BacBell

Every year I just wait for three holidays. Halloween is just awesome and nobody can tell me otherwise, I mean you’re supposed to collect candy and you’re allowed to scare everyone without having to apologize, isn’t that everything? Plus you can dress up as some creepy looking thing and you don’t need to go giving any explanations to anyone. Don’t you love walking around like you own the world while every single person walking by turns to see you? NO? Well a do, although it’s just the night of Halloween. Can you imagine walking around and people start looking at you? No thanks!

Next we have Christmas. Presents, family reunions, a big dinner, everyone is wearing pj’s. There're laughs and tears filling the air, along with some “ow just what I wanted” or “well at least you tried” and “nice! Socks… again”. Somehow I can say I got over the presents, no i’m not lying I did!. Last year for example, I got a box of cereal and a bottle of shampoo and I even said i liked them with a genuine smile. So, it’s either I don't expect getting presents 'cause i got over it OR I don’t expect getting good presents. Either way the cereal was good and I didn’t have to buy shampoo which saved me some money to buy more cereal. The magic of Christmas for me is now on the food, nobody takes the time to make such delicious meals on the daily so I appreciate having something decent to eat the week after Christmas. Yes i’m talking about leftovers, don’t act like you don’t love them too.

And finally, My Birthday. Do I consider my birthday as a holiday? Yes, yes I do. Does that make me look like a jerk? Maybe. Do I care about being called a jerk? Not really, that’s what a jerk would say, I don’t have feelings though so maybe that’s why I sound like one. Anyhow, I consider my birthday as a holiday dedicated to me because if it wasn’t for me that day would mean nothing, people wouldn’t have to call to wish me good things, my family wouldn’t have to eat cake, or spend money in presents, their life’s would be sad and of course you wouldn’t be reading this now. That’s why I came to the conclusion that I must be worshiped on my birthday, as a sign of gratefulness from the people whose lives I’ve influenced over the past years.

Now before you decide to hate me, I think everyone should worship you on your birthday as well. They actually do it already, and by “they” I mean all your loved ones. You get a cake, a party maybe, you receive presents and nice cards with lovely words on them, you get calls from people you haven’t talked to in months, your friends and family think about you on your birthday, even if they don’t tell you. I totally get if this isn’t the case for you, maybe you think your birthday isn’t important at all and nobody cares about it. Yet, people tend to copy your level of excitement on certain occasions directly related to you. I don’t know if that’s an actual fact, I sure sounds like it is though. Just try it please? Get super excited for something, it doesn’t have to be your birthday. And don’t forget to tell me if you do, or don’t. You can ignore my advice like a good friend.

This story takes place in the worst place on earth ever: school. You might be asking, Isn’t school the happiest place in the world? Sure! It’s the land where everybody is super kind and everybody loves everybody, there’s singing in the halls and people are dancing to some catchy song that comes from nowhere, everyone doing the same choreography… Hold on, THAT’S NOT TRUE! I think that’s actually a movie, isn’t it? 

School! Right so there I was, just minding my own business (as if i had “business” to care about) and the school year had just started, I knew I had an additional subject that year, it was “technical vocation” (i don’t know if you had it in your school, maybe with another name?) and it was supposed to be fun. IT WASN’T. They splitted girls and boys to make us do very different projects. Of course I went with the girls, in case you were wondering, and the teacher started to read a list of materials we were going to need for the class, things like yarn, fabric, paint, more yarn. You can’t imagine how confused I was when my boy pals in recess told me how their teacher asked them for cables, wood, sandpaper and pliers. 

My mind was all over with this distinction of gender, after all it was the first time I saw it so evidently. I don’t identify myself with the “feminist” term, but i do think everyone should be free to choose what they want to do and do what makes them happy. That’s why I decided to tell my teacher I wanted to be transferred from her class, and guess what? I couldn’t. The thought of my request being rude invaded my mind. How would the teacher feel when I told her I didn't want to be in her class because I didn't like what she taught? I completely understand now how wrong I was, although at that time this thought was reason enough to shut my mouth and not say anything to anyone. 

Don’t get me wrong! I wouldn’t be sharing this if it didn’t have a happy ending. Well i would, but this story does have a great ending so i better finish telling it right?. I went home and decided I wouldn’t tell my parents either,I guess I wanted to solve the situation by myself. However I decided I would go talk to the principal, after all he was a nice chubby guy and of course a better option than telling my teacher. You will be happy to know that I spoke to the principal -he was surprised but accepted my request with the only condition of asking if anyone else wanted to transfer too. Which they DIDN'T by the way. And that was it, I transferred classes and finished that year with good grades and a new group of dork boy friends. 

What’s really great about this story is that the next year “technical vocation” was changed so that boys and girls would have the same projects throughout the year. I like to think they changed it because of me, I don’t really have any other achievements to presume, so stop second guessing my involvement in all this situation, thanks! MORAL OF THE STORY when you have something in your chest just say it! Or not!! I don’t want to push you to do something you don’t want to.

It is Sunday, a pretty hot Sunday. I went to church in the morning, well not exactly “went”, I can’t exactly do that because of all this “global situation”; but my church has managed to keep having dominical reunions through Zoom, who would’ve thought right? Virtual sunday meetings. Just when I thought I wouldn’t have to see a certain sister’s face in a very long time, there she is, in the middle of my tv screen AND ironically with the best quality there is.

Anywho, that’s how my morning went. Next thing I know I’m finishing lunch and excusing myself to go to my room and watch some videos, you know. I am pretty sure my life would be that simple if it wasn’t for my sister. Sometimes I think of her as the exact opposite of me. She is so loud, always singing and dancing, handing sarcastic comments as if she was handing flowers. I am telling you, she could cough an entire room’s attention just with her attitude and then confuse everyone with the “creative” words she uses for expressing herself in a completely unique way.

As I was saying, my day took a bit of a turn in the afternoon. My sis and I were just chilling when I got hungry and decided to make myself something to eat. I was in the chicken when I remembered this banana oat pancake I saw all over the net. I had everything I needed to give it a try -bananas, oats, a blender, enough hunger to eat it even if it is terrible. Right when I was starting to cook my gooey mix, my sis stumbled into the chicken and as she began to tell me everything about this series she’s watching, she started to prepare something that resembled a sort of brown beverage. Turns out it actually has a name: Dalgona Coffee. Yep! Another one of those trends from the web. I didn’t say a word about this funny coincidence until i was finished with my annoyingly thin pancakes.

Then the trade began. I mean, we weren’t sure these weird experiments worked and we both needed something to complete our meals so yes, we traded. It felt almost like a mexican standoff. I tried her experiment and she tried mine. We stared at each other for a hot minute and then we both started laughing hysterically. Don’t ask why, we just did, next we sat at the table and ate this combination of successful experiments. We spoke about anything and everything, I mean we do live together and we both see each other from the moment we wake up to the moment we go to bed; but this for some reason seemed a different kind of reunion.

We finished eating and that was it. We left our dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and before we could even think about this senseless meeting we were both staring at our screens again. As if nothing had happened. The day went by and now I am here telling you all about it. Weird isn’t it? Guess this is how social interaction works after all this time being trapped inside. It isn’t bad, but it surely is weird, a good weird. Like when you have to eat leftover pasta the day after.

Let me explain what I mean first ok? I can already see your face making that funny face you make when you hear something cliché or when you smell something “unpleasant”. Let’s not do that face yet alright? Great .

Now when I say we are here because we felt alone at some point, I don’t mean you were all sad in your room while all the cool kids were having a blast at some popular goof’s house. Well maybe you were, if that’s the case … sorry. ANYWAY maybe you had friends, good friends. Or you were the one having the blast or even the goof!

What I’m trying to say is that, at one point you found something that made you really happy, but you couldn’t talk about it to the people around you because they wouldn’t get you or, let’s be honest, they didn’t care. But here? You just have to type whatever you want to talk about in the search bar and you’ll find a bunch of people willing to listen to whatever you have to say. Isn’t that awesome? And they don’t just listen, they get you. You feel accepted.

I KNOW! I know; there are a lot of rude jerks and scary weirdos dedicated to ruining this beautiful experience, but I’m not talking about them. I am the kind of person that loves to stare at the positive side of things while locking the negative side in a room and throwing the key away.

 You see, I was just looking for something to do. I remembered I created a tumblr account a couple of years ago and of course I didn’t even remember what for, so there you have me downloading this app again. I didn’t think much about it but then I started following people and for some reason they had all worked up “profiles” (I didn’t know those were blogs I was looking at) and decided to also do something with mine.

 My next step was going to the one place I knew I would find the information I was looking for without having to read it: YouTube!. Have you ever looked at “how to Tumblr: the complete guide” kinda videos?! Well I did. In 2020! And let me tell you, as much as those vids were helpful, they didn’t work the same... Cause we are IN 2020! Guess I’m late. To the after party even. 

Nevertheless I somehow managed to change my theme, but that is it. I don’t know how to put links on my page ( I think tagging would be the correct term?), or how to appropriately use gifs and images without being considered a thief and don’t even ask about the “navigation” thing.

 Anyway, I’ll be here floating around until you read this. I don’t plan on leaving and I have a reason for that; and NO! it’s not money. Not that I think I would be able to make money, but I just saw there’s tutorials on how to earn money through a Tumblr blog and now I have mixed feelings about it.