Second chances

Last year, two girls knocked at my door and told me they would be living in my current dorm room next year. My roommate and I let them in to show them the room and the connecting bathroom. \n“It’s a pretty good room,” I told them. “The only problem is that the sink faucet makes a screechy noise while the water runs.” \nI then imitated the noise, which I can only describe as “eeooeeoo,” for what my former roommate says was “20 seconds too long.” When I finally stopped screeching, the four of us stood in dead silence, staring at our feet before the two girls thanked us and exited.\nSometimes in life I wish I had second chances. I immediately wish I could take back half the words that come out of my mouth and try again. My English teacher once wrote a comment on my paper that summed up not only that particular essay, but also my life: “A very valiant effort marred only by a few awkward phrases.”\nA few months ago, I was talking to my friend and his new girlfriend. They mentioned that they planned to move in together. “Really? You two?” I asked. “That’s going to be super awkward when you break up,” I said earnestly.\nTheir eager lovers’ grins quickly faded to frowns of bewilderment as an excruciating silence ensued.\nMany of my friends complain that I speak too quietly. And then they get unreasonably annoyed when they ask me to repeat what I said and I say “nevermind.” But what they don’t realize is that I have developed this technique as a way to give myself a trial run of the things I say. I don’t have a filter that blocks socially unacceptable thoughts from becoming spoken words. When I say something quietly the first time, it gives me the chance to decide if it’s something that should really be heard or not. I’m not being rude when I say “nevermind;” It’s just that I heard myself say it once, and I did not like what I heard.\nConversations aren’t the only time I wish I had second chances. I think there should be second chance exits on highways. There’s something about the combination of the open road with my “Hairspray” soundtrack that makes me forget I have a specific destination until I am already watching my turn pass me by. \n“Each exit should have two chances to turn off,” I told my friend a few weeks ago when she asked me why we were passing the Bloomington exit. “Or each exit should be labeled as the one that comes after it.”\n“Like the signs they have up in advance telling you how many more miles to your exit?” she said.\n“Yeah, except ... shut up.”\nSadly, life does not hand out second chances nearly as often as I need it to. At least writing gives me the chance to read my words and edit them before submission to the public. This is probably why I choose to write.