hand it to me

The one time circumstances actually call for me to conjure up embarrassing memories, my brain fails me. You’d think that since it has no problem organizing extensive slideshows of those moments to project onto my inner eyelids on the cusp of sleep, it could at least contribute something.

To the assignment, I mean. In English class last Wednesday, our teacher had us fill out these questionnaires to help us (force us to) start writing our college essays.

English, 12:25 PM last Wednesday

As today’s classwork is being passed down the rows, I fan myself with a water bottle. I’ve just come back from almost an entire period practicing outside in the unforgiving heat, which I’m sure is illegal. I’m also sure too lazy to check.

My hair is plastered to my neck, and I’m seeing spots. Or maybe just seeing things in general, like the font of the entire handout being Comic Sans. Is this real?

“This is… busy work?” I hear someone behind me whisper in excited disbelief.

Blinking rapidly, I shake my head in wonder. Is anything real?

English, 12:40 PM

I am breezing through these questions.

The most significant personal event/incident in your life

Easy. The day I realized nothing I did in middle school really mattered… and then continued to try hard anyway. Otherwise known as the day I realized I was insane.

The most important person in your family

Me.

I think about that for a second, and then erase what I’ve written so I can write the real answer.

Cat.

The most embarrassing moment in your life

??!?!?!??

I never advanced past that question because absolutely nothing came to mind. It definitely couldn’t have been for lack of material. I mean, in the time it took me to write up to this point, I’ve already thought of three from the past two days alone.

 Exhibit A

“Hello,” I say as I enter the office. “I’m Nicole. Thank you so much for meeting me!”

The lady looks up. “About that… I wasn’t expecting you to show up. I thought you were just going to call, actually.”

You thought that was it? Oh, it gets better.

Exhibit B

“I’m…” Wow. “… so sorry I didn’t make it clearer, I—”

The lady stands and extends her hand, palm facing up like she’s expecting me to hand her something. I make to give her the leather portfolio I’m holding.

She just stares at me, before gently pushing the portfolio back.

Turns out she was trying to shake my hand.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s