He's Got A Gun

The names used in this blog are fake, this is so that the strange actions of characters mentioned can be kept straight without embarrassing anyone by identifying them. Baking Soda Girl from this point on will be called Jule. 
Now for today's story: He's got a gun 

When I was just starting out in Santa Cruz as a college freshman, my friends and could rarely find "hook-ups" for parties. One night, we somehow knew of two parties going on, and also had access to a car. (We lived in the forest, so cars were often hard to come by) 


Unfortunately, we only found one of the parties and it was overcrowded. So we decided to do what we did every other Saturday night and order a pizza back in the dorms. 


But before we went back, we decided to stop at one of the local 7'11's.

Now I don't know if it is because I am from a small conservative town with white-colored, cookie-cutter houses within gated communities, but the Santa Cruz 7'11 at night felt sketchy to me. 

However, I was with at least ten other people, guys and girls, and ignored my feelings of concern as I followed behind my friend Ella to get a slurpee. 


I waited behind Ella in the slurpee line and wondered why she was not getting her slurpee as only one other guy was in front of her, and there were two slurpee machines. So I asked her. And her response was: 


"He's got a gun." 


"What?!!!!" I looked at her with what I am sure were crazed eyes. 


"He's got a gun!" She said a little harsher, but still in a whisper. 


Well after taking about one forth of a second to decide that this slurpee was not worth my life, I slapped Ella on her arm and told her to, "Come on!" 


I then ran to the middle of the store where my other friends were paying for their chocolate bars and cheese-flavored chips, and spat out the information that I had just been given. 


We ran out of the store, and everyone got in their rightful car. Julie and I, sitting together in the back, pulled on our seatbelts with shaking hands and Chris, our friend driving the car, started the engine. 


That is when we realized that Ella was not in the car with us. 


The other car that contained my friends pulled up next to us, and asked why we were staying in our parking space. We explained that we did not know where Ella was. 


Chris, being the good person that he is, turned off the engine and went back into the store to see what was going on. 


For five solid minutes we waited in fear in the back seat of that car, not knowing what had happened to Chris and why neither him nor Ella were answering their phone. 


And then we saw Ella and Chris walk to the car at a relatively slow pace, considering there was a gun-man in the the store behind them. 


Ella did not get in the car, but stood in front of the window on Julie's side and waited for her to put it down. 


"Gina." 


"Why didn't you leave, there was a guy with a gun!" 


"Gina." 

"Yes?" 


"I said, 'he's not done.'" 


Needless to say I was laughed at that night by my many companions. I was blamed for them being unable to finish their 7'll purchases. But most unfortunately, I was the subject of a story that was retold many times to the other members of our dorm building. 


But what I am wondering is why, if we all believed there was a man with a gun in the store, we did not call the police.

Baking Soda Girl

I find it useful to not take too many things seriously. 

There are many fragile objects and issues that need to be handled with care. But it is important to be able to distinguish between things that are only to be touched with recently-washed fingertips, and things that can be slapped around a little with a cat box scooper. 


What social rules should a person follow in deciding what to take and what not to take seriously? How does one even gain access to social rules in the first place?


I'm really not sure. 

But 

I can tell you what not to take seriously: 

Sororities 


This story illustrates the experience of a girl who was unable to view her sorority with the amount of seriousness equating to other girls around her. 

When sororities try to get new girls to join, they have something called rush week. During rush week, girls who are unaffiliated with the Greek system on their college campus hang out with the sorority that they are interested in for this week, and everyone gets to see if they like one another. 

I know what you're thinking. 
How can anyone spend an entire week with one specific group of girls, who, that entire week, are wearing the same v-neck shirts with alternating colors.
But this is irrelevant at this time. All you need to know is during rush week there are often parties or "socials" with other frats (I think they call them socials because a drink-induced relaxed atmosphere allows for socializing between girls and boys). 

It was a Wednesday night and one girl, who was newly inducted into her sorority, decided against her better judgment to join her "sisters" for a week-night full of fun in a small warm room with a large sweaty frat.  

At about forty minutes past the time that the party started (meaning about ten minutes past the time when everyone showed up), the girls and boys got in a circle and began to say their names, years, majors, and other things like home towns and name of first cat. And at the end, the thing everyone anticipated the most, people said a fun fact about themselves. 

Now before I go on with the story, the extent to which this personal question registered as significant in the minds of the people participating in this circle should be made clear. This was the chance that a person could make anything known about themselves to the entire room of people. You could brag about the music festival you went to in the summer and seem all culturally inclined, or you could tell of special talent that you know will be brought up later in the night. 

So as the circle moved along, and people's passions for raising horses and being a vegetarian were mentioned, it became closer and closer to being our girl's turn. 

Ooooh... she thought, as her sister talked about spending the previous quarter of college in France... What am I supposed to say?
I could say I have a pet hedgehog, but really Thornton is Dani's. I don't even play with him very much. It's just so difficult. You have to where the glove, and he only gets a bath every few...

"Yo! What's your name?" 

She said her name. Described the obscure place in which she grew up. And upon thinking about her day, remembered the change she had made to her daily getting-ready routine. 

"I use baking soda instead of deodorant"  

Her big sister (the person who is supposed to guide a new sorority girl member when she decides to join) slapped her hand over her mouth. 
The girl whose turn it was after Baking Soda Girl started releasing saliva from the corners of her lips as she tried to take her turn without laughing. 
And the expressions of the frat boys can most accurately be described as shocked. 
Except for one boy in the corner, who for the first time that evening, seemed to be interested in what was going on in front of him. He began to smile. 

After Baking Soda Girls announced her fun fact, the circle moved along quickly. Within a few minutes music was hurriedly blasted and people of opposite sexes started to intermingle. 

Throughout the entire night when BSG shook hands with a new guy, the first thing he said to her was: 

"Hey, are you Baking Soda Girl?" 

oh well...