Why So Serious?

Neighbors are trying to kill me.
I run before the sun is up. I pass their orange brick home
Oh! That guy scared me--Wait. What's--?

 OH GOD.

WHY would anyone do this? My heart exploded.
I stopped. Okay, it's a cut-out. It's a cut-out.
Wait...IS it a cut-out? This could totally be like the time that guy stood still in Madame Tusseau's Wax Museum and when I inspected him, he offered a mild, "Boo" so I obviously jumped nineteen feet into the air and darn near knocked wax Will Smith over. If I were a serial killer and was going to dress up as The Joker, I would definitely take the possibility of being mistaken for a piece of cardboard into consideration. The advantages! So I stared at this promotional material/genius murderer for a long time. A. Long. Time. And then I felt stupid, so I ran away.

Maybe it seems stupid to you too, but when when I'm running empty streets at 6 AM, bumping into a tubby child holding cotton candy wearing a Rainbow Bright t-shirt would terrify me. Let alone ol' Heath.

So an interesting thing is happening. I see this creepy image like every other morning. This thing that completely wrecked me last week is now typical scenery. I've grown accustom, maybe even fond, of the lil menace. It means I have a quarter mile left. I imagine his overly-lip sticked face cheering me on. Maybe stabbing future marathon competitors with a pencil.

Is there inspiration here? Like, what really scares us can become routine? I'm still kinda of working on the metaphor. Not that we should learn to be comfortable with our fears, but rather, we should see them as just two-dimensional benign onlookers. Maybe.

Stick to Your Deal: Part II

The four of us were at the kitchen table full of markers and campaign stickers. My neighbor, vice president. Peppermint was to be secretary. Smidge the treasurer. And I was running for junior high study body president. Our ticket was SNAP--acronym of our names. ("It's a snap, vote for us!") We were writing our speeches. My big campaign promises were breakfast and a Christmas dance. Peppermint was most hesitant. She was scared of being on a ballot. She did not take rejection well. I'd seen her tear up during the thirty seconds people chose lab partners in Honors Science. Then we found out the Girl With the Best Handwriting was running for secretary too! From then on Peppermint was always muttering "I don't want to win anyway."

We drafted what we'd say at the assembly. "Maybe I don't have the best handwriting," she started. And my neighbor's mom, making up a tray of snacks for us (oh, to be thirteen again) hemmed in, "I wouldn't say that. Who cares? You don't need to make yourself look bad. Don't say that."

Humility is huge. We should be self-aware, but our weaknesses don't always have to do with the situation at hand. So don't make them. Stick to your deal.

I lost. I was runner-up. Out of six. Not bad. The faculty sponsor of Student Council told me "It was close." She leaned in, "Close." I was good. I ran for class rep and won. My mom was principal. She was there when the votes were tallied. I asked her how close. "You were definitely second. But there was a pretty big gap." She could have easily lied, but that's not how it was. Wasn't the honest result.

Middle school Poms team. Far left top Peppermint, left-mid Smidge, left-bottom neighbor. I'm also in here.