An average sized ficitional story or Excuse me what?

He was so cute. I had noticed him the moment I walked into my Starbucks that morning. I called it my Starbucks because every Monday, usually 5 to 10 minutes behind schedule, I run into the Starbucks on the corner of Fullerton and Sheffield to grab a hot soy latte before jetting off to work. It was like a second home, if homes were filled with multiple espresso machines, delicious pastries and soft jazz music. But this particular morning I got distracted from my usual routine. I was blindsided by two of the most beautiful hazel-green eyes I had ever seen. He stood at about 6 feet, with broad shoulders, a strong jaw and honey-brown hair that looked as though it just seperated itself from his pillow. He was sitting at the table closest to the door, reading the sports section and casually sipping his americano blend. He must have felt me starring because his eyes slowly glanced above the headline announcing another loss for our beloved Bears. I quickly looked away and stumbled my way to the counter to place my drink order. I had ordered the same drink, everyday, for the past 4 months yet it took me three attempts to blurt out, "Um grande soy latte please..." as if it were the linguistic equivalent to she sells seashells by the seashore. I stood anxiously awaiting the barista to finish my drink, taking the more than occasional glance over at my McPerfect at the door. Emily, a freckle-faced redhead who worked this particular spot Monday through Thursdays every week, informed me my drink was ready. I wrapped my fingers around the hot beverage, cautious not to spill and turned to make my way towards the door. With just a few steps to go, I tried to remain fixated on the door to avoid an embarassing spill when I am overwhelmed by the warmth of a hand on my elbow. "Excuse me, do you have a pen I could possibly borrow?" His voice was deep and assertive, yet familiar as if I had heard it countless times before. It was my McPerfect. I frantically set my purse down on the table and began to pull out every useless thing I stored in there. "Why do I have all this junk anyways?" I thought to myself. Finally, after mild embarassment and several seconds of self-consciousness I had found a humble ball point. I handed the pen to him and watched as he very swiftly scribbled on the back of an index card. He looked up and our eyes made a connection that sent shivers up my spine. "You're absolutely beautiful," he said, "and I would love to see you again." My hand shook as I reached for the card and a gitty child-like grin smeared across my face. "I'll give you a call," I said smoothly and made a prompt exit. I couldn't believe it was real as I stared down at the card and waved back to him through the window, with the picture of his goofy smile occupying my brain I knew that this wasn't just an ordinary Monday morning.

Just For Fun

So this blog is a combination of complete boredem, lack of other blog-worthy experiences and the celebration of my 100th blog post. I would like to share with you my many irrational fears:
1. Birds-This fear has been with me for as long as I can remember and is my greatest fear overpowering everything that I do.
2. Revolving Doors-This fear is mainly on account of our complete lack of control over their actions.
3. Elevators- Similar to the revolving door fear, this is mainly just the result of man vs. machine
4. Micowaves-I am afraid that they have too much power. Nothing should get that hot that fast.
5. My Size Barbie- Self explainatory.
6. The Dark- This fear is simple...not being able to see is scary.
7. Kelly Clarkson-Now this isn't as much of a fear but more of a lack of understanding...how is it possible that one person can sing that well? Scary.
So happy 100th blogaversary to me! Bring on the cake!

Population: 2,896,016

Chicago, Illinois. A city that is occupied by 1,405,107 males and 1,490,909 females, making it rare to ever really be quiet. Whether it is the blairing sound of the CTA brown line or the annoyance of another car alarm set off, hardly a second goes by where there is complete silence. At first this noise and commotion excited me. Coming from quiet and protected suburban America, the only noise that was constant was dogs barking or children playing at the park. The city presented me with a whirlwind of new sounds. I enjoyed the noise, it acted as my comfort because with the constant sound of others you are aware that you are not alone. However in this overpopulated, fast paced, ever-growing city where you are most definately not alone, you are not immune to feeling lonely. Loneliness rears itself in many forms. Whether it is your route to class where you can't recognize a single face that passes you by or the shouts and screams at 3 in the morning when you figured you are the only person awake. When I was little I had this ambition to meet every single person in the world before I die. I realize that, in reality, this goal is not only far fetched, but it is well, impossible. However, in the wise words of Mr. Kanye West: "To me givin' up's harder than trying." So I will now devote my life to meeting as many people as possible and impacting their lives in any way that i can. I feel that it is my way of saying thank you, to everyone who has impacted my own life and to those who will that I haven't even met yet. Maybe because it is a small world we should all fill it with big dreams.

I have weak ankles...

Okay so a few weeks ago I fell down the stairs and twisted my ankle. It wasn't exactly my proudest moment, in fact, i really just wanted to forget about it and walk off the pain. My ankle swelled up to the size of a cantaloupe. I was only mildly worried; mainly i was plotting up a better sob story for why my ankle looked this way. (I was saving a dying cat from a tree, i was a stunt double in the batman movie, its an optical illusion) I walked the pain off for the most part and the swelling gradually went down. However there is this gnawing pain every so often when I sit on it funny. I feel that this pain acts as symbol for my embarassment from society. Why is it that I would rather succumb to this pain than face the reality of my clumsiness? As a new student, in a new city, meeting new people everyday I feel like I am on the longest job interview ever, except I don't have the luxury of taking my heels off in between sessions or the prospect of company paid health benefits. Rather these interviews are for relationships. I am selling myself to those around me so that they may be interested in hiring me as their new friend. This job is stressful. You need to make note of your best qualities, address your fundamental quirks and mannerisms, and give the listner a unique sense of your individuality in approximately 30 seconds. This process is tiresome. Often times you are rejected and this new found frienship fizzles to mere niceties or worse, a simple head nod. You may ask yourself is it really worthwhile to put yourself through this torture just to impress others? Yes. Because, in the rare but extraodinary occasion that you nail this interview you have found yourself a true friend, someone who accepts you for all that you are and realizes that it took great courage simply to introduce yourself. So yes I am embarassed about falling down the stairs and potentially doing serious damage to my ankle, but unfortunately, for better or for worse, that clumsy girl who snorts when she laughs and sings in the shower is me, and I am okay with that...So did I get the job?