Monday, June 23, 2008

Post 1: Narration

What has the world come to: hearing the flipping papers of closing notebooks and the zipping of spacious backpacks - no offense to the Professor - I assumed that it was the end of class. In addition, while the Professor added some last words, I pulled out my cell phone out of my cool, silky pocket and targeted the time: it was only 11:10 a.m. I carefully balanced myself after the class was dismissed, placed my two best friends - my left and right crutches - under my armpits while inhaling the irritating rubber fumes, and limped out.

That was just the commencement of my 30 minute trek to, into, and out of the UC Davis money-ripping emporium - I mean bookstore. I went through ten minutes of repetitive dreary motions of hopping forward and swinging my crutches out in front of me, unbalanced because of the jagged, pebbly cement, while draining myself of my breath and energy in the dry, summer air. Frustration and anxiety flowed through my mind and body, reassuring myself that in one week I will be able to walk again.

When I finally arrived at the bookstore, I had a few goals: to hop downstairs, grab the Keywords book, jump back upstairs, and pay at the register while maintaining my balance and avoiding accidental mishaps caused by my crutches. I was successful for the most part; however, I failed to find the textbook. Yet, I did bump into a friend, who happened to work at the bookstore. She was actually yelling out my name while I was going downstairs to tell me that there was an elevator that I could use. She escorted me to the mysterious elevator that I had never noticed - it reminded me of the door to the Room of Requirement in Harry Potter - and brought me back up to the first floor.

I left the bookstore empty-handed, ten minutes after I arrived, but content and sympathetic because of the help of my friend. Furthermore, a kind stranger helped me open the door so that I could walk out of the Memorial Union. I spent the last ten minutes waiting for my roommate to pick me up at the bus stop outside of the MU, thinking about how simple and kind gestures can flip one's mood right-side up, how I should do the same for others, and how much fun I would have spending time on a hobby, not a chore or an assignment.

2 comments:

Rachel said...

I know what you mean about simple acts of kindness completely turning your day around. Sorry your trek to the bookstore wasn't rewarding; I had a similar experience but then found out I had been looking in the wrong place for the book. Maybe there's still a copy left...?

Arlenm said...

This was a very nice, descriptive post that narrated exactly how you felt.

The way you describe how exhausting traveling around on crutches makes me hope that I never get an injury where I have to use crutches. Hopping on one leg everywhere and always being unbalanced sounds terrible. I bet those armpits were sore, too. The irritating rubber fumes that you constantly breathed in? I know exactly what you mean. One of my belts has that irritating smell and it is so annoying. It’s not strong enough to make you nauseous, but it just lingers in the air all the time. The next time I need to buy a belt, I’m smelling them all first to make sure it doesn’t have that smell.

I like how you remembered the kind stranger that helped open the door for you. These kinds of helpful things tend to go unnoticed and unappreciated by people until they are in a situation where they are wishing someone would help them. Whether it is because you are on crutches and the door is difficult for you to open, or because your arms are full from carrying things and you can’t open the door by yourself, it’s always nice to get help from someone.