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There are little things in life that seem to bother me much more than the big things. I mean, sure, I get stressed out over a test, these stupid Convos and what seems to be an overwhelming amount of work being thrown at me. Then there’s always the pressure of the real world looming after April graduation. However, what seems to really bother me are stupid little things.
The little things are basic — cutting a straight line with scissors, opening those little foil ketchup packets, this tiny knick in my sunglasses that I only see if I strain my eyes to the left (there is always something in my peripheral vision), and when I get done confirming that it is in fact a small scratch and not an assassin stalking me, my eyes hurt.
The problem is that these little things never leave me alone. I’ll finish my test, I’ll find a fine job and I might even end up passing Convo, but still after all the big things are resolved, I still can’t effectively remove just three ice cubes from the tray without spilling the beverage accessories everywhere.
I am aware that all of these problems I’m complaining about have simple solutions — use a bottle of Ketchup, use paper cutters instead of a scissors, buy new sunglasses and use an ice bin to empty all of the cubes so that any number may be selected. I am of course frustrated about the big stresses that Pepperdine exerts on me. Those big annoyances are weighing down on me and blinding me from those little things that Pepperdine has to make life fantastic.
I am not a wholly negative person — there are great little things here: I like the cookies in the caf, I like the statue of Columbus and I like it when the gate to the main lot is up at night and coffee and ducks. This line of thinking made me realize that often times what makes something horrible or just peachy keen are the little things.
This got me to thinking about the little things at Pepperdine that I will miss — the little things that enhance the mystery and pleasure of life. I have concluded that I will miss the people. And not just the beautiful people sunning themselves in my vicinity, although I will miss them to (it’s just nice to know that they are there). More than the people who seem to be statures of beauty, I will truly miss the small kindnesses that seem to be everywhere.
I will guarantee that this situation will NEVER happen in the real world: At cash register of food place “Aww, shoot,” I will say disparagingly to a cashier, “I don’t have anymore money on my card; here let me give you some cash.” But as I reach for my wallet a voice from behind speaks up: “Here. Use my card. I have lots of money on it.” The friendly voice materializes into a friendly person who has just magically paid for your food. This situation, which is unimaginable in real life, exists at Pepperdine.
Also, because I am vehicularly impaired, I sit at a bus stop only to be kindly offered a ride to my destination. It is a freely offered ride given even without an outstretched thumb. I relish every instance I see of Pepperdine’s community being extraordinary while playing of these acts as nothing but what anyone would do.
I need a small community to join, so I can continue be rewarded with these simple pleasures, but the only mini-societies that I have found are nudist colonies and new age religious organizations, both of which, quite frankly, scare me. When I leave Pepperdine, I will not just be leaving the big things like my friends, the classes, Convo, and this beautiful view, but I will be leaving a community of fine individuals that create for me the little things that I enjoy so much. At least I’ll still have ducks and coffee.
Submitted 03-17-2005
MALIBU, CA
