Storytime

I wonder if carbon nanotubes could be used in conjunction with another highly resilient material to create wings that could function while making minute adjustments like those a bird's wings utilize.

I was raised to consider serving people as a part of the environment, like the racks that belong in a department store. Perhaps describing them as serving robots would be more descriptive. In my universe, they existed only to do their job with a smile as part of the background. This was not an overt part of my upbringing, and I don't want to give the impression that my parents are horrible people.

When I was fourteen, I took my first community college class and my world changed. I met the people who served in these tiring, backbreaking jobs, struggling to smile and be polite to their customers who could be horribly and unrealistically demanding. I realized how abhorrent and narrow-minded my previous view had been. I admire people who work sales and service jobs, grueling, demanding, and intellectually deadening as this work is. And while I most likely will never, thank God, have to work in one of them, I try to make sales people's day a little easier if I can.

It really bothers me when people treat sales people with the naive attitude I possessed earlier in my life. I've known plenty of people working their way through college trying to balance school and work at the same time, and the last thing they need is someone snobby enough not to appreciate this. Almost nobody wants to be in these positions, but they work in them because they have to provide for themselves and sometimes their children. Why would this make them any less human?
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Every time I walk to the video store I remember a story from my childhood. When I was twelve and in seventh grade, my science teacher Mrs. Simons(sp?) assigned us a project to cook a nutritionally balanced meal. I procrastinated until the last day and then informed my mom when she came home that I had to get the ingredients necessicary. Uncharacteristically, as my parents usually would go to great lengths to help me succeed in school, my mom said that she was too tired to deal with this and that she was going to take a nap; when she got up she would decide what she was going to do.

This was not satisfactory to me. So I stole twenty dollars from her purse and set out to buy a Cornish hen.

The distance to Food for Less, which is in the same complex as the video store, was far from the longest distance I had walked at that time. But small and paranoid as I was looking like an out-of-place elementary schooler, the store seemed much further than it actually was. When I got to the store a nice sales person took special care to help me get exactly what I needed, and I went home with a feeling of satisfaction. And yes, I did give my mom the change from the bill.

My mom was angry but strangely proud and told the story to all of her sisters. This reminds me of when the Orange Line was built and I started sneaking off to downtown. After a bit of astonishment and upset, my mom wanted to know if I would take her with me.

Winnetka is now a street which I feel completely safe strolling down, although for some reason somebody always honks at me. I still don't feel comfortable in the dark out there, as the last time I was somebody grabbed my hand. But still, how times have changed.

Tonight we're watching "Run Fatboy, Run". We went on a huge shopping spree thanks to mom, though we also stopped in at the one dollar bookstore. We bought some plays by Moliere(accents are too much trouble) , Neuromancer, a book of short stories including Faulkner and Chekov, To Peking and Beyond by Salisbury(experiment) and a couple other books. I also bought Micheal Crighton's book Twister for Chris, because I couldn't help myself.