Three Very True Phrases
A true phrase: "People are creatures of habit."
I learned this one in my psychology class during my senior year. As soon as I heard it, I did what all psychology students do: I began analyzing all of my friends to see how true it was. After I grew bored with them, I started analyzing myself to see if I conformed to this statement. And of course, I did. There is one particular habit that I still maintain: flip-flop flinging.
How do I fling my flip-flops? I pull my foot back, kick it and fling the flip-flop off. I'm always trying to fling them in such a way that they land right side up. It's harder than it sounds, believe me.
At home, I always used to fling my flip-flops right after lunch, just before I walked home. On one particular day I came out into the bright sunshine, and did what I always did. I brought one foot back and kicked hard, sending the flip-flip end over end. The second one followed quickly after. They both went spiraling through the air in two perfect arcs...only to land on the roof of a building across from the cafeteria.
My little sister started laughing. "I told you that was going to happen," she said. I was annoyed, of course, and also embarrassed since the entire dish crew had seen me do it. They were probably snickering behind their towels at that very moment.
I pulled a bench close to the roof, and tried reaching for the flip-flop with a broom. It wouldn't work. Nothing did. I was too short to reach the roof, let alone my flip-flop, even with a broom and a bench. I was feeling more and more pathetic by the moment. Finally, one of my classmates, a guy who is much taller than me, said, "Hey, let me try to get it down." He hopped up on the bench and dropped my flip-flop down two seconds later.
Through her laughter my little sister said, "Rach, one day you're going to get them stuck up there."
Yeah, right.
Another true phrase: "History repeats itself."
I am nearly 20 years old. I probably should have outgrown flip-flop flinging by now, but I can't seem to stop doing it, regardless of the fact that it's probably very childish and unladylike. I love the feeling of sending my flip-flops through the air. So, the other day, after a particularly good Honors Orientation class, I found myself walking back to my dorm. The sun was shining, I was happy, and wanted my feet to be happy too. I gave a hard kick with my right foot and another kick with my left. The first one arced perfectly, and landed ahead of me, right side up. Score. The second one had a near perfect trajectory over my head. If it had been soccer ball I would have tried for a bicicleta. But it wasn't a soccer ball, and it wouldn't have worked even it was because that flip-flop went up, up, up...and landed on the Honors House roof.
Just like my little sister predicted, my flip-flop was stuck. Not to be deterred, I ran inside and brought out a chair. Unfortunately, even with that chair, I was still too short to reach even the overhang of the roof. I ran back inside and got a broom. I tried scraping it off, but it did not work. After a few minutes, a freshman came out and said, "Uh, do you need help?" He was taller than me. Maybe he could reach it. A minute later he dropped it off the end of the broom, safe and sound.
The morals of this story are: 1) Psychology is true to some degree.
2) History DOES repeat itself.
3) Little sisters are often right.
I learned this one in my psychology class during my senior year. As soon as I heard it, I did what all psychology students do: I began analyzing all of my friends to see how true it was. After I grew bored with them, I started analyzing myself to see if I conformed to this statement. And of course, I did. There is one particular habit that I still maintain: flip-flop flinging.
How do I fling my flip-flops? I pull my foot back, kick it and fling the flip-flop off. I'm always trying to fling them in such a way that they land right side up. It's harder than it sounds, believe me.
At home, I always used to fling my flip-flops right after lunch, just before I walked home. On one particular day I came out into the bright sunshine, and did what I always did. I brought one foot back and kicked hard, sending the flip-flip end over end. The second one followed quickly after. They both went spiraling through the air in two perfect arcs...only to land on the roof of a building across from the cafeteria.
My little sister started laughing. "I told you that was going to happen," she said. I was annoyed, of course, and also embarrassed since the entire dish crew had seen me do it. They were probably snickering behind their towels at that very moment.
I pulled a bench close to the roof, and tried reaching for the flip-flop with a broom. It wouldn't work. Nothing did. I was too short to reach the roof, let alone my flip-flop, even with a broom and a bench. I was feeling more and more pathetic by the moment. Finally, one of my classmates, a guy who is much taller than me, said, "Hey, let me try to get it down." He hopped up on the bench and dropped my flip-flop down two seconds later.
Through her laughter my little sister said, "Rach, one day you're going to get them stuck up there."
Yeah, right.
Another true phrase: "History repeats itself."
I am nearly 20 years old. I probably should have outgrown flip-flop flinging by now, but I can't seem to stop doing it, regardless of the fact that it's probably very childish and unladylike. I love the feeling of sending my flip-flops through the air. So, the other day, after a particularly good Honors Orientation class, I found myself walking back to my dorm. The sun was shining, I was happy, and wanted my feet to be happy too. I gave a hard kick with my right foot and another kick with my left. The first one arced perfectly, and landed ahead of me, right side up. Score. The second one had a near perfect trajectory over my head. If it had been soccer ball I would have tried for a bicicleta. But it wasn't a soccer ball, and it wouldn't have worked even it was because that flip-flop went up, up, up...and landed on the Honors House roof.
Just like my little sister predicted, my flip-flop was stuck. Not to be deterred, I ran inside and brought out a chair. Unfortunately, even with that chair, I was still too short to reach even the overhang of the roof. I ran back inside and got a broom. I tried scraping it off, but it did not work. After a few minutes, a freshman came out and said, "Uh, do you need help?" He was taller than me. Maybe he could reach it. A minute later he dropped it off the end of the broom, safe and sound.
The morals of this story are: 1) Psychology is true to some degree.
2) History DOES repeat itself.
3) Little sisters are often right.
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