Don't Cry For Me Argentina

So, I have this friend. And this friend is Argentinean. He lived there until he was about 5, I believe, and then his family, including his older brother, moved to the States. Good ‘ol Conway, South Carolina in fact. When I entered into middle school, so did he, and we both joined the band. We went to different elementary schools and didn’t know one another until this pivotal point in both of our lives. And while we both were in separate band classes, he in the woodwinds, and I in the brass, I always saw him at after school rehearsals and during the concerts. Knowing he’ll probably read this, I know I’m going to get some serious beef for admitting this: He, in all seriousness, intimidated me more than anyone had up to that point in my life. I was TERRIFIED of Jose Pope. He always seemed so much more intelligent than I was. (He was. And still is. Sometimes.) I knew that he was foreign, that much was obvious. I also firmly believed that he couldn’t speak English. I’m not quite sure why at this point, because that seems like a very silly assumption to make about a person surrounded by Americans, conversing with them easily.

Anyway... Throughout the rest of middle school. Jose and I never really had a conversation. He would smile at me and I would probably look like a fool and try to find something be

tter to do. But when we were in the same room, I was always aware of him. (No, I’m not a creeper. I was intrigued by the only foreigner I knew.) At this point, I had learned that he did, in fact speak English fluently, and he socialized like every other middle schooler I knew. Except for me, who was too shy to leak out of my close circle of friends. I did, however notice that he acted a little different. He was kind not only with the people he was frequently seen with, but... to everyone! I mean, most kids weren’t outwardly hateful, they saved that for when their friends backs were turned, but Jose was kind to each and every person he talked to. The ugly, the beautiful, the average, the hateful, the generous, and the annoying. He seemed to have a place for them all. This is the first thing I ever learned from Jose. (The first of many, as I’m sure Jose would love to point out.) I learned from him (granted, it took a long time for me to realize this) not to be afraid of people who were different. Jose was my first friend that wasn’t a little average looking American kid, fast forwarding to high school. He is also, pretty much, the most “ethnic” thing I have run into in life thus far, aside from his 1.5 armed dad and sweetheart of a mother who’s cooking I’m dying to try.

(What I really want to say here is, “Basically, I feel like this blog is an advertisement for my Best friend. Ladies, he’s single.” But.....)

Graduation.

Basically, because of him, I am no longer afraid of the different. Through the course of high school, Josie (as I’ve taken to calling him) developed into my closest friend, and someone I could always rely on to tell me exactly what I didn’t want to hear, exactly when I needed to hear it. I could also count on him to tell me terrible stories about life in Argentina. Mainly about he and his brother killing numerous chickens for dinner and me being immensely grossed out.

Another random fact about Argentineans (and I’m pretty sure a lot of the world still works like this): They mate for life. Like people in America used to. Like penguins. The Pope sense of family was so intense that there were times it brought tears to my eyes. I longed for that to be my family, and so many of the families in America I’d heard about. It seems that they know something that we don’t here, or maybe that we’ve forgotten. I want that to be my family when I’m ready.

Oh, and never call an Argentinean a Mexican. They don’t like it very much. But they get used to it after a while.

And, I’m pretty sure he wrote “Don’t cry for me Argentina” when he left. Pretty sure. He’s that good. He inspires me.

Okay, I’m done. I love Jose Pope.

I’m sure I’ll add to this later. It doesn’t do him enough justice.

Please wash your hands.

Let me first begin by saying how appreciative I am of the fact that this weeks blog topic is on my health and wellness. Also that this particular topic falls on the week that I am incapacitated by the lovely Flu. (Okay, no, it’s not the “lovely” flu. But that is the correct use of the word “it’s.” I need some happy.)

Alright. After I have spent a full 5.37 minutes chuckling at the comic irony I continue to find in this topic (and cough a few hundred....thousand... times) I’ve come to a profound realize that the biggest challenge to staying healthy on campus is simply to not catch SOMETHING. I’m no germ-o-phobe. In fact, as a child, I was a firm believer in the 5, 10, and 15 second rules. I mean, God made dirt, right? While I may not take part in such, cough-cough, “rituals” now, if there’s only one baby carrot left in the bag and my butterfingers self drops it on the floor, you’re dang right I’d eat it! Now don’t wig out. I’m now smart enough to wash it first, or at least blow off the dirt.

I wash my hands after I pee; I cover my cough with my elbow. For heaven’s sake, I certainly don’t go running into peoples after-sneeze and breathe deeply! In summation, I’ve always been careful and cautious, but I don’t feel that I need to turn into Invader Zim and try to waste my life trying to disinfect the planet.⁵ But now, coming to college and hearing all this talk about the flu ep

idemic (and catching the dreaded flu myself) has given me a different outlook. In fact, when one stops to think about the possibilities, it’s really freaking scary! The Flu has an incubation period of 12-36 hours. How many doorknobs do we all touch just going through Blackman everyday? If one person who has the flu touches one doorknob in the music building then every other person who happens to touch that doorknob now has the flu. I’m not even considering the practice rooms and each of the 88 keys on the thousands of pianos that each of us just has to tinkle with whenever we walk by. And! not to mention the desks we sit in and the ensembles in which we all take part in. And another thing! The flu is AIRBORNE! We are musicians! Vocalists and wind players use AIR to create that beautiful thing we all love called music. And they have to rely on being able to breathe to create music. THEN FLU SEASON HITS!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! We are always in close proximity with each other and when one gets sick, doesn’t know it, and goes to class.... Well it’s no wonder the quarantined 2nd Pell is filling up so q

uickly! (It’s a good think I got it when I was at home last weekend, right?)

Okay, I feel much better now. Thanks for that. Now, to get back on topic...

As for staying healthy, how are you supposed to in the midst of all of this? Use the hand sanitizer that can be found around every corner? Well, yes. I did that. Wash your hands? Yes, yes, I did that as well. Stay away from sick people? Yes, that’s a given. But what about when those things fail, or when that’s not enough? Get a flu shot! And if that doesn’t work... pray. I truly believe that getting something like the flu is by luck of the draw, or rather, unluck. So, good luck staying healthy!

But, I’m sure other things are related. (Unlike the nature of this blog.) Ya know: “Get enough sleep” and “don’t get too stressed out.” Those are easier said than done. I’ve found that I’ve had to do as suggested and set a limit for how late I’ll allow myself to stay up every night. Without sleep I’m not at all functional and it only takes longer for me to get things done when I’m tired. As far as getting stressed out, I have my vent person. The person I know I can call at any time and let everything out too, or even just to get a hello from to bring around a calm to my being. That calm is absolutely necessary for me to continue converting O₂ into CO₂.

As far as eating and exercising go, I eat when I’m hungry and I go to and from class and all over campus. I also have my bike, and I love to ride around campus when I need to get away from my feet and think. This and shower time is when I rejuvenate my spirit. This is Erica time; time where I can sit and just think without feeling as if I should be somewhere else. I contemplate life and think about my future. I dream. I love dreaming.

I should probably eat more veggies, but I don’t eat lard all day. I enjoy the taste of most healthy foods, so I eat them (not corn,) but I do love to indulge in some purple ice cream from time to time.... Goodness it’s delicious.

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"You do not have to be an alcoholic to experience problems with alcohol."

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Wow, it’s as if that were my life mantra. Be prepared to get a little personal.

Both of my biological parents are alcoholics. They are divorced because their “love” for one another came from drunken snow-bunny embraces on a Colorado mountaintop and not from anything real. My mom is now 14 years sober and regularly attends AA meetings. We celebrate each year she adds another blue chip to her collection. During the short period in my youth when I lived with my mom, my sister and I would accompany her to these meetings. The smoke filled rooms were full of people sitting in a big circle pushed around to the edges of the wall telling terrible stories of their hardship. I experienced problems alcohol each time I looked into the eyes and hearts of these people who had so tainted their lives. At least they wanted to get better. Some did, some didn’t.

My dad, on the other hand, isn’t recovered. He’s also not loud or obnoxious when he’s drunk. That’s how I realized how bad it was. Every day, my day would walk around with a Gin and Tonic with a lime. Each time I saw the glass empty, it was no more than seconds until it was full again. His tolerance level for alcohol is so high that he when he has enough, he just passes out- usually on the couch in front of ESPN or CNN with the Gin and Tonic glass resting on his rather large belly.

With the addition of my Stepmom, she’s realized and he’s gotten much better. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him “passed-out,” but the memory of those days will never fade. I’ve experienced problems with alcohol. I’m bread to become addicted myself. It’s this reason that I won’t. I’ve seen what it does. It won’t do it to me. I know how I want my life to be and it’s NOT going to be run by a stinky liquid. I know I would be able to be responsible, but alcohol’s just not for me. Not ever. People tell me it’ll change, but my foot’s on the rock.

And I did not mean to end on an unhappy note.

Please stay healthy ya’ll!