A Bruised Ego/Elbow

I’ve been thinking a lot about bruises lately for some reason. It’s a wonder where they could have come from but I have a bruise on each elbow and on my right knee. Strangely I haven’t the slightest idea where they came from. The only explanation that seems even plausible could be perhaps that I’ve been sleep walking around the suburbs and beating up gangster wannabes or something. If only if only. Sigh.

At least I know where one of my bruises came from. Yesterday I was being crafty and took my tub of beads out of a drawer in my desk. Naturally I became very engrossed in my work and was only roused from it when my mother yelled that the ice cream was out. So of course I jumped up from my desk ready to get my share of dairy, and ran smack into the drawer. What resulted were a few stifled curse words, a scrape, and a nice little bruise.

That got me thinking, which bruises are better: the ones I know I have because I felt it, or the bruises I just find one day as I’m tying my shoes.

I can see both sides of the argument.

The bruises you are perfectly aware of getting aren’t quite desirable because pain is involved but there’s a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing where it came from. I got the most amazing bruise on the soft spot on the inside of my knee this winter. It resulted from one messy game of soccer. Don’t get me wrong it hurt like heck but it was amazing because it was HUGE and a million different colors all at the same time. I can’t tell you how much joy it gave me to gross my classmates out with it and to tell the story. So, while pain was involved every time I touched it, a great story resulted.

On the other hand, mystery bruises are unique for the opposite reasons. So you didn’t feel any pain when you got it, but where did it come from? In the end if a stranger askes about the bruise, all you can say to where it came from is a question mark. This answer only gets strangers’ imaginations running about abusive boyfriends, bar fights, and random self deprecating stunts (or leg emo-ness.)

So this leads to the toss up. At the core, both paths have a bit of pain whether it be physical or mental. Now which would you choose?

Love, DFTBAOYD, Pickles, and All That Jazz,

Ella

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Blissful Uniformity?

For most public school kids, the idea of having to wear a uniform seem a cruel and unusual punishment. What they don’t understand is how it feels to ear one your whole “school” life.

The might argue that it robs you of your identity or it’s just “the man’s way of getting you down.”

I’ve worn a uniform to school for an entire decade and although it’s changed me, it’s not really for the worse.

In the morning I can literally get myself ready in the dark. I know exactly where I threw my uniform the night before and no one in my all girls high school cares if my skirt is a bit askew when I walk through the door. As a uniform is introduced to a student body the necessity in the minds of the students to look “pretty” decreases. This in turn produces humility and from there charity and truth.

Now this makes it sound like I wear a paper sack to school. While the colors are conservative (blue and gray) the actual pieces of clothing aren’t all that bad. In the morning I can choose between the typical blue, gray, and yellow plaid skirt or a pair of navy blue shorts or pants. Then the choice of a navy or gray polo provides a little less freedom, but what can be worn over that is extensive. *Takes deep breath and prepares to rattle off list* Students can wear a gray button up sweater with the navy polo, the navy button up sweater with the gray polo, a gray V-neck pull over sweater with the navy polo, the navy V-neck pull over sweater with the gray polo, a navy sweatshirt with the gray polo, OR the gray sweatshirt with the navy polo. Or of course you could just not wear one.

All those rules just make the idea of a uniform quite dreary but if your school is willing to let you accessorize it’s not at all horrible. Every day to school I wear something extra along the lines of an oversized vintage pink bow, a bracelet made of nine pennies welded together, a pearl ring, and a necklace with five different pendants, and a pair of pink and black Chuck Taylors. It’s the absence of complete freedom that intensifies personal style for all the students. I’ve learned more about what I like this past year in particular than I have in nine years of wearing a uniform. Being able to identify what one likes in a single item is far less intimidating than in an entire outfit.

Therefore, though wearing the same gray and blue “bland” outfit everyday can seem an absolute bore, there’s much more to it than that, but not to someone that’s lived with it for so long. So bugger off, I like my uniform.

Love, DFTBA, Pickles, and All That Jazz,

     Ella

My Literary Screening Process

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