's still my dad (and therefore has the authority), but there is a mutual respect. So when I get to talk to other adults like that, it satisfies my need to feel like I may have a thing or two to contribute, even though I'm young.

During winterim fair, I found that I really didn't care to take a break. Before, I had planned to see my friends, walk around, and just chill out. But then I actually wanted to wait for the seemingly rare instance where someone would come up to my table and be genuinely interested in my topic. Of course, everyone respectfully listened and though what we were doing was cool. But I loved it when someone would think my project and what I had to say was interesting, and they'd actually engage and we could have a discussion. I met a few people who did that. I think if I had rushed away to be with my friends, I would have missed some of those discussions. By the end of the night, my feet killed. I was out of the house all day, then I was standing at my station for two hours, then we ended the night with transporting chairs. When I was standing, I would occasionally see an empty chair and contemplate sitting in it; but then I thought that I should stand out of courtesy for the people who were standing and looking at our presentations. So I thought, If they're standing, I'm standing. Also, for some reason, I kept thinking about our visit to the Ability Center and our talk with Dan Wilkins. I was thinking about what we learned about behaving around disabled people and how to treat them. I remembered how they said that if someone is in a wheelchair, then you should make sure you're at their level when you're talking to them to show consideration and respect, instead of making them look up at you. So, in a weird way, that also offered insight on the situation; I wanted to make sure I was on the same level as the person (or people) taking the time to see my project.