2005-10-03
robbyness
I had the best dancing ever this weekend!
The defintion of good dancing is subjective. It's all defined by the dancer themselves.
It was so great. The enimga of the songs was overwhelming in an entirely gleeful way. These are songs I wouldn't listen to, but that I absolutely enjoy moving my body to. Especially when Kristine is over there with the best bubblebathistic expression on her face and her body moving unrestrained, and Lizz's graceful are arms swaying as Isaac is just being silly and trying to figure out what the hell to do. He actually tripped on himself at one point and from then on jokingly referred to it as a breakdancing move.
I loved the movement. It was beautiful, and it made me feel beautiful all by myself.
People conform too much in their dancing, all this hip-thrusting business and such. Don't be afraid to kick your leg out if that's how you feel, or let an elbow loose! It's great. Dancing is like a fingerprint for the entire body, a bodyprint. Awesome!
Robbyness is a feeling in itself, this sense I get about my own endearing naivity and the ways it is beautiful in its eternal youth, despite that it is usually out of context. Seeing my middle school boyfriend again and knowing he came just to see me was really sweet. We spent time in the rain together as I thought of what we shared. He has been thinking of me, he said. His eyes match mine. And even though nothing will happen (and especially because it doesn't need to and probably shouldn't), it was very pleasant and I'm glad I saw him again.
this all emcompasses the beginning of the sweet dream, Lisa's wild hypothetical what-ifs that are easy to spout and romanticize from a distance of fifty-seven miles northward. Ever time I return, I gain a little more insight into the could-have-beens.
Polson is a small town on the south end of Flathead Lake, which is the biggest non-salt body of water west of the Mississippi River. Polson Bay is emcompassed by Rocky Point to the west, and Finley Point to the east.
I was born in Polson and lived there for my first fifteen years. I did everything from teeball to academic bowl. I made lots of friends, people who lived near my apartment building when I was young, people through classes in school and different sports stuff. I rode the bus to school, and I generally liked the days.
Freshman year I made Mr. Thomas mad, and golfed for the first time in P.E. class. I sat at a lunch table downstairs, usually with Kara and Lindsy, sometimes Amy and we would just laugh and laugh. We had Earth Science together and Mr. Sitter really sucked. I took Robby to Spree, the Sadie Hawkins semi-formal dance. I competed in speech and went to State for it, and I did tennis in the spring.
Sophomore year I started out on the soccer team and with all my classes in place like I thought I'd be there. I was on the journalism staff. Sometimes I'd go to Jenny's for lunch. I played and marched at homecoming, if I remember right. Isaac and Matt and I would still wait for our buses together. Tanner drove me home and we liked each other. Amy and I joked a lot, we had a good time in Mr. O'brien's biology class. Mr. Tait's english class had a good view of the lake.
That's one thing I really remember about the high school. It is on a hill, and you can see Polson Bay right out the window of the upper floors. And the lake is so blue some days, and you push open the windows (they go out, not up) and feel the wind and it's a little cold because it came all the way up from skirting right above the lakewater. I really liked that.
the air is getting colder. the entering fall is evermore hinting at its ensuing presence. September was a preview. Now here it really comes. The colding wind softly kisses my cheek; it's the most action I've gotten in a while. :P
On the walk home today, there was a leaf virtually pasted to the sidwalk in its wetness from the weekend's rain. I put my foot on it and drug it out of its place. It left its waterprint behind on the cement in a shape resembling a maple leaf.
It reminded me of summer and how my body would leave its wet print when i would get up after laying there in the sun inbetween lake jumps.
It's like a shadow of a different sort.
I know I don't need all that I say I want. I wonder if I would be brave enough to grasp it if the opportunity presented itself, anyway.
..Or be courageous enough to make my own opportunities, because I know that we have to do that sometimes.
My contacts can make me feel sad. He gave me this new brand that he thought would work better and be cheaper, but instead sometimes they make me feel sad. The lens get pretty dry, and sometimes things get a foggy tint on them in an unappealing thing. Other times my eyes water because of them, or my eyes get feeling like I've been crying. I think that crying feeling in the eyes does something weird to my brain to make me feel like I have crying and therefore have something to feel sad about and therefore be sad. If that makes any sense.
I don't have anything to feel sad about
And I'm not sad.
Mr. O'Donnell is really cool. He gives such sound insight in ways that continue to surprise me, even though he's been my coach for so long now. I also love how enthusiastic he is about it all. Come on Mr. O, it's four forty-six on a Monday afternoon. We've been in school for eight hours now and we all just want to go home and do all the stuff we need to do, yourself included. The sky is a drab grey and this school has a very drab ambiance. We're hungry. This is this kid's second speech, and you gave him some random hard topic about excuses and he's stumbling his way through it. No!!! Mr. O listens and encourages. Yeah, he has a great teaching career to uphold, three little kids awaiting his return home after a long game, tons of papers to correct, and a wife that wants his company. But now is now, and there is enjoyment and amusement in this!! He laughs over some ridiculous Chinese proverb, �Talk no make rice,� and comes up with comical retorts to political jabs and musings. He is goofy and random and really intelligent. Who the hell cares about the circumstances we could make so dreary!! He wants to make us better, and he's having a good time doing it.
Did you know that you can have a good time doing anything?!
Sometimes I don't know that either.
I really like being alone sometimes. I once said that being by yourself like your own little secret. No one knows what you are like when you are completely alone; it is a special and sacred secret of your own that you keep and covet to yourself your whole life. It can't even be conveyed or expressed.
That's part of why I don't hesistate to tell what I'm like alone, because no one could get it anyway by its very nature.
I sing. I sigh and I notice things and I grin and I think stupid things in my head and smirk about them or make comments to myself. I skip sometimes, I touch leaves and I look at the sky a lot. I say ridiculous, absurd things that I wouldn't repeat, I know who I am and I just go with it. yes. I sing.
I'm thinking about applying for this Bozeman Presidential Scholarship, but it makes me wonder about the grand, vast concept of performing labor and not yielding its supposed and potential fruits.
I could do this, I could go all out and give them a darned good essay, heckle teachers for rec's, fill out mounds of paperwork, and et cetera of course. But I don't even necessarily want to go to Bozeman! I want other options! So let's say I supposedly get it. What if I decide to relinquish it? All that time and effort to waste! Or what if I try try try so hard and I don't get it? Then all that time and effort is still wasted and I will feel ungood!
I hope all the wasted time and effort, including this perhaps right here, gets sucked up into some vacuum. I don't know what would happen next.
Pumpkins make me happy.
You know, I don't feel like making out right now. I think that's peculiar.
Maybe I'm not as horny as I sometimes think.
Or maybe just not right now.
You know what else?
I have stuffs to do. And I'm a little aggravated that my journal here as quasi-turned into a collegestuff rant place, and especially this early in the game. Ugh, oh well. Go to it!
leesah-likes at 8:08 p.m.