And a good day to YOU, friends! I, Kiana, am back after a long week of terrible time management skills.
And what a week it has been! Last Tuesday (because In my world, the week begins whenever I say it does) my mother informed me that she had scheduled an appointment for me to take my permit test. When she looked at me encouragingly and asked me if I was excited, I suppose I could have said no and politely explained to her that I was not at all ready to test. Instead, I reassured her that all was well. You know, like a liar.
“Of course I am! I’ve never been more excited about anything in my life.” I said as I screamed internally.
“Good! Make sure you study!” said my mother as my room floor opened up and I fell into the pits of hell.
But despite the fact that my personal life is in disarray, THE SHOW MUST GO ON! Today, I’ve decided to do another Daily Post Prompt! For those of you who don’t know, The Daily Post is a feature on WordPress.com. Every day, a new writing prompt is released in the hopes encouraging creative, insightful writing. This was the prompt for July 3:
Tell us something most people probably don’t know about you.
Photographers, artists, poets: show us MYSTERIOUS.
By now, you must know that I am not exactly a secretive person. Storytelling is one of my favorite pastimes and, more often than not, that involves sharing embarrassing personal details about my life.
This is one of those times:
When I was in fifth grade, my teacher asked me what my favorite place in the world was. “School!” I replied, like the little suck up that I was. That was a lie: My favorite place in the world, without a doubt, is the mall. Some people condem malls, claiming that they are simply monuments to the gross consumerism prevalent in our society. I would assert that those people just don’t like new stuff.
The mall is a beautiful paradise, a haven where all things pure and true can flourish. I love the feeling I get when I first walk through those doors and breathe in the heavenly aroma of Cinnabon and popcorn mingling in the air. I love looking at all the people around me, my brothers and sisters, joined by a common love of things. I even like those pushy kiosk venders that try and force their overpriced cell phone cases on you. I LOVE the mall.
Though malls still have a special place in my heart, there was one particular visit that changed the way I would look at them forever.
The day was August 14, 2009, AKA the height of back-to-school savings. The once tranquil mall had become a gladiator proving grounds: People were shoving their way into stores, grabbing blindly at whatever they could reach; Pre-teens were scrambling into Bath and Body Works, sweeping entire shelves of lotions into their baskets; Store employees were walking around with panicked looks in their eyes, attempting to take on the impossible task of taming us. Yes, this mall was the Colosseum and I was determined to win it all.
I ran from store to store, dragging my mother behind me. I didn’t dare stop for breath, lest someone grab a deal from right under my nose. We hit up all the smaller stores, scoring accessory after accessory until we were ready to enter the promised land: AEROPOSTALE.
…Hey, this was 2009. Gimme some slack!
Aeropostale was a warzone: The carefully folded stacks of T-shirts had been reduced to piles and dress lay crumpled on the ground. I took a deep breath, and then I dived in, not bothering to try anything on. My mind had been wiped clean; I had achieved the ultimate level of calm, a zen-like state of everlasting tranquility. The store was in chaos around me, but I lept fluidly from rack to rack, grabbing whatever I needed with the agility of a cheetah. Finally, we were done. My mother and I eyed our loot and smiled: we had succeeded.
It was then that I realized I had to pee. We had been in the mall for hours, not once stopping for bathroom breaks. I though about that large slushy I’d had for lunch, and my knees felt week. “Hold our place in line!” I instructed my mother as I took off in search of a restroom. I ran and ran, my eyes crazed, until I found one. I pushed open a stall and sat on a toilet, tears of joy escaping my eyes. I made it, I thought to myself, that was a close one! But as I stood up to flush, I realized that there was something wrong: In a fit of urine-induced hysteria, I had forgotten to pull my pants down.
I repeat: I HAD FORGOTTEN TO PULL MY PANTS DOWN. I was now inside of a mall, surrounded by people I went to school with, and MY PANTS WERE SOAKED IN URINE.
I didn’t know what to do. I racked my mind for any helpful information my parents might have passed on about such a situation. Unfortunately, my parents had assumed that I was bright enough to avoid something like this. Then, I remembered something I’d heard once: Fake it Till you make it! If you do anything with enough confidence, people will go along with it!
So I marched out of that bathroom with my head held high. I sashayed down the malls’s corridors with all the confidence of a seasoned runway model. When I finally reached my mother outside of Aeropostale, she stared at me with her moth agape and horror in her eyes.
“What happened to you?!” she asked, her voice rising in panic.
All of my false confidence vanished. “GO, GO, GO!” I scream/hissed as I quickly shuffled away.
I may have lost my dignity that day, but I gained a precious memory.