Baccalaureate

I remember being very impressed once, by the Sapphire. A book I had as a child told me that it had the unique ability to change in colour and appearance; to sparkle blue at midday and burn reddish-gold by candle light.

The Senior's blue graduation robes reminded me a little of the shape-shifting Sapphires. On Billie and Margaret, it was a cheery, creative blue. On Angie and Kat, it seemed filled with hopeful potential. And of course, on Layla, it transformed again, into something dark and dignified.

I noticed immediately that she was standing a little differently from the others, that she had folded her arms again into the opposite sleeves, so that the long fabric met in the middle like the classic monk's robe. It was quite funny. Once again, Layla had transformed something almost ordinary into something extraordinary and scholarly.

And also hilarious. I laughed aloud, and when she saw me at the door I put my hands in my own sleeves to show her what I was laughing at. She laughed too, and I'm glad that happened.

It felt so strange to see them walking across the stage. We had been together for so long- since I came to St. Louis in the third grade and it was the fourth graders, never the fifth, who captured my wonder and respect. Sure, they had moved ahead of us before, but it had never felt like this. We had always known they were simply waiting for us, further on up the road. Now they were dispersing, going every which way, out into a world that would never truly return them.

And then there was Layla. I always thought, somehow, that we'd find our peace in the end. Perhaps that was our peace, that moment laughing over long sleeves together. I'm not certain.

When she walked I saw everything over again... Qatar, and Nutshells, and Quiche, and Pokemon, and Furuba, and Veritas Waffles, and our Summer Emails, and Desert Layla... Anime Club, Book Club, Government, Racquetball, Derivatives in Latin Class... And I remember her coming to my side that day, when I came to practice in tears. She flew to my side- I can remember the motion perfectly. She came to me when I needed her, and she'll never know how grateful I was.

In one moment all of this went through my mind, and I struggled in vain, one last time, for closure. The moment ended and she was gone. Unexpected, a tear fell. The first tear never falls so much as leaps, sparkling, onto the cheek. The rest fall easily. I didn't move otherwise and merely hoped my mascara wouldn't run.

I was the first to leave - right as they were passing candles. In the fading light of the empty lot I felt as though I walked straight into an empty sky.

Bye bye... Senior Graduation (With Prom)

They Look So Pretty!
Lisa, Angie, Gwen/Billie, Layla

Group Shot from Prom... Seniors and Juniors...*

Margaret

Angie and Kat

Layla, Kaitlyn, and Billie

* - Brunette Far Left: Layla
Second Row From Left Blonde: Kari
Asian Right and Down From Kari: Wendy
Asian Below Wendy: Billie
Brunette to the Right and In Between Billie and Wendy: Gwen
Brunette Right of Gwen: Carla?
Asian Below Carla?: Angie
Asian to the Right of Angie: Sherry
Blonde Above Sherry and Angie: Claudia
Asian Right of Sherry: Lisa
Blonde Right of Lisa: Christy
Blonde Above Christy: Amanda

(This is why I don't do Yearbook)

Through the Windows

On a rainy day, the Seniors left us. What staff was free ushered them out of the building and onto the lawn as we watched them through the grey rain. We had the famous 'snow watch' view from Keller's Chemistry Lab, and it served us well one final time. We waved, they waved, all smiles, let's pretend we're happy. There is some happiness, but mostly for them. For those that remain, there is mostly ending.

Angie danced with her Umbrella.

Then Billie and Layla came out as well and the three of them ran down to our room, knowing full well that Keller lacked the energy or will to do anything about it. So we chatted with them. About nothing. With Layla, especially, it was nothing. She returned Stephanie's "CATS" recording - she had borrowed it in her Sophomore years. Then we talked about Anime Club, and the three of them begged us to fight the dubs with everything we had. Alas, we had and have nothing.

Ah, it was especially nothing. Angie and I wondered who was taller, and she climbed in the window to settle it for once and for all. The results? Angie > Miranda > Stephanie. But the differences are negligible. Particularly when Stephanie wears her combat boots.

Goodbye Angie, lovely reading voice, wonderful mind reader, simultaneously clumsiest and lithest of all her class.

Goodbye Billie, the ever cheerful, brilliant poet, brilliant artist, the one who never took herself too seriously, and that was a rarity.

Goodbye Layla. I'm glad you came.

I'm glad.

Even if we couldn't say anything between Angie and Billie and Stephanie.

Even if pride would bar us from what we would say, anyway.

I'm glad.

A Year Behind

This year was the happiest and the saddest of my life.

This year was the busiest and the most introspective of my life.

This was the year I got a job and a drivers license.

This was the year I went to Greece and met Norwegians.

This was the year I looked ahead to life and found myself small and inadequate.

This was the year I looked behind to memory and found strength.

This was the year I had a Christmas in Curacao.

This was the year I looked at my friends and found goths and nerds and druggies.

This was the year I listened, and felt the words of others.

This was the year I spread my wings, shook them out, and folded them again.

This was the year I lied and snuck into a bar.

This was the year I walked the city of Mainz alone and without English.

This was the year I stood on a stage without shaking.

This was the year I won a sports trophy.

This was the year I twice loved and was twice wounded.

This was the year I couldn't count on a smile.

This was the year I felt the sunlight.

This was the year I faltered from my path.

This was the year I kept walking.

Layla and Harvard

I haven't posted since the crap with Layla really started. I guess that dates both things.

Anyway, I was really depressed and sad today, because I waited with Layla and listened to all of her angst rants and I was so worried and hopeful about her getting into Harvard. Well, she did. Yay for her. Party!

But I was the last one to know... Even the Principal knew first... and I couldn't hug her or anything... I could barely just smile and say, "Congratulations".

Life is Hell. Humanity is Hell. Pride is the lowest level of Hell.

O.O

"Hey mom, could you sign this form for me, so I can compete in the NVC? Yes, I got time off work. No, I don't have a Racquetball Game that day. Yes. Mhmm. I'll fax it tomorrow. And I just have to bring my permit and some pencils. Hmm? No, I haven't eaten since breakfast. I'll get a sandwich or something. No, that's fine, I'll make it myself. No, I have to finish my essay first. Wait, I think I already submitted it. Whatever. Math homework? You're kidding, right? Chemistry... yeah... I'll stay after for tutoring tomorrow. And I'll study for Gov at lunch, with Layla if she's not still angry with me. Otherwise alone. Yeah, it's fine. I don't have to start working the bookfair for a few more days still. God, I've got a killer Spanish test Thursday. I guess I'll find time to study tomorrow. Yes, I'll go in early to do my Gym make-up. Yeah, I'll shower in the morning. Yes, I'll let Tidbit out before I go to bed. Good night. Sleep tight."

Stress And Turkey

Right. Forty Nine Emails later, we're done with our Government Report.

The only mistake, that we know of, may not even be a problem, is mostly my fault, and is a result of miscommunication. So yeah, not that bad. Layla thought we needed in text citations, I had no idea; I've only used them once in my life. So I threw them all in at the last minute... and...

00:27 me: dies

00:28 gwen: beat you to it. i'm already dead.

me: Oh my god

We just had the Gov thing

Right?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

:P

gwen: yeah?

me: Layla and I bandied over 49 emails about it

gwen: o lord

me: and then I find out twenty minutes before turn it in time that I need in text citations

RIGHT:.....

So I'm adding those and sending, adding and sending

Finally I compile it all into a master file and send it

00:29 gwen: yeah

me: But she freaks out and just wants to submit

So she ignores it

We don't know how much she got

And so we emailed Chazen and we're like

We're missing anywhere from 2-10 in text citations, but we think we have 95-100% of the bibliography. :D

gwen: lol

hopefully it'll turn out ok

me: And it's totally my fault and I'm an idiot

And it's Layla, for God's sake

So I can't even be like

00:30 Haha, remember the time you...

gwen: oh no worries - it's not like she NEEDS the grades.

me: Oh, but she DOES

She's cutting that grade closer than she's ever cut a grade before

She told me

gwen: lol

me: She's been sweating blood

gwen: difference between A and H?

me: What are you up to?

:P Yeah

gwen: an A won't kill her

00:31 i just finished that english essay

me: But hey, I sweat blood over it in Spanish, and I still have an A, and I'm still alive.

I should have donated it..

Oh!

gwen: i did it all in one sitting

me: Let's see!

gwen: ugh it's awful

but it's done

me: (Chazen should have given us until 2 am)

I did mine in one sitting, too

:P

Trade?

Nah

Not tonight

Later

;)

gwen: later, definitely

but i'm off to bed

me: Yeah

00:32 gwen: i'm exhausted

me: Me too

Love you, Gwen

Have a happy Thanksgiving

:D

gwen: love you more!!!

me: NO STRESS!

gwen: eat turkey

My Friends

I'm just flying. My fingers won't stop typing. Emails. Essays. Deadlines. Blog Posts. And my feet won't stop moving - Babysitting, Work, Racquetball, Service Hours..

I'm so busy I don't have time to stray from my default into dark and nasty thoughts. So I'm happy, exhausted, burnt out, rambling, wandering into walls and falling into wells, but happy...

And I love having Layla around.

I need Layla, see. I'm ashamed and I don't want it to be too obvious, but she's guiding me. Sometimes it may seem the other way around, and sometimes it may appear that we're walking hand in hand, but she's guiding me. I'm following her footsteps through the crowd, hoping to come out on the other side.

And Billie - As Layla said, you are our happy environment. Always be Billie. I know you're human... But please, be Billie. For all of us. :D

And I can't give anything but Cookies, so... I'll just keep bring those... I love you...

This Weekend

This Weekend I'm running like my feet can't bear to stay on the ground.

Friday, Racquetball game. Immediately after school. Opponent's a sour natured girl, who won't shake hands properly and frowns and whines and tells all her friends I'm cheating for having good positioning. I go from this to Babysitting, no time to change. They jump on me and want to play tag and have milk and dinner and the little baby wants to poop and scream and run around and Grace wants to jump from furniture to furniture, that's not allowed...

I sing to Nate as I rock him to sleep, I sing "Into the West", it's what comes into my head, and he falls to sleep in my arms and I kiss his little face on his soft cheekbone, and a little eyelash is there. It's dark and long; not from a baby's eye. So the wish is mine, and I wish that someday...

Memory fades out, I dream of the National Vocabulary Competition, and making Sra. Altadonna a ball of stress and nerves, and we get there just in time, and sit together, Laura and Christy and I, as it all begins, and up on the stage there's bright lights and dry ice and a noise like thunder and the first girl goes up, and it's not even Vocabulary but Geography, and I don't know if she even get's it right - what does that buzzer mean, after all?

It means wake up, up I get, I shower, go down and shove a strawberry crepe down my throat and take the highway to work, barely get there ontime, half asleep and with an arm throbbing from Racquetball and Baby-Changing and forty new dollars in my pocket and it's payday and I get a 400$ paycheck, so now I'm rich but I have to shelve books all day...

Home again, it's out the door, to Arabic Church - I've turned it into my Government service project as well. Little kids climbing and kicking and screaming, Alleh, Daniel, Daniela, Eva, Evaline, Mary, and a new little girl, and we watch the service, it's interesting, and we eat some food, and we're home again, the house is cold and empty without Mom or Dad or Melissa or Tidbit.

Asleep - for longer, but not long enough. I skip Racquetball practice to write the Government essay, Angie hasn't even done it, for all that. Due on Tuesday at midnight, I want to get my English essay done tonight, perhaps it will happen. Lovely times at Layla's house, such nice smells and golden colours and a bird hits the window and whirls about with a wounded wing scattering decaying leaves about it.

Dark and Deadly Kaos, Smooth and Simple Peace... I look forward to Thanksgiving, and to Christmas, and to next year being a Senior, and College, and seeing the world, and meeting someone I want to spend my life with, and having adorable little dark haired children, and then quite suddenly I don't want to go forward any more - the tunnel plummets onward to the end of my life. So I sit back, and concentrate on the minute - what do you have to do RIGHT NOW, this very minute. What's due in the next? What's important?

And I decide blogging. :D

Poetry Slam

The Second Annual, First Biannual Poetry Slam was today. That is to mean; last year we had the first one, and, with the incentive of extra credit, it was a resounding success. So this year we mean to have two. Today's was barely worthwhile, but barely does rightfully imply that it was worthwhile all the same. The Open-Mike was a neat addition; Layla read "Tech Support" and took the slam - not as powerfully as Haoran did last year, but it wasn't an original piece. Haoran also scored again; as did Alex, Angie Gao, Connie Tsai, and Billie Liao. There may be a rule that no white people can win. No, I don't mean just to whine by saying that; although there are only two or three white people who entered. Ah, well.

I got nice comments on my poem, but didn't score to well from the judges. That's fine by me; my poem was short, snide, sarcastic, biting, pointed, composed in less than ten minutes a year ago, and thrown into the competition at the last minute to even things out. It also probably didn't help that the group it made fun of and cut down WAS poets, teen-poets to be specific, so it's less than ideal to enter into a teen-poetry-slam, if you want to be pragmatic. I'm sure I've posted it before, but here it is again to freshen memories;

I wear the mask that grins and lies,
It lies to hide my awful eyes,
It grins to mask my pitted skin,
The sight of which kills lesser men.

I may look sad, I may look cold,
But if the mask were backwards-rolled,
I'd stand still changeless before thee -
In dear-bought truth, the mask wears me.

State of the Union

Life's been queerer than a clockwork orange. I permit you to read between the lines...

I've fought my family. I've sort of won. We're acting a little warmer again. I've come out of my school slump. It's in time for science, not for math. I've gotten invited to several youth leadership conferences everywhere from good ole' Washington to Russia or China or Slovakia. The Democrats took control of the House. No one knows what's wrong with Tidbit. But she's come home. Layla's admitted she desperately wants to go to Harvard. Billie's fighting the assumption that, as an asian, she'll do pre-med. Racquetball's started and mixed lovingly with my job and school like Hummus and Saffron and Oatmeal go together. It's getting colder, slowly. It's very wet. I've heard the Democrats took the Senate, too. There are still a ton of leaves on the trees for this time of year. Today it was randomly 70 degrees. I wore my Norway! Shirt. Britney Spears is divorcing Kevin. Agnese laughed at my Italian. Walaa smiled at my Arabic, Amelia at my Aramaic. Bush admits the losses are all his fault. Layla's sick of studying. Charles won't admit defeat. Erin brought bagels for our Chemistry class. Rumsfeld resigned. Sara was practically doing cartwheels. We knew before the Government teachers. Or our parents. We've been studying the fall of the Berlin wall. I've shelved "Raising Bison for the Broken Heart", and "The Ugly Truckling", and "A Mind of It's Own: A History of the Penis". We're on Revelations in Bible Study. In Spanish we study food for two hours right before lunch. But we got to try Pomengranate. Stem Cell Research passed... despite the lies about cloning. The Cigarette Tax did not pass... life limps forward. I've forgotten more Latin than I think I ever learned. The sky is blue, the leaves drift across like... dry leaves. There's not always a metaphore.

Utilitarian Garage Family

I don't know who to turn to. No, that's wrong. It's really completely off. I have plenty of people to turn to, and the diety of my choosing - that's one blessing. And I'm counting every one right now - not for warm and fuzzies, but because I have to.

Tidbit just drug herself up a flight of steps. Does anyone remember another little puppy who did that? Don't ever get a dachshund. Save yourself the heartache. They're the cutest dogs in the whole world, and the bravest (per size ratio), and the most loyal and sweetest. But you can love a mut just the same. I just want her to be Tidbit again.

Then there's my family. Coming home feels like going out to the garage nowadays. Cold and empty and old and worn out and above all utilitarian. Yeah. That's about it. My mind keeps going back to a day we all went hiking and played frisbee and cooked hotdogs and Tidbit and Tootsie chased each other down the trail as the leaves changed colours.

They're falling off the trees now - right as they've finally turned their brightest colours. The oaks are in full bloom right now, as it were - mom and dad say they've never seen such a bright oak. I took pictures so that when my heart is not as heavy I can enjoy them.

So yeah, Mom, she's still tired. Tired, she says. I don't know what I can do. My god, I'm sorry. I've tried my best. I try to be a good daughter. So, it's bad enough you yell at me. Tell me I'm the reason our family is breaking. Yeah, bad enough. Then you get Melissa in on it.

Go ahead. Tell her I'm the devil. I heard you tell her that I'm what's wrong with this family, that I'm a special needs child and I've taken all you have to give. Go ahead, tell her everything. Tell her if it wasn't for me... If it wasn't for me we'd still be throwing frisbees down by the river banks.

But I won't forgive you for that. I swear it - I'll forgive whatever you've said to me, in time, but I won't forget or forgive what you said to my sister. Not unless you see what you've done and paid for it, or until I've changed and all the world with me, become a better person, the good Christian I ought to be. I guess then I won't be wrecking any families, either.

Layla emailed me. How happy that makes me feel. When the whole world is spinning, I think, a kind word smooths it out and brightens it, too. Thank you, Layla.

My grades are going to hell. I can feel it and I care but I don't care and I hate myself for that too. I suppose my German grades holding up fine, I have no idea about English or Chemistry, never do... Gym I need my make ups, Gov I should have a solid B, and then there are the two I have to focus on: Math and Spanish: Borderline B-C and H-A, respectively.

But Math is hard and I don't have the stomach for it. So I throw myself into Spanish and it holds me for awhile. And food. I like to cook whole loaves of garlic bread and curl up on the couch and read Marianela and cry. Okay, no, I really don't, but I did yesterday and it made me feel better. And I love my Spanish.

No, I won't be emo about it. I promised that much and I won't back down. But if I have to burn that away with anger, I guess I'll have to do just that. And I'll live on emails dropped like rays of sunshine, and hugs from those who care, and my Spanish, and Tidbit in the morning when she first wakes up, and is almost Tidbit again until she remembers.

To Speak of Love at Lunchtime

You've ruined Macbeth for me, you know.

Have I?

Well, it's just the bit about the Norwegian. All I can see is Stian...

Did you ever see Stian, then?

No. What does he look like?

Well. He's blond haired and blue-green eyed and pretty. But no. I must cleanse myself of that.

Why? Don’t you speak?

Well, yes, but… well, things are over. It’s how they are.

I don’t believe that. It was too perfect. Besides, I finally reconcile myself to Chao’s boy and yours, and you go and get over them!

Well, I’m not quite over mine, and that’s the problem. Mostly, but not quite.

A pause.

But it just doesn’t make sense! I finally get used to it, and…

Layla! This isn’t about you! You egotistical… beast! It’s for me to get used to! Don’t make it your problem!

It’s just so perfect. I’m sure the moment you two meet everything will be fine.

A pause.

He is pretty, though. And his brother is totally ripped. I saw him coming out of the shower once with just a towel on…

Miranda! My respect for your maturity has just plummeted!

Layla, if you saw this, your eyes would flutter for a moment. Even yours. I swear it. Even if it didn’t do a thing, even if you didn’t consciously feel it, it would be there. It’s hardwired. (She glares)

A pause.

Alright, I’ll concede that, maybe… deep inside the heart of the id, only because it’s an accepted societal…

Oh, Layla, trust me on this one. He was ripped and tan and STEAMING. Literally.

Miranda! No! I was about to concede, but no longer!

Layla, I don’t… didn’t love him because he was pretty, you know.

I know that.

A pause.

It’s just that you’ve never been in love. Someday you’ll understand.

…

Don’t give me that crap about Rousseau, either…

No! It isn’t even fangirlism! I know fangirlism! This, is deeper…

Layla, my respect for you has just plummeted.

Choices?

I haven't even started my job yet, and mom's trying to convince me to quit. She's got issues, I swear... she just doesn't want to accept that I'm at an age where I might have commitments that supercede our trips to the lake and such. That's okay... I'm fine with them leaving me at home when I go to the lake. But she's throwing a fit about it.

Furthermore, as a blatant, burning mark that her selfishness is the primary factor here, she brings up that I'm going to have to choose between my job and Racquetball, which makes no sense at all. Yes, I'll be doing two things. Hardly impossible. Yes, I'll occasionally have to miss a Tuesday or Thursday game for work. Layla missed half the Freshman games for Violin practice. Life goes on.

She's always wanted me to quit Racquetball, and does nothing to hide that fact. Why can't she accept that I have a life complete with interests and commitments?

A Bucket of Good News!

First off, yesterday we had our first Disciple meeting of the year, and it was fun, and maybe we can focus better now that we're Juniors, eh? I'm looking forward to the year.

Creative Writing Club met again today. Steller second meeting. Mindy came instead of Sarah Baker (not to be confused with Sara Baker). Anyhow, we had a lovely time, although Layla does have a habit of making me feel just a hair inferior. Just a hair, mind you, enough that I see the distance and strive to close it. >D

Mr. McAllister is officially un evil now! After Christy talked to him a bit about it, he became exceedingly friendly, and his facial hair (which we long believed was controlling his soul) has been shaved off! But for what purpose? This remains to be seen...

I got my job! Hurrah! Yay! Dance! I spent about an hour today filling out paperwork for it, and another hour reading all the stuff they gave me. I start Saturday, and I already know one of my Coworkers! What a small world, eh?

Foreign Language Honours Attack!

Today and Yesterday the attack continued with some new developments. More than half the teachers are excited. A few are hesitant. One seems suspicious.

Gwen: "Sr. Navarro, we need a Foreign Language Honors Society."
Sr. Navarro: "What's going on?!"

But, I think we stand a shot. I approached Altadonna, the head honcho, again today. She basically admitted that it was increasingly become a possibility she would look into, but warned that a LOT of people would have to be interested. (Read between the lines: Not just you and your friends.)

Maybe. But what about Friends' Friends? And their Friends?

Christy and I reconvened. We inquired about Ancient History Course. They had good reasons against it, but we've put our two cents in. We're making a petition-esque thing for people to sign if they'd be interested in a Foreign Language Honours Society. We got Layla on board.

These are all good things. I think word is spreading. This might actually happen. We started a Facebook Club. :D Christy put in 4 plus hours of research last night on Clubs around the nation.

And Classical Club Meets tomorrow; Even if that Club fails as I suspect it may, it will serve to get us some new recruits in our cause.

Optimism?

I have enough optimism yet to believe things will swiftly return to normal with the return of the father. In retrospect, here's a brief overview of the last few weeks:

Exploding water heaters, exploding soup in school microwave, lack of lunch money, collapsing ceilings, leaking toilets, awful teachers, leaking bathtubs, screaming fights, hot weather, cold classrooms, boring as hell new Spanish class, dog having bad reaction to vaccinations, breakdowns, wicked first day of school, coyote sightings, plastering, dog discovering joys of trash, two day hangovers, dog puking in car, fungus, dead birds, sick friends, losing all over in Racquetball, dog puking in house, misunderstandings, dog needing tooth operation, missed Debate meetings, missed Beta Chi Pi meetings, failed Chemistry Quiz, confused German assignment, failed Spanish speaking test, carpool complications, lost pocky, bleh bleh bleh.

Even then, there was also; Fun government classes, Layla and Billie at lunch, hope for Creative Writing and Book Club, amusing myself with Arabic Food and Freshmen, A few nice days, Christy passing Latin.

Breakfast Club!

Mañana habe ich Book Club med Layla und un video se llama Breakfast Club. Jeg kan ikke esperar!

Oh, it shall be absolutely grand. It's a great movie, and I recommended it to Layla a week ago, I'm so pleased we're watching it! A good follow up to The Dead Poets Society for our club... something else that challenges the way things are, and yet is sprinkled with humour. The best part is, since it's a half day, I'll be home at the normal time! :D

Borders Teaser

I know you all are SOOO excited about my next trip to Borders, and thanks to my birthday party I should be ready for it! When you ask people for Borders Gift Certificates and Books, thats what you get.

All in all, the night yeilded a new Terry Pratchett (The Small Gods?), A new Tolkien (The Treason of Isengard, from Layla), two by some other author that my friend Kelling likes, not all fantasy I think, a collection of fantasy stories from Gwen, some bookmarks, journals, and candy; and over 50$ in Gift Cards.

Adelante! ^^