Other Blogness

Hey everyone!

My bud/pal/nemesis Yunhee was kind enough to give me a domain on her website. :) Visit it if you want! It’ll be about school in general. Just a note: this blog is still private, meaning please don’t give the URL to anyone without asking me first. If they ask, just give them the following link:

New blogness.

Thank you very much!

Can You Remember…?

Consider this to be a game show-type thing, minus the daringly corny music and WINORLOSEOMG-ness. Just tell me if you remember these things…

BAND CAMP

1. When pit tricked John into thinking he was hallucinating.

2. When the flutes did the Yes Dance.

3. The brave soul who wore the Speedo to the school pool. And I just happen to know him. :P

4. The director’s 30-minute long lecture on breaking school equipment.

5. The Star of David Shield and the rage that followed soon after.

CHINESE

1. The discovery of the cake radical.

2. When we locked Jake out of the room.

3. When Christian brought his guitar to class.

4. When Yunhee had everyone do Chinese quote analysis. (Best. Lecture. Ever.)

5. When everyone went nuts over Jerry’s magnets. 

LIT

1. When Kudo and I had a fake love affair. (And fought over members of the tennis team)

2. When Kudo and I murdered the Cask of Amontillado worksheet.

3. When we videotaped ourselves eating Hello Panda.

4. When Yunhee left. Who wouldn’t? dx /is slapped jk.

5. When Golds made FAKE strict rules for us.

HISTORY

1. When Gonzalez and Ali had a very stereotyped conversation.

2. When Gonzalez challenged Casey to a game of Yu-Gi-Oh.

3. When we had to watch the lame 212° “inspirational” video.

4. When Josh started playing his guitar.

5. When Gonzalez FAILED at rifle-tossing.

50 Best Things of the Age Before Midterms

Prepare for my fanciful list… Pretty much, it’s everything that’s made this high school year for me. Or, at least, the part before midterms. Let’s go! If you’re reading this, you’re probably in here somewhere. :)

1. Band. Even if my director is threatening to bludgeon me and I have to see people I’d really be much better off without. It keeps me sane and most of my friends are in band. :)

2. Writing. If I seriously had to keep everything buckled down inside of me, I would probably be dead. Writing gives me a way to indirectly say something that is deeply important to me.

3. My friends. You’re always there for me when I need you! Even if it happens to be midnight, you’re always there to help me through my toughest issues. Best of all, you accept me as who I am. :) I only hope I can do the same for you.

4. My family. You guys have always been there to support me and understand me. You even go completely out of your way to make sure I’m comfortable. Thank you so much!

5. Playing music. It’s the only foolproof way to calm me down when I get upset.

6. Listening to music. There’s this fancy thing called a volume control that you use when you want to drown the world out or when you just want a little icing.

7. Snow. It brings out the child in me. 

8. Pit. Thank you so much for being there for me when I started out in high school. You guys have never failed to make me laugh, and you’ve always supported me. We truly are the nerdiest section. :P

9. Trumpet section. You have some pretty awesome people in there with you, including Dawei Er, my companion in Dungeons and Dragons nerdliness, and the sarcastic guy who sits behind me in Lit.

10. NOT having to do PE. Marching band, you are truly a lifesaver. I get PE credits for wheeling stuff down to the field for a quarter of the year.

∞       ∞      ∞

11. My middle school band director. Amazing. That’s all I can say.

12. Serious musicals. You make me think about life, plus you have some pretty awesome music.

13. Whimsical musicals. You make me laugh when the serious ones are over.

14. Sleep. You always refresh me. Not just physically. You never fail to make me see things in a different light.

15. Dreams. You reveal a LOT. Not even kidding.

16. BSR Group. Chinese 1 Period 1. Quite possibly the best thing that’s happened to me this year. You guys always make me laugh, whether it’s warping the textbook or gossiping about the hot romance that’s blossoming between Dawei, the bold young lad, and Wang Jiaming, who is fascinated by the elusive Mali and her golden retriever puppy. And then there’s Jieke, who is used by Dawei to make Wang Jiaming jealous. And what’s up with Lin laoshi, anyway? If you have no idea what I’m talking about, don’t worry. It’s a BSR group thing.

17. Sky. Not only do you give me something to look at during band practice, but you’re one of the main things that usually brings on an onslaught of deep thought. In a good way. :)

18. The loud kind of peace. See #16.

19. The soft kind of peace. Haven’t gotten it, yet, but it might just be on its way.

20. Zhou. Let’s look back fondly at some of the things he’s said this year.

• “Get offa my assssssssssssssssss!”
• “Your homework is due Tuesday, but I expect it in on Monday.”
• “Your handwriting is beautiful/gorgeous/like a famous calligrapher’s.”

∞      ∞      ∞

21. Chinese 1. First off, you got me out of Spanish. But, more importantly, you gave me a bunch of new friends. Really great friends. Not even joking.

22. Coming back from a band competition at 1:00 AM. Best. Thing. Ever. Everyone’s kind of drunk off nighttime. Plus we get a corny “welcome home” speech whether we trophy or not.

23. Sarcastic comments when the director is talking. You know what I mean. :)

24. My fourteenth birthday. It was the best one EVER, whether it was my friends talking about it, people singing to me in Chinese, or the entire theater exploding in song. Thanks, everyone. It was truly magical. :)

25. High school. What would I do without you? You finally pried me from the cold, dead grip of middle school. No PE. No jerks. Peace for the nerdling!

26. Surviving Chem lectures. The first time I’ve been so bored I thought I might actually pass out. The only problem would be explaining it to the paramedics. “I don’t know–he was talking about subatomic particles, and I just kind of fell asleep, and I woke up in here!” Headlines would be hilarious, though.

27. Origami. Though I can only really make cranes, it helps to soothe your mind and make you think calmly about things. Plus they make great decorations. :)

28. Passing notes to Lizzette through the slats of our lockers. We used to do it every day, and I guess it just kind of stopped. But it was loads of fun when it did happen!

29. Jackson vs. Gray Wrestling Match. A wrestling match between two band directors, told through music, and translated into several academic fields. Yeah, I think we’re the nerdiest kids ever.

30. My school newspaper. Thank you so much for giving me a way to look semi-cool when I get bored.

∞      ∞      ∞

31. Blonde. It was a mistake, I swear. But I kinda like it.

32. My band buddy. Insanely generous. I can only hope I was the same with you.

33. Learning that getting what you want isn’t always the best. Trust me.

34. Inside jokes. F#, shove it, Helga, and sweater. :P

35. Code names. Jieke, PJ, Da da da, Furniture, Dave Matthews Band, DM, Narnia, and the Brains Done. Refresh my memory if I’ve forgotten any.

36. Learning how to ACTUALLY play the mallets. And I remember hating it.

37. Nerdy is the new Gangsta. At least wherever IB is.

38. Blogging. Now people all around the world can be tormented, not just my friends! >:D

39. Christian’s great music suggestions. Jack Johnson and Rainbow Veins are amazing! Thank you!

40. Realizing people think at first that I’m “studious and will never talk.” Boy, are you wrong.

∞      ∞      ∞

41. Realizing people are more than what they appear to be. Found that out the hard way.

42. Recorder. I think I can still play Hot Cross Buns…

43. Scientific calculators. I can now say that pie is a sin, and so are tans. 

44. Getting up in front of my Lit class and fighting for Catcher in the Rye. I’m surprised some people could look at me the entire time, to be honest. Lots of people actually shifted around in their seats uncomfortably. 

45. Being DONE with Wizard of Earthsea. When I was done with it, I quite literally threw it against the wall and jumped for joy.

46. Being myself around everyone. It’s nice. :)

47. Writing slightly good poetry. It’s getting there!

48. People who actually ask for my next chapter. Thank you for flattering me. :)

49. Salespeople who think flattery can sell beanies. It can.

50. Trust. I’m very happy with how many people trust me. I’m also thrilled with how much I can trust other people now. :)

Wait Before You Speak

Wait for a moment before you say anything you regret.

And sometimes I don’t. Sometimes, I start feeling angry or passionate and it all just comes out all at once. Pages in a journal can’t contain it all, sometimes. I can write it all down, but that just leaves the thoughts to crazily spin around my head at all hours of the night, keeping me up, taunting me. 

You don’t want to talk to me late at night. Something secret might just creep out of my lips. Hidden thoughts, masked theories. I wake up in the morning, think of what I said, groan, and want to fall asleep again. Wishing I hadn’t revealed what I had just hours ago.

Sleep on it, too. I always do before I make a big decision. A lot of the time, I wake up and feel differently. As soon as the pizzazz of the night melts away and the raw honesty of the morning sets in, I’m a different person. I don’t speak much. It’s used for introspection. I remember things, too, when I first awaken. Dreams flutter off and reality hardens. 

I’m a very different person.

Back Up

“There’s a plane leaving in a half hour,” the new guy says. His boss perches over his shoulder. They’re both all too happy to be working on Christmas, and, sure enough, that half hour turns into seven the next morning, and by the time I walk back from talking with my friend on the phone, we’re leaving at one in the afternoon.

Before I know it, I’m biting my lip and my face is growing hot and uncomfortable and suddenly I can feel thousands of eyes all on me. You can’t cry here you can’t cry here.

But wait. Hold on a second.

Why am I crying in the first place?

I’m missing a party, sure. A party I didn’t want to go to a few days ago. A book club party that should be hinderingly awkward. But I want to go, all of a sudden. It’s not the leader, it’s not the food. It’s not even the group; I’m sure of that. I know what it is, deep down, hidden in tiny things I shut away a while ago.

“Why are you taking this so hard?” my mom asks, leaning in at the ticket counter.

“It’s–” I start,  but I can feel the tears crawling up my throat, and I can’t bear the weight of his eyes, the boy next to me talking on his phone. “It’s nothing. Nothing.”

That’s what I want it to be. Nothing, nothing, just continue on and buy the tickets so I won’t have a chance to mess up. I can’t walk on ice without falling. We all know that. You can’t give me this chance without expecting a relapse.

I wipe the warmth of tears from my eyes when we stand outside, waiting for the cab to start up. When we get into the taxi and I turn up my music as loud as it can get without attracting attention, I nail my eyes to the window so they can’t wander. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past few months, anyway. Just to prevent it from happening again. Denial, I think, is what they call it.

Just when I accept it, too, I look in my inbox, and I see her response. The party isn’t tomorrow. It’s next Tuesday.

I almost wish it were tomorrow, though, just so I could say goodbye to that memory forever. A ghost was all it was, the words just echoes burned into my eyes.

Back up, that’s what I need to do. Remember what happened, the bad things.

Or I might just have lied to myself all these months.

Ten Degrees

I could stay outside forever like this.

Oh, but it’s only ten degrees out, Rachel. You’ll freeze.

Maybe. It’s not that cold, really. I just need to wear a hat, but the hair is worth it. The stiffness of my face when I wade into the warm house, the awkward not-here-not-there coldness of shaking my boots off and unraveling my knit, pink scarf. I like it, the solitude, the quiet of a white world. White sky, white house, white ground beneath me, and my white breath on the landscape.

There are some trees in my grandmother’s backyard, too. When I was younger, I had always wanted to wander in them for ages, but they stopped about five feet in with a tall, metal fence that separated her backyard from the others’.

Crunch go my boots in the snow. Nothing seeps into them for the first few bounds, but afterward, they get pretty cold. They get numb before too long, though.

Relax, I’m never out for more than ten minutes at a time, and if I fall down, I’m in within three. No hypothermia for me, no thank you.

But I guess one of my favorite parts is the detachment. I can do things here that I feel more comfortable about. I’m nowhere near any of my friends, which means no immediate consequences. I can sleep with a free heart, easy thoughts. I can be bolder, I guess.

That’s what ten degrees means to me.

Don Quixote

He seems like a hero.

Tall, dark, and handsome, and all that nonsense. He seems like the kind of older brother who would bash your boyfriend’s face in if he tried to get fresh. Granted, he’s lost more fights than he cares to remember, and he was the kind of kid they tortured in the locker rooms. He’s been working out, lately, though, and it shows. But maybe I’m the only one who notices it.

I guess it’s just the fact that, when that weirdo walks up to my door, I just want him to be there with me. He would know what to do.

Yet, to others, he must just be that: a lanky boy, a Don Quixote, not a knight. Unable to protect himself in the showers, a sorry attempt at an athlete. Just a boy running through the mist.

Not a hero to them.

Never Really Let Go

I guess you never really let go of someone you once loved.

A few months after it ended, I still find myself thinking about him, even if it’s just little pitter-patters on the back of my head. I walk into a bookstore, running my fingertips over the titles, and I stop on one and pull it out. I can smile, too, open it up to its first page, and read for a few minutes. This book or that bo0k. It doesn’t matter for the first few seconds. But then I make myself set it down, even though I still want to read some more. I can’t because he told me about them.

I can’t stop thinking about it. What happened to us, to him, to me. I can’t stop being embarrassed of what I did. The rage may have subsided, but the little inkdrops of sorrow haven’t. No. Sorrow isn’t the word. Nostalgia, maybe. But not sorrow.

I’m not sorry for what happened. I wouldn’t go back and redo it for the world.

But I want something like that again. When I find his pictures on the camera I haven’t looked at in ages, or walk through his complex in my dreams, I know it’s not him. This is his address, Dad. We can’t get our parts here. No, it’s not him. Not just him, anyway. Just the way it happened, the way it seemed so perfect all the time.

I want that again. That feeling.

But not him.

Decipher Reflections from Reality Interpretation

“My parachute didn’t open
And when my back up failed
The pixie dust prevailed
And I woke up next to you
All I wanted was to hold you.”

When I found out the first one had never truly cared about me, it hurt. I told myself I’d wait a bit before looking for love again. But when that failed, well… hormones prevailed. I woke up out of my sleep and saw him again and all I wanted to do was get close to him.

“What do you do
When your lifes a disaster
And you’re moving faster
And it’s getting harder to breathe.”

What do you do when the boy you like never likes you back? When you’re moving so fast between crushes it’s getting harder to get a sense of reality? When you can’t take a stop to breathe? What do you do then?

“What do you say
To someone whose right but
You disagree
Even if it’s the truth?”

I do this. When I tell someone something, they usually say it doesn’t mean anything. I disagree because I’m blind then. But it’s really the truth, and it would be so much easier if I could just accept it.

“I was told you are depressed
By a little bird
That was severly hurt
As it did not notice my window
It just flew wherever the wind blows
As it convulsed on the pavement
It whispered I am hated
Your genetic flaws
I said say it all
You can’t decipher reflections from reality
But neither can I.”

I fly straight into a wall when I think reflections are reality. I get annoyed when people mistake my reflections for reality, yet I do the same thing to myself. I look at it all and see something that never really existed. That is where I start to pain.

“You are the circle
I am the square
I have the non cut
You have the cool hair
We both take showers
For almost an hour
But only once a week or two.”

We aren’t very alike, in reality. I still think we are, which is what will lead to my downfall. Our only similarities are in things everyone does.

Fate

“Maybe it’s fate,” she says when the bottom of the pic stand twangs onto the asphalt. Cold air surrounds us, but our limbs are warm from carrying equipment to the band room. People walk past me, who’s left from the field, that is. People who are there and gone like ghosts, just grains of sand in the big picture. I don’t see them any other way, it’s true.

“How could it be fate?” I ask her, bending down to screw the stand back together before the director finds out. It’s the second time today, and maybe the tenth this year. It wouldn’t be like he’d care. It would just be nice to not have him notice.

But then it becomes clear, I think, what she said to me. I see the blue and the olive brown that don’t quite fit together, but I don’t mind them at all, no siree. Shorts. Why would he wear shorts today, of all days? It’s freezing. To him, at least. 

I think he sees me but I really don’t know. It could just be another dragon, I tell myself, waiting to ignite my origami nest. Crackle, crackle, crisp, it’s gone. Dig a hole to remember it by. Fill it up when you’re ready. What you usually do.

When I walk downstairs and I see the lights above my head and the few people who are putting their instruments away, I feel the gaze once more. But it’s not really there, I tell myself. Just like before, it was never there. Onion now, please, so you don’t get hurt. You can’t afford to now.

At the same time, it was fate, according to her. Would the stars move this way because of a single false stare? No. The world wouldn’t be turned upside down because of one small hole I might dig. Not even a hole. More like a poke that scathes the earth only enough to knock some dirt away. 

The Fates, the Fates, I ask again, is this truth or is this legend? 

Why, they would say, knitting scarves, scissors glinting nearby, it’s fate.

That is all I can know for now.