Emotional humility is having to admit to people that you feel pretty meh about Star Wars.
Emotional humility is defriending someone on Facebook who you thought you would never see again only to have them confront you about it two years later in front of a group of people.
Emotional humility is saying goodbye to someone after hanging out and then realizing you both parked in the same direction.
Emotional humility is accidentally making eye contact with someone in the car next to you and doing your best to give them a heart eye emoji face to make the uncomfortable in a whimsical way.
Emotional humility is when sometimes you try to hard to be alternative, but ultimately you are still right handed.
Emotional humility is not being able to tell a workout song from a regular song.
Emotional humility is admitting that your keyboard is red not from blood, sweat, and tears, but from Hot Cheeto dust.
Emotional humility is not updating your blog in six months and admitting that was an oopsy. It is also emitting a small prayer than you are using the term emotional humility correctly.
God showed me an acrobat who dreams of being a clown to remind me that I live in the most beautiful of poems.
I am super straight-forward, and sometimes it gets me in trouble. In 10th grade, I told my English teacher he was the worst teacher I’ve ever had – to his face. I guess that can be pretty unsettling for a teacher to hear, so the next day he asked me to stay back after class for what proved to be the longest two minutes of my life. My brashness about his lack of ability as an academic inspired him to write a poem about his feelings, and he needed to read it to me, dramatically.
I couldn’t tell you a single word he said because I was too busy dying. I didn’t know where to look: should I make eye contact? should I stare at the floor? should I close my eyes and pretend this wasn’t happening? what should I do with my hands? Luckily (?), he was so in to reading his poem with intense emotion that I don’t think he noticed. It was probably textbook how-not-to-communicate on both sides.
Ever since then, I freeze up when people recite poetry they’ve written. Sometimes boys like to pull out the “I wrote a poem for you” card out on me. Yes, this still happens in 2011. I obviously can’t speak for all girls, but I can’t be the only who thinks love poem recitations are super awkward and kind of lame. Though, it’s almost worse when boys sing to you because it lasts longer and you get 2-4x the anxiety of figuring out what to do with yourself for all that time. Eye contact? smiling? Tips greatly appreciated. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful and flattered that this has happened to me quite a few times, but I was even more grateful when they were over.
Anyways, dear future boyfriends, please don’t write me love poems, watch weird documentaries on Netflix Instant with me instead.
p.s. totally wrote this blog post while eavesdropping on the most depressing job interview at Subway