I have literally spent every night this week in the library, and I've really only learned things about the people in my surroundings. Tonight, I heard the following conversation:
"Hi, what's your name?"
"Oh, I knew a Cali once."
"You did, huh?"
"Yep. Fifth grade."
Also, when I was in Arizona over spring break, I got my eyebrows waxed by a small Vietnamese woman who had little to no idea what she was doing, and I wanted to cry when she took off a good majority of my eyebrow. Last week while I was in Draper, I went to see my regular lady, Jada, who is also small, Vietnamese, and who I've been going to for years (she's the best). She told me never to go anywhere else ever again because "other artists destroy the beautiful work that [she] does on my eyebrows and [she] has to begin from scratch". She told me to come back in a month when they are fully grown in and I can give her something to work with. I am not trying to be dramatic, here, but after that lecture, I had never felt so much shame in my life.
I'm pretty sure my cousin's boyfriend, David, thinks I'm nuts, so, for the next little while, I'm going to keep it quiet that I call him "Dah-veed" behind his back.
And those are the stories of this Thursday night.