The Summer of Fun
So far so good, I guess. Except for this past week when I've been feeling somewhat less than fun, we've already done some fun things. Or potentially fun things, which I've attempted to have fun doing. That makes sense, right?
Plus, we have more stuff planned. So, are we having fun yet?
Let's see, what have we done . . . well all the shopping has been fun, but that hardly counts, the BPO, several picnics, a bluegrass concert, Bison's game (with more BPO and fireworks). OK, so it sounds fairly dull so far. But, only 16 more days until the AI concert! Every weekend is full, so I must be doing something. Oh, I wanna do the Renn Faire, too.
OK, now I'm depressed . . .
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BUFFY: I don't know, Jonathan. I just-
JONATHAN: Stop doing that!
BUFFY: Doing what?
JONATHAN: Stop saying my name like we're friends! We're not friends! You all think I'm an idiot! A short idiot!
BUFFY: I don't. I don't think about you much at all. Nobody here really does. Bugs you, doesn't it? You have all this pain and all these feelings, and nobody's really paying attention?
JONATHAN: You think I just want attention?
BUFFY: No. I think you're up in the clock tower with a high-powered rifle because you wanna blend in. Believe it or not Jonathan, I understand about the pain.
JONATHAN: Oh right! Because the burden of being beautiful and athletic, that's a crippler!
BUFFY: You know what? I was wrong. You are an idiot. My life happens to, on occasion, suck beyond the telling of it. Sometimes more than I can handle. And it's not just mine. Every single person down there is ignoring your pain because they're too busy with their own. The beautiful ones. The popular ones. The guys that pick on you. Everyone. If you could hear what they were feeling. The loneliness. The confusion. It looks quiet down there. It's not. It's deafening...
Plus, we have more stuff planned. So, are we having fun yet?
Let's see, what have we done . . . well all the shopping has been fun, but that hardly counts, the BPO, several picnics, a bluegrass concert, Bison's game (with more BPO and fireworks). OK, so it sounds fairly dull so far. But, only 16 more days until the AI concert! Every weekend is full, so I must be doing something. Oh, I wanna do the Renn Faire, too.
OK, now I'm depressed . . .
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
BUFFY: I don't know, Jonathan. I just-
JONATHAN: Stop doing that!
BUFFY: Doing what?
JONATHAN: Stop saying my name like we're friends! We're not friends! You all think I'm an idiot! A short idiot!
BUFFY: I don't. I don't think about you much at all. Nobody here really does. Bugs you, doesn't it? You have all this pain and all these feelings, and nobody's really paying attention?
JONATHAN: You think I just want attention?
BUFFY: No. I think you're up in the clock tower with a high-powered rifle because you wanna blend in. Believe it or not Jonathan, I understand about the pain.
JONATHAN: Oh right! Because the burden of being beautiful and athletic, that's a crippler!
BUFFY: You know what? I was wrong. You are an idiot. My life happens to, on occasion, suck beyond the telling of it. Sometimes more than I can handle. And it's not just mine. Every single person down there is ignoring your pain because they're too busy with their own. The beautiful ones. The popular ones. The guys that pick on you. Everyone. If you could hear what they were feeling. The loneliness. The confusion. It looks quiet down there. It's not. It's deafening...