2005-09-08
"walk in beauty"
love is the reason you exist.
Ms. Bowen has a mini whiteboard in her classroom by her desk. It's actually not white, it's silver, but I don't know what to call it other than a whiteboard. On it, for the past few days other than today, she had scribbled in teacher-curvsive from a slant while she sat in her computer desk chair:
walk in beauty
She has crinkles on the sides of her eyes, you can see that they are laughter lines. She has a comfy, perfectly-molded pair of birkenstocks. She smiles a lot, but not in an obvious way. She wears no makeup.
Vera and I once sat under a tree looking out at Flathead Lake discussing our body images. I said I wear makeup for myself, because it makes me feel better about myself and how I look. I would wear makeup on a day even where no one would directly see or look at my face. She says she wouldn't, she wouldn't wear makeup except for that people have to look at her. I don't know which of these self-images are sadder- doing it for yourself, or doing it for others.
It IS okay, though. Because both Vera and I have a lot going for us. And we have created that a lot we have going for us, through our passions and hard work. She's a good person. We could be better friends.
Truth is beauty, right? Is beauty truth though? I usually don't think so.
I was sitting by Chad in English today when I noticed his impressive leather 3-ring-binder thing. "Nice trapper-keeper," I told him. He asked me why it was called a trapper-keeper. Without really stopping to think, I responded with the sensible obvious reply: "Because it traps and keeps." He reacted in a "duhhh I'm dumb" sort of way, and I was actually a little astounded. I had never really thought about it. I always considered "trapper keeper a funny name, and I don't think I ever outright got it. But there it was, I had supplied us both with an answer! It traps and keeps!
Sam Early is in my journalism class, and goodness sakes, she's the most annoying thing on two legs that I can think of, other than Elena in her worst moments. Sam has something to say about everything, and nothing she says is really quite interesting or insightful. She just talks a lot, which would be okay if she said anything substantial. But she doesn't. I'm eager for the class to dissipate so I can go off and do my own thing. Let me just say- the school newspaper should not contain food recipes, and "how to" projects. It's a NEWSPAPER. Can't you just see Random-FHS-Student crouching over the issue, trying to perfect its "spooky halloween cookies"? Come on, now. Let's write something. And not about the new high school, or attendance policy, or drugs. And for heaven's sake, they certainly crystallized the reputation of the paper as illegitimate by putting out an April Fool's issue! News sources are to be credible, not lame attempers of humor. What a waste of time. Sorry, venting. Yeah. Let's end where we started: Sam Early is annoying and I want to avoid her.
A random cute guy pointedly looked at me today. It was really nice. He looked politely curious and interested, in a passive way. Leave it to me to analyze a three-second glance. Yeah.
Julian approached lunch today after a ten-minute run. He had sweat on his upper lip, and it reminded me of Jordan Baker in The Great Gatsby. Julian is one of my favoritest friends. I'm glad I know him as well as I do; I will never know him well enough, and I will never cease to desire to. On our latest eveniing walk, we discovered a play scene under a streetlight as the trees stood tall surrounding it. It was his idea that the audience could watch the play up from the branches. I added that their legs would be dangling down, and there would be stirring whispers from above. Julian,
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
My biology teacher is making himself seem a bit inept. As he tries to explain things to us, you can almost hear his brain itself trying to configure what he is going to tell us just moments before the action occurs. It's a bit scary. Come on, dude. This is probably the hardest science class this school offers, or at least it really should be. Teach us, not you and then us. I dunno.
The other day, I ran into Ms. Cordes on the half floor after school. She asked me how things were going; I had been meaning to stop by her room and say hi. I told her about the Chicago schools. She said, "If there is anything I can do to help, let me know" in a keen way that made me think she would be willng to write a swell letter of recommendation for me. That makes me feel good. I enjoyed her class.
At the speech meeting today, Mr. O actually referring to his son as "sweetheart" once. It was really nice. I am going to make a conscious effort to have more effective and productive speech practice. Mr. O'Donnell is the beacon and fountain of all knowledge and insight I shall ever need to succeed at what I do. And even then, I don't give him enough credit becausse for personal reasons I have no need to.
I really like Dan. He is a good friend. He makes me laugh, it's really pleasant. I like his whole schpeil that "life is a party, and i'm bring the chips." He is really level-headed, and honest and sincere. Dan's superduper intelligent, in an impressive yet not intimidating way. I like how I am not intimidated by Dan, in any way really. Even in speech, I've somehow never considered him competition. I remember realizing that last year, and thinking it peculiar, but of course appreciating it. I hope I can keep it going. Inter-squad competition really isn't necessary when you have moustache-girl and sunglasses-guy to beat down.
There are a few things that I oddly want to call fate. As I stood at the top of a nameless mound/hill today, sputtering up to the vast, coloring, clouded sky about girls' hearts and boys' neglect, in misery and frustration and regret that time couldn't be suspended, a big tractor thing came on the road (which shall also remain nameless) and was so wide I had to move my car and therefore leave the scene and the futile, not-beneficial cognitive activity I had been undertaking. Hormones abound!
Slouching a little, but not so much that the right song can't lift me up by my armpits and sit be back upright in the appropriate emotional posture.
It is odd how we associate memories with senses, like smell. The smell of the cafeteria really does remind me of sophomore year. It reminds me of the awkward and unsure lunches, between classes- thinking about them, hesistence, not really "getting" anything about the school. The smell isn't that bad.
Autumn. Crisp, Fresh, Brisk. The softly rattling leaves float downward as the wind moves through the branches. The colors are so warm. The auburns, the amber. It's delightful.
I like sunbathing because it provides a source of heat. Like a blanket, or boy's arms. These things are treasures.
Fate can be cool, too. Today in calculus, I glanced to my right and noticed a green pin on Natasha's jean pocket as she sat. It was my Armor For Sleep button, like the matching one I have Thom! I asked her if she had found it, and she said yeah, she didn't know what it meant but she thought it was "cute." I told her I had lost it and she gave it back to me! Now it's on my backpack again! Isn't that awesome?!
Tomorrow I get to go back to Polson. Maybe I'll be less nostalgic about it, and just think of how fun it will be to dance my tush off around people- probably a lot of younger ones- that I don't even know that well (at least not anymore), or don't really care what they think about me. It could be so fun!
Oh, I was doing some magazine filing, and look what I found!! These are called Moon and Stars watermelon. They are characteristically marked by a bright yellow splotch of "moon" surrounded by smaller "stars." This melon is ancient and rare and was preserved by the Cherokee Indians. Isn't that cool?!!?!!? :D
Time marches on. Or maybe it walks, or gallops. It really depends, I guess. I think right now, time is sauntering a bit. That's ok. There are plenty of possibilities to put a bounce in its step. Elena was modestly keying out Orphan Annie's "Tomorrow" on the piano earlier tonight. It was really pleasant. Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow, you're only a day away.
And tomorrow is Friday!!! Most excellent. That actually means something now, too, it is that coveted day of the week that involved the final exasperationg of the workweek wonderfully contrasted to the resulting sigh of an arriving weekend! Yay!
Time, march/gallop/dance on. Maybe the time will even "walk in beauty." We'll find the right step.
leesah-likes at 11:17 p.m.