September 25, 2010
I decided it would be best to type out a long, open letter to whoever finds it interesting enough to read. I wanted to let you all know that I am officially moving. It’s a bittersweet experience but most people go through it, whether theirs’ lean more towards the bitter or the sweet side of things. I think that my experience is fairly balanced. – I know I’ll feel at ease once I’m away from all this stimulation, I know it will be safer there. While at the same time I am finding that I will truly miss a couple of my friends. It’s funny the way some clichés turn out to be true. There are still so many people here that I wanted to get to know (like the boy down my block who is always clutching his iTouch and riding his bike around the neighborhood)! I’m almost afraid there won’t be enough going on to have adventures like we did tonight.
Tonight was my friend’s birthday. Since her block is quiet and generally safe to roam around we went outside in the front yard around 9:30pm to play four square. Instead we ended up running through the streets and through driveways, sloshing the potato chips in the yellow bowl we had been carrying around, and almost getting into trouble with the neighbors. There was some nostalgia in that. I remember when she was tuning 10 or 11 we went out at night and shook baby powder onto the boys in her street. We ran through and from the dust in the street. I missed that. – But when I think about the lurker-esque guys that Emma had directed us not to look at walking the opposite direction of us girls, I was scared. I was more frightened than I should have been because all nine of us had our cell phones, but what with all the stereotypes of what could happen to a girl it gave me an edge.
I came home in all my new bracelets, the Native American poncho that had been passed down from my great-grandmother, with feathers tied in my hair I felt strange. I came downstairs to find the office almost completely cleaned out, boxes pilling it felt less like home. So I made a playlist titled “just chiillll;” the spelling is silly but I typed it to sound like a sigh.
You should give it a listen here.
September 17, 2010
Where do I begin, really? I’ll start here—
Lately I’ve been making playlists like crazy. I’m currently making a playlist called Cold Feet that features Oceana and Emarosa.
My school year started at the very end of August and my parents and I were initially expecting disaster with the district closing so many schools and combining my middle school with the high school campus. Well, honestly I think it’s been going well considering. I absolutely love my vice principal. All four of the principals respond to any sign of a problem at the snap of a finger, generally without any ranting lectures. There are cute boys to look at from grades above me, and I like my teachers better this year.
The bus rides home are usually the best part of the day not only because I get to return home but because I can come home with the strangest stories. For example one day Hunter yelled, “God, I hate my life!” Then as Peter was getting off at his stop he yelled back, “Not as much as I hate your life!” There a boy named Sam who rides and tends to bring his cute friends along. Sorry I’m going a bit overboard with the eye candy, it’s just that last year there were absolutely none. It was like a barren field.
Today was especially good. Classes were good and I managed to finish most of my homework in class. During art when our teacher called us to gather around her desk so she could demonstrate the next part of the lesson someone from behind me taped my shoulder. I figured it was Trey, trying to annoy me so I ignored it. After the demonstration I sat back down at my table and a cute boy, let’s call him Dylan, complimented my drawing. He’s Mexican, thin, and has a wavy Mohawk-esque haircut and a labret piercing. He’s so cute, -this is cliché- but he’s actually well, bad. And to top it all off when we were leaving class he bumped into me on purpose.
Meanwhile during all my school adventures my parents were still looking for a solution to the school district problems. They knew private school wasn’t a permanent solution. So we looked at a house somewhat in the country yet it’s near a highway so it’s a ten minute drive into another part of the city. It has four bedrooms, an in-ground pool, and a giant kitchen. The schools are fantastic. The curriculum is said to be exceptional. The high school is literally set up as a campus with two different buildings. It sounds really cozy. It’s been an extremely fast process but tomorrow we are getting the keys to the place. I’m nervous. Even though I’ve begun to like my school I am ready for a change, a clean slate with new friends and new people.
September 4, 2010
I feel it. The air is chill but the sun is still warm against my skin, rough and comforting. I know the grass will soon crunch under my feet as well, thick with freezing dew in the mornings. The sky will be dark again but the leaves and the moon will illuminate everything. I don’t remember September ever being this beautiful. I remember September as dreary and passive.
The Summer Solstice at Mark’s cozy little country home -the one with all the nooks and crannies filled with The Beatles collectors’ items and CDs- was the best part of summer. Max and Eva invited us and we hugged and I realized how much being with them affected their mood. My mom’s optimism was rubbing off, and I know she was damn well trying. It worked. I was chased around the tall grassy yard by little kids and got to roast vegan marsh mellows over the fire. The food was good, it was different. I met a little boy named August who called himself Gus and sat on my mother’s lap and told us how beautiful the sky was. A couple bearded guys sang folk songs back and forth to each other adding, not taking away from the sound. The night became sticky but the sky almost seemed streaked purple. That is what summer should always be like.
The Autumnal Equinox is coming up and Mark is hosting another celebration on my mother’s birthday. I have a good feeling it will be beautiful; the women with long gray hair wearing baggy t-shirts, the guys with beards, and the little country kids that were perfectly content living practically in the middle of nowhere.
Goodbye summer. You were good to me. It was hot but like Hannah said, I loved the time to myself to write and read and listen to my favorite music at night. It felt theatrical though it was too humid to open my window and hear the cars rush down my street. The concerts were good; I hung out with my cousins, and earned a little spending money. Now school is back in session and in the beginning I was terrified but in one short week I’ve grown to like it. I’ve seen a few cute boys this year, I’ve got –excuse me- attractive vice principals, and the thought of gaining knowledge and reading literature, not books sounds so rich, just the thought of turning pages and scribbling notes. I’m finally getting situated and my parents want us to move out of the city. I hope this autumn isn’t so cruel because I think we’ve paid off most of our karma.