back to the old habits
Since on Thursday I'd stayed up until two writing journal pages, doing IDs and basically making up all the work I'd missed on Monday and Wednesday, Friday morning I was exhausted and in absolutely no mood to go to school. I went anyway. I got to school feeling sick (probably due to the four caffeine pills I'd consumed within the last eight hours), and rather unproductive. I said good morning to Ms. Jordan and signed myself into one of the journalism computers, then conversed with the other kids until the bell and announcements (or, I should say, through the bell and announcements). Once everyone was settled in and beginning to work, Ms. Jordan asked to see me outside. I got up and followed her out.
I figured, since she hadn't called either of the other editors, it was to make up all the shit I'd missed over the last couple of days, progress and ideas that Ben and Lily had come up with. Instead, I followed her downstairs, where Ms. Boto was waiting in the old voice room, which has been into, what Ms. Boto referred to as a "serious" room.
Ms Jordan said what I was thinking: "I didn't even know this room existed."
"This is a serious room," Ms. Boto replied. "We all have to be serious when we're in here."
At that point, I had no idea what was going on. Usually, Ms. Boto stays out of Catalyst affairs. I sat down, observed the look on Ms. Jordan's face, and realized that they were definitely not there to give me makeup work. They began ambiguously addressing their concerns for my being an editor; without stating their purpose, they told me that no matter how charming my carefree attitude is, they don't know how serious I am about anything. Ms. Jordan cited the time I wrote up the advertisment forms; basically, just pieces of paper that used to have boring, unimaginative text that did not inspire people to want to advertise in our publication; I rewrote the forms with a much friendlier and humorous feel that I felt represented the Catalyst a little more. Ms. Jordan approved it. Then, as a joke, I gizoogled the text and handed in a version to inspire "ethnic advertising." Back to the conference, Ms. Jordan told me that while I may have thought it was funny, if that form had ever gotten out, it could have been the end of Catalyst.
That's what the conference really seemed to be about... they told me how fragile the school really is, in the world of County funding and crazy fucking parents (not exactly their words). And so they informed me that they didn't want me editing. They also cited the log entry I was required to write about doing Catalyst. I had actually tried to cater that entry to Ms. Boto, because the last time I did a response to Catalyst she'd threatened my editorship. And in the hallway a few weeks ago, she'd tried to convince me to not be editor.
The two of them painted a picture (figuratively) of the Catalyst as a glass house, and myself as the rhinoceros coming to tea. I was so worn down and tired that I didn't have anything to say. But the conference didn't end there.. they went on to talk about what else I could do. I sat through another twenty minutes of them talking about my future... I could keep taking journalism, I could get an internship, I could take courses at a college... Ms. Boto suggested that I take a video camera and a small crew to a war plagued nation in Africa and film them (I'm... not kidding). It was a generally uncomfortable place to be, and having them trying to "help me out" was not making things better.
We finally parted ways and went back upstairs. I headed to the bathroom while Ms. Jordan told Ben and Lily what was up. I didn't actually have to go, but I wanted to get a chance to collect myself before going back into the journalism room, rather than being thrust from "you lose" to "get to work." While I was washing my hands (what else is there to do in a bathroom if you're not relieving yourself?), I started getting really angry. About as angry as I'd been on Monday when I'd spent 4 hours preparing for and getting to the driving test only to be failed for putting my seatbelt on as I began moving. It's weird, because it's been a long time since I really got straight up angry about anything. But still, I restrained myself (and by that, I mean I tried to break a sink with my fist) and went back to Journalism, where Ms. Jordan had just finished talking with Ben and Lily. They did not appear to be anymore amused with the situation than I.
I sat in class, copy editing, hardly even looking at the papers in front of me. I was thinking about what I'm going to do next year... with any luck, an internship that, A, allows me to leave school early every day, and B, allows me to get credit in my prime without actually going to any prime classes anymore. That would be fantastic.
The bell rang, thankfully, and I wandered down to History, all a'sulk and moping heavily. We were doing the roundtable discussion of the cold war that I thought I'd missed, and I would have been a little more excited if I wasn't all depressed and pissed off. We started, and I was still thinking heavily about making new plans for next year... appearantly, Ms. Baylin was talking to me for a few minutes, addressing a question to my character (Fidel Castro!), and everyone was looking at me not even noticing her. I felt like an idiot; when I looked up, everyone laughed at me. Ms. Baylin had to repeat the question, and it took me a little while to remember what the fuck I was even talking about, but I managed to give an actual answer. I was pretty much silent for the rest of class.
During lunch, I sat with my head down for twenty minutes. I was too wired on the pills to fall asleep. I didn't eat anything.
Fiction was next, and that class is always somewhat of a comfort. Mirah gave me a sandwich. I was more conscious, and actually answered questions without being provoked. I was not, however, looking forward to math. I arrived there and everyone thought I was sick. One girl said "hi" and I sort of raised a hand and mumbled at her. She got angry and said, "I'm just trying to be nice!" She stood there, as if looking for an apology. I turned my head just slightly to make eye contact that said "Fuck off or get shot," and she gave me a hug. I learned everything I knew about exponents all over again, while people kept looking at me and asking what was wrong. Why do people alway pay the most attention to a person who obviously wants it the least?
I was very, very relieved when the bell rang. I got the keys from Xavier and zipped home. I pulled myself out of my funk and went to back to school to give the car to Xavier, who needed it to get to his Mom's house. I came a little early to catch the frisbee game... when I got there, the Lacrosse kids were just kicking us off the field. So, fuck, I went inside where a bunch of people were hanging around getting prepared for Carver Celebration. I found Xavier, gave him the keys and talked to some kids outside, trying to track down Mac, who'd invited me to see V for Vendetta with him after school. I'd checked showtimes, and the first one after school was at four, so I was still set there. I didn't find Mac, but since I figured he'd be going to the movie, I had Xavier drop me off at the Commons. I looked around for Mac for a little while, decided he was either in the theater or not coming, and went to buy my ticket.
I was at that point that I realized I only had three dollars. I swore, hung around for a little while praying Mac would show up, then left. I headed home, the first of many times this weekend that I was going to trek the distance from Towson to Regester (or vice versa). I normally cut across the fields of Towson High, but as I walked through the parking lot, I discovered a lacrosse game, a baseball game, tennis practice and lacrosse practice (for the boys). I was about to turn around and go around, but then I remembered an old friend of mine who I haven't seen for about two years plays girls' lacrosse for Towson, so I decided that, since I had nothing better to do, I'd watch her play.
I figured out Cathy was number twenty seven from the people shouting her name whenever number twenty seven did anything (which was actually a lot, she's pretty good at the sport even if it's boring and lame). For those of you who've never met Cathy, which is almost all of you, here's why she's awesome (this is from the summer of eighth grade, near the Appalachian Trail):
I didn't know I even had this until mom handed me a little black note book she'd found... I only wrote in a few pages, but another girl had written on a page. Unfortunately, she took up half the page with a crosshatched "You Rock!" so it's really not as interesting to reread.Just for the record, the "Thor" thing was a nickname I picked up during a canoing trip where my constant imperviousness to the weather warranted me the titled of the storm god. Also, the "roller coaster" is a point on the trail with seven peaks and seven troughs all of which are steep and within a fourteen mile range... it's a total bitch to hike. I ended up doing it with a hugely infected knee that later got me removed from the trail.
Anyway, after the game I said hi, and she looked at me with that "Do I know you?" expression that flowered into that "holy shit, I know you!" look. When the weather warms up, we're going to have a picnic because picnics are awesome.
I walked home from there, and as soon as I set my foot in the door, Mom informed me that Orpheus was trying to get in contact with me (for those of you who haven't tried calling, my phone is fucked up and will only stay on if it's plugged into the charger.... interestingly enough, the charger doesn't need to be plugged into the wall). Orpheus wanted to see V for Vendetta, and I hadn't seen him for a while, so I agreed to walk all the way back to Towson, with money. I arrived a little before seven, and waited for Orpheus. I didn't see him, and decided he must already be in the theater. I went in and found him in the third row, and sat down next to him. We made fun of all the move trailers, and someone threw a gummi treat at me. I mumbled to Orpheus that if I got hit with anything else, I was going to turn around and threaten their lives (I look scarier as a silhouette in a theater, too). Suddenly, someone whispered "Aladdin!" from behind me, and I turned around.
Sally, Catherine and a bunch of other kids were seated right behind Orpheus and myself. I was turned around talking to Sally all throughout the Superman trailer. Eventually, I turned back around and she sat back her in seat.
The movie was good.
Afterward, Sally broke off with all the ugly kids she was sitting with and walked down with Orpheus and me, with the idea that she'd be giving us a ride home. I saw that god awful Tumble girl as we were leaving. She was on the phone with Xavier, which was lucky because I needed to talk to him, and, I reiterate, my phone is fucked to hell. After I was finished, I hung up because I don't like her talking to him because she's gross and looks thirteen when she's really like 16 or 17 and ewwww - but, I digress. Standing outside was Mac, that Claire girl, Doug, Josh and some other folks. Kardos was wandering around inside.
We ended up running around a lot just trying to get home, and Xavier came and took the kids that weren't going to fit in Sally's car and Josh, Mac and Kardos all ended up in my basement (the first floor is being worked on). Mac had gotten ripped off, giving money to a guy to buy him Sparks (Josh's idea), and he got four... for eighteen dollars. So that was stupid. And so we wandered around my neighborhood, and Kardos made less of a jackass of himself than he thought, and I ended up taking all the kids to Mac's house, and Orpheus to his house.
Orpheus' house was fucking crazy. It was a St. Patrick's Day Boogaloo, and there were a bunch of kids getting drunk and taking pictures and smoking cigarettes and doing pot ("How many should we take?" "I dunno, four?" "No way! I heard some kid died off four!") and it was all very exciting. I took a Natty Bo and left, unable to drink due to my responsibilities as a good provisional carrying driver. Actually, it was already past midnight, but whatever. I was tired.
I got home, Xavier and I hung out a little, then we went our separate ways and fell asleep.
Saturday was a lazy day, mostly. That is, until I walked up to Carver. Walking is never lazy! I ate two pieces of pie, some pasta and downed a few cups of water when I got there. I wandered around, then settled into the spontaneous writing room (slash light desert room). I wrote a few pieces, the most notable of which was, firstly, the one I did on Frisky... a woman came up and told me that her cat Frisky had died, they'd had him for something like twenty years or something insane like that, and they loved him very much and wanted a piece done on him. I wrote about how cats are fucked from the moment they enter this world, and they should be glad when they're dead.It was not intended to cheer anyone up, but the woman came back and said she loved it. Also, I wrote Ms. Stoll a metrical poem about "Paintball" for her son.Other topics and words were "Totally Radical," "Obtuse" and "Ready." It wasn't that exciting.
At eight thirty, I took off and ran to the Recher, where I had previously purchased tickets to the 451 show. I don't know why. Anyway, I got there for their last song and saw a lot of people I haven't seen in a while, most notably Kate, but the place was filled with disagreeable people and some girls that really wanted me to try coke and I ended up just saying fuckit and leaving; I went to the commons, called Nick with the showtimes for V for Vendetta, wrote one more piece of spontaneous writing for Shaheen (He had said greenland, but i thought he said greenlit), and saw JC. I said hi, and met her friend, and then went to see V again.
It was still pretty good.
Nick and I dropped Shaheen off and went back to my house. We killed a little time on the computer, and I had these instant messages waiting for me when I got there.
ElwoodBlues685: hey
ElwoodBlues685: hows it goin
dueceduece18: you're going to be mad
dueceduece18: me and liz are back together
dueceduece18: oh the humanity
dueceduece18: you there?
MustangSally0119: heey
pAntee sh0t: hey
pAntee sh0t: actually
pAntee sh0t: nevermind
pAntee sh0t: im too fuck
pAntee sh0t: like
pAntee sh0t: never
pAntee sh0t: gone
pAntee sh0t: nite nite
Nick and I fell asleep talking about uncomfortable situations.
I figured, since she hadn't called either of the other editors, it was to make up all the shit I'd missed over the last couple of days, progress and ideas that Ben and Lily had come up with. Instead, I followed her downstairs, where Ms. Boto was waiting in the old voice room, which has been into, what Ms. Boto referred to as a "serious" room.
Ms Jordan said what I was thinking: "I didn't even know this room existed."
"This is a serious room," Ms. Boto replied. "We all have to be serious when we're in here."
At that point, I had no idea what was going on. Usually, Ms. Boto stays out of Catalyst affairs. I sat down, observed the look on Ms. Jordan's face, and realized that they were definitely not there to give me makeup work. They began ambiguously addressing their concerns for my being an editor; without stating their purpose, they told me that no matter how charming my carefree attitude is, they don't know how serious I am about anything. Ms. Jordan cited the time I wrote up the advertisment forms; basically, just pieces of paper that used to have boring, unimaginative text that did not inspire people to want to advertise in our publication; I rewrote the forms with a much friendlier and humorous feel that I felt represented the Catalyst a little more. Ms. Jordan approved it. Then, as a joke, I gizoogled the text and handed in a version to inspire "ethnic advertising." Back to the conference, Ms. Jordan told me that while I may have thought it was funny, if that form had ever gotten out, it could have been the end of Catalyst.
That's what the conference really seemed to be about... they told me how fragile the school really is, in the world of County funding and crazy fucking parents (not exactly their words). And so they informed me that they didn't want me editing. They also cited the log entry I was required to write about doing Catalyst. I had actually tried to cater that entry to Ms. Boto, because the last time I did a response to Catalyst she'd threatened my editorship. And in the hallway a few weeks ago, she'd tried to convince me to not be editor.
The two of them painted a picture (figuratively) of the Catalyst as a glass house, and myself as the rhinoceros coming to tea. I was so worn down and tired that I didn't have anything to say. But the conference didn't end there.. they went on to talk about what else I could do. I sat through another twenty minutes of them talking about my future... I could keep taking journalism, I could get an internship, I could take courses at a college... Ms. Boto suggested that I take a video camera and a small crew to a war plagued nation in Africa and film them (I'm... not kidding). It was a generally uncomfortable place to be, and having them trying to "help me out" was not making things better.
We finally parted ways and went back upstairs. I headed to the bathroom while Ms. Jordan told Ben and Lily what was up. I didn't actually have to go, but I wanted to get a chance to collect myself before going back into the journalism room, rather than being thrust from "you lose" to "get to work." While I was washing my hands (what else is there to do in a bathroom if you're not relieving yourself?), I started getting really angry. About as angry as I'd been on Monday when I'd spent 4 hours preparing for and getting to the driving test only to be failed for putting my seatbelt on as I began moving. It's weird, because it's been a long time since I really got straight up angry about anything. But still, I restrained myself (and by that, I mean I tried to break a sink with my fist) and went back to Journalism, where Ms. Jordan had just finished talking with Ben and Lily. They did not appear to be anymore amused with the situation than I.
I sat in class, copy editing, hardly even looking at the papers in front of me. I was thinking about what I'm going to do next year... with any luck, an internship that, A, allows me to leave school early every day, and B, allows me to get credit in my prime without actually going to any prime classes anymore. That would be fantastic.
The bell rang, thankfully, and I wandered down to History, all a'sulk and moping heavily. We were doing the roundtable discussion of the cold war that I thought I'd missed, and I would have been a little more excited if I wasn't all depressed and pissed off. We started, and I was still thinking heavily about making new plans for next year... appearantly, Ms. Baylin was talking to me for a few minutes, addressing a question to my character (Fidel Castro!), and everyone was looking at me not even noticing her. I felt like an idiot; when I looked up, everyone laughed at me. Ms. Baylin had to repeat the question, and it took me a little while to remember what the fuck I was even talking about, but I managed to give an actual answer. I was pretty much silent for the rest of class.
During lunch, I sat with my head down for twenty minutes. I was too wired on the pills to fall asleep. I didn't eat anything.
Fiction was next, and that class is always somewhat of a comfort. Mirah gave me a sandwich. I was more conscious, and actually answered questions without being provoked. I was not, however, looking forward to math. I arrived there and everyone thought I was sick. One girl said "hi" and I sort of raised a hand and mumbled at her. She got angry and said, "I'm just trying to be nice!" She stood there, as if looking for an apology. I turned my head just slightly to make eye contact that said "Fuck off or get shot," and she gave me a hug. I learned everything I knew about exponents all over again, while people kept looking at me and asking what was wrong. Why do people alway pay the most attention to a person who obviously wants it the least?
I was very, very relieved when the bell rang. I got the keys from Xavier and zipped home. I pulled myself out of my funk and went to back to school to give the car to Xavier, who needed it to get to his Mom's house. I came a little early to catch the frisbee game... when I got there, the Lacrosse kids were just kicking us off the field. So, fuck, I went inside where a bunch of people were hanging around getting prepared for Carver Celebration. I found Xavier, gave him the keys and talked to some kids outside, trying to track down Mac, who'd invited me to see V for Vendetta with him after school. I'd checked showtimes, and the first one after school was at four, so I was still set there. I didn't find Mac, but since I figured he'd be going to the movie, I had Xavier drop me off at the Commons. I looked around for Mac for a little while, decided he was either in the theater or not coming, and went to buy my ticket.
I was at that point that I realized I only had three dollars. I swore, hung around for a little while praying Mac would show up, then left. I headed home, the first of many times this weekend that I was going to trek the distance from Towson to Regester (or vice versa). I normally cut across the fields of Towson High, but as I walked through the parking lot, I discovered a lacrosse game, a baseball game, tennis practice and lacrosse practice (for the boys). I was about to turn around and go around, but then I remembered an old friend of mine who I haven't seen for about two years plays girls' lacrosse for Towson, so I decided that, since I had nothing better to do, I'd watch her play.
I figured out Cathy was number twenty seven from the people shouting her name whenever number twenty seven did anything (which was actually a lot, she's pretty good at the sport even if it's boring and lame). For those of you who've never met Cathy, which is almost all of you, here's why she's awesome (this is from the summer of eighth grade, near the Appalachian Trail):
I didn't know I even had this until mom handed me a little black note book she'd found... I only wrote in a few pages, but another girl had written on a page. Unfortunately, she took up half the page with a crosshatched "You Rock!" so it's really not as interesting to reread.Just for the record, the "Thor" thing was a nickname I picked up during a canoing trip where my constant imperviousness to the weather warranted me the titled of the storm god. Also, the "roller coaster" is a point on the trail with seven peaks and seven troughs all of which are steep and within a fourteen mile range... it's a total bitch to hike. I ended up doing it with a hugely infected knee that later got me removed from the trail.
Anyway, after the game I said hi, and she looked at me with that "Do I know you?" expression that flowered into that "holy shit, I know you!" look. When the weather warms up, we're going to have a picnic because picnics are awesome.
I walked home from there, and as soon as I set my foot in the door, Mom informed me that Orpheus was trying to get in contact with me (for those of you who haven't tried calling, my phone is fucked up and will only stay on if it's plugged into the charger.... interestingly enough, the charger doesn't need to be plugged into the wall). Orpheus wanted to see V for Vendetta, and I hadn't seen him for a while, so I agreed to walk all the way back to Towson, with money. I arrived a little before seven, and waited for Orpheus. I didn't see him, and decided he must already be in the theater. I went in and found him in the third row, and sat down next to him. We made fun of all the move trailers, and someone threw a gummi treat at me. I mumbled to Orpheus that if I got hit with anything else, I was going to turn around and threaten their lives (I look scarier as a silhouette in a theater, too). Suddenly, someone whispered "Aladdin!" from behind me, and I turned around.
Sally, Catherine and a bunch of other kids were seated right behind Orpheus and myself. I was turned around talking to Sally all throughout the Superman trailer. Eventually, I turned back around and she sat back her in seat.
The movie was good.
Afterward, Sally broke off with all the ugly kids she was sitting with and walked down with Orpheus and me, with the idea that she'd be giving us a ride home. I saw that god awful Tumble girl as we were leaving. She was on the phone with Xavier, which was lucky because I needed to talk to him, and, I reiterate, my phone is fucked to hell. After I was finished, I hung up because I don't like her talking to him because she's gross and looks thirteen when she's really like 16 or 17 and ewwww - but, I digress. Standing outside was Mac, that Claire girl, Doug, Josh and some other folks. Kardos was wandering around inside.
We ended up running around a lot just trying to get home, and Xavier came and took the kids that weren't going to fit in Sally's car and Josh, Mac and Kardos all ended up in my basement (the first floor is being worked on). Mac had gotten ripped off, giving money to a guy to buy him Sparks (Josh's idea), and he got four... for eighteen dollars. So that was stupid. And so we wandered around my neighborhood, and Kardos made less of a jackass of himself than he thought, and I ended up taking all the kids to Mac's house, and Orpheus to his house.
Orpheus' house was fucking crazy. It was a St. Patrick's Day Boogaloo, and there were a bunch of kids getting drunk and taking pictures and smoking cigarettes and doing pot ("How many should we take?" "I dunno, four?" "No way! I heard some kid died off four!") and it was all very exciting. I took a Natty Bo and left, unable to drink due to my responsibilities as a good provisional carrying driver. Actually, it was already past midnight, but whatever. I was tired.
I got home, Xavier and I hung out a little, then we went our separate ways and fell asleep.
Saturday was a lazy day, mostly. That is, until I walked up to Carver. Walking is never lazy! I ate two pieces of pie, some pasta and downed a few cups of water when I got there. I wandered around, then settled into the spontaneous writing room (slash light desert room). I wrote a few pieces, the most notable of which was, firstly, the one I did on Frisky... a woman came up and told me that her cat Frisky had died, they'd had him for something like twenty years or something insane like that, and they loved him very much and wanted a piece done on him. I wrote about how cats are fucked from the moment they enter this world, and they should be glad when they're dead.It was not intended to cheer anyone up, but the woman came back and said she loved it. Also, I wrote Ms. Stoll a metrical poem about "Paintball" for her son.Other topics and words were "Totally Radical," "Obtuse" and "Ready." It wasn't that exciting.
At eight thirty, I took off and ran to the Recher, where I had previously purchased tickets to the 451 show. I don't know why. Anyway, I got there for their last song and saw a lot of people I haven't seen in a while, most notably Kate, but the place was filled with disagreeable people and some girls that really wanted me to try coke and I ended up just saying fuckit and leaving; I went to the commons, called Nick with the showtimes for V for Vendetta, wrote one more piece of spontaneous writing for Shaheen (He had said greenland, but i thought he said greenlit), and saw JC. I said hi, and met her friend, and then went to see V again.
It was still pretty good.
Nick and I dropped Shaheen off and went back to my house. We killed a little time on the computer, and I had these instant messages waiting for me when I got there.
ElwoodBlues685: hey
ElwoodBlues685: hows it goin
dueceduece18: you're going to be mad
dueceduece18: me and liz are back together
dueceduece18: oh the humanity
dueceduece18: you there?
MustangSally0119: heey
pAntee sh0t: hey
pAntee sh0t: actually
pAntee sh0t: nevermind
pAntee sh0t: im too fuck
pAntee sh0t: like
pAntee sh0t: never
pAntee sh0t: gone
pAntee sh0t: nite nite
Nick and I fell asleep talking about uncomfortable situations.