Find tiffany joy clark at our new web address, https://tiffanyjoyclark.wordpress.com/.
Find tiffany joy clark at our new web address, https://tiffanyjoyclark.wordpress.com/.
Last night, my apartment building caught fire.
Sort of. They still don’t know what happened, which is honestly more discouraging than an observable fire.
I was rounding the corner to my building when I heard the sirens — and you know whenever you hear firetrucks you get the mini-est of mini sinking feelings but basically know it’s 99.9% likely they’re not for you? So, I had that, until I saw it slow down in front of the turn into my complex.
Now, the light-hearted part about this whole ordeal happened at this very beginning point when I neared the building and saw a weirdly spaced out group of people just outside the back door.
At first, I thought it was a group of friends waiting on someone or gathering at a meeting place, but with the context clue of the firetruck coupled with the fact that they were all standing at least 5 feet away from each other, I figured something was, unfortunately, up.
That was so weird to me. Like, our house is on fire!! Our HOUSE!! Talk to each other! Ask if everyone is okay!! Ask if anyone knows what’s going on!!!
Anyway, I, Tiffany Clark, walked up to the general area of the group and said, “Is something actually on fire or,” and thankfully the person I stood the closest to engaged with me with, “Maybe.”
I promptly announced that I did not have time for this, and that I needed to get my cat out of there, and went into the building now featuring an aggressively loud buzzer and that was also maybe on fire.
To accurately represent how frightened I was, I will tell you that I was able to run up 5 flights of stairs with a heavy bag without stopping or dry heaving after. The 3rd and 4th floor landings were hazy, and everything smelled like just-blown-out candles.
I did stop at the landing before touching the door handle — not because of fire drill training in school but because of that one scene in The Office — but my almost-adherence to fire safety protocol was quickly thrown aside as I heard what I assumed to be firemen bang the door to the landing above me and start clamoring down the stairs.
I, a small, frightened do-gooder knowing full well running inside a potentially burning building was way against the rules, flung the door to the 5th floor open and flew down my hall before the firemen who were just doing their job and would have been absolutely right to tell me to leave, what are you doing, go outside oh my god, could catch me.
I had to get my cat out safely, you see.
In retrospect, I should not have run at my cat when I got into my apartment. I know that now.
It took 7 nerve-wracking minutes of sectioning off my apartment into spots she could not hide under and tossing at least 20 treats into her carrier before she got near enough to me that I could get her into it, during which time the firemen came down the hall and banged on every door and yelled at us to get out, then made their clamoring way down to the next floor. Contrariwise, the aggressively loud buzzer was screaming at me the whole time.
Cat got outside unscathed, and while more cat scratches had been added to my collection I was otherwise fine.
I rushed down the stairs to see 3 firetrucks, an EMS vehicle, and a police cruiser near the front of the building, and the people by the side I came out were also spread apart like nothing was happening and they just thought they’d come outside and stand for a bit. I tried to talk to a girl near me using my cat as a cute approachable pet owner scheme, but she wasn’t really interested.
I literally do not get it. A) I am a treasure but B) connect with me in this frightening human experience we are having, Nicole (she was wearing purple and had dark hair and looked like a Nicole)!! This is a time for fellowship!! Do you know what is on fire, Nicole???? Are all of the dogs okay, Nicole????
After about 10 minutes of lonely anxiety, the buzzer shut off and the EMS truck and police cruiser left — I supposed that meant no one was hurt. But the 3 firetrucks were still there, so, do we go in?
I did, along with Nicole and a few others, but while they went up the stairs I went to the front of the building where the elevators are because my cat is weight and I was tired.
I got caught by the building manager, who said that I needed to come back outside.
We waited out front, where the bulk of the residents were, and it was nice to see little groups of worried people this time rather than indifferent stand-alones. It was NOT nice to hear that “smoke was spotted” but they didn’t know anything else, and though they let us go back in after a only a few minutes had passed, they had us promise that if the alarm went off again we’d come back out.
“It’s probably nothing but you’re maybe still in mortal danger” is what I got from that, which neither achieved the least by offering an explanation nor served a decent purpose in comforting us.
Whatever happened, it didn’t happen again, and after half an hour the firetrucks left and I let Cat out of her carrier. She was grateful and not vindictive, and stretched cutely and gave my hand a little boop with her head.
I collected myself and rushed to my car (but not while in my car, @CHPD) and got to go see the last 20 minutes of The Little Mermaid, Jr. put on by elementary schoolers and starring some of the kids that come to our after school program at Morehead, so that was a devastatingly adorable reward for surviving an almost fire.
Moral of the story even though everything worked out okay: absolutely Do Not go into a building that is maybe on fire. If someone is about to Do That, like I did, stop them. And talk to them if they are scared.
And go follow my cat on Instagram: @andromedasadventures. ♥
“‘In progress’ has become my least favorite word combination. Ever.” (x)
“In progress,” of course, is a specific status label when applying to Disney internships, and since I’m not doing much else these days I’m running with it as a double entendre.
A lot of things in my life are in progress. The probably smallest things that really just add an extra step to my day are my new ear piercings — don’t get excited, they’re the standard second ones right next to the first ones, I’m just behind with the trend. What I didn’t remember from getting my ears pierced for the first time in 5th grade (aside from it being $50, what the heck) was that I have to clean these things 3 (three) times a day, and also I can’t take them out for 6 weeks.
That’s so much time for both of those things.
So that’s in progress for the next five and a half weeks, I have an interview tomorrow that I probably won’t hear back from for potentially also five and a half weeks, and I have at least 10 internships I can literally see they haven’t even looked at yet. Also, my cat is still on her weight loss regime, so I’ve got to keep up with that.
I’ve got Netflix shows in progress.
I realized that younger me had already made the “tiffanyjoyclark.wordpress.com” account, and after an hour I finally figured out the email/passcode combination, and then discarded the URL, and then tried to claim it on this account and couldn’t because now it’s permanently disabled, so I obviously wanted to contact WordPress support but couldn’t because I don’t pay for any sort of premium account, so I posted my woes on the forums as suggested, but obviously no one responded because nobody not working for WordPress would at all be able to help me, so I thought I’d just pay for a month to get the help I need but turns out you have to pay yearly, so I wasn’t going to pay $36 to ask a question, so THAT’S in progress.
I’m growing my hair long again. That’s not even anything I can influence. That’s almost as infuriating as the $36 question.
But I can’t imagine a time in my life where something wouldn’t be in progress. I’m waiting and waiting and waiting for all these things to culminate into something final and perfect, but they won’t.
Things will fall apart, or more things will try and join in, or I’ll switch directions entirely. Or, everything I’m working toward and hoping for will happen perfectly (maybe it’s one of Tiffany’s Good Universes after all, but recently things have been excessively disproving that), and what then? Does everything just stop and be perfect and final for the whole rest of all of my time?
Of course not.
We’re always in progress. There will always be something new, whether it’s thrown at us or we decide to pursue it (insert “Some are born great” Shakespeare quote here). I feel antsy when I’m not actively moving forward, or at least trying to, and I know that even if everything I’m working toward now somehow came together just how I imagined, it wouldn’t stay like that.
I like change. I like doing new things, and I like doing them often. While I can’t channel that drive into traveling the world right now — because lbr no amount of optimism and free-spirited “just go” speeches can change the fact that I don’t make enough right now to afford even a one-way trip to anywhere — I can apply it to my everyday life, and I’d argue that’s almost more important.
Our perspectives are individualistic. It’s their thing. But the difference between being narrow or open-minded is our ability and willingness to see the world for the mosaic of human stories it really is. The world is run on stories. We’ve all seen that post, “Life is a book, and those who don’t travel only read one chapter” or whatever classist nonsense it says; I would like to counter and substitute “travel” with “engage in relationships with others and search for or take every opportunity given to them to enrich their understanding of the human experience,” and “read” with “write.”
So that’s what I’m trying to do. Small-scale book building.
This is more of a pep-talk for myself than anything else, but for anyone who’s gotten past the cliches and is still reading, I’d like to give you one more:
Being a work in progress does not mean you have failed to succeed.
Moreover, having to work harder than you expected in order to reach your goal does not mean you are stupid, or less-than. When something is difficult, and you don’t think you can manage a perfect outcome, if you work your very best at it the end result can only be your very best — and your very best is always good, and enough.
Plus, every time you push yourself to experience/try/work at something different or new (or differently or from a new angle), I suppose you could say you’re writing a new page. Because I say you could.
Updates on my Disney internships here.