On failure and spontanaiety

So yeah, I may have mentioned before how much I like to do everything perfectly the first time. Well that is apparently not going to happen with graphic design. At least it's not with letter tracing, though I suppose that's not really the most important skill for a graphic designer to have. I'd have to say that I am only okay at letter tracing...solidly mediocre. Ugh...average. I find it to be incredibly annoying to not be The! Best! Ever! at something, but I suppose Pema would say it's an opportunity to explore the gift of sucking. One cool thing: as I was leaving class last night, the question popped into my head, "what will I do if I fail miserably at graphic design?". The answer occurred to me immediately after: "something else." It made me feel a lot better to realize that something not working out doesn't mean huge fatal catastrophe, just a minor change in direction. It's a good lesson.

So last night after class I was on my way home on the bus when my friend Christina texted me and re-invited me to meet her at a pub with a bunch of her friends for her birthday. Again, a cool thing about the single life is the freedom to just get off the bus and go wherever the hell I want whenever I want to, so I went (also I figured out in my head how the buses go and how I was going to get there and how I was going to get home, so that was an excellent independent feeling). It was sufficiently awkward to be hanging out with a bunch of people I didn't know, especially before the liquor kicked in. Eventually though, an epic discussion about Star Trek began and I felt totally in my element.

The group planned to move to another bar but I wasn't going to go with them because I had to catch the bus before it was too late and plus, 31 year olds don't really go to bars on weeknights and CERTAINLY don't go to more than one in one night. So I said my goodbyes, left the pub and headed for the bus stop. Here's where it got weird. There was a dude sitting on the little bench in the bus stop shelter so I just stood nearby. He got up and walked away and my feet were tired, so I sat down on the bench. A few minutes later, he came back, sat right next to me and asked me my name. I'm pretty used to getting hit on by creeps on the bus, and I wasn't feeling particularly chatty, so I just asked him why he wanted to know. He chuckled and touched my arm (woop! woop! woop! perimeter has been breached!) and repeated that he wanted to know my name. I told him no thank you, I didn't feel like talking and I would appreciate it if he would stop touching me and he started stroking my arm and saying "you no like?" (not a native english speaker). No, I did not like, and I was done hanging around while a strange man touches me without permission, so I left the bus stop and headed back for the pub. I met Christina and her friends outside and, since I felt pretty skeevy after my encounter at the bus stop, I went with them to the next bar.

I'm really glad I went because it ended up being a smaller, more manageable group of folks. We sat in the back corner with our fancy drinks and talked about all sorts of things, from Barbra Streisand to marijuana to Alaska. I stayed until almost 12:30 AM and managed to snag a ride home with one of Christina's friends in exchange for a little gas money (times are tough, you know). It was a good experience and I got a chance to talk to some people I really got along with that I would never have known existed if I hadn't gotten off of that bus (also if the gentleman at the bus stop hadn't taken liberties). Sure, I'm a little sleepier than usual this morning but it was still totally worth it. I love it when that happens :)