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Callidora
Watching Percy Jackson is the biggest snooze fest ever.
And, yeah, I know, it's a bit hypocritical of me to be so critical of him. It's not his fault. He doesn't know my mission here, and I didn't want him to. In fairness, I did volunteer for this even though my presence was so clearly unwanted as seen by Chiron's insistent denial to my pleads to just be included here. Even if I did wedge my way into this, I didn't think watching him but just be watching him! I'll be the bigger person and admit it's not exactly fair of me. I see it. I acknowledge it, and I completely understand it too. But I like having a more hand—on approach to these kinds of things. I don't think that makes me the bad guy! In fact, I see myself as brave for being so willing to put myself in the face of danger.
And with Percy, I just think he needed a bit more than a nudge. Maybe a slight shove... off a big cliff.
I might just be an adrenaline junkie.
It's crazy when you really think about it though. How my life has gone from feeding pegasi and putting my life on the line just to get that dang blue flag to worrying about math and trying to remember the same five dates in U.S. history. (Like we get it people, but the Roanoke colony did not actually disappear!) Although, I suppose my life isn't as adventurous as I'd like to invite, so it's not the most drastic change. But once you've been told you're a halfling with blood of ancient greek gods and goddesses flowing through your vein, normal things begin to grow a little more mundane.
Life slows down a lot more. I'm walking to class instead of running for my life and looking over my shoulder continuously. What a fun change of pace. Stop and smell the roses as they say, but being normal is only great for the first few days before it loses all its novelty.
But it was cool to have a little glimpse of what life could've been like if my parents were, you know, my parents. This train of thought is often the beginning of every existential crisis. Can't wait for mine.
Anyways, back to Percy Jackson. My entire life— really three months— have been all about Percy, Percy, Percy. I don't even talk to him. I don't even think he knows my name! It's so creepy. I am so creepy. The way I lurk. The way I have to lurk. All for the bigger picture, I remind myself.
There's an ugly part of me that turns green when I see Grover with him. Grover gets to actually talk to him. Grover gets to become his friend and keep a closer eye on him. Many times I wonder if I drew the short straw of the pile with just being a simple watcher, but then Percy Jackson opens his big mouth and gets himself in trouble for the third time in a row, and I remain happy with the job I've been given.
