There’s a middle-aged man who lives down the block from me that I’ve watched for the last four years. Every day-even in the cold months- he puts on his bathing suit and goes for a swim in the ocean. Every time I see him, I’m inspired to revaluate my life. Every time I see him, I’m tempted to ask him to take another route-it’s been a pretty self-reflective four years.

I had a very simple New Year’s resolution -find the time to put my feet on the sand- once a day- every day. Since January I’ve done this maybe 8 times. That’s 8 days in 5 months that I’ve walked out my front door and taken the 20 steps to the beach.

I wonder when that man resolved to go for his daily swim. Is he retired? Stress never seems to line his face. His feet don’t carry the hurried steps that accompany most of my peers. In fact, he carries an unfamiliar air. He looks…calm.

I’m not sure why that word terrifies me so much. Maybe it’s all the coffee and Red Bull I pump through my bloodstream daily that has me thinking there could be nothing worse the inevitable crash-that calmness that comes in the form of a racing heart and shaking hands.

In my mind that man has worked his whole life for that walk, and every time he puts his feet in the water he remembers the effort it took to get him there- to his small house and his inexpensive car. He considers all the things he skimped on, just for his routine.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve waited for anything. My entire life I’ve seen something I have wanted and grabbed it. Cute boy across the room-he’s mine before the night is over. Fancy shoes in the boutique window-blind to the price tag I buy them. A new place to explore- I’ll find the funds, take out a loan, do what I have to, to get there tomorrow.

So today, with that middle-aged man in mind- I resolve to WAIT.

I choose NOT to act on impulse anymore. Unless that cute boy approaches me, I’ll wait for next time, and if there’s no next time, I will be content with never knowing him. Unless I’ve won a shopping spree, I’ll leave the sparkly shoes on the shelf. I’ll make my backyard uncharted territory. I’ll look at familiar places with unfamiliar eyes.

Hopefully not acting will help me to act in new ways. The beauty I miss out on every day will become clear. Fingers crossed- I might even lose that hurried step and the lines forming between my brows will cease to increase. I’ll start to carry around that previously dreaded four-letter word. Maybe I’ll become- calm.

FREE HIV TESTING

For some reason whenever I have a homework assignment, anything other than actually doing the homework sounds appealing. ANYTHING. Is there laundry to be done? Well today’s the day to wash it. Is there a long lost friend who deserves a letter via snail mail? Today’s the day to write it. Does the toilet look a little dull? Today’s got to be the day to bleach it. (Finally spring break is here, and I can catch up on some homework-Blog to write?)

So to back track, on a rare day that I actually got to school early-to study for a very important test- I see a bus for FREE HIV TESTING.

“Why the hell not?” I ask myself. I’ve got an hour to kill and only two weeks to wait. I am the only person at 11 a.m. in the line so I am eagerly ushered onto the bus.

“How many people have you slept with?”

“Have you ever shared drugs with somebody?”

“When was the last time you’ve had sex? Vaginal? Anal? Oral?”

“So, why are you here today?”

These answers will remain anonymous except to Dave, my only counsel through the next 20 minutes (note to everyone reading-the results from a test on a bus take a lot less time than anywhere else).

In an attempt to answer the one question from my friends, family, and teachers,

“Josie, why would you ever take that test?”

I decided to do some research, so for all of you wondering the same, here you go:

The Center for Disease Control, CDC, has estimated that there are one million people living with HIV in the United States.

21% (one in five) of people living with HIV are UNAWARE they have HIV.

The highest number of cases in the U.S. is in California, New York, FLORIDA and Texas.

Jacksonville ranks just below Miami for highest number of cases in Florida.

If that information is not enough for you to understand why I decided to take the three steps and 20 minutes out of my way, then maybe this will convince you.

Instead of giving you a name to get your results, they give you a number. The bus had been open for three hours. I was number two.

Twenty minutes later there were only two more girls, numbers 3 and 4. When I glanced at them I couldn’t help myself from asking the same questions I had been asked.

“What are their reasons for being here?”

But don’t I already know the answer? Just to be sure, right? Is there any other reason? How could you not want to know? What if you didn’t know? And why were there no men on this bus?

According to the CDC, males accounted for 3 out of 4 AIDS diagnoses in the U.S.

Why is it that women are always left to pick up the pieces? Are we the only ones who really want to know? Am I being totally biased in asking this?

I have absolutely no answers to any of my questions.

Someone once said to me, “It hurts like hell when you fall, but it hurts even worse not to get back up again.”

With that in mind, the only thing I know with any certainty from my experience is this: Be careful when walking off a giant bus surrounded by peers with the words FREE HIV TESTING written on the side. There is no graceful way to stand up from a face plant that high…so much for anonymity.