a bright particular star
there was a girl named casey at my high school in the US. she was a senior (year 12) when i was a freshman (year 9). we were on the volleyball team together. i don't think we ever spoke at all-maybe just to say hi-but i watched her whenever she was around. i couldn't help it. maybe it was a crush; i'm not sure.
(whenever i tried to identify my sexuality as a teenager, i always ended up defaulting to heterosexual because at the time i knew of only two options and i clearly wasn't a lesbian because i didn't want to kiss girls. the fact that i didn't want to kiss boys either was chalked up to the (internalised) belief (of the standard line) that i was simply a late bloomer (emotionally/sexually speaking). why it didn't occur to me that i could be a lesbian late bloomer just as easily as a heterosexual later bloomer i can only explain by saying: i was 14. i had no idea. it was 1991 and the concept of asexual within the framework of sexuality didn't even exist yet. if it had i doubt it would have made its way into the consciousness of a small catholic school in baltimore, anyway.)
i just know that casey made me feel something remarkable that i'd never felt before. to me she had this aura about her. i wanted to be near her and i wanted to be like her. she wasn't beautiful, exactly. she was pretty, i think, but it was more than that. she was magnetic in some way. what i remember most is her hair and the way she seemed to have this light always around her. (the logical voice in my head says i romanticised the idea of her: that the light lingered in my mind because i mostly saw her in the gym, which had enormous high windows, and we were all surrounded by light. the rest of me says the reason doesn't matter. that's how she seemed to me.)
she was white, as 99% of the kids at my school were (this, despite it being baltimore), and while she was small, she was curvy. her hips were like my hips, but lovelier, in the way they gently sloped under her uniform skirt. her hair made me think of a lion's mane, the way it framed her. 'light brown' is too prosaic a description. it was so many colours: blonde and gold and honey and caramel. and it was a step up from wavy, but not quite frizzy, somewhere between her chin and her shoulders. she'd pull it back in a ponytail for games but at practice she usually left it down. i loved her hair.
it's kind of embarrassing, but this bit from all's well that ends well sums up how i felt. [s]he is so above me:
In [her] bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in [her] sphere.
it's like i regarded her as a different species. i just wanted to be around her and bask in her presence. the only things i really knew about her were that she didn't have a boyfriend and she was kind. she was popular in the way that girls who don't have a particular allegiance to any one clique are. i had the sense that she was nice to everyone in a genuine way, rather than the fake niceness that so many girls performed.
why do i still find myself thinking about her from time to time all these years later? i don't know. i'm sure the memory of her is just as much a construct that i created as any fictional character. if i had actually gotten to know her i'd have discovered she was as flawed and human as the rest of us. i might've not even liked her. but none of that matters now because it didn't matter then. she was the first star around which i orbited. that alone makes her special.
so, casey, you'll never read this and truthfully i'm glad because it would be so very awkward for both of us if you did. i'd be surprised if you even remembered who i was. but a long time ago you gave a shy, scared, dislocated, terribly unhappy girl something bright and lovely to look forward to every day. and even though you didn't do it knowingly or with intention, i'm still grateful.
with nostalgic affection,
a little satellite
--
This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth. If you feel inclined, comment there.
(whenever i tried to identify my sexuality as a teenager, i always ended up defaulting to heterosexual because at the time i knew of only two options and i clearly wasn't a lesbian because i didn't want to kiss girls. the fact that i didn't want to kiss boys either was chalked up to the (internalised) belief (of the standard line) that i was simply a late bloomer (emotionally/sexually speaking). why it didn't occur to me that i could be a lesbian late bloomer just as easily as a heterosexual later bloomer i can only explain by saying: i was 14. i had no idea. it was 1991 and the concept of asexual within the framework of sexuality didn't even exist yet. if it had i doubt it would have made its way into the consciousness of a small catholic school in baltimore, anyway.)
i just know that casey made me feel something remarkable that i'd never felt before. to me she had this aura about her. i wanted to be near her and i wanted to be like her. she wasn't beautiful, exactly. she was pretty, i think, but it was more than that. she was magnetic in some way. what i remember most is her hair and the way she seemed to have this light always around her. (the logical voice in my head says i romanticised the idea of her: that the light lingered in my mind because i mostly saw her in the gym, which had enormous high windows, and we were all surrounded by light. the rest of me says the reason doesn't matter. that's how she seemed to me.)
she was white, as 99% of the kids at my school were (this, despite it being baltimore), and while she was small, she was curvy. her hips were like my hips, but lovelier, in the way they gently sloped under her uniform skirt. her hair made me think of a lion's mane, the way it framed her. 'light brown' is too prosaic a description. it was so many colours: blonde and gold and honey and caramel. and it was a step up from wavy, but not quite frizzy, somewhere between her chin and her shoulders. she'd pull it back in a ponytail for games but at practice she usually left it down. i loved her hair.
it's kind of embarrassing, but this bit from all's well that ends well sums up how i felt. [s]he is so above me:
In [her] bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in [her] sphere.
it's like i regarded her as a different species. i just wanted to be around her and bask in her presence. the only things i really knew about her were that she didn't have a boyfriend and she was kind. she was popular in the way that girls who don't have a particular allegiance to any one clique are. i had the sense that she was nice to everyone in a genuine way, rather than the fake niceness that so many girls performed.
why do i still find myself thinking about her from time to time all these years later? i don't know. i'm sure the memory of her is just as much a construct that i created as any fictional character. if i had actually gotten to know her i'd have discovered she was as flawed and human as the rest of us. i might've not even liked her. but none of that matters now because it didn't matter then. she was the first star around which i orbited. that alone makes her special.
so, casey, you'll never read this and truthfully i'm glad because it would be so very awkward for both of us if you did. i'd be surprised if you even remembered who i was. but a long time ago you gave a shy, scared, dislocated, terribly unhappy girl something bright and lovely to look forward to every day. and even though you didn't do it knowingly or with intention, i'm still grateful.
with nostalgic affection,
a little satellite
--
This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth. If you feel inclined, comment there.