I'm back.
Yep. I took a year off (holy shit??) and now I think my head's back on straight. And a lot of stuff has changed too-- I got a new job, I'm back in school because I'm a goddamn masochist, I got a phone with the Internet on it, some friends of ours had a babyfriend, some OTHER friends of ours are going to have a babyfriend (dammit, blog, Ellie! *shamefaced* Loove yoouu), and now I hardly write anything at all for fun. I write serious papers for school and serious reports for work and actually, I'm blowing off a serious paper right now, under the bad (or not) influence of my friend Malbec, to write this tiny post informing you that I will be posting again. Because really, funny things have happened over the past year and I haven't done more than snicker at them momentarily before moving on. That's a shame, especially since I went back and read this whole blog, and can I just say that I kind of cracked myself up? I know that's conceited and shit, but seriously-- homegirl is kind of funny in writing even if I'm awkward and derp in real life.
I miss writing, even if it is just craptastic stuff. I'm a little concerned all the serious writing I do could kill what's left of my creativity and then I'll never write any books. So yeah. Standard disclaimer applies: this blog will be B-I-T-C-H-Y bitchy. I will be irreverent, off-color and judgmental, ignorant and indignant, probably mean and likely unforgiving. Just like the previous posts. Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid (shut up, I'm a nerd). I'll be happy to laugh long and loud at said stupidity, whether mine, yours or others', and write it down with unabashed glee. Once in a while there might be a glimmer of insight or grace, but I wouldn't want to tarnish my reputation TOO often. So let's just say you've been forewarned, shall we? :D
New posts and probably a site/links clean-up to come.
Showing posts with label fuzzies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fuzzies. Show all posts
Monday, October 24, 2011
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Riding the Short Bus to Awesome
I volunteered at the Special Olympics yesterday, both because I was curious to see if I could make myself stop saying "retard" and also because my company offered two days of Paid Time Off to anyone who volunteered for an eight-hour-plus shift. And because I'm a chronic volunteer, for like everything. Except Habitat for Humanity because once I did something like that and got a shitload of fiberglass in my FACE. So yesterday morning I got on the earliest bus to Lincoln EVER (5:15 a.m.!!!!), provided by my work, and proceeded to wait around for hour or so after arriving at the sports complex for "training," which mostly consisted of the following:
"What group are you with?"
"Competition staging."
"You need to go inside for that."
"What group are you with??"
"Competition staging."
"Those people are outside!!"
"What group are you with?!"
*sigh* "Competition staging."
"Why aren't you indoors with the rest?!"
"Because I was told to come out here after being told to go inside."
"That was wrong, only ball retrievers and court captains are out here!!"
OY VEY.
But such is life on the first day of organizing volunteers, right? Once everything settled down and somebody actually explained my job to me, it was pretty fun. I had to figure out the order of the tennis matches and get the scoring docs out to the court captains, line up the special athletes for the matches and keep them reasonably entertained so they didn't wander away before their matches came up, then pump them up with pom poms and clappers as they charged out the door to play. It was super easy and kept me actively engaged with them pretty much all day.
And the athletes? TOTALLY DARLING. I was honestly expecting to have a hard time not cracking up all day because I am one of those insensitive baboons who sheds tears laughing at and happily making sped jokes. But I didn't-- probably because the athletes were all so funny and enjoyable in their own rights as human beings that I never laughed at them. I laughed alongside them. Sure, they were challenged, but they were also all vibrant and really joyful. Maybe it had something to do with being Olympians (read: of course it did). Anyway, they were just different and I really liked them. *cue Full House music*
One highly-functioning guy I met had a bizarre head and neck twitch that was jarring the first time I saw it, but he was so rather well-spoken and charming that I hardly even noticed it after. One girl asked me four times when she was going to play tennis, and each time I reminded her, she smacked her hand to her forehead and shouted, "I forgot, you already told me that! I'm just so excited!" She also announced her entry into any room with "I'm here, you can start the party now!" Some of them you could hardly tell were intellectually or mentally challenged until you got close to them-- then you noticed their off gazes and shuffling way of walking. Some others looked so regular that I actually thought for a few minutes about what it would be like to accidentally hit on someone like that and not understand why you weren't getting the response you hoped for. One such girl, shy but very pleased with her accomplishments, won a gold medal in Italy last year and gave me a Special Olympics pin from her home state, and another brash guy with an expensive racket and tracksuit had like seven different sponsors. Both because they play tennis so well. I watched them. My ass would've been BEAT. And yet another girl got to play tennis with Andy Roddick on Sunday at the complex! These kids are hooked UP.
I sat with the South Carolina volleyball team at lunch and helped the girl beside me open pretty much everything in her lunch bag-- the plastic-wrapped sandwich, the condiment packets, her juice box. And she rewarded me with a heartfelt hug and surprisingly interesting conversation. The boy across from her asked for my autograph and explained the selection procedure in South Carolina for the Special Olympics. Both of them were in awe at how many volunteers there were and said they loved Nebraska because everybody was so nice to them. How could anybody NOT be nice to them though?
I found it easier to talk to them than to most of my business contemporaries or even people in a department store. Big ups to anybody who automatically thinks I'm hilarious, and they ALL did. I don't think I've ever been a bigger dork with dumber jokes in my whole life than I was yesterday, and unless they were faking it for my benefit (which I rather doubt), they were absolutely rolling. My face hurt from laughing by the end of the day. Well worth it. I'd volunteer again in a second, early start time and 12 hour shift be damned.
I have to say, if I ever had a challenged child, I would be significantly less pissed about it than I would be had I not ever gone to the Special Olympics. Maybe I wouldn't be pissed at all. Maybe I'd be kind of excited at having a child who beat a ridiculously silly joke into the ground with me, never thought I was stupid in her teen years, or hesitated to hug me in front of his friends.
I don’t think I'm going to say "retard" anymore.
"What group are you with?"
"Competition staging."
"You need to go inside for that."
"What group are you with??"
"Competition staging."
"Those people are outside!!"
"What group are you with?!"
*sigh* "Competition staging."
"Why aren't you indoors with the rest?!"
"Because I was told to come out here after being told to go inside."
"That was wrong, only ball retrievers and court captains are out here!!"
OY VEY.
But such is life on the first day of organizing volunteers, right? Once everything settled down and somebody actually explained my job to me, it was pretty fun. I had to figure out the order of the tennis matches and get the scoring docs out to the court captains, line up the special athletes for the matches and keep them reasonably entertained so they didn't wander away before their matches came up, then pump them up with pom poms and clappers as they charged out the door to play. It was super easy and kept me actively engaged with them pretty much all day.
And the athletes? TOTALLY DARLING. I was honestly expecting to have a hard time not cracking up all day because I am one of those insensitive baboons who sheds tears laughing at and happily making sped jokes. But I didn't-- probably because the athletes were all so funny and enjoyable in their own rights as human beings that I never laughed at them. I laughed alongside them. Sure, they were challenged, but they were also all vibrant and really joyful. Maybe it had something to do with being Olympians (read: of course it did). Anyway, they were just different and I really liked them. *cue Full House music*
One highly-functioning guy I met had a bizarre head and neck twitch that was jarring the first time I saw it, but he was so rather well-spoken and charming that I hardly even noticed it after. One girl asked me four times when she was going to play tennis, and each time I reminded her, she smacked her hand to her forehead and shouted, "I forgot, you already told me that! I'm just so excited!" She also announced her entry into any room with "I'm here, you can start the party now!" Some of them you could hardly tell were intellectually or mentally challenged until you got close to them-- then you noticed their off gazes and shuffling way of walking. Some others looked so regular that I actually thought for a few minutes about what it would be like to accidentally hit on someone like that and not understand why you weren't getting the response you hoped for. One such girl, shy but very pleased with her accomplishments, won a gold medal in Italy last year and gave me a Special Olympics pin from her home state, and another brash guy with an expensive racket and tracksuit had like seven different sponsors. Both because they play tennis so well. I watched them. My ass would've been BEAT. And yet another girl got to play tennis with Andy Roddick on Sunday at the complex! These kids are hooked UP.
I sat with the South Carolina volleyball team at lunch and helped the girl beside me open pretty much everything in her lunch bag-- the plastic-wrapped sandwich, the condiment packets, her juice box. And she rewarded me with a heartfelt hug and surprisingly interesting conversation. The boy across from her asked for my autograph and explained the selection procedure in South Carolina for the Special Olympics. Both of them were in awe at how many volunteers there were and said they loved Nebraska because everybody was so nice to them. How could anybody NOT be nice to them though?
I found it easier to talk to them than to most of my business contemporaries or even people in a department store. Big ups to anybody who automatically thinks I'm hilarious, and they ALL did. I don't think I've ever been a bigger dork with dumber jokes in my whole life than I was yesterday, and unless they were faking it for my benefit (which I rather doubt), they were absolutely rolling. My face hurt from laughing by the end of the day. Well worth it. I'd volunteer again in a second, early start time and 12 hour shift be damned.
I have to say, if I ever had a challenged child, I would be significantly less pissed about it than I would be had I not ever gone to the Special Olympics. Maybe I wouldn't be pissed at all. Maybe I'd be kind of excited at having a child who beat a ridiculously silly joke into the ground with me, never thought I was stupid in her teen years, or hesitated to hug me in front of his friends.
I don’t think I'm going to say "retard" anymore.
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