When is the last time you had a well earned bruise? As a child I was constantly scraping my knee, getting grass stains on my clothes, and otherwise completely ignoring my own mortality. There seems this cultural belief that teenagers feel immortal. I’d disagree. Children feel immortal. They give everything one hundred percent. Crying, laughing, running, jumping, there’s no holding back.
The first time I remember losing my ability to commit to an action without fear ended with the gritty taste of sand in my mouth. Most of the memory is hazy like it was a dream and I’ve already been awake for too long afterwards. I do know it was a red swing held up with actual chains because the problem started when the twisting chains pinched my finger. I was gripping the chains in preparation to jump and immediately froze when it pinched me. Continue reading
Me and my new plant. She’s a Potpourri Sky Lavender plant and I’m calling her Celia. Also she smells yummy.
Sometimes I like to pretend I’m grown up. Not today. Today I slept til 1 p.m. and spent the afternoon reading in the sun. Last Saturday though, I started to face my crippling fear of being relied upon by another living creature. Sometimes the fear masquerades as a fear of commitment, but I’m not afraid to commit to others. I just don’t want them to commit to me. The hopes of another person are too heavy. I know that pressure produces diamonds from coal, but not everything is coal. Pressure often just crushes and in the end there’s just this flatness where I wanted a diamond.
Then I remembered that I don’t like diamonds that much anyways so I decided to risk it. Puppies and human beings are a bit too serious to experiment with in order to judge my own dependability so I bought a plant. Her name is Celia and she’s a Potpourri Sky Lavender plant that I purchased from the Farmer’s Market. My getting up early enough on a Saturday to attend the Farmer’s Market already implies a pretty big level of commitment.
Plants are quite a responsibility. It’s an implied agreement to provide sustenance and sunshine. I have to water Celia and open the blinds every morning. Talk about needy. Though I do enjoy that she smells nice and doesn’t run away when I sing out loud. Both admirable qualities in a dorm-mate. Currently she’s survived a week of my care and seems content. Maybe I’m more grown-up than I think. I shall continue with this experiment and try other grown-up endeavors (such as the use of the word shall). My next feat will be making potatoes in the oven and not my microwave. Wish me luck.
(Celia also sends you wishes of wellness because she is quite a nice plant and thus feels inclined towards such behavior)