(no subject)
so i'm giddy in a glorious way. giddy such that i haven't stopped grinning for hours, even when me and sid were talking about sadder things standing like explorers atop of that grate in the middle of the quad with the sun all hazy in our eyes and a faint breeze gripping the ends of our hair. just a thin grate separating us from a hundred feet deep chasm and green grass growing in sparse patches between sodden bark planters. and i told him the story of last night and he clapped his hands, once, twice, excited with sweet hedgehog eyes glowing and i couldn't stop smiling. it feels good to like someone again in a non-frustrating, non-committal way. i guess it's just that six long months of waiting and getting my hopes up at awkward times only to have them topple to the ground because he decided that he wanted to hold hands with this girl with dull blonde hair even after the movie, the hug, the days of conversations, the laugh attacks and stories was too much for even my vaguely plastic heart to handle. i was a bit of a disaster last week.
but then that one boy took me hiking in the woods. up this beautiful trail with aspens shivering in the thin autumn air, leaves heaped in ridiculously photogenic piles to the side of the trail and hanging red, gold, yellow from dying stems. there was that field that looked like a quiet scene from some japanese movie and the gravel beds and glacial valleys filled with stuttering trees. wading through waist-high grass. slipping in mudd, burrs sticking like stubborn two-year-olds to shredded hems, berlioz filling the air even though neither of us were humming. it was just a berlioz kind of day.
it's funny when you realize, from a first glance, that you're somehow going to click with someone. i remember when my pupils hit kate 2's. we were destined for friendship, even if we weren't so sure about each other. so we decided to bridge the gap between class-friends and out-of-class friends. bombay house. six or seven hours of talking, first over steaming plates of masala and paneer. bursting with naan and saffron-infused rice. then in the canyon, watching couples precariously inching around awkward first-date moments. laughing. once, a couple of tears. but straight faces and honest hearts and a thin veil of fog on the windshield, valley open and distant, lights. she lives six houses away, right across from the sunflowers. i can see her door from my balcony and i feel better because of it.
it was the same way on saturday night, at the smash of a party. too many people, almost. but at least little groupings of friends by the grill, the pool, the berlin wall, the pool table, the barrel full of homemade root beer. and childhood friends cropping up out of nowhere, looking the same even after two years, towing a lovely looking dark haired kid with a too-long nose offset by warm eyes. we shook hands. i thought it was done from there. he was far too good looking for me to compete. but he hovered around me until we were holding our stomachs laughing way too hard. and the berline wall went to pieces, boys swam in cake, bratwursts exploded, and he touched my shoulder and i touched his and we were suddenly familiar.
familiar, yesterday, the way we renamed the paintings and sculptures and stood exactly near each other when we ran into old friends. familiar, the way we left our arms touching and knees crossed towards each other listening to the insane sounds coming from stage and giggling like school kids over naughty sounding words. highbrow mixed with the jejune--us at the concert, crinkling noses, closer, like no time needed to pass between the point where strangers become friends. familiar, the way the way i fit exactly in the crook of his arm with my head on his shoulder.
still strangers, in a good way, apprehensive and almost shy when he touched the flower in my hair and whispered something i couldn't quite hear but sounded an awful lot like beautiful before he squeezed my hand. still strangers, awkward schoolkids, when he casually put his arm on my shoulders and pulled me close so that i could hear his heart racing a little. still strangers, in a sad way, when we awoke from the dreamstate and rose from the beanbag to say our goodbyes. briefest of hugs, rushed pleasantries, and he was gone. strange.
basically, we met at a party, exchanged numbers, met on the steps, watched a concert, watched a gory movie, cozied up to each other, and ate count chocula. it sounds so simple. and maybe it is (?).
but then that one boy took me hiking in the woods. up this beautiful trail with aspens shivering in the thin autumn air, leaves heaped in ridiculously photogenic piles to the side of the trail and hanging red, gold, yellow from dying stems. there was that field that looked like a quiet scene from some japanese movie and the gravel beds and glacial valleys filled with stuttering trees. wading through waist-high grass. slipping in mudd, burrs sticking like stubborn two-year-olds to shredded hems, berlioz filling the air even though neither of us were humming. it was just a berlioz kind of day.
it's funny when you realize, from a first glance, that you're somehow going to click with someone. i remember when my pupils hit kate 2's. we were destined for friendship, even if we weren't so sure about each other. so we decided to bridge the gap between class-friends and out-of-class friends. bombay house. six or seven hours of talking, first over steaming plates of masala and paneer. bursting with naan and saffron-infused rice. then in the canyon, watching couples precariously inching around awkward first-date moments. laughing. once, a couple of tears. but straight faces and honest hearts and a thin veil of fog on the windshield, valley open and distant, lights. she lives six houses away, right across from the sunflowers. i can see her door from my balcony and i feel better because of it.
it was the same way on saturday night, at the smash of a party. too many people, almost. but at least little groupings of friends by the grill, the pool, the berlin wall, the pool table, the barrel full of homemade root beer. and childhood friends cropping up out of nowhere, looking the same even after two years, towing a lovely looking dark haired kid with a too-long nose offset by warm eyes. we shook hands. i thought it was done from there. he was far too good looking for me to compete. but he hovered around me until we were holding our stomachs laughing way too hard. and the berline wall went to pieces, boys swam in cake, bratwursts exploded, and he touched my shoulder and i touched his and we were suddenly familiar.
familiar, yesterday, the way we renamed the paintings and sculptures and stood exactly near each other when we ran into old friends. familiar, the way we left our arms touching and knees crossed towards each other listening to the insane sounds coming from stage and giggling like school kids over naughty sounding words. highbrow mixed with the jejune--us at the concert, crinkling noses, closer, like no time needed to pass between the point where strangers become friends. familiar, the way the way i fit exactly in the crook of his arm with my head on his shoulder.
still strangers, in a good way, apprehensive and almost shy when he touched the flower in my hair and whispered something i couldn't quite hear but sounded an awful lot like beautiful before he squeezed my hand. still strangers, awkward schoolkids, when he casually put his arm on my shoulders and pulled me close so that i could hear his heart racing a little. still strangers, in a sad way, when we awoke from the dreamstate and rose from the beanbag to say our goodbyes. briefest of hugs, rushed pleasantries, and he was gone. strange.
basically, we met at a party, exchanged numbers, met on the steps, watched a concert, watched a gory movie, cozied up to each other, and ate count chocula. it sounds so simple. and maybe it is (?).