Entry #6: Week of March 21


This journal entry is due by midnight, Sunday March 27.

Everyday events are often so ordinary that they fail to register in our memories. How many times have you realized that you can't remember what you had for breakfast/lunch/dinner on Wednesday, or what shoes/pants/shirt you wore on Tuesday? But sometimes when something happens that is extraordinary, whatever ordinary thing we were doing becomes cemented in our memories. I'll bet you remember exactly what you were doing when you heard the news of the World Trade Center attacks on 9/11, no matter how mundane (I was listening to my clock radio, just waking up).

So, think back through your history to a time when an everyday event you were engaged in turned into something quite extraordinary for you personally (please don't use 9/11 as an example here) and in a 1-2 paragraph response, describe what ordinary thing you were doing, what happened to turn the event into something remarkable, and talk about what sights and sounds you especially remember.

Please post your response as a comment to this entry!


Every time I walk into a Byerly's grocery store my thoughts trigger back to when I was just 4 years old. My dad and I were at Byerly's to pick up some corn dogs for dinner that night. It was winter so I followed my dad through the aisles in slow and clunky snow boots. Little did he know, I wasn't able to keep up with him and soon enough, he was gone. Helpless, I ran up and down the aisles as fast as I could to find my dad. Walking past a store clerk, she could see the lakes of tears building in my eyes and asked if I needed any help. Talking to strangers was against the law, so I quickly moved on. Heading towards the door in hopes to see my dad waiting there for me all I found were busy shoppers pushing their carts around. Then from behind, someone scooped me up and carried me away with them. Almost scarred to look over and see who my abductor was, I slowly turned towards his face. It was my dad. I hugged him and cried. From that day on I always held my parents hands in the grocery store.
Going to the grocery store was a weekly trip for my dad and I. However, the only time, as a child, that I can remember is this event. It caused such an impact on me that I can vividly remember what I was wearing, what my dad was wearing, and how the store looked through teary eyes. The music playing overhead wasn't much better than elevator music, and the store clerk who wanted to help had on way too much pink lipstick for my liking. I am amazed by how much of that one trip to the grocery store I still remember today. What is even more amazing is that this happened when I was four years old. Not many people can recall events from such a young age. It must have been pretty epic.

I am on the computer all the time, so I can never really think back to any specific time that was important except this one. Usually I can't remember exactly what I did or who I talked to on any given night, but the night my best friend passed away, I remember everything.

I was sitting in my living room on the computer, the TV was on in the background with That 70's show playing. I was talking to a few friends on Aol Instant Messanger with Myspace up as well. Then I got a message from a friend who I hardly ever talked to. All it said was, "I'm sorry." I had no idea what they were talking about at first, but then they told me. I remember everything that night because it was such a big impact on me, though it wasn't like 9/11 where everyone can remember the day, I remember it well.

I wasn't any older than 5 years old when my dog had puppies for the first time. I was in my front yard with my little red wagon, playing with my new toys (the puppies). I remember how green the grass was, and how warm it was outside. I remember how soft the puppies' fur was, and how they whined. I had my hair down and was barefoot. My mom dressed me in a pair of jean shorts and a Tweety Bird t-shirt that was too big for me. What made this ordinary task of playing outdoors so memorable for me is kind of embarrassing. While I was playing with the puppies, I picked one up and began cudding with it. I felt something wet on my shirt, so I put the puppy down. When I looked down, I was surprised at what I saw. One of the puppies had pooped on me, ruining my Tweety shirt. To this day, I'm paranoid of holding a young puppy.

One night i was smoking a cigarette with my good friends. We randomly met a round little brown haired kid. We talked to him for the night and nobody thought anything of it. At first we didn't like him too much but he was always there. He was always around.
Through extended exposure to this man he grew on us. He started hanging out with us more and more. He started to always be there and party with us. He has forever changed my college experience.

February 28th 2011 in the early morning, just liked any other Monday where I have to wake up early to catch a bus to my CLA class. But one particular thing that shocked me that morning was to see a student got hit by a car.
As I walked out from my dorm University Village to the bus stop on university ave and 27th street, I saw the bus was about to reach the bus stop. At the time, I was about a block away. So I ran directly to the bus. All the sudden, as I was half a block away from the bus stop, I heard a loud noise liked when you throw a backpacked against the ground hard. A second right after that noise, here come the screaming noise from the people on the other side of the street. I stopped and looked around but seeing nothing. People still screaming constantly, I started running and look around as I ran. As soon as I reached the corner of university ave and 27th street, I saw a car stopped right in the middle of the street. Underneath the car, there was a student lying right under the back tired. I was shocked. I stood in the corner and I did not know what to do. People on the other side of the street were still screaming as other cars were passing by the car that hit the student. The student was lying under the car unresponded. People were stand alone the street, did know what to do either. The student’s leg was laying flat on the road with the back tired on top of it. About three minutes passed, polices arrived. I got on the bus and headed to my class. I was shocked to that event for weeks. Even now, every time I cross a street, I look back and ford a couple times before I cross. I am much more aware of the danger of the street now than ever.

One event that turned into something extremely memorable for me was when I was about eight years old and we were shopping at the mall. We were walking through Macy’s and we had to go down the escalator to get to a different area of clothes. I was following my mom and took my first step. The stairs were going too fast and I couldn’t get my second foot on the step in time so I ended up doing the splits and getting stuck on the escalator. I was screaming and crying and I remember my mom turning around to help me up. When we got off the escalator I was still crying and my mom and grandma were comforting me and trying to calm me down.
Ever since this happened, I have been afraid and extremely hesitant to get on escalators. I am afraid of heights and being on an escalator I am afraid I am going to fall down it or miss a step again and the same thing will happen as it did when I was younger. It was an event that turned something as simple as getting on an escalator into a huge event and a process to go through.

I always brush my teeth for a relatively long time. I sometimes even brush my teeth while someone started washing her hair and finished in the public bathroom in my dorm. But I don't usually care because it happens a lot and I brush my teeth 3 times a day 7 days a week. Also it sometimes feels boring when it takes too much time to brush my teeth. But once I met a girl next door in bathroom when I entered there to brush my teeth. She said hi to me and started brushing her teeth. And I followed her. Several minutes later, she finished brushing her teeth and went inside the toilet. And one or two minutes later, I also finished brushing my teeth and just left the bathroom. When I was trying to open my door, she came to me (she was on her way to get her room) and said: "I've never seen anyone who brushed teeth longer than I do. Usually I'm the latest person who leaves the bathroom. But now I guess I'm not anymore! Nice performance." Since then, I feel like she and I have some special connection between us. And I don't feel like brushing my teeth is boring anymore.

I think it was the summer that I turned 6 years old when I learned to ride my bike without training wheels. I had a friend who lived across the street and few houses down from me. One sunny and warm early evening, I was riding my bike up and down the sidewalk before dinner. I saw my friend and decided to go over to her house to play for a little bit. Normally, I always asked one of my parents if I could go to my friend’s house, but this evening it slipped my mind because I was caught up in the excitement of riding my bike on my own.

It was starting to get dark when I finally left her house and walked back home. Once I saw my house, I knew something was off. All of these familiar people, neighbors and even family members who did not live in my neighborhood were standing around in my front yard staring at me, and a police car was parked outside of my house. I’m not sure exactly how many people were there, but being such a young kid, it felt like a crowd having all of those eyes on me. Suddenly my mom ran at me down our old sidewalk and grabbed me in her arms. Up close, her face looked like she had been crying, which was very unusual for me to see. “Don’t ever do that again!” she yelled in anger. Apparently, when I never came back inside for dinner and wandered over to my friend’s house without telling anyone, my mom thought that I had been kidnapped. All of our family members and everyone who lived near us had been out combing the neighborhood looking for me. I was a shy kid, and once I understood what happened, I felt very embarrassed that all of the commotion was because of me. I ran into my house and hid in my bedroom. I remember peering out my bedroom window to watch the people outside, feeling so ashamed. When I talk about the event years later with my mom, she insists that she was not angry and did not yell at me, that she was just so relieved to have me back. I think it’s funny how two people can remember the same event so differently.

I'll never forget the time I was bucked off a horse and broke my arm. It was June 11th, 2006, when myself, Cody and Andy were at my grandma's looking at her horses. My friends dared me to jump on one of the horses bareback. I jumped on, lasted for 30 seconds, and was suddenly knocked to the ground. I will never forget how shocked I was and how much pain I experienced.

I will never forget the time when my mother told me that we would leave Africa and come to America. I remember that it was a regular sunny Saturday afternoon and I was playing with outside with the neighborhood children instead of doing homework like I normally would. We were playing tag and the girl who lived below us was chasing me trying to get me out. I still remember my mother calling for me from the balcony. I raced up the stairs and I can still remember my friends yelling for me to hurry up. When my mother told that we would leave for a while I just said okay while listening to them still playing outside not realizing that would be one of the last times i would hear that familiar sound.

During the summer a couple of years ago, I was camping out in the boonies of the bighorn mountains. One night, I had to get out of the tent to answer a call of nature (the ordinary event). It was just reaching dawn, so I could barely see the outlines of objects. I was half stumbling around, using mostly memory of the camp. I paused for a moment to take in the mountain, but as my eyes adjusted, I noticed a strange outline that vaguely resembled a fallen tree. When it slowly shifted, I realized in horror that it was a full grown moose just a few feet away. Now for those of you non campers, moose have very bad eye sight, and will charge if approached/threatened. They are considered far more dangerous than bears (non-grizzlies that is); bears you can chase away, but a moose will chase you. To this day I can remember the outline of the forest, the smell of the pine and fresh dew, and the sound of wind. I also vividly remember the painstaking slow retreat back to the safety of our tent...

Just a few summers ago my brother and I were at home getting ready to leave for the weekend to go out to our summer jobs. I had filled my car up with gas earlier that day for the drive, and I was upstairs getting my things together while my brother was just getting home from a friends. I heard my mom yelling downstairs, I just assumed my brother had done something stupid to get a rise out of her, but she seemed more panicked than usual, so I stuck my head out of my room and heard my mom looking for the fire extinguisher, so I rand downstairs to see what was going on. My brother's car had started on fire in the garage and he and my mom were running around looking for the fire extinguisher but no one was able to find it.
We decided to get out of the house and call the fire department. My brother jumped in my car (with a full tank of gas) and pulled it out of the garage, all the while my mom and I are yelling at him not to. Once my car was out we stood across the street, waiting for the fire department, and watching the fire grow in our garage. I'll never forget standing there with my mom and brother, helplessly watching our house burn. In the end our house was saved by the fire department and the things we lost were easily replaced, but I will never forget how a regular Friday afternoon turned upside down.

back in 2005, I was working the night shift at a sandwich shop in my hometown. i'd get off work between 4-6 am, watch the morning news, have a beer or two and fall asleep by about noon, so i could wake up by 6 pm and do it again. however, one morning, watching the cnn newscrawl, i saw that hunter s thompson, who had long been a hero of mine, had killed himself. i immediately grabbed a bottle of wild turkey and began toasting my fallen comrade. i spent the rest of the morning watching obscure documentaries of gonzo weirdness and composing pretentious poetry. by 9 am i had called my closest friends to wake them up and sloppily wallow in the news and proceeded to pass out on my bathroom floor. i don't really remember too many specifics of the evening, i guess. i do remember the next night at work sucked..

About a year and a half ago, my grandma passed away. The time I received the phone call from my dad is a moment I will never forget. I remember I was just getting ready to go to work and the house phone rang. I usually never answer it because it is usually someone for my parents or one of my younger sister's friends...so I figured whoever was calling could just leave a message if it was really important. Shortly after, my cell phone rang. It was my dad. He sounded very upset, asking why I hadn't answered the house phone, then proceeded to tell me that my grandma had passed. He told me "Grandma is no longer with us..." and I had no idea what to say. At first it didn't seem real, and it didn't truly hit me until about 5 minutes later when I called my work to tell them I was unable to come in that day because my grandma had passed. It was at that moment that I lost it.
Everything was so quiet after my dad gave me the news. I was home alone at the time and everything just stood still. I felt helpless because my dad just lost someone very important to him (to all of us) and I couldn't do anything to change the situation or make him feel better. I remember it was a sunny day, but the loss of my grandma had turned the day into a very gloomy moment in time.

When I was young, I participated in yearly door-to-door sales for fundraising. As a shy child, it was very intimidating to knock on strangers' doors and ask them to buy at unreasonable prices.

Sales were in November. A chilly but not usually cold time of year, and one particular house stands out in my memory. A big, old house that I was afraid to approach, but forced myself to anyways. I rang the doorbell and waited. Eventually, a cranky old lady told me she wasn't interested.

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About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by GiGi published on March 25, 2011 8:00 PM.

Entry #5: Week of Feb 28 was the previous entry in this blog.

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