Why do I do the things I do?

There are several people I know that have a well worn routine. Whenever they see me, they tell me to be good. And as much as I appreciate that concern, I would probably be better off if they told me something along the lines of "Use your head, Carmen." If more people told me that on a regular basis, I might not be so.... Carmen-ish. Here's an example.

I was at a Braiding workshop a while back. When you braid, to keep tension, you use these really big clamps. And I mean BIG clamps. I had finished braiding and taken my braid and the clamp holding it, off the table. I was looking at it and wondered how it would feel if some body got their nose clamped with one of these things. Immeadiatly, the clamp begins wandering up toward my nose. Long story short, I was in a stalemate with myself. Funny Carmen vs. Intelligent Carmen. Either do the interesting thing (clamp my nose) or the smart thing (use common sense and don't clamp my nose). Intellingence won that battle but just barely.

So working at a place like the Museum is fun for me. Watching people clean stuff with acetone, clean stuff with air powered drills, playing complicated war games on the dry erase board, catologing old pieces of wood. I like working at the museum.

I really like working up in the front. It's always fun and relaxed behind the counter, which also works as a breakroom. There are also some incredibly funny people that I work with on a weekly basis. But the one person nesssary to this post is Linda. Linda is this nice older lady, she has an incredible sense of humor, and apparently has a never ending resource of patience for hyper-active teen volunteers. I had another clamp or not to clamp moment, except the second time it was a barcode scanner. My question was if the computer would price me by scanning my eyes. Linda looks over, sees me with the scanner and doesn't say anything. She just shrugs and laughs. She laughs even harder when I tell her what I'm considering doing. Linda is one of the nicest people I have met. Answers any questions I may have about general upkeep of the giftshop. Laughs when I stick the Museum sticker to my forehead. Very nice lady.

Last time I was at working at the Museum, Linda and I were in the giftshop. The curator and another volunteer where somewhere in the back. I was spinning around in this swivel chair and spot something lying next to the cash register. It was this little gray remote on a chain. I pushed the button on it to see if it did any thing. A little red light blinked on the top of it, but other than that, nothing happened. As I couldn't figure out what it did on my own, I turned to Linda for answers. Her first sentence was "Don't push the little button." Ooops.

Linda explained to me that the innocent little remote is actually a panic alarm. In case of emergency, push the button for 3 seconds and the police will come. If I was made of weaker stuff, I would have fallen off my swivel chair. But, luckily, I'm made of alot of moral fiber. (See my recount of the episode between myself, French Fry, and Soda Dude.) So I was also copelled to tell Linda that I had pushed the little button out of ignorance. She told me that she was pretty sure that I hadn't managed to call the police. A couple of minutes passed and I began to calm down. Until I glanced at the security camera moniter. There where two policemen standing outside the door. Needless to say, I wanted to fall off my swivel chair again. Once again, I didn't fall off. I was to nervous to speak. Would they take me to the Big House for pulling a false alarm? Would they call my parents? Would I have to stop working at the Museum? Would I get grounded?

As all these thoughts continued to swirl around in my head, the policemen entered. They did a good job checking to make sure we weren't hiding any one behind the counter or something. The first thing they asked once they entered the door, "Who set off the panic alarm?". For the third time, I wanted to and failed to fall off my chair. Linda and I, (mostly Linda), explained that it had been an accident and that there was no emegency. The policemen checked again, said that it was alright, asked how long it had taken them to get there, and then left.

I finally fell off the swivel chair. Here's where the notorious Find Every thing Funny Syndrome (F.E.F.S.) comes into play. I'm lying on the ground, after some of the most intense minutes of my life, and I start laughing. I was overcome with everything. I remain on the ground laughing for a little while, then pull myself into a different swivel chair. And start laughing again. Linda said something along the lines of "At least now we know it works!" and begins laughing herself. Once we get under control, who should walk in to the giftshop than the curator. He looks around and asks if any thing has happened. I can't remember if I wanted to start laughing again or fall off the chair.

I must commend those who spend time with me. I tend to find the oddest things in the most boring scenarios, and then laugh when the worst comes to worst. Curse you, F.E.F.S. and Unstoppable Imagination and Curiousity! Well, no, I take that back. I wouldn't have half as much fun and life would be a good step closer to normal for all who know and spend time with me.