Blog 4: The Relativity of Bravery

"So are you feeling brave?"

My jaw clenched together.  The grip around my ski poles tightened.  I knew what that question really meant.  I imagined myself flying down that steep hill, attempting to carve but in the process eating shit once I’d try to make that sharp right turn.  It would not be a pretty sight.  This run went directly under the ski lift.  Everyone would see me wipe out, the dumb beginner skier girl in the bright red puffy jacket and cheetah print headband.  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat on the lift chair, my blue skis clanking together below me.  Snow slid off of the slick surface and fell twenty, twenty-five feet to the white ground.

"Nah," I answered simply, staring down at my knees.

He let out a groan.  "Come on, you’ll love it."

I could feel him looking at me with those big brown eyes of his, through those long eyelashes.  He was expectant.  Waiting for me to change my mind.  Silently urging me to give in to his unsaid request.  I had a bad habit of going along with what he would ask of me.  A really bad habit.  This time, though, I was strangely determined to hold my own.

"I’d rather not.  I only just now made it down the hill without falling.  I should probably still take it easy."

I felt his gaze still on me.  "This one’s pretty much the same as the run you’ve been going down this whole time.  It’s just that the steep part is in the very beginning."

I sighed.  "Maybe a little later."

Silence.  Awkward silence.  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and saw him hesitate slightly before putting his earphones back in.  He turned away from me.  The disappointment was palpable.  A cold breeze blew past us and I shivered in my damp clothing.  Biting my lip, I swore at myself for not having layered better.  For not having been blessed with the skills to take on skiing like a natural.  For not having grown the balls to say I was brave enough to challenge that slope.

The ride up the side of the mountain probably lasted for about two years, maybe more. 

We went our separate ways at the top—him to the left, me to the right.  To be honest, I felt pretty low.  Despite having overcome a number of tribulations since my arrival at Cooper Spur Mountain, I felt as if I hadn’t accomplished anything.  But I had.  Step one was conquering the ski lift.  I wasn’t generally afraid of heights, but simply the idea of my feet dangling and the possibility of falling out of my seat had seriously set me on edge.  My eyes even leaked a couple tears on my first time up.  Step two was figuring out how to ski.  There was no bunny slope and I didn’t sign up for lessons; I had no choice but to jump right in and go for it.  I would learn the hard way, but it would be fun, right?

Still feeling like crap, I skied over to the edge of the hill.  Are you feeling brave?  His voice sounded softly in my head.  Come on, you’ll love it.  I exhaled deeply, shook my head, and flung myself forward.  I quickly picked up speed and his words were ripped from my mind as the wind bit at my face.  All that was left was the nagging question, “Why not?”  Why not give it a try and take a stab at that other run?  Why not be recklessly brave and arguably idiotic for once?  Why not give YOLO a shot?  I whipped down the hill, shooting around the slower folks as everything passed by in a white blur.  Before I knew it I was on the ski lift, sitting next to him again.

Blog 3: Stupid Factory, Stupid Me

I don't remember how old I was or what grade I was in, just that these dumb rubber snap-button bracelets from David & Goliath Stupid Factory were the coolest accessories to wear. Coming in various colors with obnoxious catch phrases like "Miso hot" (aka "me so hot") and "Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them," these were what my girlfriends and I dropped five bucks a piece on. We were sassy, unorthodox feminists and we didn't even know it.

This ridiculous fad happened so long ago that the store doesn't sell them anymore; I can't even find pictures of them online. If I still have my small collection at home in Hawaii, the rubber's probably decomposing already, the bracelets melting together into one horrific mess of brightly colored goo somewhere in my bedroom. I remember they were my pride and joy, all laid out flat on top of my dresser in a neat column. But one didn't quite fit in with the others. It was my newest addition to the bunch: a pale yellow with scuffed green borders, there were two orange crabs whose smiling faces were partially rubbed off, separated by the saying "I am shellfish" scribbled in a faded black cartoonish font. Funny, I bought a reject. Why hadn't I noticed it sooner? Like, at the store? This was going to be a problem.

The next weekend I dragged my parents to the mall so I could go to The Stupid Factory. I ran inside, grinning, and headed straight to the bracelets display. My smile turned upside down, however, once I realized that there was no new inventory; I either owned the ones that were in stock, or my girlfriends already got them. Glancing at the grungy crab bracelet wrapped around my left wrist, I pouted. But suddenly an idea popped into my head. I peeked over my shoulder at the lone worker, my heart picking up its pace. When I was sure she wasn't paying attention to me, I yanked off the worn-out rubber and buried it under the bracelets on display. My hands shook as I quickly picked a much newer-looking version of the same accessory I had just chucked seconds earlier. I fumbled as I snapped the buttons into place around my wrist, my breathing heavy as if I had just run a marathon.

Really, though, all I did was do a little exchange. Illegally. At least my collection was the way it should have been from the beginning. But now that I think about it, I feel like I threw all of those bracelets away when I cleaned my room this past summer.

Haha, good times.

Blog 2: My First Time Fainting

One moment I stood next to Kristal, feeling perfectly normal. The next I was hit with a wave of fatigue. I rested my head on her back as I told her how I could fall asleep right here as I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I found myself face-up on the ground with tears running down my cheeks, soaking my hair. A white, plastic oxygen mask was soon strapped over my mouth.

"Kelli, oh my God," I heard Tory say over and over, her voice hushed.

"Breathe deeply, breathe deeply," Mr. Martin's voice came from above me.

Nodding slightly, I tried to slow my panicked breaths.

It was the beginning of March in my senior year of high school; my astronomy class was staying in Hilo on the Big Island of Hawaii for three days and two nights. Today we were visiting the summit of Mauna Kea to check out the different telescopes and stargaze later on in the evening. On the ride up the mountain, Mr. Martin warned us about the drop in oxygen levels at the top. He also told us a few stories about previous students who had fainted upon arrival.

No way is that going to happen to me, I thought. I have a swimmer's lungs!

But there I was, lying on the cold floor inside the Subaru telescope with a small crowd gathered around me.

"She was in a kneeling position so I thought she was praying," our tour guide said, laughing slightly in disbelief at her ridiculous assumption.

"I can't believe that just happened," Kristal whispered, her tone sharp. "I'm freaking traumatized right now."

"She just put her head on you and then she collapsed?" Tory asked, her voice just as quiet.

There was a pause as Kristal nodded.

"Lucky you were there to catch her," Hailey responded. "She could have gotten hurt."

The three girls glanced at the cold metal railing that had been only inches away from me prior to my fainting episode. If I had not leaned my head against Kristal, who knew what kind of head damage I would be suffering from right now, or what other sorts of injuries I would have.

My eyes, still open, continued to leak hot tears. I stared blankly ahead of me as I listened to my friends and classmates rehash every detail they could about the incident, details I failed to recall no matter how hard I tried. Even as their words sunk into me, I had a hard time believing what just happened. I heard what they were saying, but I didn't hear them. All I knew was that in that moment, when I was resting my head on Kristal's back, I thought I was simply going to fall asleep.

My breathing was slower now despite the waning anxiety I felt inside. After that subsided I was left with the feeling of embarrassment, which merely escalated when I was deemed stable enough to be propped into a seated position and moved to a wheelchair.

At least the only part of me that got hurt was my pride.

I guess I didn't realize until now that I had expectations set for myself that I didn't know about. The vulnerability I felt in that particular moment shocked me and made me blatantly aware of the pride I didn't know I had. Because I had fainted...and cried...I found myself to be weak. In the time following the incident, I had no desire to be near my friends. They saw a side of me that I didn't even know I was hiding.