I am definitely one of those nerds who goes to the library to study on Saturday. But you know, it's not so bad to burrow away in the bowels of the BYU periodicals because every so often the HBLL throws the patient observer a bone (i.e. an awkward duo, a dosing student etc.).
And after a few hours of staring at long words about rocks and minerals, I become one of those patient observers. Some people call people like me a “people-watcher” but that sounds a little extreme and creepy. Anyway, the people I was observing weren't even in the library. They were outside on the hill that slopes down towards the periodical section's windows.
At first, the laughter and screams caught my attention. Kids were flinging themselves off the top of the hill and rolling awkwardly down to the bottom. I remembered rolling down hills as a kid. . .or yesterday. It kind of hurts. Who came up with rolling down hills? Princess Buttercup? But the fact remains that the only things that had kept me from rolling down that exact same hill in the past were—I dunno—social conventions? That and the fact that I am always on my own around campus and it wouldn't seem as weird to go screaming down a hill with another person as it would by yourself. I don't think I'd enjoy being the “funniest thing I saw on campus today professor. . .” You know it would happen. But I digress.
While I was thus engaged in observing and reminiscing, I noticed a man standing over some sort of bundle and trying to roll it down the hill. I soon realized that the bundle was a toddler, barely able to crawl. His parent would push him a little ways, the toddler would attempt to crawl back up the hill, and then his parent would push him again. The toddler wasn't upset—but I caught myself wondering if he really wanted to roll down the hill at all. This crawl-push cycle went on for several minutes and I found the whole scenario 2% bizarre and 98% hilarious.
And then I realized that I was laughing out-loud. In the periodicals. Some kid was looking at me (probably the same kid that “looked” at me when I awoke to find myself slapping the “spiders” off my leg after a strange dream in the middle of American Heritage). So I dug out a book that I could actually pay attention to and sank back into my studies.
Disclaimer: I realize that some of you may have been anticipating an entry about my summer. No such luck. If you want to find out about my summer, all you have to do is ask. I'm free Wednesdays and Sundays. And yes, I did meet King Noah and a Nephite baby. I went to Canada for the express purpose of staring at America. My mom was a much better rocker than my little brother and I. And I deliberately walked into an elevator that was about to drop 13 stories.
