Blog Post By
Joseph Meier
I remember the first time I saw Angela Velasquez. In a sea of vapid hollow normality, she stood like a lighthouse shining in the darkness. I was in the lunchroom at King High School, and she was standing, tray in hand, looking for a place to sit. She had the stupidest look on her face, typical of a freshmen during the first week of school. Despite the fact that our cliques brushed shoulders, I would not see her again for ten years.
My first week of school at the University of South Florida as a transfer student, I was kicked out of one of my class because the alarm on my phone went off. Professor P and I had a standoff which made quite a scene in my sociology class. Angela was sitting there in the front row and watched me walk out. She later told me that she did not think that she would ever see me again, but I am a tenacious person. I was not going to let one teacher detour my goals in life. Professor P and I are friends today.
One day our class was canceled, and neither Angela nor I checked our email. I saw her face to face and recognized her from the lunchroom all those years ago. Then I asked the words that would begin a relationship that has changed my life: “What high school did you go to?”
It has been a seemingly short two years since I asked that question, and I cannot understand why people look at me and wonder why I am involved in a long-term relationship with the person I affectionately call Baby Bird. How can these people look at her face and not see what I see?
My first week of school at the University of South Florida as a transfer student, I was kicked out of one of my class because the alarm on my phone went off. Professor P and I had a standoff which made quite a scene in my sociology class. Angela was sitting there in the front row and watched me walk out. She later told me that she did not think that she would ever see me again, but I am a tenacious person. I was not going to let one teacher detour my goals in life. Professor P and I are friends today.
One day our class was canceled, and neither Angela nor I checked our email. I saw her face to face and recognized her from the lunchroom all those years ago. Then I asked the words that would begin a relationship that has changed my life: “What high school did you go to?”
It has been a seemingly short two years since I asked that question, and I cannot understand why people look at me and wonder why I am involved in a long-term relationship with the person I affectionately call Baby Bird. How can these people look at her face and not see what I see?
Symmetry is so very boring; there is nothing interesting about it. I find the “different” far more alluring. What people call ugly, I find fascinating and beautiful. The first time I saw a dying tree, I fixated on its wondrous form. Perhaps no one will believe me, but I was first attracted to Baby Bird because she is attractive, yes even her face. I did not see her inner beauty initially, nor am I free of shallow tendencies. I was attracted to her.
Over the past two years, I have discovered her vibrant personality, her soul-pounding inner strengths, and her emotional frailties. She gets more beautiful every day.
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