shipwrecked
I know it's been awhile.
I didn't think it would be a large issue about my parents reading this. I had assumed all along that they would find it eventually. I put it online, I assume that they read every words - harsh and otherwise. Ever since they ravaged my zip disks and read my emails, I haven't felt like anything is safe. Only ICQ - which is password protected - do I feel that I can say anything. The funny thing is, I don't have any desire to say anything inflammatory about them on ICQ, but I'm trying so hard to keep from announcing things here. It's really backwards.
My life has been quiet and light lately. I understand my calculus. I eat my asparagus. I wake in the morning and pad around downstairs inhaling the coffee. It makes me feel so much happier - just wandering around downstairs before taking my shower. I'm not sure why. For some really strange reason I felt more grown-up about it. Coffee. Morning light.
It reminds me of my Aunt Sally. She lives in Boston. I've sometimes thought that she's my favorite aunt. She's kind, and soft-spoken, and quietly hilarious. If there's anyone in this family I've wanted to grow to be like, it's her. My mother said once about her that "she had made her mistakes, but they only made her wiser and didn't break her." She said the last part with a twist. There have been members of our family that made their mistakes and then let the mistakes break them, whittle them away. Sally's different, though. I've seen her drunk, and I still have deep respect for her.
That says a lot. I lost a severe hunk of respect for my father when I saw him drunk. Today I'm telling you things that I don't really understand. I don't know exactly why I lost so much respect for my father, and not for my aunt, but I know that that's how it worked. It's how I work - it's the raw evidence. Draw whatever conclusions you may. For me, it's interesting seeing all this written. I didn't realize that I thought that until I wrote it down. That isn't to say that it wasn't true before I wrote it - I just hadn't realized it was there.
The mornings, though. They remind me of my aunt. She lives in a house that used to house workers for the local textile mills - it's deep and narrow. And sunny and light. It's just her and cats, but she has relatives nearby for company. I'm not sure why, but when I wander around in the mid-march light I'm reminded of Sally and her cats and her cosy apartment.
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It's been warming, which means that it's my mother's birthday today. The first day of the year that's just barely hot is my mother's birthday. My family, as usual, ate dinner around the television. My father asked me if I wanted to join them and I said "I don't like basketball." I'm just afraid that they'll think that every time I say "I don't like basketball," they'll think I'm saying that I don't like them. It's not true.
It's thundering out now. I haven't heard thunder in months. And the frogs in the swamp - I heard those before I heard the thunder. It really made me happy. I gave my mother a hug when I got home. I reserve my affection for them so they know that when I give it I really mean it. I don't believe in inflation. It's pouring, and the sky is red and hazy and flashes now and then. It's very beautiful and dark.
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School. I almost can't decide how bad it is. Calculus clicked in me. For the first time all semester, I handed in an assignment on time. And it was a completed assignment. Stars must've been aligned.
By the same token, I had to suffer through the drama club performing in front of the school. There's nothin' that bad about the drama club - they were valiant - but they were heckled and shouted at the entire time. The lights failed, and Sue said "I hate highschool." I hate highschool. I really do. Sue has a knack for timing and knows exactly how to say a sentence to get it to stick with you, and she did it perfectly. I hate highschool. All I could hear in her voice was resignation and disgust. It was sad, and a pitiful display.
At the same time as highschool is mortifying, it's giving me the only sparks I can find some days. My friends have been riotously funny lately. Foster and some other folk were playing cards instead of bothering with English class. The teacher reprimanded them, so they launched a ever-devious plan. They would create a card deck out of index cards so that they could inconspicuously engage in the game of the devil. (It's quite forbidden at our school. Even during lunch. Puritans...) Anyway, the created deck.
The ace of Amoebas. The three of christmas trees. They're like lucky charm cards. Purple horseshoes and all.
Scans of the queen cards are in the bad art files. Viva Jesus! Viva Bad Art! Viva Pirates! Katie wrote that on a big piece of paper today and waved it at me. That's why I love katie. At any rate, I wasn't even playing this mad game of cards, but I was laughing hysterically. And I have highschool to thank for that moment of merriment. Sometimes the greatest things come out of messing with the evil system.
See some pictures of my goofy self. I've been called the most photographed diaryland member out there, and I certainly do not take this title lightly.
2000-03-09, The roughest sea.
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