it’s all about the lines in our lives

Didn’t really see this theme until a few updates in but it can’t be denied. We all cross some lines in our lives. Whether by tripping, pushed, or testing the other side, it’s how we get back to the other side of the line that defines us. So with this, some updates:

  • My dad is doing much better. The lines cut in his chest and arms are healing nicely. While a still a little sore, the whole family is happy to report that he’s doing well.
  • Just got back from a placement conference in my field. University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh hosts an an annual placement exchange in which a number of schools come together and interview a large number of candidates seeking a position in residence life. Year after year, schools try to one-up each other with the different swag or advertising idea. RIT came up with a pretty neat idea involving a grade school right of passage. Ever do those origami fortune tellers? For example, sometimes after asking a question, you pick a color and for each letter you fold the paper a certain amount of times, then picking a number, you fold it that number again, revealing your final choice of number. VOILA! Future. Well, we changed it up a bit to make it RIT specific like “You’ll find your career in RIT Res Life!” I might invent an origami paper folder because after a few times of trying to fold the darn things, our minds turned a little batty, and eventually, a throwdown was issued. It then turned into this:

  • We probably have all been there whether through our parents yelling at us in the back seat saying, “Hey! Look it! I’m drawing a line down the center of this seat. You stay on this side, and you on the other. Don’t cross it!”. Or it’s the awkward knees or elbows touching where you pull away quickly once you realize they’re touching. But on an airplane, there’s only so much room to play nice. In addition, they build two separate seats. There’s already a line built into the row! And you’d think people would have the sense not to cross it. Oh no. On this recent plane trip, it happened twice. First time, I think the guy only gave me half a seat. Literally, Mister I’m going to spread my legs like I’m doing a ski jump and cross my arms like posing in a music video, decided to ignore the line. Then, his half brother sat next to me on the way back trying to emulate the ski jump (He skipped the video). Ever once in a while there would be a shift of position and I’d quickly reclaim some space. It was an ongoing battle that I didn’t do so well in.
  • This brings up another airline traveling question. Are you the type of person to rush onto a plane once they start boarding? Me, I’m thinking, “Why rush on there only too sit for another 20 minutes while I wait for everyone else?” Maybe they’re trying to stake their claim in the seat space war? I like the lobby and the 20 minutes of fresh air and open space I’m going to get. Maybe it’s just me?
  • Love is like hopscotch. You get some friends together and draw out the pattern of lines you want to go with to start, always having a place for two feet to land somewhere along the way. You throw the pebble and jump through course skipping the square where you landed the pebble. I thought I was at the end of my course having done the whole one foot, two foot thing. But if you’re playing in my game, you miss some steps, there’s a crack in the pavement you trip on, you miss the square you really want, and you’ve always got to watch out for the school bully who’s there clapping with a big smile on their face only to knock you down when right as you think you’ve reached the end. So here’s what I’ve decided, I’ve worried for too damn long about the pebble, the crowd, the cracks, heck, even the rules. I’ll draw the board how I want it to start. And when I get to the two feet, I’ll turn, grab my partner, break the chalk in half, and we’ll go the rest of the way together. Our rules. Our game. Now where did I put the chalk…

Thanks for reading.

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