From an old blog post of September 16, 2013. It was one of my few blog posts that anyone ever commented on. My friend Nelda said, "Intriguing. People ARE confusing, but I feel like sometimes that's a good thing, because then I wander home and think about things I never thought of before, because of them. My favorite was the line about roadkill." I can't really take credit for how awesome this story is because it's nonfiction and the awesome material was provided by the girl in question. For several nights afterward I went back to the park with an apple, hoping to see her again, until all my apples were gone. I never saw her again (unless she was the nearby girl who commented "That's awkward" while I was talking with another girl, whom I actually knew, on the swings in broad daylight). I wish I could see her again, and really get to know her, because she was
The Most Interesting Girl I've Ever Met
By C. Randall Nicholson
I am recording this conversation for posterity while it's still fresh in my mind. Some of it may not be particularly interesting to anyone except me. If you find that to be the case, you may skip ahead to the part that says "You may skip ahead to this part" in bold lettering. Sometimes I've had to paraphrase because my memory isn't perfect. Sorry about that.
On an unrelated note, this appears to be my 100th blog post ever. So, yay. I mean, it's not really much more significant than the 99th or 101st post, and just seems that way because humans worship multiples of ten and five, but still. Yay.
Last night at midnight, so technically this morning, I'd just gotten back from watching the weekly nature video with friends and was too wired to sleep, so I went down to the park. When I'm too wired to sleep I generally either walk to the temple and back or go to the park and play on the swings. This time, after playing on the swings for a while, I was still too wired to sleep so I wandered around for a bit before deciding to play on the swings some more. But now someone else was there.
I didn't want to creep her out, with this being night time and everything, so I said nothing and picked a swing that wasn't directly next to her. She wasn't really swinging, just kind of kicking her legs a little, and for some reason that made me feel like doing the same. So we both just kind of dangled there. I glanced over - she was wearing a skirt, and her hair was black, and her rather pale skin was gleaming in the moonlight. I stopped glancing because I didn't want to be creepy.
Turns out I needn't have worried. A few minutes into this she unexpectedly asked, "Do you come here a lot too?" She spoke without looking at me, still gazing straight ahead and up at the stars. Her voice was calm and level.
"Yeah," I said. "Sometimes when I can't sleep I just come down here and it's all peaceful and stuff. Like two a.m. sometimes. You too?"
As she talked, she glanced at me occasionally but mostly kept looking at the stars. "Later than that."
"Wow."
"Do you have trouble sleeping a lot?"
"Yeah - well, not so much anymore. I used to all the time but it's gotten better lately. Do you?"
"No. Night is just when I do things. I hate sunlight."
Her skin tone corroborated such a claim. That was the first inkling I got that maybe she was a vampire. I thought of Bella when she met Edward. Granted, I've never read that book or seen the movie, so all I had to go by was the trailer and the parody film "Vampires Suck". But I think I got the idea.
I was having a hard time hearing her voice, so I moved onto the swing next to her. "You have a quiet voice," I said, "so I'm moving closer."
"That's fine," she mumbled.
"Well, and I have a quiet voice too."
"It's a good thing I have good hearing."
"Yeah." We continued to kick in silence for a minute. "Are you going to school?" I asked. I had to ask that, because the last time a girl started a conversation with me in the park at night, she turned out to be thirteen years old.
"No," she said.
"Because there aren't enough night classes?" I hoped she didn't think I was making fun of her.
"No. Circumstances just didn't work out."
"Oh. I'm sorry." I decided not to press for information.
"It's fine. People just don't like hearing about it."
"So you won't tell me why because I wouldn't like hearing about it?"
"People just have certain beliefs, and when things happen that challenge those beliefs, they don't like it."
"Oh." I didn't know what that was an allusion to and decided maybe I didn't want to. Some of the "Gentiles" in Utah really don't like Latter-day Saints, and in many cases I can't honestly blame them.
"What year are you in school?" she asked.
I misheard it as "Where are you going to school" and said "USU".
"What year?" she repeated.
I felt like such an idiot. "Junior," I said.
"What are you studying?"
I've gotten very sick of answering this and all the other small talk questions five times a week, but this time was different. "Wildlife Science."
"Why did you pick that?"
"I just really like animals."
"Why do you like animals?"
It was a sincerely curious question, so I gave it some sincere thought. "Well, on two levels, I guess. I mean, on one level they're just really cool and interesting. But on another level, they're - I mean -" I could already tell she was the type who would understand me on this subject, yet I still struggled for words. "I'm not 'anti-human' or anything, but I like how animals don't have all the greediness and, um, evil and stuff. I mean, they do bad things to each other too, but it's just instinct. There's no malice in it. And like, I had a dog - he's still in New York, cause I grew up in New York, but I just really liked how as long as I took care of him he would love me, no matter what, and it was that simple. Humans are - humans can be so confusing and difficult to please. I don't know if I'm making sense."
"No, you are," she said. "It's true. People never really change." I felt as if she was speaking on two levels, of both individual people and humanity through history as a whole.
Now I'd told her I was from New York, and to keep the conversation going I asked, "Are you from around here?"
"No," she said. "I just wander around."
"Oh." As in, homeless? "I have a friend from high school, she dropped out and moved to North Carolina, and then Nebraska, and now she's in Florida. Are you like that?"
She smiled. "No, I'm on a set path. I get financial aid."
She volunteered no more information than that, and again I didn't feel comfortable prying. "You're very mysterious," I said.
"That's what they tell me." No emotion, just matter-of-fact.
"You seem so confident," I added. "Aloof" probably would have been a better word, but wouldn't have sounded as complimentary.
"I am," she said. "Mostly."
"I'm always self-conscious, and worried about what people think." Like right now. I'm not good enough for this conversation. You're so interesting, and I'm just... a person.
She stopped looking at the stars and turned to face me. "Why does it matter what other people think?"
"Well, I know it doesn't, on a logical level, but on an emotional level I guess -"
"Even on an emotional level, why does it matter? Look, I used to be like that. But there's so many people in the world, and there's no time to waste caring what a select few of them think."
You may skip ahead to this part.
"So," I asked, "when you come here and no one else is around, do you just swing here and think deep thoughts?"
"I always think deep thoughts."
Me too. Even in public, I occupy myself with my own thoughts and when someone talks to me it often jars me out of them in a very awkward manner. I thought about sharing that but decided against it and said instead, still feeling self-conscious, "I hope I'm not distracting you."
"The only thing distracting me is my stomach."
"You're hungry?"
"I'm starving."
"Do you have food - er - around?" (I almost said "at home", but it wasn't entirely clear to me whether she had a home.)
"I will soon."
"I have food at home. I can, uh, share with you, if you want."
"Thank you, that's very nice, but I only eat a specific thing."
I was right, she's a vampire. "Can I ask what that is?"
"Meat."
"Oh. So, you're like the opposite of a vegetarian."
She smirked. "Heh. Vegetarians."
I knew what she meant by that. "Yeah. I don't understand why most of them are so self-righteous, like they think you're a bad person if you don't share their views."
"It's because they believe killing is wrong. But the way I eat it is what really bothers people."
I envisioned her tearing into a live animal with her bare hands and teeth. "Raw?"
"Yeah. People freak out. But it's so good."
That sounded unhealthy, against the Word of Wisdom, and just plain disturbing, but I'm not one to judge or criticize. "I would just be worried about parasites."
"Bacteria only forms after it's been exposed to the air for a while."
So that would imply... "Do you, um, kill your own animals and eat them while they're fresh?"
She sidestepped the question and said something that sounded like "People look at me like roadkill". Or maybe she said "I eat roadkill." I don't know.
"So do you just not like vegetables?"
"I like apples."
Apples. I had plenty of apples at home. I could share them with her, if she would let me.
I think it was about that time that something imperceptible seemed to come over her, and I got the impression that she was listening to something - a mouse in the bushes, perhaps. Her words earlier about good hearing came to mind, and I didn't dare say a word that might distract her.
Then she got up and started walking away. I thought she was tracking something, so I followed. We were about halfway to the edge of the park when she turned, not breaking stride, and saw me. A questioning look crossed her face.
"Oh," I said, feeling very stupid and creepy, "are you leaving? I thought - you were following something."
"Yes, I'm leaving," she said, and turned back.
"Will you be back tomorrow night?"
She turned again. "Probably." And that was that. I watched her cross the street into someone's yard, past their house, and disappear into the darkness. I don't even know her name.
After I got home I asked myself, laughing, "What the frick just happened?" I couldn't believe this was real. She was like something out of a movie, or even a book. "Twilight" maybe, but really any fantasy where the protagonist is just a normal person who meets this strange person, who's just completely confident and aloof and knows they're unorthodox and doesn't care. I mean, I'm used to people being weird and goofy because it's fun, or to get attention, or because everyone else is doing it. But this girl wasn't like that. She was just genuinely different and didn't give a rat's behind if I accepted that or not. Either that, or someone I know saw me going to the park and called her up and asked her to play an elaborate prank on me.
In any case, my horizons have been broadened and I feel happy to have visited the Twilight Zone (pun not intended at first, but definitely intended once I noticed it) for a little while. But now I have unrealistic standards. Now any girl whose main diet staple isn't raw meat is just too boring for me.
And Chelsea, if you happen to read this, now I know why you keep your cats indoors at night.
On an unrelated note, this appears to be my 100th blog post ever. So, yay. I mean, it's not really much more significant than the 99th or 101st post, and just seems that way because humans worship multiples of ten and five, but still. Yay.
Last night at midnight, so technically this morning, I'd just gotten back from watching the weekly nature video with friends and was too wired to sleep, so I went down to the park. When I'm too wired to sleep I generally either walk to the temple and back or go to the park and play on the swings. This time, after playing on the swings for a while, I was still too wired to sleep so I wandered around for a bit before deciding to play on the swings some more. But now someone else was there.
I didn't want to creep her out, with this being night time and everything, so I said nothing and picked a swing that wasn't directly next to her. She wasn't really swinging, just kind of kicking her legs a little, and for some reason that made me feel like doing the same. So we both just kind of dangled there. I glanced over - she was wearing a skirt, and her hair was black, and her rather pale skin was gleaming in the moonlight. I stopped glancing because I didn't want to be creepy.
Turns out I needn't have worried. A few minutes into this she unexpectedly asked, "Do you come here a lot too?" She spoke without looking at me, still gazing straight ahead and up at the stars. Her voice was calm and level.
"Yeah," I said. "Sometimes when I can't sleep I just come down here and it's all peaceful and stuff. Like two a.m. sometimes. You too?"
As she talked, she glanced at me occasionally but mostly kept looking at the stars. "Later than that."
"Wow."
"Do you have trouble sleeping a lot?"
"Yeah - well, not so much anymore. I used to all the time but it's gotten better lately. Do you?"
"No. Night is just when I do things. I hate sunlight."
Her skin tone corroborated such a claim. That was the first inkling I got that maybe she was a vampire. I thought of Bella when she met Edward. Granted, I've never read that book or seen the movie, so all I had to go by was the trailer and the parody film "Vampires Suck". But I think I got the idea.
I was having a hard time hearing her voice, so I moved onto the swing next to her. "You have a quiet voice," I said, "so I'm moving closer."
"That's fine," she mumbled.
"Well, and I have a quiet voice too."
"It's a good thing I have good hearing."
"Yeah." We continued to kick in silence for a minute. "Are you going to school?" I asked. I had to ask that, because the last time a girl started a conversation with me in the park at night, she turned out to be thirteen years old.
"No," she said.
"Because there aren't enough night classes?" I hoped she didn't think I was making fun of her.
"No. Circumstances just didn't work out."
"Oh. I'm sorry." I decided not to press for information.
"It's fine. People just don't like hearing about it."
"So you won't tell me why because I wouldn't like hearing about it?"
"People just have certain beliefs, and when things happen that challenge those beliefs, they don't like it."
"Oh." I didn't know what that was an allusion to and decided maybe I didn't want to. Some of the "Gentiles" in Utah really don't like Latter-day Saints, and in many cases I can't honestly blame them.
"What year are you in school?" she asked.
I misheard it as "Where are you going to school" and said "USU".
"What year?" she repeated.
I felt like such an idiot. "Junior," I said.
"What are you studying?"
I've gotten very sick of answering this and all the other small talk questions five times a week, but this time was different. "Wildlife Science."
"Why did you pick that?"
"I just really like animals."
"Why do you like animals?"
It was a sincerely curious question, so I gave it some sincere thought. "Well, on two levels, I guess. I mean, on one level they're just really cool and interesting. But on another level, they're - I mean -" I could already tell she was the type who would understand me on this subject, yet I still struggled for words. "I'm not 'anti-human' or anything, but I like how animals don't have all the greediness and, um, evil and stuff. I mean, they do bad things to each other too, but it's just instinct. There's no malice in it. And like, I had a dog - he's still in New York, cause I grew up in New York, but I just really liked how as long as I took care of him he would love me, no matter what, and it was that simple. Humans are - humans can be so confusing and difficult to please. I don't know if I'm making sense."
"No, you are," she said. "It's true. People never really change." I felt as if she was speaking on two levels, of both individual people and humanity through history as a whole.
Now I'd told her I was from New York, and to keep the conversation going I asked, "Are you from around here?"
"No," she said. "I just wander around."
"Oh." As in, homeless? "I have a friend from high school, she dropped out and moved to North Carolina, and then Nebraska, and now she's in Florida. Are you like that?"
She smiled. "No, I'm on a set path. I get financial aid."
She volunteered no more information than that, and again I didn't feel comfortable prying. "You're very mysterious," I said.
"That's what they tell me." No emotion, just matter-of-fact.
"You seem so confident," I added. "Aloof" probably would have been a better word, but wouldn't have sounded as complimentary.
"I am," she said. "Mostly."
"I'm always self-conscious, and worried about what people think." Like right now. I'm not good enough for this conversation. You're so interesting, and I'm just... a person.
She stopped looking at the stars and turned to face me. "Why does it matter what other people think?"
"Well, I know it doesn't, on a logical level, but on an emotional level I guess -"
"Even on an emotional level, why does it matter? Look, I used to be like that. But there's so many people in the world, and there's no time to waste caring what a select few of them think."
You may skip ahead to this part.
"So," I asked, "when you come here and no one else is around, do you just swing here and think deep thoughts?"
"I always think deep thoughts."
Me too. Even in public, I occupy myself with my own thoughts and when someone talks to me it often jars me out of them in a very awkward manner. I thought about sharing that but decided against it and said instead, still feeling self-conscious, "I hope I'm not distracting you."
"The only thing distracting me is my stomach."
"You're hungry?"
"I'm starving."
"Do you have food - er - around?" (I almost said "at home", but it wasn't entirely clear to me whether she had a home.)
"I will soon."
"I have food at home. I can, uh, share with you, if you want."
"Thank you, that's very nice, but I only eat a specific thing."
I was right, she's a vampire. "Can I ask what that is?"
"Meat."
"Oh. So, you're like the opposite of a vegetarian."
She smirked. "Heh. Vegetarians."
I knew what she meant by that. "Yeah. I don't understand why most of them are so self-righteous, like they think you're a bad person if you don't share their views."
"It's because they believe killing is wrong. But the way I eat it is what really bothers people."
I envisioned her tearing into a live animal with her bare hands and teeth. "Raw?"
"Yeah. People freak out. But it's so good."
That sounded unhealthy, against the Word of Wisdom, and just plain disturbing, but I'm not one to judge or criticize. "I would just be worried about parasites."
"Bacteria only forms after it's been exposed to the air for a while."
So that would imply... "Do you, um, kill your own animals and eat them while they're fresh?"
She sidestepped the question and said something that sounded like "People look at me like roadkill". Or maybe she said "I eat roadkill." I don't know.
"So do you just not like vegetables?"
"I like apples."
Apples. I had plenty of apples at home. I could share them with her, if she would let me.
I think it was about that time that something imperceptible seemed to come over her, and I got the impression that she was listening to something - a mouse in the bushes, perhaps. Her words earlier about good hearing came to mind, and I didn't dare say a word that might distract her.
Then she got up and started walking away. I thought she was tracking something, so I followed. We were about halfway to the edge of the park when she turned, not breaking stride, and saw me. A questioning look crossed her face.
"Oh," I said, feeling very stupid and creepy, "are you leaving? I thought - you were following something."
"Yes, I'm leaving," she said, and turned back.
"Will you be back tomorrow night?"
She turned again. "Probably." And that was that. I watched her cross the street into someone's yard, past their house, and disappear into the darkness. I don't even know her name.
After I got home I asked myself, laughing, "What the frick just happened?" I couldn't believe this was real. She was like something out of a movie, or even a book. "Twilight" maybe, but really any fantasy where the protagonist is just a normal person who meets this strange person, who's just completely confident and aloof and knows they're unorthodox and doesn't care. I mean, I'm used to people being weird and goofy because it's fun, or to get attention, or because everyone else is doing it. But this girl wasn't like that. She was just genuinely different and didn't give a rat's behind if I accepted that or not. Either that, or someone I know saw me going to the park and called her up and asked her to play an elaborate prank on me.
In any case, my horizons have been broadened and I feel happy to have visited the Twilight Zone (pun not intended at first, but definitely intended once I noticed it) for a little while. But now I have unrealistic standards. Now any girl whose main diet staple isn't raw meat is just too boring for me.
And Chelsea, if you happen to read this, now I know why you keep your cats indoors at night.