Filed under: Essays/School, Poetry | Tags: ballroom, dance, dizzy, enjoy, gowanda high school, imagery, jcc english, laugh, mask, masquerade, poem, Poetry, spin, waltz, whirl
Peering through fine silver dust
Glitter-dance upon the air
Gold-painted eyes in masquerade
She wonders if they care.
Together they twirl merrily
Dizzy partners no one knows
Her mask stays up, so permanent
The ballroom twirls; it goes, it goes.
Spinning rush, a pirouette
The laugh, it’s fake, but she?
She’s gliding, whirling, one more time
Waltz with Society.
Filed under: Dreams, Events, music, My Day, Random Thoughts | Tags: amazing, anyway, classy, crap, dance, dress, earrings, evening, fun, fun glasses, girl, glittery, gowanda high school, gown, grandma, grandma's house, happy, headache, heels, hollywood, important, katherine heigl, lips, look, marilyn monroe, marvelous, mind, minute, multi-colored, nails, red, rose, second, senior ball, senior dinner dance, shallow, shoes, simply, sparkle, sparkly, spectacles, superficial, today, tonight, wench
Here I sit, sipping cold hot chocolate and nibbling leftover homemade popcorn (no butter, no salt, but somehow, still amazing). I still need to finish up (or start) that stupid IDOC thing– yeah, ’cause I know how to do that. (I don’t.) But other than that, and a mild headache, today is marvelous. I’m at Grandma’s, all by my lonesome, and it’s amazing. It’s different to be away from home by myself, even if it is for a night and a day. I might even get to drive myself home from Forestville later today, after my hair appointment.
That brings me to the topic of Senior Ball. Senior dinner dance, senior catillion. Who cares what it’s called anyway. The dumb thing will be interesting, anyway. I’m looking at it through what one might call the “fun glasses”– spectacles that are restraining me from seeing all of the worries I’ve got. This is probably my last dance ever. I don’t know if I’ll get to dance with more than one person, and that upsets me. But no. No worries, not right now. I was in such a good mood twenty seconds ago, until I started dwelling on stupid crap that I didn’t exactly type out, but I dwelled all the same. I have to put those fun specs back on, those multi-colored, glittery faceted glasses. I’m going to have someone play with my hair for two hours, in three. That’s fun. I’m going to look freaking amazing tonight, I can feel it. That’s fun, too.
* To risk being too much of a girl, I’m actually really excited for what I’m going to look like tonight. It’s so extremely shallow, but I rarely feel like a bombshell, so I’m not too distraught. I’m not going to turn into some appearance-crazed wench. But I’ve got this red dress, floor length with no sleeves. A crystalline piece at the center of the bust and matching sparkly earrings and bracelets. My red five-inch heels are half a shade away from my dress’s low, shimmering rose, but no one’s going to look that closely so, to my mind, they match. Muted red nails and (possibly) red lips with simple old-timey Hollywood makeup will accent the Marilyn Monroe/Katherine Heigl waves that my hair will hopefully have. For a last official dance, this is most definitely the look I want to have. The look I will have.
And that’s all that’s important about dressing up, for now, anyway. But it’s going to be classy, and I’m happy for that. What’s most important is that no one can take this evening– this only-happens-once evening– away from me. That applies to every second, while I’m thinking about it. I forget that a lot. That if I don’t make the most of and live through every minute the best that I can, they’ll be gone, and then, so will I.
But I remember it now, and so, here I am. Determined to keep the happy here with me, every minute.
Filed under: Dreams, Events, My Day, My Explanations, Random Thoughts | Tags: ah! si mon moine, answer, beating, bother, boys, boys! god damn., change, cool, damn it, dance, danse, danser, decent, dramatic, explain, fatalistic, french, frivolity, fun, future, going, gowanda high school, here, high school, i don't know, life, moine, mon moine, monk, myself, neurotic, not too fat, not too ugly, one particular boy, outrageous, person, possibility, pros &cons, response, see, serioius, shit, sit, stress, talk, thinking, thinking time, time, uncomfortable, weigh, why?, work, yet again
Okay, so. The boy troubles?
I guess they’re gone, although if anything else happens I’m sure I’ll be motivated to write about it. But, hey, if he can barely look at me, I think I can figure it out.
Maybe I’m being neurotic and fatalistic and dramatic. I probably am, in fact. I am just uncomfortable, since, after I explained myself, he said he needed time to think.
Okay, I’m cool with that. After all, I’d need to think about it, too. Even though
a.) I’m not too ugly
b.) I’m not too fat
c.) I’m decent to talk to if you get me going, and
d.) I really didn’t think I suck that much,
I’ll give him thinking time. I’m the kind of person, who, when faced with the possibility of change, likes to sit and weigh the posiitives and negatives of the situation. So I get it. I really get it.
But, seriously. If his first response is “just let me think about it,” maybe… maybe there’s something else. Someone else. Granted I pretty much sprang it on him. Christ, I’m dumb.
And then Sarah tells me there are other girls he’s been talking to. And not like just-talking girls, either. I’m talking about the kind of girls that do the talk that I’d been doing. Which is to say the “I like you” kind.
So, what is he, some kind of playa? How funny. But how annoying.
And crap! It’s not as if I don’t have a life, I do. I’m crazy-busy allllll the time. And I’m willing to sacrifice a slice of that crammed time for a boy I barely know who’s caught my attention. Do I want to date him? Nooo. Do I want to have my way with him?
That’s so outrageous, and probably the answer to that is no, too. But I should be able to add some frivolity to my life, shouldn’t I? A little fun.
And damn it, I just have to say that if– yet again— I am the second option, or third, or fourth, I am quitting. I’m not a quitter, and I never really have been. I’ll say it, spur-of-the-moment, and not be serious about it at all.
But here, I am. I’m thinking clearly and perfectly serious. If this doesn’t work out, and I’ve done everything wrong again, I’m just going to live out the rest of high school as a monk. Danse, mon moine, danse, because there’s nothing else to do but dance around in circles and circles like the spinning top that “moine” is also slang for. I’m always circling around, never stopping, never settling anywhere that wants me.
I just won’t involve myself with boys after this. They don’t like me anyway, I don’t know why I bother. And I’m not just beating myself up, here, because do you see any boys lining up for me? No, sir. You don’t.
So whatever. I have enough to do. If straightforwardness isn’t enough to accomplish what I want it to, then I’m finished here. And that’s how it’s gona go down.
Filed under: Writing | Tags: Aaron, afterparty, applications, auditions, band, Bobby, Caitie, caitlin, Cayleigh, chelsea, college, Colyn, dance, Dave, delete, difference, dipstick, doubtful, emily, gowanda, Grubbs, Harley, homecoming, hopefully, house, jam, Jill, Jimmy, katie, last, nagging, party, peace, prepared, sam, Samuelson, sarah, satisfied, schedule, school, Tara, taylor, voila, yippie skippie
My jam was on during homecoming, and after. I can barely remember it all; the evening flew by in a hazy blur of neon and glowsticks and thumping heavy bass.
The afterparty at my house was fun, albeit extremely dirty, conversation-wise, and a little tense. Everyone was so hyped up.
For all it was an unusual crew, the chemistry really caught, though. There are instances in a social situation where the atmosphere sometimes lags or starts charging with unpleasantry or awkwardness. That didn’t happen. I halfway expected it to, but I guess the friends who came were just so mentally flexible and comfortable that it didn’t have to. Bobby, Colyn, Grubbs, and Dave don’t always hang out with me; Chelsea and Tara and Sam are used to Post, Trank, and Taylor and vice versa; Jimmy, Jill, Aaron, Sarah, Cayleigh and Samuelson are all underclassmen. Harley doesn’t even go to Gowanda. Still, I was prepared to ask everyone to play nice. But aside from eating the entirety of the ninety dollars worth of food and forgetting to put the toilet seat back down, it was a blast and ran really smoothly.
For a last homecoming, I was satisfied. And it really enlightened me, that I soooo need to relax. It was fun to have the time to hang out with friends. Being busy every waking second haunts me. I can’t do it. I think of Caitlin, who was confused when I told her about everything I’ve been up to– she sits at home all the time. She’s used to peace, and doing what she wants. Okay, I know I could never just do nothing, but she honestly didn’t understand when I referred to being so busy. That shocked me.
It’s also nagging at me that Emily has so much free time. I’m not jealous or cranky about her: I’m peeved that this seems so much like a “sign.” She gave up something, and now she doesn’t miss it. She can relax or do something equally productive; that time got filled up and well-used. Seeing her cute little laptop was very like a cosmic sign (if I believed in them), just like Caitlin’s confusion.
So. When Heather ordered me last week to delete something from my schedule, I elbowed past my original doubtful thoughts and made my choice. Damn it, signs.
And see ya around, creative writing. If I have to go talk to Dr. Bob in person to get this solidified, I will. I’m fully prepared to give him the same spiel I gave Mr. Shannon: I’m too effing busy. Something’s gotta give, and I’ll be damned if it’s the musical or my college auditions and applications. So sorry, Ms. Giancola. I’m out.
I know I can write. I enjoyed the classwork, the brain poking. It kept my mind running. But this year I’m truthfully so busy that it pokes at itself all the time on its own. Story ideas can come when I get some free time. And it’s true, I’d love to write a novel. But that doesn’t change the fact that writing is my backup plan and singing will be my career.
So there you have it: in all likelihood I will have freed up forty minutes every other day to do what I need or want. Voila, yippie skippie. Hopefully it will make a difference, but if it doesn’t… band is next on my list. XD
Filed under: Events, My Day | Tags: ball, behead, beheading, belief, Christmas, cocoa, coffee, coincidence, coincidental, cold, dance, death, december, earmuffs, electric fence, emily, fence, heat, hot, katie, path, paths, predestination, sled, sledding, snow, thrill, toboggan, trailer, tree, unusual, warmth, winter, winter ball, woodstove
Whoo, boy. Tonight was a blast. I had a few people over and we made three separate journeys into the freezing air to sled down my front hill and into the pasture. It’ll be a wonder if we don’t all have pneumonia tomorrow morning from all the abrupt temperature changes: we’d go from frost-bitten to overheated as soon as we stepped inside and were blasted with warmth from the woodstove.
All in all it was a good time. Even though it was so cold some of us bled.
Aaand maybe once or twice we narrowly avoided dead by beheading via tree. Or trailer. Or fence.
Next time, we’ll hopefully go sledding at Emily’s with two toboggans, instead of trying to cram eight people onto one. Then we can race :) And drink hot cocoa and coffee, and make fun of a certain inability to open earmuffs.
I know it sounds unusual, and no, I don’t believe in predestination, but I feel like maybe the cancellation of the dance was a good thing. Maybe it happened for a reason. I don’t believe in the least that this entire get-together was planned out by some higher power (it was actually all planned by me), but maybe it was pre-arranged that everyone who came had the night free. Maybe the snowfall Friday was timed exactly. Who could know? But it seems mighty convenient that we had so much fun “coincidentally.”
It’s something to think about.
Whatever it was, this evening was better than any dance I’ve been to. :)
Kick Drum Heart 