Why I Have Not Posted

I can't decide what to write.

First, I figured I'd recount the math meet. But, other than, we did math and I was awesome and beat both Irving and Bryant, there wasn't much that was particularly exceptional. My prize was a little beat-up quiz game, and is vastly superior to Argon's Chartwell's poster.

I debated sharing the prostitution joke. Namely, that, upon my telling Owen that Dino was paying me twice what I asked for for his poster, Irving's immediate response was "you must have been really good, then." Yes, I have now been a victim of a prostitution joke related to Dino. As I said to Owen and Irving, I'd really have preferred that I didn't here that.

Although, the advice to pour water on Dino's head in order to short-circuit him was sound.

Speaking of which, I don't believe he's paid me back yet. A water bottle may be in order, although I doubt Señora would approve.

Dino's response, when I told him this as we walked up the stairs, was "Do I really sound that much like a robot?"

"Well, kind of, a little bit."

"Seriously?"

"Well, yeah, you kind of do."

"Wow. I was expecting you to say 'oh, no, Dino, not at all.'"

"This from the guy who is constantly cruel in the name of honesty, Mr. I-tell-it-like-it-is."

"I am not cruel."

"You kind of are."

"Am I really?"

I looked at him.

"Fine. Name one time I've been really, truly mean."

"You called Ali stupid."

"She's was being annoying!"

"She was extremely torn up about it. She's very sensitive."

"Ali? Sensitive?" He was utterly incredulous.

"Yes, sensitive. She was almost in tears later. She's insecure about her intelligence."

"I don't really think she's stupid."

"I know that, but she doesn't."

He shook his head. We walked in silence for a moment.

"Awful couple," he said.

"Sorry, what?"

"Awkward couple."

"Who?"

"Mercle and Charlene."

"Huh?"

"They just walked by."

"I didn't notice."

"They're a weird couple."

"Agreed. I can't imagine wanting to date Mercle."

"I can't believe anyone would date Charlene."

"Maybe that's why they're together. Neither of them can get anybody else."

"Maybe."

The irony of the two of us, both perpetually single because we've never bothered to try, critiquing people who's only difference is that they actually did, remained unsaid. After all, when one is trying to make oneself feel better about one's lonely state, it is advisable to point out the many flaws of relationships.

This is similar to both Owen's and Dino's prom related attitudes. They both have given the absolute same description I did for why they didn't want to go to counties- I don't like music, it's a lot of drunk people, I can't dance, etc. I know, however, that my issues were actually rooted in "who the hell will I go with" and general insecurity about the same topic, and I have a feeling that Dino and Owen think the same thing.

Caroline actually said to me later that Owen ought to just ask someone, even her, his cousin, because he's nice enough that it's unlikely someone would turn him down. I have a feeling that Dino's luck would not be as good, although one never knows.

Dino's other reason: since he can't drive, the transportation would be awkward, and he doesn't want to humiliate himself by letting his date drive.

I think that he was just making up stuff by that point, but to each his/her own.

The other reason I have not posted is that I haven't ridden a horse at a speed faster than a walk in ages.

Science in the Air

Cyto was actually really fun today, despite the fact that Melissa wasn't there. I got to hear all about my teacher's drinking habits, which was fun. She could never teach at an actual high school, though. This is a woman, after all, who described purified microtubules by saying that they look like sperm, and then poetically going on about how they sparkle when you hold them up to the light (like Edward Cullen!)

At one point, there was a bit of a commotion on my side of the room. Guy-who-sleeps-with-his-head-out-the-window (GWSWHHOTW) had reached out and picked up a bunch of rocks, then passed them to boy-who-pays-attention (BWPA), who passed them to cute-Indian-boy-with-warm-smile-who-looks-far-too-young-for-this-week's-black-leather-jacket (CIBWWSWLFTYFTWBLJ), who turned around and gave them to me rather than continuing sideways and passing them to angry-tripping-note-taker (ATNT).

I looked at CIBWWSWLFTYFTWBLJ questioningly. "What?"

"I dunno. Pass it on?"

I turned to Bored-Asian-writing-English-paper-on-netbook (BAWEPON). "You want them?"

He ignored me, so I started passing them to girl-I've-never-seen-before-who-showed-up-midway-through-class (GINSBWSUMTC), but I couldn't fit them all in my hand at once, and her hands were even smaller, so she dropped one, and we were all laughing so hard that the teacher stopped class to figure out what was going on.

I was laughing the loudest, so I had to answer. "They gave me rocks!"

"Who?"

"They came from him," said CIBWWSWLFTYFTWBLJ.

"Are these a new courting ritual or something?" she asked. "Giving people rocks?"

"I like them better when they're shiny," I muttered.

ATNT took GINSBWSUMTC's rocks and passed them to the teacher. "These look more like bricks," she said. "You've got to get nicer ones."

"What should I do with these?" I asked, gesturing to the ones currently occupying my desk.

"Well, if you want to accept GWSWHHOTW's courting ritual, you can keep them."

I thought fast, trying to think of a way to get rid of the rocks without saying anything offensive. "You know, I would, but I really don't want to get my bag dirty."

"Bring them up here, then. My husband and I can use them as a conversation starter next time we have a dinner-drinking-dinner party."

Yesterday

All my troubles seemed so far away. Actually, I was so busy that they really did.

I had cytoskeleton in the morning. When I got to the station, the 8:00 train was just sitting there. According to Jonah, who apparently takes that train to some visual arts thing every week (who knew?), they'd been there for twenty-five minutes. I sat with him until Melissa showed up, and then I awkwardly extricated myself and moved back a row because turning around to speak was making my neck hurt.

Predictably, we found Mario later, in Starbucks.

Class was boring, and the room was freezing, so I spent the entire time shivering in my shoes. The boy on my right, who kept doing the I'm-going-to-pretend-to-look-at-the-clock-but-I'm-actually-looking-at-you trick (this may have been because I was reading over his shoulder), pulled out the Wall Street Journal. On Melissa's left, a different boy had a netbook and an actual book and was alternating between an English essay and facebook. Melissa read Anna Karenina. Our teacher described how excited she was about the class by saying that "everyone was over at my house drinking, and I was working on this!" Another quote of note: this is kind of a fucked up cell. Nobody in the class so much as flinched. Honestly, I think it's our duty as students to exaggerate any breaches of propriety by our educators.

In the evening, Genie came of age. Our family was sitting with a boy Genie's age and his parents. His father made me think of all my Jewish uncles- same hair, same beard, same glasses, same intellectualism and disdain for political correctness. He and my father spent much of the dinner debating various get-rich-quick schemes. I begin to understand the origins of the Jews-love-money thing, racist (theist?) as it is. Speaking of offensive, this should remind you not to stereotype.

Somehow, I think out movie was a tad better, and far less offensive. Although my uncles would probably prefer this one.

I'll quote my teacher again and advise you all to "sip the sweet nectar of the yew tree."

Fun

In health class, Red poked me while the teacher was talking and whispered, "Mario was just staring over here, so I waved at him, and he looked away," although she actually referred to him by both first and last name.

He was probably trying to figure out why I kept looking over where he was (I was watching the clock! Honest! The second hand was broken, so it was doing this really entertaining thing where it skidded forward only every four seconds!), or had become completely enthralled by Red's red hair or the weird poster with the male olympians on it (unlikely), but really, Mario, you were creepishly staring at Julie just last week! You need to be more careful not to zone out while looking at people.

Speaking of Mario, as I've said before, Kathrya believes that he walks awkwardly. In fact, she believes that she can distinguish a nerdy guy solely by his walk. I told this to Ginny today while Bryant and Tybalt were about twenty yards in front of us. I finished up with, "I mean, just look at the twins!" right when they rounded the corner ahead.

"You want to run after them and observe?"

"Yes!" I said, and we rent running up to the corner before continuing to walk, this time a bit closer behind them. For anyone who's interested, they were stepping in opposite synchrony, going inside-outside-inside-outside, and they don't walk in precisely the same manner.

During science research today, I did the lab that's supposed to teach us how to use the micropipettes. Lumiere and Elle talked about this weekend's drunken antics. Lumiere seems to have some real memory issues. He had no recollection of telling Elle that he'd devirginized seven girls (he claims that he's slept with seven, but only three were virgins (only three. ha.)), and had no clue why he'd woken up on Sunday morning with a bed full of sand (tag on the beach). Elle professes to be very dedicated to TAG, which is Teens Against Something-to-do-with-drugs-and-alcohol-that-starts-with-G. Julie mildly insulted Lumiere while he was going on about his moral code, and she used a large-ish word I've forgotten (purport? profess?) but that he didn't know the meaning of. This from a boy who is going to Yale next year. I, for one, am appalled.

Familial Insanity

Last night, I attended my second cousin's bat mitzvah. It was within two blocks of where I had had science class in the morning, which was more than a bit annoying (four hours of transportation makes every day a little bit brighter).

I had elected not to join the twelve year olds in the party room, and, instead, I was seated at a table with two of the numerous households that I am distantly related to. I had a lesbian couple on one side and their two adopted children on the other, and they spent a good amount of time talking over me at each other. However, aside from this, they were all wonderfully nice, and had the same relation to the bat mitzvah-ee as I did, so my cousin's partner, who I was next to, and I spent a good amount of time asking each other who the various people that greeted us were.

One of these encounters was with some distant relation who was drunk off his ass, and it went as follows:

Drunken Dad: you kids have one of those myspaces? a myspace? you have one?

Me: no

the 16-year-old black guy I'm distantly related to: if any male over forty asks if you have a myspace, say no.

DD: oh. *he pauses, thinking hard* whaddabout, what about, facebook. facebook! you got a facebook?

Me, guy, and his college-aged also adopted sister: yes

DD: I'm gonna get me one of those facebooks, and I'm going to make you friends, and we can talk on monday. Be ready, okay.

Me: there is no way he's going to even remember who I am.

guy: He's hammered. Do you think he'll make it back to his table without falling over?

me: who was that anyways?

guy: the bat mitzvah girl's dad.

me: oh.

If that was bad, the family on the other side of the table was worse. Yes, they were heteronormative and had the standard older-son and younger-daughter family, but their lives were clearly not harmonious. The daughter complained about some time the mother had apparently hit her. The son complained about a time he was in physical therapy because his leg was broken, got out late, and his mother was so pissed off that she made him walk home. This same son was later sent to military school. The parents said it was good for him and he eventually appreciated it, but the son showed none of that appreciation. They said that he was just such an underachiever as a youth that he really needed some shaping up. The son looked hurt that his mother would call him an underachiever. The daughter said that the day her brother got into military school and left the house was the happiest day of her life. The son seems well adjusted and now has a job writing product reviews for a computer magazine, miraculously, but he and his sister had none of the familial camaraderie that the two adopted teens, who had only even been siblings for three or four years, had.

It was rather sad.