Snowflakes and Their Frigid Relative: Ice

A few days ago, it snowed! I was so excited because I love snow and especially snowflakes. Every individual snowflake I’ve seen has been so delicate and beautiful that I constantly wonder about their creation. They all have minute and intricate details, and it disappoints me that they disappear so soon after I catch them. I wish that I could look at each one for more time, to give it the full admiration that it deserves. Sometimes, I’m lucky enough to capture one on my camera or phone, which is usually followed by a short self-celebration over my achievement.

Last year, around this time, it was snowing, but there was no bitter, piercing wind and it was reasonably sunny. Therefore, I decided to start shoveling the snow off of our driveway and afterwards, play in the snow with my cousins. I piled on layers of warm clothing, put on my boots, and grabbed the shovel to head outside. Quite a bit of snow had already fallen, enough to cover a third of my boots. I started shoveling, first a path to the front door and then our steep, uphill driveway. Immediately, I realized that on my driveway there was also a thin yet dangerous layer snow’s frigid and hostile relative, ice. Now, I had to be extra careful not to fall.

After a while of shoveling, I realized that large snowflakes were falling. I caught one on my hand and was able to catch a glimpse of its impressive design before it melted on my glove. I decided to take a break and look at more snowflakes. I noticed one that had landed on the window at the front of my house and that it hadn’t melted away yet due to the freezing temperature. This snowflake was magnificently detailed and big, big enough to be photographed with my phone. Realizing this, I dropped my shovel and walked up the driveway, towards the garage to grab my phone. When I reached my garage, I rapidly grabbed my phone and ran out towards the window with the snowflake on it. And that’s when everything went downhill, literally.

As you can imagine, because I didn’t have any grip on the ice, I slipped and fell on my behind, awkwardly sliding down the inclined, freshly shoveled driveway. I had also dropped my phone down the driveway during that chaos, but I finally came to a stop near my phone. It honestly didn’t hurt as much as it was embarrassing since my neighbors had seen me speed down my driveway on my back. They kindly asked if I was okay, and I assured that everything was fine. I got up and disappointed, hobbled up my driveway with my shovel and phone, into my house.

As I was explaining the incident to my family, I went over to the window with hopes that the snowflake was still there, and sure enough, it was there. :)

The Everything Bagel

Over the past few days, I’ve really been missing track season. I look forward to second semester, when track season begins because I really like my team, coaches, running, and of course I cannot forget the bagels.

It has now basically become a tradition for our girls track team to have bagels at every outdoor meet. I don’t know if it’s because of running or that bagels are just one of the best human-made creations, but we all love bagels. In fact, one of my favorite part of track meets is being able to sit back, relax, and eat my bagel once I am done running all of the events I was entered in.

A few years ago, I had finished running the 100 meter and 4 by 100 meter relay at a meet. After placing in both events, I was very content and decided to reward myself with a bagel, especially since I had completed all of my events for the meet. I jogged over the the Uni tent, under which was the box of bagels. I opened the box and picked out one of my favorites: the Everything Bagel. I then found a comfortable spot to sit/lean against the many track bags that covered the ground.

As I was enjoying my bagel and the beautiful weather, I saw three of my teammates sprinting towards the tent. “Hey,” they yelled. I looked happily looked up at them with a relatively large amount of bagel in my mouth. “We have to run the 4 by 200 meter relay!” The content disappeared from my face and instead looked bewildered, according to my friends. I thought that I got to run only two events that meet, yet I was mistaken. I sat there chewing furiously while my friends were quietly anticipating a response. I don’t remember for how long we were like this, but I do remember wishing that I hadn’t taken such a large bite. After some time of watching me chomp away awkwardly, I had managed to scarf down the bagel to respond to them with an “oh” and catch up to my teammates who were making their way towards the track.

We ended up running pretty well as a team, but I felt a little sick because of the bagel I think. After the race, they teased me about how funny I looked enjoying my bagel in the corner of the tent between track bags. However, I was very cozy and content. Anyways, I learned that I probably shouldn’t eat a bagel prior to sprinting and also shouldn’t take big bites of food. Unfortunately, I don’t always remember the two lessons… :)

The Unwelcome Caterpillar

A few weeks ago, our Bug Biology class went on a bug-collecting trip in Urbana. This was our second class trip so we knew how to capture bugs using our nets and jars, but I was still a little hesitant on touching the bugs. My friend and I were walking together sweeping our nets on the ground when I suddenly saw a butterfly. I wanted to catch it so I ran towards it. After chasing the butterfly for sometime, I decided to stop since I had gone far from my friend and I still had to see what other bugs were already in my net.

I found a nice place to sit where the grass was a bit shorter, so that I could identify any unwanted bugs invading my personal space. I kneeled down, placed my backpack on the ground, and opened up my net to see what I had caught. There were many beetles, grasshoppers, spiders, and I even had a katydid. After putting them into the jar, I got back up and put my backpack on to continue collecting.

After I walked a few feet, I decided to look more closely in the grass. As my eyes were focused on the ground, I caught a glimpse of some movement. I looked at my thigh and saw a giant brown hairy thing crawling up my leg towards my torso. Although I didn’t know specifically what it was, I knew there was an unexpectedly large, unwelcome insect racing up my thigh. So like an entomophobe would do, I screamed. Finally, a kind classmate came up to me and calmly asked me, while I was still screaming, if I wanted the bug in the jar. The only thing I could say in my moment of panic was “GET IT OFF OF ME.” She captured the big, speedy bug in the jar, relieving me from my freak-out. I finally calmed down to see what thing was climbing my leg.

I looked into the jar and saw a the beast. Actually, it wasn’t a beast, it was caterpillar about the size of my index finger with long hairs sticking out of it. That was the cause of my fear. I was so glad that not many people had seen me overreact to the bug because that would’ve been awkward. However, unfortunately, many others had heard me and later asked what happened. When I explained the incident, I could tell that they were disappointed. Maybe they were looking for a better cause for my scream or maybe they just couldn’t believe that I screamed because of a caterpillar. Afterwards, I couldn’t either, but in my defense, I was panicked in the moment.

The good news is that now, I’ve overcome any fear of bugs and hopefully won’t shriek next time one is on me!

Puns are Rad(ish)

The other day, I laughed for at least a minute after hearing an amazing joke consisting of puns. I love puns. I think that they’re the cleverest and funniest jokes ever. I know a lot of people don’t really find puns to be amusing, but I really enjoy them. The play on words is sometimes really clever and at other times really bad, but I find both to be equally punny. I loved it so much that I decided to share it with my friend and her cousins, who I had never met before, since they were the first people I saw after learning this new joke. After a brief introduction with my friend’s cousins, we were sitting quietly so I asked them if they wanted to hear a joke and the three said “sure”.

I was thrilled to tell it because I knew the joke was great. I mean it made me laugh for a quite some time so it was probably pretty good. First, however, I had to control my excitement to tell the joke calmly and correctly for even more hilarity. I looked at my dull faced audience, who I was ready to amuse. I then began,

“What did the vegetables say at the garden party?” I posed.

I received one semi-interested “what?” I grinningly glanced at my friend and her cousins and replied to the timely question,

“Lettuce turnip the beet.”

I let out a roaring laugh with the belief that the others were laughing with me. Once I began to gather myself, I saw slightly bemused faces. My first thought was that I had told the joke incorrectly, but I knew I hadn’t. If not that, maybe they didn’t understand the joke. I tried to explain how it was supposed to sound like “Let us turn up the beat,” but they said that they understood it. Consequently, I was in a slightly awkward situation because joke I promised to be hilarious turned out to be a flop in their eyes and I made strangers uncomfortable. I didn’t really know what to say, so we sat silent.

After a while I said, “I carrot believe you guys didn’t like the joke! In my op-onion it was hilarious.” I could sense that my friend and her cousins weren’t really amused and that they weren’t big fans of puns. One of the cousins then smiled, and said “Peas stop with the vegetable puns, they’re pretty bad.” We laughed the uncomfortable moment off and they decided that I shouldn’t use this joke again.

I guess the situation did become awkward, but in the end, we all had a fun time. So, if you ever are in a situation where you don’t know what to talk about with strangers, you can always tell a joke and have a pun-filled time! Okay, I’ll stop now for those of you who think these puns are corny. :)

The Little Men in Red Caps

Over the summer I took an enjoyable trip to Barcelona, Spain. My family and I wanted to see Gaudi's architecture, so we first went to Sagrada Familia. After seeing the unique architecture up close, we walked around the area near Sagrada Familia, encountering many strategically placed tourist shops. I, becoming the “typical tourist,” insisted on entering a few of the many stores because I wanted some souvenir to remember the trip (specifically a folding fan to match the ones at home that I had gotten from other countries.) 

The shop was rather large and full of other tourists, so we each went our own ways. As I was trying to find the folding fans, I came across a section of glass shelves with figurines placed on them.There were skillfully crafted miniature matadors, flamenco dancers, bulls, and famous buildings. My eyes finally reached the bottom shelf, which had many identical figurines of a little man in a red cap, squatted. I then realized that I was actually looking at figurines of a person pooping. The first thing I thought of was to look away. Should I give the tiny red-capped man his privacy? But why else would they be placed on that shelf if they weren’t to be looked at? For a moment, I was in this uncomfortable situation of not knowing where to look and where to go. Realizing that many other people were also in the shop, I thought that it would be too awkward if I stood there examining the figure. With this idea, I decided that I would browse the other nifty things, come back around to glance at the figurines again, and find some explanation for these odd little men.

I still hadn’t been able to find any folding fans, so I walk towards the shelf again and saw that the word “Catalan” was written on the grass upon which the man was squatted. I stepped back a bit to think about anything I knew that would explain this odd figurine. Being careful not to stand there for long, I took another round too find any indications of what this figure represented. 

When I came back around a third time, a salesman greeted me and asked if I was interested in buying one of the figurines. I hesitated. Do you just tell someone that you’re not interested in buying their pooping red-capped person? However, I now realize that wouldn’t resolve why I kept coming back around it. Although I didn’t realize that point at the time, my curiosity led me to respond with “oh, I was just wondering what this has to do with Spain.” He told me that it’s called a “caganer” and is part of a Catalan tradition. He then walked away to tend to another tourist.

Once I returned to the hotel I was staying at, I did a quick Google search to find that the Caganer is a Catalan Christmas Tradition, which has many interpretations. Also, children play a game where they find these these figurines, so next time you’re in a Catalonia, keep an eye out for them. Although I did not end up buying the figurine, I did manage to find a folding fan to add to my collection!

Names (and Welcome!)

I have always found names to be a difficult thing to decide upon. I feel like they have to have some significance or mean something important to me. When I was a child, my stuffed toys never really had names. I would call them whatever I could think of in the moment. But because those were inanimate objects, it didn’t really matter. However, when it came time to name my first pet, a violet budgie parakeet, I didn’t know what to name her. I probably spent three days after bringing her home still trying to come up with a name for her, during which I would address her as “hey you”. Finally after those three days, my cousin asked me if she could name the bird and I, forced into being the kind older cousin, agreed. The name she chose was “Kitty”. When she came to me with her supposedly brilliant idea, I was confused. She chose to name a bird, a cat. After a small quarrel, it was ultimately settled to name my bird Kitty, although I wasn’t very satisfied with this name.

So when it came time to choose a name for my blog, I was stuck. I needed to chose a good name that had some meaning behind it. The reason I named my blog “Would You Be My Friend” has to do with the one of the first times I had talked to my, now, best friend. We were in Science class, which was our last class of the day. Trying to stay awake, I propped my head up using my hand, pushing my nose up. I don’t remember why, but I then turned to my friend and asked “would you be my friend if my nose was like this?” She looked at with this confused and somewhat scared look on her face. We stared at each other for about a minute, as my friend was trying to respond. She then laughed and said “oh Mariam, you’re so awkward.”

I realized that that question was a bit awkward, but then I began to think what really is awkward. Is it awkward to fall down stairs at school? Is it awkward to greet a stranger? Is having a bird named Kitty awkward? (Whenever I inform people of her name, I always receive the response “Kitty?”). I think that awkwardness can be interpreted differently by each individual, or maybe I just have a really bad judgement on what is awkward. Whatever the case may be, according to some, my life is full of awkwardness. So, like this post, my others will also be about “awkward” scenarios or thoughts, either according to another or to myself. 

Enjoy my blog and visit again if you would like to be my friend! (We can still be friends even if you don't visit my blog.)