My observation of the last few weeks has been a little crazy.
I have talked to many who are going through a lot of hard times, such as a serious health condition with him or herself or a family member, dating hazards, or just not being used to college life.
You are not alone. Life has a way of making each of us feel like we have toilet paper stuck to our shoe.
Life is an awkward place. We must come to some sort of terms with this concept.
I, therefore, submit a new word to the English language, or at least a new definition.
Goober (n.) \gu-ber\ – A socially conscious person who usually finds him or herself in a socially awkward position or situation usually by accident that fails to show how cool and confident that individual may truly be.
I am a Goober, and let it be known that I hereby declare my candidacy for the BYU-Idaho Goober-natorial race of 2006.
As a race contender I would like to illustrate the word goober with real-life application.
A couple years ago I was walking on campus. I exited the south side of the David O. McKay Library and was joined by a pretty young lady who had just emerged from the library tunnel on her way to the Hyrum Manwaring Center.
I didn’t have the nerve to start a conversation with her because I was not the confident pillar of handsomeness and humor that stands before you today.
As I walked to the MC, being closely followed by this very cute co-ed, I tried to focus on walking as coolly and powerfully as I could.
Have you ever tried to look cool and confident going up and down stairs? I have and that is where this story takes a dive.
I hopped up the first two sets of stairs coming out of the library courtyard.
I’m looking pretty good, I thought to myself.
She has to be impressed!
I want to add that I was a Goober-in-training, thinking people can be impressed by the way another walks.
Now, only the last set of stairs stood between me and the doors of the MC.
Do marathon runners struggle more at the beginning or at the end of races? Does the first bite of the Big Jud Burger taste the best or is it the last? I suggest the last part of any process is the hardest and least pleasant.
I bounded up the steps, and on the last one I realized I was losing altitude and headed swiftly for the cement patio.
As I fumbled toward the ground I knew that I had not lifted my foot high enough to clear the last step, and as a result I lurched forward like a drunken chicken trying to bring balance back into my stride.
My efforts only prolonged my strange and ungraceful fall.
As I rested on my back, looking up at the beautifully calm Idaho sky, I quickly identified two plans for recovery:
I could – one – look back with disgust at the stairs, as if it was the stairs’ fault or – two – get up quickly and walk angrily away.
I chose neither of the two but went down a third road. It was the Goober thing I like to call Jurassic Vision.
It is not very technical. It is simply that if you don’t move, no one will see you.
I am not exactly sure what I was thinking because when that young lady caught up with me she kindly asked if I was OK.
“I’m fine,” I said knowing for sure that the Jurassic Vision option didn’t work, nor would it ever work in similar situations.
Life is full of these situations.
Stairs of friendships. Stairs of family. Stairs of school. Stairs of employment.
We grow by climbing stairs of life, and we can’t stop moving when we fall.
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