3.27 - Green is Not Your Enemy
"They don't hate you...you're just...unexpected."
Today was Renaissance. It used to be called the Baccalaureate or something noble as a testament to education of old. Now we have some pithy, non-descript phrase conjured up by some mental midget of an art teacher or a sentimental lush on the faculty. Just goes to show you how Carlisle works. The majority are ruled by the mental Munchkins.
I tried not to get out of bed this afternoon. It was warm and comfortable and I imagined I was lying next to someone I loved. Sometimes, when I'm barely awake like that, I drift off to sleep and have dreams that are extrapolations of what thoughts were in my head before I drifted off. That's what happened here and I had a dream of some pleasant pillow talk. When I woke up and realized it wasn't real, I was sort of depressed. So I turned on "N" is for Noose. After I've read a book more than twice, I get the Book on Tape version and listen to it. My favorite readers are Judy Kaye and Joe Mantegna for Kinsey Millhone and Spenser respectively. It adds character to the words, creates dimension. This exercise helps me to be a better writer.
I listened to "N" until about half past twelve and decided to get out of bed. I showered and dressed in black sweat pants, white Class of 2004 t-shirt, and the gray wool socks I have from backpacking. I played Diablo II online for awhile before getting lunch and doing my best to avoid getting ready for Renaissance. And for a disciplined procrastinator like myself, it was no problem.
At 2:30, I groaned and began to get ready for the talent show. I have a stage managers prerogative, which is I don't have to march with the rest of the witch hunters if I don't want to. And I didn't want to. So, figuring that a stage hand like myself should be invisible on stage, I dressed in black. Black V-neck t-shirt from H&M, dark green shirt with vertical navy blue striped shirt also from H&M, black dress slacks from J.C. Penny, and the black all-purpose sneakers I love so much. I wore a black belt with silver buckle and thought I looked fairly decent in the mirror. Except for the hair. See, here's the thing. My hair doesn't all grow at once, it grows in leaps and bounds in different places. My bangs were the latest spurt. They came down to my eyebrows and when I wore my mortarboard, it looked goofy. So in a momentary insanity and lapse of judgment, I lopped off an inch and a half from the bangs. The mortarboard looks fine now. My bangs look too short and curl in a weird way. There's always a trade off.
I arrived at CHS a little past three and people in green robes were already gathering en mass. I called home and told my parents to bring the tie, jacket, and shirt I'd left, along with dress shoes and my graduation getup. I worked backstage, making sure everything was ready and enjoying a Mt. Dew Livewire. Moments before the March of the Witch Hunters a/k/a the Senior Procession was due to begin, Jon came up to me and said the program was screwed up. Ugh, mental headslap. I'd left Kyle in charge of that. I keep overestimating that guy. Not only was the order butchered, but there was a group missing. And not a small group, our big group of six. With a sigh, I set off to find Mrs. Pitts and Alex.
Following my lead, we decided to amend the order during Alex's opening speech. What else was there to do. From what I deduced, Kyle left to have his wisdom teeth removed and abandoned the project in the incapable hands of Gallagher, the art teacher of ye little mind. So it got screwed up. I swear, working with senior class council, save for a few like Laura, Tyler, Chelsea, and Jon, has been like helping out with the mentally retarded. You want them to feel like they're contributing, but you can't let them do it on their own or they'll mess it up. Ta-da! That's exactly what happened. And did Kyle take responsibility for the snafu, of course not. He blamed it on others as is his custom.
The March of the Witch Hunters went off as planned, I steered as clear as possible, herding people to their locations after getting changed and working backstage to make sure the program went off without a slip. And for the most part, it worked out. There were a few moments where I wanted to run screaming from the building, but suppressed the urge with a deep breath and promise of Mt. Dew when I got home. Lots of it. And ice cream. Yeah, I earned ice cream.
When it was all over, I changed into the graduate uniform and looked in a mirror and recoiled. I looked like a deranged minister! With another mental eyeroll, probably the fiftieth that day, I went outside and was immediately congratulated by many. I heard indirectly that many people found Kyle's ineptitude and lack of polish evident in his closing speech. I didn't waste my time listening. His reign is over and we are all glad. I once thought he wasn't so bad, but some people simply do not make good leaders. He is one of those. Maybe on a small, unofficial scale, but not for the president of a class. There have been many times when I've been tempted to walk out. Just leave. Say "Screw you all, I'm going home. You don't give me any credit and put the king of fools in charge. Well, let that go and watch everything fall apart." I feel cheated and underappreciated. Not to say I don't get recognition. Half of the faculty and staff think I'm the president and are still surprised when I tell them I'm not. Barrick and Clarence still had no idea who Kyle even was this last week. It's just...I wish the senior class had an inkling of what I do for them. Homecoming, the class trip, Renaissance, Springfest, the fundraiser, none of it would have gone off without me. Well, it's done and I fade away into the background once again.
I stood outside and posed for pictures with my folks and Maritza. Then I met and greeted people, running into Pitts and Brousse, who both complimented me for the culmination of a year gone by. That's something and I accept their gratitude. But again, it's the people I bust my hump for who have no idea and won't ever. It's an unjust world. That just makes me all the more necessary.
After my parents went to get the car, I gathered my belongings and stood on stage for a moment, looking out at the now empty seats from the place where a pauper and charlatan had given impromptu speechs that fell flat. I wouldn't have done it that way. That's not how I am. I mused on a few lines from a traditional Scotish parting song called "Health to the Company" while recalling images of my classmates on the front lawn. I did it for them and, as God once said, if you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all.
I went home and puttered for the evening, gave some thought to the future. The Brain is dead and buried and continuing my teaching-by-example style journal seems to be contradictory if anything else. After 3.30, I'm done. I bought ice cream from Massey's, running into my sister's friend, Jackie. Then I went home and watched the Tony awards, knowing in advance my girls from Wicked would be performing. And they did. And it was great. So I leave you all now with two quotations, one from "Health to the Company", one from "Defying Gravity", the showcased number from Wicked.
"Here's a health to the company
And one to my lass
Let us drink and be merry
All out of one glass
Let us drink and be merry
All grief to refrain
For we may, and might never
All meet here again."
"I'm through accepting limits
'Cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But Till I try I'll never know
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love I guess I've lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost..."
Respectfully Submitted,
Art
Today was Renaissance. It used to be called the Baccalaureate or something noble as a testament to education of old. Now we have some pithy, non-descript phrase conjured up by some mental midget of an art teacher or a sentimental lush on the faculty. Just goes to show you how Carlisle works. The majority are ruled by the mental Munchkins.
I tried not to get out of bed this afternoon. It was warm and comfortable and I imagined I was lying next to someone I loved. Sometimes, when I'm barely awake like that, I drift off to sleep and have dreams that are extrapolations of what thoughts were in my head before I drifted off. That's what happened here and I had a dream of some pleasant pillow talk. When I woke up and realized it wasn't real, I was sort of depressed. So I turned on "N" is for Noose. After I've read a book more than twice, I get the Book on Tape version and listen to it. My favorite readers are Judy Kaye and Joe Mantegna for Kinsey Millhone and Spenser respectively. It adds character to the words, creates dimension. This exercise helps me to be a better writer.
I listened to "N" until about half past twelve and decided to get out of bed. I showered and dressed in black sweat pants, white Class of 2004 t-shirt, and the gray wool socks I have from backpacking. I played Diablo II online for awhile before getting lunch and doing my best to avoid getting ready for Renaissance. And for a disciplined procrastinator like myself, it was no problem.
At 2:30, I groaned and began to get ready for the talent show. I have a stage managers prerogative, which is I don't have to march with the rest of the witch hunters if I don't want to. And I didn't want to. So, figuring that a stage hand like myself should be invisible on stage, I dressed in black. Black V-neck t-shirt from H&M, dark green shirt with vertical navy blue striped shirt also from H&M, black dress slacks from J.C. Penny, and the black all-purpose sneakers I love so much. I wore a black belt with silver buckle and thought I looked fairly decent in the mirror. Except for the hair. See, here's the thing. My hair doesn't all grow at once, it grows in leaps and bounds in different places. My bangs were the latest spurt. They came down to my eyebrows and when I wore my mortarboard, it looked goofy. So in a momentary insanity and lapse of judgment, I lopped off an inch and a half from the bangs. The mortarboard looks fine now. My bangs look too short and curl in a weird way. There's always a trade off.
I arrived at CHS a little past three and people in green robes were already gathering en mass. I called home and told my parents to bring the tie, jacket, and shirt I'd left, along with dress shoes and my graduation getup. I worked backstage, making sure everything was ready and enjoying a Mt. Dew Livewire. Moments before the March of the Witch Hunters a/k/a the Senior Procession was due to begin, Jon came up to me and said the program was screwed up. Ugh, mental headslap. I'd left Kyle in charge of that. I keep overestimating that guy. Not only was the order butchered, but there was a group missing. And not a small group, our big group of six. With a sigh, I set off to find Mrs. Pitts and Alex.
Following my lead, we decided to amend the order during Alex's opening speech. What else was there to do. From what I deduced, Kyle left to have his wisdom teeth removed and abandoned the project in the incapable hands of Gallagher, the art teacher of ye little mind. So it got screwed up. I swear, working with senior class council, save for a few like Laura, Tyler, Chelsea, and Jon, has been like helping out with the mentally retarded. You want them to feel like they're contributing, but you can't let them do it on their own or they'll mess it up. Ta-da! That's exactly what happened. And did Kyle take responsibility for the snafu, of course not. He blamed it on others as is his custom.
The March of the Witch Hunters went off as planned, I steered as clear as possible, herding people to their locations after getting changed and working backstage to make sure the program went off without a slip. And for the most part, it worked out. There were a few moments where I wanted to run screaming from the building, but suppressed the urge with a deep breath and promise of Mt. Dew when I got home. Lots of it. And ice cream. Yeah, I earned ice cream.
When it was all over, I changed into the graduate uniform and looked in a mirror and recoiled. I looked like a deranged minister! With another mental eyeroll, probably the fiftieth that day, I went outside and was immediately congratulated by many. I heard indirectly that many people found Kyle's ineptitude and lack of polish evident in his closing speech. I didn't waste my time listening. His reign is over and we are all glad. I once thought he wasn't so bad, but some people simply do not make good leaders. He is one of those. Maybe on a small, unofficial scale, but not for the president of a class. There have been many times when I've been tempted to walk out. Just leave. Say "Screw you all, I'm going home. You don't give me any credit and put the king of fools in charge. Well, let that go and watch everything fall apart." I feel cheated and underappreciated. Not to say I don't get recognition. Half of the faculty and staff think I'm the president and are still surprised when I tell them I'm not. Barrick and Clarence still had no idea who Kyle even was this last week. It's just...I wish the senior class had an inkling of what I do for them. Homecoming, the class trip, Renaissance, Springfest, the fundraiser, none of it would have gone off without me. Well, it's done and I fade away into the background once again.
I stood outside and posed for pictures with my folks and Maritza. Then I met and greeted people, running into Pitts and Brousse, who both complimented me for the culmination of a year gone by. That's something and I accept their gratitude. But again, it's the people I bust my hump for who have no idea and won't ever. It's an unjust world. That just makes me all the more necessary.
After my parents went to get the car, I gathered my belongings and stood on stage for a moment, looking out at the now empty seats from the place where a pauper and charlatan had given impromptu speechs that fell flat. I wouldn't have done it that way. That's not how I am. I mused on a few lines from a traditional Scotish parting song called "Health to the Company" while recalling images of my classmates on the front lawn. I did it for them and, as God once said, if you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all.
I went home and puttered for the evening, gave some thought to the future. The Brain is dead and buried and continuing my teaching-by-example style journal seems to be contradictory if anything else. After 3.30, I'm done. I bought ice cream from Massey's, running into my sister's friend, Jackie. Then I went home and watched the Tony awards, knowing in advance my girls from Wicked would be performing. And they did. And it was great. So I leave you all now with two quotations, one from "Health to the Company", one from "Defying Gravity", the showcased number from Wicked.
"Here's a health to the company
And one to my lass
Let us drink and be merry
All out of one glass
Let us drink and be merry
All grief to refrain
For we may, and might never
All meet here again."
"I'm through accepting limits
'Cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But Till I try I'll never know
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love I guess I've lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost..."
Respectfully Submitted,
Art