Tootzers

Salty. This word usually associates itself with taste, but I will use this descriptor to define my attitude this week. Weirdly enough, my salty demeanor leads me to become outrageously eccentric, including uncontrollable laughter and a high-pitched whiny voice that irritates my own ears. Anyway, today as I sulked over to my anatomy group, sat down without saying a word, and did my “group work” completely alone, my fellow AP English classmate, Elliot, pointed out my apparent impudent attitude. And somehow this turned into a “let’s all make fun of Becky” hour. I believe that Elliot created this bantering to discontinue the dirty looks that were thrown his way for trying to converse with me. The topic Elliot chose: my obsession with my dog. I do not feel that strong affection felt towards a pet in any way, shape, or form should be considered bad. I feel that excessive love for animals lives as a common feeling for teenage girls. But whatever, let’s all laugh about it. Once we fully divulged into my affection for my Pembroke Welsh Corgi, Tootsie, I realized how much I really am obsessed with her. Not only did I force my group members to “oooh” and “aahh” over Instagram-edited pictures of my pet, I forced my teacher to participate in the mandatory admiration. After my dramatic whining about how adorable my Champion in Show dog looked, many other peers decided to join in on making fun of my beloved K9. Maybe making Tootsie a Facebook two years ago with my family over winter break crossed the line. Maybe I deserved the harassment I received from my classmates. Maybe I should not have cried when my guy friends stole my dog right out of my house and drove her around my neighborhood for twenty minutes. I still cringe when I visualize my cherished dog in the back of Grant Lingafelter’s Jeep, immobilized by fear. (They claim she loved it, but I highly doubt it) Maybe the heated words I spat at my girlfriends for helping my friends dog-nap Tootsie did not need to leave my mouth. Maybe I should not routinely wear and flaunt my Corgi socks. Maybe the best Halloween costume for Tootsie this year was not a hotdog. Maybe I should not take it personally when my friends call Tootsie “fish dog” for her rancid breath, or make fun of her short legs and beady eyes. But I believe that a dog truly remains man’s best friend. And yeah, maybe my obsession with Tootsie remains on the extreme side, but I do not believe I am the only one with a pet obsession….ELLIOT.   

True Life: I'm Obsessed with Eye Lashes

Almost every dancer confidently affirms that their favorite part of dancing lives in the performance aspect. And the week leading up to a big performance sends nervous shivers and excited tremors through the dancer’s body. Every day this week, I have dreamt of my performance of Mama Mia this weekend. Not only performing, but embarrassingly enough, the pre-performance rituals. I strangely possess an obsession with eye lashes. Some of my friends make fun at me and call them spider lashes while the others compliment me on my weird obsession. Either way, I love them. And I kid you not, every day this week, I have dreamt of placing fake eyelashes on the rim of my eye and feeling the lashes stretch past my eyebrows and tickle my forehead. I understand how weird this sounds, but I am not the only one who feels this way! My fellow dancers and I all undergo this feeling of adoration toward fake eyelashes and putting on pounds of make-up. But, why? I feel that this act of concealment parallels to Gatsby’s disguising actions after he witnessed Daisy murder Myrtle in The Great Gatsby. Instead of frantically torching his car or running away to some desolate island, he took a long, peaceful swim in his private swimming pool. Then the question arises…does Gatsby actually not care about the violent murder? Or, is he just masking his emotions, like the concealing powers of make-up, with the thoughtless actions of a leisurely swim? We will never find out. But I know that in my case, I purposefully cake on the make-up, glue the fake eyelashes, and sprinkle the glitter, for my purpose remains to pretend to live as someone else. And just like a five year old child, I enjoy dressing up and playing pretend more than anything else in the world.

GUYS, I FIGURED IT OUT!

At first, I did not know the reason. Actually, I did not know a problem existed. If any of you happened to stumble upon my blog post from last week, you probably noticed that I kind of went on an emotional rampage, attempting to make excuses as to why I do not talk in class discussion. I knew I possessed a problem, and I did not know the answer. But I think I found it. Get ready, things are about to get personal. I surprisingly found the answer to my problem in the character Gatsby. But, I will not give all the credit to this tangled fictional character. Whether Ms. Serensky knows it or not, she assisted me in completing my search for what remains wrong with me. First, after asking what could possibly be wrong with me, Ms. Serensky went on to give me a little pep talk. And as I walked out of her classroom today, I discovered it. THE ANSWER! A man who possesses all the money anyone could ever ask for and enjoys the company of many people who remain enthralled by his existence holds a flaw. A single flaw that he covers up by his ravish parties and pleased smile. A flaw that I first discovered in my reading last night. The great and distinguished Gatsby lives as an insecure man. And I do not know if he even knows it. Then the light bulb went off! I can confidently state that I remain the busiest person I know. And I love every minute of my crazy lifestyle. Every day I go to school, go to the gym, go to dance until ten, and then do my homework. And most of the time, I end up waking up at five in the morning because I fell asleep doing my homework. Oh, and did I mention that I work three jobs!  The addiction to my hectic activities sometimes leaves me blind to what I actually am feeling. I discovered today that I have become insecure. Like Gatsby, I cover up my lack of self-confidence with mind boggling undertakings, as he covers up his anxiety with parties and money. The strangest thing subsides in the fact that I never have been insecure before. I lead the Varsity Cheerleading squad for the past two years. I received a lead in every dance production I took part in since tenth grade. I remain confident and positive during these moments. But once I step inside of a situation where I feel intellectually inferior to the people surrounding me, I lose it. Which remains why I struggle to talk in discussion and express my opinion. I keep putting myself down, but I know I possess what it requires to take Advanced Placement English. I just need to move past this bizarre feeling of self-doubt and know that I can do it.