a magnet for the weird

i embrace weirdness. i mean, i really love it. maybe it's just recognize the rare opportunity that weird people offer. a truly strange person offers something that a normal person can never provide. those moments of anticipating the weirdness can be unbelievable strange, sometimes even terrifying, but the final results, are always remarkable. maybe there's something wrong with me, but i love weirdos. i love the days when i can walk home, and say "you'll never believe what just happened." maybe that makes me weird, and maybe that's why i love it so much; i really believe, though, that it's just because i have an itch for storytelling, to make the ordinary extraordinary.

so a few brief tales for your merriment. the first is titled, "high functioning." the second is, "don't talk to me at the dmv."

"high functioning"

on mondays and wednesdays, i'm the t.a. for an old gruff man by name of appel. he has snow-white hair and very big glasses. he smokes like a chimney, and everybody at work says that he never wants to go out for drinks after work when they go. but in the end, he always goes, and they say the bartenders always say "hey jim! it's been a while!" appel taught in the prison for a long time, so he's a straight shooter. there's no messin' around with jim appel; he tells it to you like it is a flat, chainsmoking voice, regardless of who's there. when he talks about the students in class who don't perform well, you'd think they were deaf as well as bad learners.

so we're out of class one day, waiting for the students to finish their teacher evaluation. under the awning where the sidewalk is outside of the classroom, appel happily smoked, as i stood there awkwardly with an older man who's smoking.

one of the girls i've seen on campus a few times walked our way. she wore an orange t-shirt with some sort of cartoon character on it and pulled a rolly backpack behind her. she had short, unkept hair, and the big waves bounced over her glasses as she walked. i'd seen her before, and heard her interact with a couple of students. i thought that she might have some sort of learning disability, but i wasn't really sure. little did i know i was about to find out.

she stopped three feet from me and said, "HEY. I LIKE YOUR SHIRT." she pointed at my blue and white polka dotted shirt. "I LIKE THE- THE- THE- THE-...."

"the polkadots?" i offered politely.

"YEAH. THAT'S IT." she put her arm down.

"thanks," i said politely.

"I'M HIGH-FUNCTIONING." she volunteered.

uhhhhh, what? quick respond politely, i thought to myself. outloud i said, hesitating, "that's great!"

the girl took three steps with her rolly back pack and suddenly belted out a melody, that would have made simon cowell hang his head. "YEAH, I KNOW," she said. "MOST PEOPLE ARE LIKE, 'THAT GIRL CAN SING?'" i wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement.

"yeah....you can," i said, uncertain whether my words should be punctuated as a statement or a question.

she took a few more steps, and turned to look at me again. she raised her arm and fist, as if she was going to flex her biceps, and said, "I'LL SEE YA LATER."

i was trying very hard to be polite, but this girl was cracking me up. "i'll see you later."

she took three more steps, raised her arm and turned over her shoulder one more time. her brow was furrowed, and she looked at her arm. "i'm not sure why i just did that."

i shrugged. i sure didn't know. i smiled and waved goodbye.

"you know," appel said, in his deep chainsmoking voice, "i've always sort of attracted weirdos. i'm glad to see you have the same quality."




"don't talk to me at the dmv"

so the time had come for many things. it was time for me to change my drivers license over. friday morning, one of the teachers, erin, drove me to the dmv in metairie (the next town over) to get my drivers license.

the day before she had driven me to the west bank to get it. after we finally found it (it was located in the building next to the toll booths on the highway....i know, i don't want to talk about it.), they told me i couldn't get my license there because that one only renews.

try two on friday led us to metairie. the line was nearly out the door when i got there. i stood in line 30 minutes to just get a NUMBER. i then had to wait for another 3 hours and 30 minutes for said number to get called.

still at hour number one and into the early part of number 2, erin waited patiently with me. we chatted some, and sat some. i looked at my drivers license some, a little sad that i was going to be parting with it (the picture was really good). we were bored, and i was miserable, but i knew that i would have perservere.

the woman next to me looked like she might be a hippie. her clothes were earth tones, a long brown frilly dress, a natural purple sleevless and short vest, and boots. her hair was long and braided, and there was some sort of purple-y, feather-y, hairband holding it back. had a notebook, and when she was done writing, she turned it over and started drawing.there were crosses and (i'm probably making it up, but it seriously suits her) feathers, and other things that hippies love, except i don't remember seeing any pictures of joints.

erin and i were quiet for a while, and then hippie lady done drawing, turned to me. "so ya'll just moved down here from illinois?" i hate it when people announce the S in "illinois." i automatically disliked her and her sticky-sweet southern draw. i made the mandatory small talk, hoping that we could get it over with and sit awkwardly, waiting for the automated voice to call our numbers. instead, she invited me to come to church with her there in metairie. i apologized, emphasizing that i really liked the church that i've been going to (i do), and praising it in every possible way.

she took a brief talking breather, and then started in her life story. she told me about her 6 year old son, how she moved here from mississippi, and how since she was attending seminary, she couldn't homeschool him. she told me how his teacher was too fat to stand for very long, and how she didn't see how such a fat woman could be a good teacher. she told me she was really praying about it, but she knew that she could do better than Fat Teacher. i awkwardly responded with the expected, "well, just keep praying about it." and "i'm sure you'll find other ways to teach him." i had the sense she was trying to start one of those deep conversations on theology that christians sometimes have.

erin sat silently next to me, trying not to laugh as she read her book. when it became clear that my number would not be called for some time, erin headed back to work, abandoning me to Hippy Christian.

Hippy Christian and i sat there quietly for a while. i texted on my phone, counted numbers, and looked down the long drab hallway, wondering how much longer til my number 268 would be called. suddenly i could feel her eyes on me. i did not make eye contact.

"so," she said in her thick mississippi accent, "how do you see yourself spiritually?"

she really was trying to have one of those theological conversations in the middle of the dmv. i was so baffled by the question in the middle of a government office, that i bumbled my words. after saying, "um, uh, um...i...i...how...um...." i finally concluded with, "i think we have to define what spirituality is." i was hoping, somehow, that this would be a sufficient answer.

then dr. weborg popped into my head. i tried to think like him, but he's so much older and wiser, and so much more of an actual pastor than i am, that i totally failed at my task. feeling pressured to give an answer, i muttered something about community, and volunteering because i believe in acting.

when she started to respond with something like, "but JESus."

at that point, i'd had enough. "yes, i know," i said curtly. "you can save it. i grew up in a christian home, have been to church my entire life, and went to christian college. thank you, but i already know about Jesus." and in case that wasn't enough, i dropped the hint that i was done with the conversation by saying, "i really wish i had remembered to bring a book with me."

her response? "here, i have my devotional."