| Detrimental Entanglement |
Formal DayI was pretty sure today was going to suck thoroughly. I have yet to be proven wrong. The second day of finals, and probably my easiest day, just because I didn't care one bit about anything. In the morning I arrived, and walked silently away from "my group". They're not really much of a group anymore, just some kids too apathetic to realize none of us are friends. I walk through the cafeteria, knowing I was supposed to meet you somewhere. I see Lisa, probably my closest compadre. We walk, no where in particular. We find ourselves at the bottom of south cluster, where my first class is. There you are. Talking to Nam, I hope you don't see me, though I know you do. I say hello politely, and Lisa and I continue on our way. You're behind us.You always are. We stand awkwardly in my first period. Class is close to starting, and I don't want to be there. I want to go wherever it is you're going, but instead of kissing you goodbye, I wave like the ***** I am. I pretend you don't mean anything, when it is quite possible you mean everything. First part of the test: 59 multiple choice questions. 16 are true or false. About 10 are about things that I actually know. The rest are about forms of government, communism, and some random group called the Beshloviks or something. No one knew that. Then, two short answer essays. I do one on Africa's major problems according to some British guy, and the other on the connection between Animal Farm and Stalin. The first one is total BS about my views on the government of the US corrupting Nigeria. Muskat will love that, because he knows I'm right and that I don't give a damn. The second was me stating random facts about Animal Farm, and how that was practically the exact same thing that happened under Stalin's rule. Global Studies is the lamest class ever. It is exactly like 6th grade social studies and 8th grade social studies. Pointless. Jaime and Andy are talking about my "weak" moment. So I cried ONCE during school. So sue me. I don't go around using the things in my life as an excuse, I can be given a little slack now and then. Get off my back. Screw you. On the topic of finals... My second final today was the one and only band. Glorious. My flute was at a 90 degree angle, and you could see it shaking as I played. My fingertips were sweaty, and I was uncomfortable. It's the first time Swanson has seen me serious since August. Who knew I could knuckle down? The first scale: four sharps. Ouch. F sharp, C sharp, G sharp, D sharp (I think...) Let me explain C sharp. I hate that note with a passion. It is ALWAYS out of tune, and it always sounds god-awful, no matter what octave. I play it a few times through, and I'm not satisfied. I apologize, which makes me feel lame. Second scale: four flats. Easy. I can do that one, two octaves, in my sleep. Last part is the warm-up, articulation six. Tongue, slur, tongue, tongue, slur, etc... Pretty easy. I start to feel really good about it. Then it's all over. I return to my peers in the band room for gratuitus flirting and sexual innuendos. I do love band children. Going home was the highlight of my evening. I rode 167, for old times' sake, and walked home with Tabron and Rachel. I considered going to O'Connor's house, but then decided against it. I wanted to be home. I walk through my front door, and on a chair is a box. I let out a scream, because I've been waiting 5-8 business days for this. It's my gorgeous MORP dress. I try it on, and it fits beautifully. I put on my mother's pearl necklace, and ask to go to Corbin's house. I need him to see this. Part of getting the dress was to take your breath away. You weren't home, but your mother seemed satisfied with my dress, and it's lace-up back. I felt anxious about showing you. When you walked up my drive-way, I almost permeated through the door. I do not know how long we were out there, since I lose all knowledge of time when I'm with you, but something clicked. It could be this way for at least another year. I desperatly want to type forever, but despite what you say, you know it will never happen for us. You know what you want. I know what I used to want. Everything will always be awkward. Accept that. Grow from that. Today I felt like a princess, and you were the one who happened to rescue me from my captors. Tuesdays are formal day. Wear your cumberbund. But no bow-tie. Wednesdays are Naked Day, don't participate unless you're Bob Hennington. I love Grahm Munoz. If Grahm and Joe ever fuse together, I call first dibs. Pi 9:19 PM - Tuesday, January 24, 2006 - post comment
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