I arrive on floor twenty-one; fifteen floors above my own. The elevator doors glide open, and I am greeted by a large poster of a friendly looking yellow sponge and a pink starfish. I walk out of the elevator and proceed to my right. My interviewee’s room number was 2123, and I struggled to find it at first. I walk the perimeter of the floor, and discover it in the corner. It was just a plain brown door; there were no name markers on it. I hoped she had given me the right room number. I knock with force three times, and wait patiently. After about ten quick seconds, the door flies open and startles me a little.
“Hey! Sorry my room is a little bit messy, I was gone all weekend, ...view middle of the document...
“I like it, it is a lot cleaner than mine” I say. She chuckles. By her appearance, I figured that her room would be a bit more messy; she isn’t exactly organized when it comes to school. A couple times when I had first started hanging out with her, she forgot her identification card when we went to grab a bite to eat.
It is slightly interesting how I met this unique girl. On the first day of Pioneer Camp, I was looking for new people to interact with, as that was one of my personal goals for my first year of college. I saw her from a distance, and noticed that she had the appearance and vibe of my friends from my town. I approached the blue-haired girl and basically asked if she wanted to be friends. She said yes, and we continued to hang out throughout the whole rest of the day. Even though I have known her for a little bit now, I chose to interview her because she has a complicated past, and I wanted to dig deep to learn more about this intriguing individual.
We kicked back and relaxed a little bit before I started the interview. She was on her black laptop, occasionally looking away to check her phone for a text. I always knew who it was when a text notification was followed with a smile: it was her boyfriend back in her hometown. I browse the room with my eyes some more, looking at little knick-knacks and her collection of cute bows and headbands. My eyes move to the shelf above her bed and I am immediately drawn to a breathtaking work of art. It was a radiating heart made out of crayons glued to a medium sized canvas. It then looked as if it had been heated from the center, and the crayon wax melted outward.
“Jenna, where did you get this, or did you create it?” I ask.
“Actually yeah. I am the artist! You want my autograph?” she asked jokingly. “I even won an award for it. My high school art teacher said I should submit it, and I won. I didn’t think I was going to. There was a lot of better art.”
“You didn’t think you were going to win?” I asked, shocked. “Jenna this is amazing. I would seriously buy this if it was for sale.” She smiled at my compliment. I wanted to ask a lot more questions about her passion for art, and if she had any of her other works with her. She told me that all the others were back at her house in Gainesville, Texas. That then led me to ask her some questions about this said...