I set out on a journey this morning. Actually it was the afternoon because I didn’t wake up before noon but in my mind it was still the morning. My goal – to secure a job. However, I did not anticipate meeting my nemesis on the way.
I stepped out the door carrying a small pile of books I had to return to the library when I tripped. I have the uncommon ability to trip over thin air. It has taken years of practice to reach my current level of tripping ability. Alongside training my tripping ability I have also been training my ability to catch myself. I am like a Weeble—I will wobble but I will not fall down.
And so this afternoon-morning when I tripped I threw out my arms to do my Sean Johnson the library books flew into the air and continued to fly. That is when I struggled in vain for a second before falling to the ground. I failed, thwarted by my archenemy—wind.
That was just the beginning. Round one went to Wind but I’d be damned if I let Wind get the better of me again.You see I have a long history with Wind, a long, bloody history. I happen to possess that which Wind hates the most—curly hair. I don’t know how the rivalry between Curls and Wind started. It’s an age-old conflict most likely stemming from a family argument hundreds of years in the past. It’s like the tension between Christianity and Islam, an argument between two brothers from the Old Testament or something equally obscure.
I have been caught in the crossfire of this violent war for years. Every time I think a ceasefire has been called, Wind strikes back even harder than before. It is an exhausting battle but I will not give up. And so today when Wind caught me in a surprise attack, I gritted my teeth and prepared for another brutal battle.
I made it to my car safely. After the initial attack, Wind had retreated, no doubt to gather more forces. I drove with the air conditioning on keeping the Wind shut out. But I could hear every gust. Wind was angry. Wind didn’t like being shut out. I dreaded leaving the safety of my car.
And yet I arrived at the library and had to face Wind once again. I hitched my bag of books up on my shoulder, I wouldn’t make the mistake of carrying the books in my arms again. With my free hands I clutched my hair, trying in vain to protect my Curls. My defensive maneuver almost worked but the ribbon I had tied into a headband came loose and fluttered loose in Wind’s deadly grip. But I can’t save everyone. My Curls were more important that my headband. I couldn’t stop until I was safe within the library, the safest place in the world, full of the best kind of comfort—books.
Maybe I lingered the library longer than I should have. I was formulating a battle plan. Next I had to drive three blocks down to Vito’s Café to apply for a hostess job. I needed to look presentable. But Wind had other plans.
First stop, I looked windblown. It was almost endearing.
Second stop, I looked wind-blown-away. It was not so endearing.
By the third stop, I simply looked out of control. My Curls stood on end, frazzled from their long day of fighting.All of the straight-haired people looked at me like I had escaped from the loony-bin. When I asked for an application, the hostess of the restaurant hesitated. She had short red hair in one of those stylish, stick-straight bobs. She had never known that fearsome carnage of Wind’s aggression.
I don’t think Restaurant #3 will be calling me back about that job.
Now I am back home. I will not be leaving the sanctuary of my house for the rest of the night. I am living the life of a cloistered nun until graduation. Maybe on one of my BEDA posts I will relate the tale of how I voluntarily gave up partying for the rest of the school year.
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