People who cry usually make me laugh. Two teammates and good friends of mine, Fiona F. and Rachel W., broke into tears when reminiscing about their time spent at the University. Instead of laughing at their sorrow, I too shed a little tear. The lone tear and a Cosmo quiz got me thinking: Am I an emotional wreck heading down a track of emotional devastation and an emotional instability of emotions? I tried to gauge the severity of my situation by recounting all the times I've cried in my life:
In third grade, I lost a multiplication table contest and cried for days. Subsequently, I went to TJHSST and I was cool.
In fifth grade, I ate eight hot dogs at dinner so my sister wouldn't get any. My mother said I was "ridiculous" and that she'd never been more "disgusted" in her life. She made my sister more hot dogs, and I cried because I was full and couldn't eat those too.
In seventh grade, I pretended I got hit in the face with a whiffle ball. I cried so I wouldn't have to run the mile the next day.
During my first year of high school, my sister shaved off half her eyebrow and showed up at the dinner table with a band-aid over her eye. She thought her eyebrows were too hairy, and she wanted to draw them on with magic marker instead. I laughed until I cried. And then I cried for real because my stomach hurt (from laughing at my ugly sister) and I couldn't eat the hot dogs we were having for dinner.
When I was a sophomore in high school, a kid I was tutoring couldn't tell if I was a girl or boy. I told my teacher and she replied, "You're not a boy?" I cried and shaved my mustache that very night.
Junior year, I watched an amazing movie called "The Iron Giant." The movie follows the story of a little boy and a giant robot with lasers in his face. In the end, he has to save Alaska, so he pushes the little boy away and says, "You stay. I go." And then he flies into space and fights a nuclear warhead and explodes and I'm starting to cry now.
To celebrate the last day of high school, ever, I tried to bake a cake from scratch. Lesson learned: Water and flour do not equal delicious cake. Sprinkles did not help. I had to throw the entire pan into the woods. I cried because I was sure some animal or dinosaur would eat it and die.
I was in the middle of a rugby game in North Carolina when a girl on the opposing team bit my arm. I cried because I thought I had rabies. I cried again when my insurance company didn't believe another human bit me. And then I cried a third time when the nurses in the ER took pictures and said things like, "I don't know how to draw blood" and, "Do you know what HIV is?"
I was at Clemons studying for finals when a group of young men ran through the floor naked. Despite what other lady friends said about the cold weather, I believe in a reliable takeoff time, not the size of the plane. I cried because they never knew the extent of my desire. If you are one of those men, facebook me.
I cried a lot during Halloween my second year. I was dressed as the short bus and I cried when my cardboard stop sign got stuck to a real stop sign. I cried when I saw other people crying and I yelled, "Why is everybody crying?" I cried when I had to use pages of a Playboy for toilet paper. I cried when I ran into a parked car because it was dark outside and I was blinded by my own tears.
I cried when my roommate, B.F., walked into my room naked and sat on my furniture. She then proceeded to make me smell her "book" because it was "old" and "nasty." When I told her it smelled weird, she yelled, "I know!" and shoved it in my face. I cried a little on the inside, and even more on the outside.
Perhaps I am an emotional train wreck, perhaps I'm even a crybaby. But I have taught myself to rein in the tears by laughing when others cry. So next time I feel bad laughing at people like Fiona F. and Rachel W., I'll just remember: Is it worth crying over something without the iron giant?
Winnie's column runs bi-weekly on Thursdays. She can be reached at winnie@cavalierdaily.com.
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