Removing the Mask

Someone, somewhere, once said that it's the little things in life that mater the most. That when we're down for the count, and the whole world's been raining on our parade, it's the little things that have the power to put a smile on our face. I wish I could tell you who that person was, but I can't. I don't know, and I'm not going to pretend to. Whoever that Aristotle was that first spoke those words is unknown to me, but I do know that he -or she -was a wise person. 

I'm as human as the next person. I have a heart, a soul, and a mind. I smile and cry. I get excited and depressed. I'm confident and self-conscious. I have to make hard choices and live with the consequences. That's just the way life is for us humans. We go through things. we experience things. And, we react to them. Often times, we pretend to be people we're not, so that others don't know how broken we truly are.

We like to think that we're supposed to have it all together. We like to think that we're supposed to have it all figured out.  But, part of the human experience is figuring it out. It's experiencing and learning. It's choosing. And sometimes we need help. Though most of us don't like asking for aid; we see doing so as a weakness. Yet, sometimes all you need to solve life's puzzles is a friendly ear. 

I'm one of those people that consider asking for help to be a last resort. I don't ask for it unless absolutely necessary. I figure it's my life and I'll be the one to handle what happens in it. But, you know what, I don't know everything. I'm not perfect. I make mistakes. I get caught in society's snares. Sometimes it even feels like all I do is make mistakes.

We can't let mistakes hold us back though. And we can't hide behind masks. Those oh so beautifully decorated masks that we make for ourselves in order to keep our true selves safe from the judgmental eyes of the world. The world is judgmental, that's something I believe every human can agree on. We may bicker over religion and rites, but we can't deny that humankind likes to judge each other. And, knowing this, we fear being found out. We fear allowing ourselves to open up to the world. So we carve our masks and hide behind them. 

In the late 1800's a poet named, Paul Laurence Dunbar wrote a poem titled We Wear the Mask. Said poem captures the human need to wear a mask perfectly. Granted, Dunbar wrote it -according to critics and professors -about slavery, but I believe it speaks for all mankind. After all, we're all slaves in a sense. All slaves to the need to show ourselves to society as she deems fit. All slaves to the fear of being ourselves (At one time or another we all had to chose weather we'd conform or stand out). 

The first time I read Dunbar's We Wear the Mask was my sophomore year of college. I had found it intriguing then and actually spoke about it in class (to the great shock of my professor). After the recent events that have taken place in my life, it has crept it's way back into my mind. I've been reciting it to myself for awhile now, and I feel the need to share it with you: 

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, -
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, 
And mouth with myiad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while 
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath out feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask! 

There are very few people that I completely remove my mask for. Most people I come in contact with only know bits and pieces of me. Only one of my friends knows every little thing about me. After making a particular hard decision, I called this friend to talk. I removed my mask and told her everything that was troubling me, and there's been a lot lately. 

Like the true friend she is, my friend listened to me and offered advice. A couple nights later I sent her a text, asking her why I felt the way I  did concerning the situations I had told her about. Her response was simple, but it was the best one she could have gave. She told me, and I quote, "Because you're human." 

She wasn't the only one that's given me advice lately. I've been told a few things that will stay with me forever. But what she said got me thinking and I realized that somewhere over the last year (not even a year, the last six months) I had decided to replace the mask on my face that I had removed. I had decided to play it cool and be a people pleaser. And I wasn't happy with that. I wasn't content playing a role that wasn't mine to play. And when I read her words, I thought....

She's right. I am human. And this is my human experience, and I'm going to experience it the way I want to. The way that I feel is right. Thanks to her, and some others, I was able to make a difficult choice and feel content with it. 

As soon as my Christmas break is over, I'll be retieing (Yeah, I don't how to spell that word) on the Never Take It Off bracelet I bought. Not because I need to retie on the vow that I made when I first put the bracelet on, but because it'll serve as a reminder. Every time I feel down, feel like I can do something, feel like life's against me, and every time I start questioning myself and the choices I've made, I'll be able to look down at my right wrist, see that dragonfly bead, and remember my vow. 

You may be wondering what my vow is, but I can't tell you. That's sort of the whole point of the bracelet/vow. It's a personal vow. Know one needs to know what it is except for me (though I've given you enough clues as to what it is). With that vow, though, and some help from my friend, I'm going to make 2014 a great year. I'm going to say no to the mask and allow the little things in life to lift me up when I'm down. I'm done pretending. I was done along time ago, but this is me reclaiming myself. This is me standing up, taking my vow, and facing the world head on. 

Here's to a great 2014, everyone. Let's make it the best. Together. No more masks. No more pretending. Let's rise up and celebrate. Let's be the outcasts. We are empowered.

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NOTE: Never Take It Off is an online shop that's about making personal vows and keeping them. To read more about it, check out their site http://nevertakeitoff.bigcartel.com/

The Monster Inside Us

" We stopped checking for monsters under our beds

when we realized they were inside us."

 ~The Joker 

 In the world we live in, it isn't an uncommon thing to be obsessed with monsters. Everyone has their Zombie plan, their  knowledge on how to kill the children of the night, and -really -who doesn't love a good monster movie? Vampires, Zombies, Witches, Warlocks, ghouls, Wendigos, Banshees...what ever your brand of monster, there is some book or movie that has been made to cater to your obsession. The world loves monsters. It always has. But, the question is, why? Why is it that we love what's meant to frighten us?

I've been interested in monsters since I was a little girl. Of course, until I hit high school the only monsters I liked were aliens. Then I heard about a movie that was supposed to be taking over the theaters...that movie was Twilight. Before you Twilight haters click the 'X' read on for a bit. I'm not one of the movie's hardcore fans, I promise. When I first heard of Twilight I was curious and asked a friend about it...she introduced me to the books and I flew through the first three in two days, then proceeded to wait-quite impatiently -for the forth. I loved the books...until the movies came out. I'll admit I watched the movies, I actually liked the first one, but lost interest in them.

Not long after discovering Twilight, I started researching Vampires. What I found ignited a spark within me. I instantly became hooked. I set aside Twilight and began watching other monster movies. They weren't hardcore movies. Not much blood and not at all what I would consider scary. I wasn't yet seventeen though, so my parents still had full control over what I viewed. The two movies I watched almost all the time were Van Hellsing and League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. I still love those movies.

After I got into vampires and realized there were thousands of other monsters out there to learn about, my high school English teacher had us read Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. By that point, I was really into the monster world. I did my research, read stories about them, and watched movies. I was irritated when I found out that Hollywood didn't accurately portray Frankenstein and that the world had bought into the false representation they had been given.

My love for monsters has always kind of set me apart from my family. I grew up in a good Christian home, was taught that angels, demons, and witches exist, but Halloween was never a looked forward to tradition. There were always those Fall Festivals at church to attend, and we loved those, but trick-or-treating wasn't done. Before you start thinking I had super strict puritan-like parents, I didn't. Okay? They brought me up right and they did take me trick-or-treating once. I think I was about eight when my siblings and I were allowed to try trick-or-treating...and I hated it. I honestly didn't understand why anyone would want to dress up in costumes and go door-to-door taking candy from strangers. It wasn't something I was into. I've only been trick-or-treating once since then, but I still do enjoy the monsters that run the streets the night of October 31st.

For the longest time, I had no idea what it was about monsters that intrigued me. I just knew I was fascinated with them. Sometime during high school, though, is when I figured out just what it was that drew me to them. I was sitting in my Cults and Religions class (I went to a Lutheran high school and yes, this was a required class) learning about demon possession. Most of what was taught wasn't new to me, but the movie that was shown to our class was.

The Exorcism of Emily Rose was played in class for four days. During those four days I got absolutely no useful sleep. I slept maybe an hour a night and would normally end up sitting on the couch in the living room, scared of the shadows around me. Those of you that have seen that movie may or may not find it frightening. It wasn't really the movie that scared me. It was one specific scene that shook me to the core and left me with nightmares for months. I'd give you a YouTube clip of it, but frankly I never want to see any part of that movie again so I'm not going to go searching for what I consider to be the worst scene in it.

The scene was right before Emily get's possessed. She's aware that something's after her and leaves her dorm. She runs across campus, through the streets, and to a church. Flinging the doors open, she sprints down the aisle of the church, heading straight for the cross seated on the alter...and the demon possess her. Right there,in the church, the demon gets full control over her. In the church. A CHURCH! The idea that such a creature could take over a person on holy ground scared the living daylights out of me. That something so evil could stand in the presence of God and have power frighten me to no end. It also didn't help with my fears any when my teacher informed the class that Emily's story was real and showed us articles about the real Emily Rose (She's actually German and I know I'd butcher her first name if I tried to spell it, but you can Google it if you're really curious).

After that freaky encounter with that movie that shall never ever, ever, ever, ever be in my possession, is when I began wondering why I liked monsters. Why, even though that movie terrified me, I still wanted to know more.

Just yesterday I read an article on DeaviantArt.com that spoke of the answer I discovered (http://techgnotic.deviantart.com/journal/The-Monster-in-The-Mirror-407706062?utm_source=elnino&utm_medium=messagecenter&utm_campaign=102813_NET_MonsterInTheMirror&utm_term=title). Said article spoke of how we -humans -love monsters because they are the embodiment of what we fear. They symbolize the fears of our times. And even though they scare us, we relate to them. They are our way of explaining our fears.

The Joker (From Batman) had it right when he said that, "We stopped checking for monsters under our beds when we realized they were inside us." Those monsters we fear; they aren't the blood sucking vampires on TV, or the boogy man hiding under our beds and in our closest, they're us. They're our society. They're the world we live in.

That article I gave you the link for talks about how each generation seems to have their favorite monster and how that monster shows the fears and life at that generation's time. At the end of the article, it posses an interesting question. The monsters that overrun our minds now days are the Zombies....so what are we scared of? What fear, what aspect of life, are we portraying with our love for zombies?

I honestly don't know. And I don't think we'll know. It'll be future generations that will look back and say, "Oh, the Zombie's came from this historical event." Whatever the reason though -and I'm sure if we created a list of the possible reasons it could take a full notebook -there is obviously more to the monsters that meet the eye.

Our love of monsters isn't physical. We like their supernatural abilities, we enjoy the stories they're in, but really the reason we like monsters is all psychological. It's because of something within us. Something that relates to that monster's symbolism. For me, I can watch any kind of monster movie and not be freaked out except for two.

Ghosts movies, I can handle in moderation. Your basic ghost movie won't scare me, but when you get into child ghosts that want to kill people it's time for me to leave the room.

Demon movies...now those are what freak me out. And yes, I know why. I've figured it out. What fear it is that makes them unbearable for me to watch. I can enjoy the other monsters simply because I understand their symbolism but are not directly effected by it. Demons...possession...that's one thing that hits home. I fear the loss of complete control. I fear the thought of being in Emily Rose's situation; of being stuck in a place in life where nothing, not even my faith, can save me.

Of course, I believe that no mater what God is there. That He'd save me from such a circumstance. But that doesn't prevent the idea from completely freaking me out.

I'm reminded of a scene from Cassandra Clare's City of Glass (SPOILER ALERT: FOR THOSE READING THE SERIES), where the character Simon is trapped in prison. At that point in the story, he's been recently turned into a vampire. As a human, he was from a Jewish family. He believed in God and participated in all the stuff his religion required him to...and guess what it is that the Shadowhunters use to trap him in the prison? They carve the symbols of his religion into the bars. It's the Star of David that keeps him there (END OF SPOILER). I cried when I read that scene, simply because I couldn't imagine being in his position. Being stuck in such a state and trapped by your own beliefs. It would feel awful, wanting to believe but being rejected by those beliefs.

Now, I've said a lot in this post, and some of you will probably question my mental state or my spiritual state after reading this, but I assure you I'm find. Both mentally and spiritually. The point of this post was to discus monsters as being symbols. As being representations of our fears. I've spoken on the mater before, and many people disagree with my opinions, and that's okay. Feel free to disagree, but don't be close minded.

Monsters are more than scary shadows that go bump in the night. They're the shadows the lurk in our minds, tearing us apart at our weakest and darkest moments. They are symbols of psychological themes. The following song by the band Skillet, really shows this point. I'm going to leave you with this song and I encourage you to go ahead and take a few minutes to listen to it. Listen to the lyrics, don't just watch the video.

Poorly Greet Each Other, We Do.

Have you ever noticed how people have a strange way of greeting each other? If you haven't, you may want to start paying closer attention to what people say to you. I was sitting at work the other day, bored and watching the cashier when something caught my attention. My job, when cashiering, is to scan ID cards and be polite to the customers (a task that is sometimes easier said than done), so -naturally -a lot of people greet me. When they hand me the card, the first hing out of their mouths is normally some sort of greeting.

While I was sitting there, scanning cards, I noticed something about the way I was being greeted. Maybe it's just my generation, or maybe it's a lack of education (Which I doubt), but my generation seems to have forgotten that there is a difference between saying, "Hi," and saying, "How's it going?" 

I've compiled a list of the most common ways I've seen my fellow students greet each other (at my on-campus job, in class, and around campus). Here's the ones that seem to be exceedingly popular around the university I go to:

1) "Hi"

2) "Hello"

3) "What's up?"

4) " 'Sup?"

5) "How's it going?"

6) "How are you?"

7) "Hey."

8) "Hey!" 

Now, these greetings should look familiar to you. I'm sure that you've heard all of them at least once, but have you ever actually thought about what they mean? Some of them aren't even really greetings. They are, but they aren't. They're greetings in the sense that they can start a conversation and acknowledge the existence of the person they're being said to, but they aren't in the sense that they don't actually mean the same thing as, "Hello". For the sake of understanding my point, let's take a few moments to actually break down theses greetings.

1) "Hi": "Hi," is the little brother of "Hello". It means the exact same thing. It's merely a way of properly greeting someone. It's hard to misinterpret the meaning behind it, unless the tone it is spoken in is one of the darker emotions (i.e. anger, spite, depression...ect...). It's simple. It's straight forward. It doesn't need ask for anything more than an acknowledgement of it being spoken...which can be given in the form of a nod or a returning of the word.

2) "Hello": Is the exact same thing as "Hi", but more proper. "Hi" is the slang version of "Hello". It's the shortened version.

3) *** "What's up?": This is a question, not a greeting. Yes, it is used as "Hi" but it doesn't mean "Hi". It means, "I'm wondering how you're doing, why don't you tell me what's going on in your life." This one is one of the ones I see most commonly used wrong. I'll give you an example as to how it's used wrong after we're done breaking this list down. (NOTE: The greetings with *** fall under the example that will be given) 

4) ***" 'Sup?": Like "Hi" is the slang brother of "Hello", " 'Sup" is the slang brother of "What's up?" It means the same thing, yet it is more often times used as meaning "Hi" then actually used to wonder about what's going on in someone's life.

5) *** "How's it Going?": This one has the exact same meaning as "What's up." Again, a question, not an actually "Hello" 

6) "How Are You?": This one tends to be used properly. Though, sometimes it is misused in the same way as (3), (4), and (5). Normally -from what I've observed -when someone says this they actually are curious about how you are and are not just trying to do the socially acceptable action of acknowledging your presence.

7 and 8): "Hey." and "Hey!": There is a difference. "Hey." is spoken much like "Hi" and "Hello" are. It has the same meaning. However, "Hey!" is a prompt for conversation. If someone energetically says "Hey!" to you then the chances that they want a conversation are pretty high.

Now, with that being said, here's the example I promised you. This is an actual conversation that took place between me and a customer at work. Pay attention to what we're saying and see if you can catch on to why I decided to write this blog.


Customer: "How's it going?" 

Me: Well. You?

Customer: 'Sup?

Me:...um...nothing. You?"

Customer: Eh, can't complain.

Can you spot what's wrong with that conversation? If not, allow me to help you. The customer greeted me with a question, the question "How's it going?", and I answered said question before returning it to him. He them asked me another question...it becomes clear that he meant his first question to mean "Hi" and to not be answered. I still answer the second and again return it to him...then he responds as if I had asked him the first question again.

My question for you is why? Why in the world do we communicate like that? Surly we know our language better than we appear to...or are we really that horrible with our own words? We really need to start paying attention to what we say. To how we greet people, because we aren't greeting people properly.

My challenge for you is to start listening to what people are saying to you -to what you are saying to others -when you greet each other, and to try greeting each other in a proper manner.

The Wine Press Incident

On Tuesday the first of October, at 2:00 am, my friend and I found ourselves wide awake and discussing ZIP codes. Why we were discussing ZIP codes is a story in and of itself, but this story focuses on the results of that one. When one finds something interesting, they look into it. When two find the same thing interesting, they discus it. So, my friend and I discussed ZIP codes after an interesting textbook reading (yes, textbooks can be interesting). The results of such conversation, however, lead to an interesting event in the following hours.

The sun had not yet risen when I had awoken from my four hour slumber. I was groggily, like most people are when they first wake up, and hurried to get ready so my friend and I could get breakfast before classes started. We made it to breakfast and it was obvious that neither of us were fully awake, but we had no plans on skipping classes. We're at college to learn, not sleep, so we dragged ourselves to our classes.

My first class that day happened to be at 8:00 am, and was an Art History class. All seemed to be going well. I didn't need to talk much, but I did have to keep myself from dozing off when the professor shut the lights off to show some pictures on the projector.

We were talking about Martin Luther when it started. The Professor asked a simple question, "What are indulgences?"

No one answered. We sat in silence for a minute or so before I raised my hand. As many of you know, I'm an English major. I love the English language and know the definitions to many, many words. The professor called on me and I gave him the correct answer. "

"Indulgences are something, like a slip of paper, you buy that's supposed to get you or a loved one into heaven."

Class continued and we were talking about how the printing press started and what the inspiration behind it was. On the screen, in front of the class, appeared a picture of an old wine press.

The professor asked, "Can anyone tell me what this is?"

Again no one answered.

I stared at it for a bit, knowing what it was but finding myself unable to produce its name. Then I was called on.

"Ashley, what is this?"

For the life of me I couldn't recall what the name of the object was, so my brain seemed to decided the best option was to just give it's description.

"Um, it's the thing where you turn the handle and it drops that thing that falls and squishes grapes."

The professor stared at me for a moment before cracking a grin and saying, "You mean a wine press?"

"Yeah! That thing!" I exclaimed. That was the name I had been searching for.

Not my finest moment, by far, but definitely an mildly humorous one. I've shared the story with my friend, who I was awake with the night before, and she's determined not to let me live it down. I deserve it though. Seriously! A wine press! I should have known that! I did know that, but for some reason I couldn't say it.

Thus was discovered that I can't name objects in the early hours after late night conversations...I can only describe things using juvenile language.

Something Special

I'm sitting in my dorm, taking a break from the world. One of my friends is sitting to my right. I can hear the game she's playing on her computer. We've been studying for roughly two hours. It's no where near as long as we need to study, but it was some studying so we figured we deserved a break.

Sitting here now, with the string of lights on above my head and my back resting against the cold brick of the white wall behind me, I find myself thinking about theses past three weeks...and they've been great.

I've been hanging out with so many friends lately and have gotten my homework done. The class I dreaded most is looking to be one of my easiest. I'm almost afraid to mention all of the things that have going right lately. Words are powerful and I don't want the writing of them to shatter the goodness around me. I've felt like I've been in a dream. A really good dream, not one of the twisted nonsensical ones I normally have. It's like...like...all the worries of summer, all the tears I shed, all the depression I felt, has disappeared. I am literally joyful. I can't remember the last time I was this happy.

If you had told me five years ago that I would be where I am now, I would have called you a liar. If you would have told me four years ago I would have laughed at you. Three and I would have mumbled an, "I doubt it." Two and I'd say, "Maybe." One and your answer would be, "I hope." I'm here now and I can hardly believe it.

Two nights ago I found myself leaning against the wall, looking out my window at the brilliantly orange harvest moon. The soft glow of my string of lights was in the back ground and it and my desk lamp was playing with the shadows in the room. I wasn't doing anything other than admiring the night. It was so beautiful and I felt so great. I felt, infinite. Like nothing could touch me. A sense of familiarity passed over me. I knew I had never been in that moment before, but I felt like I had. That's when I remembered.

I've had an reoccurring dream for a few years now. Actually, it's more of a day dream. I'd space off and find my mind wandering to a scene just like the one I was in that night. I also associated peace and contentment to that scene...and when I was actually in it I felt them.

I don't know what it is about this year, but there is something special about it. There's something genuinely good engulfing it. It makes me excited to see what the year brings. It took a lot to return to college. There was a lot of stress, tears, and times I just wanted to give up. My hope had been shattered, I had laid on the floor -watching the ceiling fan -and wondered what the purpose of going to college was if I'd never get to finish. If I never got to reach that goal I set out to accomplish.

I'm back at college now, thankfully, and I can feel that this year is important. It's already shown to be. I've spoken to so many people (old friends and new) and have gotten to know their stories. I've been surrounded by people who love me for me. Who accept me and don't consider my weird habits or taste in music to be odd. These are the people I call friends. Some of them I've known since my freshman year, others I just met last year, and still others I only met a couple weeks/days ago. My schedule is constantly being filled up with friends. Who am I kidding though? I don't have a schedule. I did...then I decided that I actually want to have a social life. I haven't had a good social life in what's felt like forever, and oh how I've missed it. Even then, when I did have one before, it wasn't nearly as great as it is now. Probably because of the people I am currently spending time with. They just make it awesome.

Life's good. Life's great. And I'm hoping it stays that way.

Art and Beauty

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Though I don’t know who ‘they’ are –who the first people were to speak those words were –they were right. Beauty isn’t universal. This could potentially be a hard concept to grasp because we are use to refereeing to some things as beautiful. A butterfly is beautiful, a moth isn’t. A baby is beautiful, a Chinese Crested dog isn’t. Society teaches us to define things as beautiful or ugly, but what is beautiful to one person is trash to another. Where I may find the history of the English Language to be beautiful another will find it to be duller than a lecture on lettuce. Beauty is what we are fascinated with; what takes our breath away, fills us with aw, and evokes the desire to learn more or be a part of that which we perceive as beautiful.

           

Beauty is not universal, but art is. We often relate art and beauty. We call Van Gogh’s Starry Night and Michelangelo’s David beautiful. When we think of art we think of beauty. We think graceful lines and playful scenes, but sometimes art isn’t made to be beautiful. Sometimes it’s made to be grotesque. Made to open eyes to a dark reality. Beauty isn’t what makes art. Vases and paintings, sculptures and stories, aren’t put before a jury who decides if they are beautiful enough to have the title of artwork, if their creator deserves to be called an artist.  

            Art, my dear friends, is not the measure of beauty but the unleashing of creativity. It is personal expression upon any canvas its creator chooses to use. Paintings are art, writing is art, architecture is art, fashion is art, dance is art, even the way you speak can be an art. Art is creativity at work. It is a statement to the world, and it has the power to change lives.  

The Cottontail Occurence

Coming from a relativity small city, where country living is just as popular as Starbucks, I'm a fan of harvest season. The blood moon, the nights spent in the crisp autumn air, hay rides, bonfires, s'mores, husking...as summer ends the joys of autumn swoop in and steal our hearts...at least my heart. Unfortunately, being a college student, I'm not actually in my home state during harvest season. I get to catch the first part of it, but most of September and October are spent studying. However, I still make sure to make time for my favorite holiday...Halloween. 

As soon as harvest season starts, though, I'm ready to begin the picking. Plucking tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, and beans from their vines, helping my mom prepare for her annual canning adventure, and trying to dig through the thick vines of the garden without angering any snakes...it's all pretty fun, really. 

A few days ago -I think it was close to a week ago, really -I volunteered to venture to the garden to get some fresh vegetables for dinner. My mom, as always, let me go. I pulled a large green plastic bowl from the cupboard, put on my old converse -as if I'd let my new ones touch the garden dirt -and traveled the sidewalk around the outside of my parents' house to the garden.  

My family's never had that large of a garden. It's just a modest sized square with various vegetables and marigolds, but it's a place I like to spend time in. harvesting vegetables while the scent of their plants, the marigolds, and the morning glories hang in the air...it's pretty close to heaven on earth. I was doing just that about a week ago. With the green bowl sitting beside me, my hands were plunged into the thick vines of the tomato plants. My eyes were trained on the leaves, the dirt, the shadows, on the look out for those shifty serpents that liked to sleep among the plants.  

Snakes don't really scare me. They have as much right to live on this earth as we -humans -do. As long as they don't threaten me, I'll leave them alone. I mainly look out for them because I don't want to startle them and earn a nasty fang mark from them. So, I kept my eye out for them while inspecting tomatoes. 

I had just pulled a rotting red tomato from the vine when I hard the planets to my right shiver. I wasted no more than a glance on the plants, figuring it was nothing more than a bird, but as I tossed the rotting fruit on the ground the plants began to shake violently. My attention was drawn to them and, slowly, I stepped away from the plants. In order for the plants to be shaking as they were, something of decent size had to be throwing quite the tantrum within them...and I had no interest in finding out what it was. 

I went to the other side of the garden, deciding to try my luck with the cucumbers instead, all the while keeping an eye on the tomato plants. The plants stopped their seizures after a few moments and I brushed it off. It was probably just one of the next door neighbor's cats; Romeo or Juliet deciding to hang out in the garden for a while.  Or it could have been the neighbor across the street's freaky looking Chihuahua. Either way, I had left the green bowl over by them and I needed to put some vegetables in it -my attempt at harvesting the cucumbers failed by the way, so I had green beans and peppers instead . I walked over to the bowl, intending on grabbing it and fleeing, but the plants began to shake again as soon as I approached them. 

"Chill, Ash, it's just a cat," I told myself. "No reason to get so jumpy." 

Hesitantly, I knelt to retrieve the bowl. Before I could even stand up, the creature inside the plants jumped out, aimed right for me. I have to admit that I screamed. Like, literally. I fell back, as the startled scream left my lips. The source of the plant's shivering landing right beside me. It's fluffy body moving fast as it hopped away. That's right, it was a bunny. A fluffy, white-tailed, brown-furred, long-eared bunny. And as I stared after it, hopping off the yard and across the street, I heard laughter tear through the air. From my place on  the ground, I half turned to see the next door neighbor leaning against the railing of his back porch. His laughter was deep and I swear he was almost crying from the force of his guffawing. 

I stood from the ground, brushing off my jeans and muttering about a stupid bunny rabbit when the neighbor called out. 

"Scared of rabbits, are we? You know, cottontail doesn't bite!"

I didn't reply back, but to offer him a wave and a smile. He's a relatively older man, probably somewhere in his late fifties...maybe older, and that was the first time I had ever seen him smile. Normally he just leans against his back porch railing looking depressed, sometimes with a cigarette between his lips. It was kind of nice to hear him laugh. To know that he had smiled at least once...even if it was from a stupid moment on my part. 

Whoever that rabbit was, it sure made my neighbor's day to see it scare the living daylights out of me...and, consequently, it added a bit of sunshine in my own life. Even I, the victim of the bunny's attack, have to admit that the whole thing was rather amusing. Though, I still can't believe that a rabbit was the cause of my momentary fear.