because I want to let you know what's up

At one point in time the most popular question people asked of me was something along the lines of, "What are you doing after you graduate?"

I'd pause for a moment to mull over my word choice and lamely reply, "Actually...I haven't quite gotten that figured out yet..." after which the conversation might putter to an awkwardly abrupt halt.


These days it's become a more easily answered, "Where have you been?"

In response I would have to reply with a boring, "I've just been at home..."

Slightly puzzled as to why I might restrict myself to the confines of my humble college abode, some clarification might be sought after.

"Irvine home, or Home home?" she asks, as if there should be something more appealing at the thought of being back at "Home home".

Perhaps the questioner was looking for an explanation of sorts--"I've been back at home home because..."

But to her disappointment, I would simply state, "Both." And the already feeble movement of the conversation would do little more than twitch to a halt with a last, "Oh, I see..."


Another set of questions I've noticed is, "How have you been? Were you sick?'

Hm. Those are two very good questions; not to say that the others are particularly lacking. If I were to answer these questions honestly, I would definitely have to explain myself a little bit. My response might be something like, "You know, for a while I didn't know how I was doing. Somehow I wasn't really sure. Now I know with certainty that to say I haven't been doing well is a bit of an understatement. As for the second question, I guess you can say that I was sick--but not your typical runny nose and sneezing sick. Whatever the case, it's safe to say that I've been unwell in more ways than one."

Her curiosity piqued by the vagueness so evident in my response, she asks, "What do you mean when say you've been 'unwell in more ways than one?"

I go on and explain, "Well...I mean, there was a period of a couple of weeks when I had a few odd symptoms that would come and go. Sometimes I'd just sit in my room in silence--one of the symptoms was hypersensitive hearing, and at times even the sound of my own voice was painful to hear. And then I guess there's that emotional aspect too. I recognized within myself something reminiscent of the panicked desperation that most individuals only experience as young children in a department store. The sensation was not unlike the cold wave of fear that comes with the realization that while you were exploring the depths of a circular clothing rack, you've been left behind and your guardian is nowhere in sight."

"Hm..." The questioner mentally turns the situation over in her mind in an attempt to get a firmer grasp on my meaning. "Then it's like...you feel that near-hysterical sense of heart pounding adrenaline pumping through your veins?"

Amused at the effort, I reply, "Not quite. Reminiscent of that...it's more like you want to go look for the familiar belt loops of your guardian's blue denim jeans, but you're not sure exactly where to go. So you glance around what you can see of the store, but all you see is a pair of black jeans standing at the next rack over. It's kind of like a panic muted with an attempt at staying rational. But then you have that sense of abandoned hysteria ready to overwhelm your senses once you succumb to defeat."

Now the illustration doesn't even really make sense anymore. What kind of kid would try to stay calm when they fear that they've been abandoned? The real response would be that the kid would start bawling with panic, heedless of who it is that might pick them up. Regardless of what the reality may be, the questioner nods thoughtfully and asks, "Alrite...so you have this sensation that you're desperately in need of those blue jeans, but you're doing your best not to go nuts. Now what?"

Satisfied with her interpretation, I continue, "There's a decision to be made--do you wail and scream until anybody comes and finds you, in hopes that they can reunite you with the blue jeans? Or do you stay around the rack and watch for them, believing that they'll come back to find you? And then there's the option of braving the vast multitudes of clothing racks and finding the blue jeans yourself. None of these options is really a surefire way to rid yourself of this awful feeling, and there's always that fear of just worsening your situation to no avail."

At this point the other person realizes I'm just nuts, but she's been assigned to me; she can't just walk away and leave me by myself to wallow in my insanity. So regardless of my questionable mental health stability and slightly amused at where this whole illustration is going, she questions, "So? Which is it? What did you decide to do?"

I smile and answer, "None of the above."

Ever so slightly flabbergasted at the ridiculousness of this entire conversation and illustration, she exclaims, "How is that even possible? What'd you do? Ignore it all and just sleep?"

Amused at this fourth choice she introduced, I tell her, "Actually, I did precisely that! I figured that the decision could be made later and that I could sleep it off for at least a little bit. But remember that abandoned hysteria?" She nods, and I continue, "Well. That definitely makes for a restless sleep. I woke up panicking when I tried that. So just ignoring it and trying to sleep was definitely not a good option."

This time there is no verbal reply, but the pinched corners of her mouth speak volumes; she's more than ready for me to conclude.

Eager to share how this situation was resolved, I explained, "In the end I didn't really know what to do. I don't think I was desperate enough to wail and draw unwanted attention to myself, but I wasn't quite sure I wanted to go and find those darn blue jeans myself. So in a sense, I stayed in a state of pseudo-indecision and hoped that I would see those blue jeans making their way back toward me. But that never happened..."

The impatience that had been tugging at the corners of her mouth soften and travel to raise her eyebrow quizzically.

I can't help but smile at this point. "You see, the blue jeans never showed up, but the black ones standing at the next rack over, the ones that I had been seeing from the beginning...well. Thinking back on it now, I realize I saw them approaching me in my peripheral vision. But I was so busy looking out for the blue jeans that I didn't even notice that the black jeans were right next to me until they squatted to get down to my eye level. And then an overwhelming sense of relief washed over me as I realized how foolish I had been. Even though I thought I was keeping my panic to a minimum with my rationality, it wasn't quite enough. In my confusion I had forgotten that the blue jeans weren't the only ones I'd come with; blue jeans, black jeans and I were all part of the same group. This whole time I'd been waiting for the blue jeans to come find me when all along the black jeans were keeping their eyes on me."

I'm finally done talking, and in my mind the illustration is complete. And I smile dumbly by myself, amused at how such a foolish mistake caused me so much grief.

The silence remains unbroken for several more awkward seconds, but I am oblivious to it; I'm just glad I have my black jeans.

Miss questioner clears her throat, and it's clear that she's reluctant to ask me any more questions. But she has to make sure I'm at least somewhat okay, despite my obvious mental instability. "So...does that mean you're doing well now?"

She studies my face carefully as I consider how things are right now; she's probably fearful of the next illustration I might share with her. I look her straight in the eye and I can see her tense up when I answer, "No...no, I can't say that I'm doing well. For one thing, I haven't slept in a while. I think I woke up at around 9am on Friday...which means I've been up for about 27.5 hours. If you haven't already noticed, I'm pretty ridiculously delusional. Haha..but in all seriousness, my answer remains the same. I'm not well, but I'll get there eventually. Black jeans are great, but God is better."

Relieved at such a simple, relatively straightforward answer, she smiles and says, "That's good, I'm glad. Well, I have to get going now...this ridiculously nonsensical story is ending and my existence is solely dependent on this blog entry alone."

I check the time on my iPod and grimace. "Ah, I know. You should have left a long time ago--I can't believe it's already 12:30pm...hm. I should probably get going too--I haven't eaten anything since I had dinner with Garnet last night at Thai Spice. Oh...and I should definitely go work on that research proposal...and slideshow. Goodness gracious me. Where did all the time run away to?" I look up from my iPod, only to see that I am left alone in my thoughts.

"I can't believe I stood here rambling on and on and on about a kid staring at black and blue jeans. I'm definitely going crazy...so much so that I don't even want to publish this post! But...what can you do? Chances are, no one's going to read this far anyway. And if they do?


...I'm so sorry."