Nerdfest 2k5 was awesome because I do love my nerds, and also because the team got 12th overall, thanks in part to Jallouk and me getting SECOND PLACE in designer genes. I wanted a national medal, but man, that was just too awesome. Now, I realize that in most cases, saying that Jallouk and I won a medal would be like saying Einstein and I wrote the theory of relativity, but I swear, I'm awesome at genetixxxx. And I totally did my part. I knew that dwarfism is a dominant trait, and if you get two of the alleles for it, you're spontaneously aborted. Take that. ... yeeeah. Anyways. Second place at nationals is awesome, and we got to shake hands with Anthony J. Leggett, a 2003 Nobel Prize winner in physics for ... okay, something that totally went over my head. We had a bonfire tonight and I burned a physics book, and good riddance to it. But this guy was one of those adorable old scientist guys with the crazy hair and the slightly disconnected expression, where you can tell they're working math problems even as they put your medal on. Okay. Onto the pictoral documentation.
Lastly, we had our TACL Reunion on Monday. We got to harken back to days of yore with mindbenders (and frustration) and chess and videos of be-an-expert. So adorable. But what was really priceless was when Eggo and I were the only ones left, and Mrs. W iest ran out for a minute and while she was gone, we hid in her very shallow, very short closet. She got back, called our names a couple of times, and then started washing dishes (from our TEA!) at the sink. We thought she was playing the "if I pretend to have forgotten about them, they'll get bored" game. She was in fact playing the "they must be gone, I'll wash dishes" game. So, when we quietly swung the closet door open while her back was turned, she completely freaked out when she turned around and saw this:
I graduate today. We kept saying that tonight (as we were burning high school in effigy), and it just doesn't stop being cool. But I'm too tired to do the summary that I know I have to do for my own piece of mind, so just enjoy the pictures. and COMMENT, for the love of God. Talk to me.
"Book burning ... I'm a Nazi!"
Okay, so you've waited. You've wondered. You've begged me and pleaded with me and guilt-tripped me. And I really should just ignore you and hope that you all go away, but instead I'm going to reward you with, at long last, a pictoral documentation of my last two months of high school. Now, to expidite loading time and to be kind to those of you who are still on those ancient phone lines, here's the deal. One picture and a description go on the main page, which will link to a page with the rest of the pictures. Simple, no? (well, not to put together. but this is how much I love you guys, even though you NO LONGER COMMENT. I know you're still there bc the counter keeps going up, but if I don't get some comments on this post, there will be hell to pay. That was your warning. Let's begin.)
When last we left our charming, elegant, cosmopolitan heroine, she was screaming her head off at a Bowling For Soup/American Hi-Fi concert at Blue Cats. There was jumping, singing, autographing, and cranberry juice. It was a rollicking good time, compounded by the fact that it was at Blue Cat's on a school night, so I got to completely abuse my my-mother-wants-to-be-on-my-good-side-so-I-don't-move-out-when-I-graduate privileges. And Ashleee and I are seeing them again, with Simple Plan this time, in like four days. So that's awesome.
Unfortunately, not only did I totally blow off a LPG meeting for this concert, I also forgot one very important thing: The following morning, I did not have a normal day of school, where I would be able to sleep off the concert and make up for my extraordinarily late night the night before. No, I had a field trip. And not just any field trip: I was going to HIKE UP A FUCKING MOUNTAIN. Yes, Biology went to the Smoky Mountains to ... well, you know, I don't think any of us really figured out why we were there or what we were supposed to be learning. The claw kept talking about plants and stuff and made us stop every three or four feet, but we absorbed next-to-nothing. And then we went jumping around on rocks in a river and Jallouk and I fell in, and we hiked at a 90-degree angle up to Clingman's Dome, and all totally agreed that the hike was worth it, and gossipped all the way home. Whatever, it was one less day of school between me and the end of my senior year.
And then, let's see, what came next? Ohh yes, Senior Tea, that special time of year when all the seniors realize that dressing up as your favorite character from a distinguished literary work is infinitely more difficult when you didn't actually read any of the assigned novels, ever. And so they grab the nearest old time-y looking anything, and try to pass it off as the title character from some book they never read but still have sitting on their bookshelf. What a magical rite of passage. Good food, though, and it was pretty durn entertaining.
Okay. We are now up to Fake Prom, which was a brainchild of mine when the Lee started complaining that he would miss Prom to go to Science Bowl Nationals (stupid nerds). So, I said, why not get dressed up and go out to dinner the week before, instead? That's the most fun part, anyways. And indeed it was, and what was funny was when we looked around at all the other people in the restaurant who clearly WERE on their way to prom - they looked uncomfortable and awkward. We were having a great time and sharing/spilling appetizers and telling stories and jokes and dying laughing. Kinda sad, really (fortunately, Real Prom turned out remarkably like Fake Prom, in terms of fun and comfort level, but we were worried there for a while). So yeah, four Asians, three white girls, and a minivan. Hott stuff.
One week later, there was Real Prom: Bigger, Longer, Glitzier, and definitely uncensored. The best of my three proms, it was just all-around awesome. I think I already talked about it somewhere so let's just skip straight to the pictures ...
Unfortunately, after Prom there was work to be done: AP tests and LPG. Fortunately, since Chuck, Elise and I carefully orchestrated and executed a full-scale attack on the English class to assemble the Best Group Ever, LPG was much more awesome than it had any right to be. We may have worked harder than any other group, but we also had the best play, hands down, and we sure did have a lot of fun, and brownies. Now, the plot is somewhat difficult to summarize. Elise and I are twins - I'm shallow, she's not, I'm married to a eunich, she's not, I'm Lucy, she's Gucy - and we switch places. With a light dusting of 10 requisite historical facts, we both learn that we liked our original lives better, though I'm enjoying my newfound sex life with Chuck and am perfectly comfortable discussing this with the audience, and switch back. Um, that's the main plot. There are others. Like the one in which Jing says, "I think I may kill myself." Or the one in which Justin recites the poem, "A bagel/With a hole in it/Like my soul/Which is empty/Woe is me/I am so sad/In this well of despair/Called life." Essentially, we picked about 20 movie jokes or funny situations we wanted to work in (including an "I am your father!" and a Harold Kumar of White Castle) and structured our play - which determined whether or not we graduated - around pop culture and our bizarre senses of humor, as well as liberal mocking of Ryan Lee, and every single double entendre we could think of. In truth, we didn't realize how dirty our play was until we were doing it for Mrs. Y oakley, and by then, it was too late to clean up - fortunately, she thought it was hilarious. I knew I liked her. So, carry on ...
Somewhere in there was Claire's Recital - I'm so proud of my ballerina! And also I had to supervise her 8th birthday party. I don't think you can understand what that's like until you've been in the line of fire of 13 8-yr-olds yourself. I can't even talk about it. It was a scarring experience. Mother felt so bad for me that she was giving me wine afterwards. You know that must mean it was bad. But here's my ballerina
Okay, this is to be continued tomorrow. I only have Nerdfest 2k5 and Convocation left, but I'm fading fast.
"You and me, we're kings over the parkway tonight,
And tonight will go on forever."
That was high school. It's over. It definitely hasn't sunk in yet. I'm totally excited, but still ... reeling. The bell rang at the end of MEH and I just stood up in a daze and realized that I would never be there again - never sitting there aching for 2:50 so I could wander down to C-building and maybe watch the boys play soccer, or out to the teacher's parking lot to gloat with the other officers over our clearly superior parking spaces, or off to some meeting or another. No, today I went down the waterfall stairs and off to the great blue yonder.
I'm sure that, what with Convocation and Commencement and everything, I'm going to be all musing for a week or so, but right now I can't even muse - I don't think I even know what's going on.
I just know that, this is it. The graduation countdown on the fridge finally reads 0. It's our time, boys and girls. Get 'er done.
Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed.
Editor's Note: This account is neither fictionalized nor sensationalized in any way beyond that of the fallacies of memory. It is not, however, a cry for help or an ode of undying love and devotion. No one needs to give me a laundry list of his faults, it's not That Kind of Post. I wouldn't change a thing that's happened to me, but that doesn't mean I want to start it again.
It's funny how it's all coming together, without anyone even trying to make it so. It's almost That Time, and I'll be in That Place, and I've finally become settled enough and confident enough that I know I wouldn't lose myself again. This was the plan. I was surprised, for a moment, and then I realized that's how it was always done – we were thrown together through a series of staggering coincidences, ever-present luck (good or bad, depending), and unexpected snap decisions, where only one missing link would have stopped the whole thing before it ever became a "thing."
I know, I know. Surely I should be able to come up with a better word than "thing" to describe these years in my life that have so drastically changed who I am now and who I am going to be. But any other word would carry with it a connotation, and even still, I have no idea what I want that connotation to be. Looking back at it is like staring into the sun – can't meet its gaze, so you look elsewhere. You look at pictures. You hear others talk about it. You catch yourself measuring everything new against what you remember of before, and on some days, you find everything wanting, and on others, you feel like you've escaped from a horror. And you try to form a definitive image out of pieces of the present and of the past, as objectively as possible, so once and for all you can understand just exactly what the "thing" is.
Forget all that. Objective is nice, but it's not for memories – not for earth-shaking romances, or for catastrophes. And this was both, and neither, all at once, and made more dramatic through the wide, wide eyes I used to have. What's interesting to me is how no one can ever really understand this story, no matter how I try to explain. Whatever I'm feeling about it at the moment always gets all tangled up in the telling of it and colors their conclusions, when what I really want is to convey the sense of the whole torrid thing. I never can. This will be no exception. So instead of breaking the twisting storyline down again (I can remember the exact day that I finally tired of lying about it.), I want to remember snapshots. They're all giddily happy because, truth be told, there was only one tangible low, and the rest is just the disquietude that permeated the little walls we tried to use to keep it out. Beneath the surface, it never was quite the star-crossed romance we made it out to be.
But this was never about sordid details. This was about I-40 and singing along to the radio, him in falsetto because it made me smile, and about taking care of him more completely than I have done for anyone before or since (though whether that is because I decided it wasn't worth it or because I can't let anyone else be that important is still undecided.). About complete strangers instinctively sensing that we were together, even when we were pretending otherwise, and apologies made with candles and rose petals. About Disneyworld, Mercedes-Madonna, Our Song, and waking him up three times a week for a semester for his 8 o'clock class. About the one person who unselfishly believed in me and taught me how I deserved to be treated, even though he didn't always live up to it. This was about never giving up. And I know, thinking of all this and the way it all turned out - the way I turned out - that I miss him more than I hate him.
And yes, of course, this was the first and only time anyone ever managed to hurt me this deeply. But the thing that makes this different from every other tale of ill-fated love is that he didn't leave me. And I didn't leave him. And neither of us broke the other's heart. At first, anyways. I mean, after a time, I left, and then I left again, and then finally he got the chance to do the leaving, but really, that was after the damage was done. That was just the credits rolling. In the end, my heart wasn't broken by a person, or an argument, or unrequited anything. It was broken by getting what you want too early and feeling trapped, getting what you want too late and feeling second-place, and getting what you idealized for years and feeling disappointed. And, most of all, by being young, loving passionately, and jumping without a parachute.
A few times before that, I tried to end it. My memories may be rose-colored, but I could never forget those attempts - and the way he would fight for me. And similarly, nothing could make me forget why I stayed, either. There were thousands of reasons on both sides, of course, but the thing that kept me coming back was the way he always let me win, and the way I didn't care to beat him. Oh, and when our eyes met across a crowded room, I could hear the music swell. Or maybe that was just the nerves.
Either way, kisses stolen at midnight under a thousand stars feel like forever. And that's that.
There were oceans to cross
There were mountains to conquer
And I stood on the shore
And I stood on the cliff
And the second before I jumped
I knew ---
Sick and sleepless on the eve of AP tests ... fuuuck.
Bright side? I got to spend today lounging, napping, and being waited on hand and foot. Downside? Missed the stat test. Oh well, I can take a couple of classes at UVa. It probably won't kill me.
I'm in love with my prom nails. I wish I could have nails like these alllll the time (yes, this thick, yes, this fake) but I'm v. poor until the Jeff Foundation hands over that big, beautiful check on August 23rd. So I'll take them off - correctly, this year, I hope - and resign myself to having ugly nails that split for lack of calcium forever, or at least until August. hehe, remember how last year I tried to just pull them off and ended up with paper-thin nails for three months? That was a good time.
I can't find my camera!! I think it's lost in my room. And it's not like my phone ... I call it and all I hear is silence. Dayum. That has a totally priceless picture of Mark on it, too. I'd better find that sucker. And, everyone needs to bring Mrs. A lbert their prom pictures, bc she put mine up in the very center of the board all by itself and it feels very presumptuous like that ... give me some company! Also, I think the three kickass grades I got in the last week in Calc are going to let me actually EARN an A this nine weeks, instead of pulling one out through miracles and favors like last time. Yes, I realize no one cares about my grades anymore. No, that doesn't change anything. If I stop caring now, I'll never start again, and I'll end up in one of those I Want My High School GPA Back clubs on Facebook.
Speaking of which ... that's what I did with the rest of my time today: I introduced myself to my new addiction. Now, bear in mind that I've had Ben's password and have been using his account liberally to check up on people and just to alleviate boredom for the entire year. I thought the addiction had reached its peak, and frankly, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I was wrong. It's a totally new level of addiction when it's Your Own Facebook and Your Own Imaginary Friends. I guess technically they're "virtual" friends, but I think "imaginary" has the more correct connotation when I think about some of the people Ben is "friends" with. Thus far, I have tried to limit my side of the "friending" to people I would actually want to speak to in social situations, and the people who have "friended" me are the same, but I'm sure I will lower my standards shortly. I mean, if I know you vaguely at all, I'd love for you to "friend" me so I can look at your picture and see if you like any good movies and giggle at the names of the groups you're in. If you're reading this, consider it an open invitation. Because really, what else am I gonna have to do when I'm on the computer late at night? It ain't gonna be homework - I'm going to a state school!! I can't wait.
I'm so enthralled. I can look up people from my old school! GSIS kids! TiP kids! People I never knew but was always curious about in an odd way. People I strongly dislike and am pleased to see an ugly picture of (heh. heh.). My roomie from GSIS goes to UVa - who knew?! And she has a tattoo! This totally is a stalker's dream. Jenn belongs to a group at UT called --- whoa!! Okay, I just signed into facebook to look up the exact name of that group, and I've made four friends in the past twenty minutes. Why do I love this so much?! It's sick!! You slow kids in my graduating class (read: all of you!!) best hurry it up and get your emails and get the hell on here. On a related note, the name of the group is "Seniors in High School Who Have Nothing Better To Do Than Participate in a College Website" and, yeah, I couldn't agree more. It's because we're done with high school and we know it.
And, speaking of doors closing, one closed the other night and I was so out of my mind that I didn't even hear it! Something in the way you couldn't even acknowledge anything good about me. And something in the way I didn't need that anyways. It was enough for me, and still is, that I was trying to be good and you were not. With that, I shall go back to attempting to sleep.
Send me thoughts of correctly conjugated verbs and immensely complex extended metaphors!
With the right kind of eyes, you can almost see the high water mark - the place where the wave broke and rolled back.
So, Prom was awesome. Mark was, of course, suave and good-looking and I got to meet his parents and godparents, who do the kiss-both-cheeks greeting thing which I'm not so familiar with, and see the mansion. I *love* his dad! - I see where the boys get their, uh, charm. They were celebrating Greek Easter, which is apparently exactly the same as our Easter, but it's on a different day so it's another opportunity to party (loosely paraphrased from Mark's mom), so we went to them to let them take pictures. Of course, despite the fact that they own four cameras, no one could actually *find* a camera, so his godparents were holding up their fingers Kodak-style and pretending to take pictures (I know, right?). Anyways, so, we're leaving and Mark's like, yeah, the guy with the imaginary camera? He's the head of the commerce and finance department at UT. Heh.
I navigated all the way to dinner with only one missed turn, a fact of which I am very proud! Mark opened doors, to my surprise, and listened to me complain about the one bobby pin that was driven directly INTO MY SKULL. (When I tried to take that pin out later, I found out that it was actually about twenty pins. But it happens.) And the dinner group, which seemed kinda random and possibly not the best idea, worked out really well, I thought, and the boys gave running commentary on all the other girls coming in through the door. In an attempt to get a picture of Mark with his eyes open, we took about seven, and one of them is a PRICELESS Le Tigre ... I'll put it up tomorrow when I feel like dealing with my camera.
And then, this year, we actually *went* to prom. Like, only a couple of hours late. And we were there for maybe two-and-a-half hours, as opposed to last year's 45 minutes. Crazy, right? I had my requisite dance with Eugenio, as we started this Prom thing together freshman year, and had to bookend the whole experience. Chuck's zoot suit, complete with wallet chain and hat, was awesome and he totally should have won Prom King. Chung pulled off a white tux!! Grant danced spastically, and it was awesome to watch. Travis was there!! Mr. Pickering looked hott (and I told him so, too, much to the dismay of the other teachers with him!) and Dr. Luther told me that I'm "the opposite of guilt by association," whatever the hell that means. Mark managed to survive *three* slow songs, including two in a row. He's tough.
And then there was Amy's party. Now see, out of Mike's party last year, we got the single most amusing story and catchphrase to come from our graduating class. But beyond that, the party wasn't really that great. This year? No catchphrase, but we didn't need it. The whole thing was a battle, or rather, an out-and-out no-holds-barred war on the Lifers. And, though we didn't get Eric, I think it's safe to say that we won. Logan had a cool hat, and someone took videos with Ashley's camera, and people actually locked themselves into the weight room to try to get some damn uninterrupted sleep (but Vinit managed to get in there anyways.). Scott apparently likes boobs that look like they're about to fall to a girl's knees, though that reminds me of a grandma. Logan slept upside-down on the couch, with about eight other people. Tarik was there!! People decided to jump in the pool?!?! Owen needs a nickname ... a warning label, if you will. Every girl told every other girl she was pretty, especially if she'd just met her, or if they were getting over a fight. The bathroom door closes, but doesn't actually lock. Ashleee's got bruises. "I don't hate you, I just think you're a horrible person. And you can't help being a horrible person." Prom hair looks worse and worse as the night goes on, and much worse after it's been slept on. DON'T go in the kitchen. Caitlin and Kate and Bekah are total sweethearts. Five girls, one blanket, and three pillows makes adorable (and tired) sardines. And I swear to God, that floor is CONCRETE and nothing but.
And then Ashleee, Kristy, Bekah, Kate and I went to Sonic and got breakfast/lunch in our messy clothes and dying prom hair and smudged makeup, and Kristy ran around and tripped in her prom shoes, and Ashleee was impatient and hit every call button, and we all woke up, or tried to. Ash and I crashed at her house, which is the only place I'd ever ask to come over to sleep, and then there was gossip and corny movies, and Prom for us ended up lasting till about 4 30 this afternoon.
All in all? That was the best prom. And I could not have asked for a better way to wrap up senior year. Last night, I got to hang out with some of my best friends, and some people I haven't talked to in four years, and some people I've always wanted to get to know. It's nights like these that make me almost sad to leave. (But we have an entire summer to make the memories, and that's going to be enough.)
"If you were waiting for the opportune moment, that was it."
