Zee Prom

The actual prom was strange. That's the best word I can think of for it. It's funny, because by the next morning I was, shall we say, very comfortable with Peter (I mean that literal sense, not in the hanky-panky sense), but at the start of things I really wasn't.

The party bus was bizarre. We weren't allowed to drink anything, even water, while we were on it. It fortunately not a model that included a stripper pole, but terrible music was blasted, and it was so loud we could hardly talk at all, and the liqueur cabinet (which I think was actually just full of empty bottles and what looked very similar to the jugs of bleach we have at lab) kept swinging open, so Peter and I spent half of our time yelling at the cabinet door and the other half attempting to kick it shut. For some reason, this was considered fun. He also did that terribly awkward "Here I am yawning and oh, look, now my arm is around you!" thing. I leaned into him reflexively when he did, even while half of my brain was asking the other half why I was encouraging him when I'd already decided that he was boring (answer: I was cold. Also, it only just occurred to me that this was why he would not stop asking me if I was cold, despite my vehement denials. Would have been a better excuse than an awkward yawn. I feel somewhat pathetic for not realizing this sooner).

The eating bit was fine. The gang of however many of us there are got a table together, and we made cheerful conversation about things like someone's---it was Cammie or Kathrya---propensity for spilling drinks. Then music started, and there was dancing, and that was the point at which I got really uncomfortable.

I'm still not totally clear on why I felt so out of it. I think part of it was the sheer number of people around me, all of them darkened, and large, and just too much---I've never been good with crowds. And then there was Peter, who kept wanting to touch me---not anywhere inappropriate, mind, just my hands, and then my waist, but he's so much taller than me that all I could see was his chest, and his face was completely obscured, so I just kept swaying with the music, even as I wanted to shrink into nothingness and retract my sweaty palms and run off to somewhere, anywhere, just not right there right then. I danced because I didn't know what else to do, but it felt perfunctory even to me, this half motion, but he was moving less and I couldn't figure out why he kept resisting my attempts to stop (the touching, I know now. And now that I'm more comfortable with touching him I'd quite happily go back and run the whole thing again, but right then I was miserable). It's funny, because I understand what those sexual assault videos were saying, even as I recognize that I wasn't in a bad situation at all; even when I wanted to leave, even when all I wanted in the world was to be gone, I stayed there and I danced his dance, because he was big and it was dark and there were so many people and I didn't know how to explain that I desperately wanted to leave in a way that didn't make it sound like I desperately wanted to leave him, because I didn't. I like him, and I could remember that I didn't want him to think that I didn't want to be there, but it felt like I couldn't remember why.

I'm not sure this makes any sense at all. It's everywhere-writing, the stuff I got halfway decent at last year, but I'm not sure it works here. I just remember the everywhere emotion.

I still don't understand, though, why I got so scared. No, that's not right---I know why I got scared. I just can't for the life of me understand why I suddenly stopped.

I fell asleep on Peter during the ride home. He gave he his jacket so I wouldn't freeze, and Vincent was sitting across from me, who I hadn't seen since his strange visit to math team just to say goodbye to me. There were couples everywhere, and his girlfriend kept touching him and he kept looking at me, so I closed my eyes. I vaguely recall Peter tucking me into him and sliding closer, because he was warm, and then next thing I can remember was the bus arriving at Cammie's house and then getting annoyed with Yuma for photographing my sleep.

The actual prom was very, very strange.

The Before (Kind of)

The experience of prom was substantially more fun than I thought it would be. Granted, I thought it was just going to be a giant puddle of awkward (which, notably, it stopped being---well, to the extent that Mr. Tall and Awkward is capable of being not awkward). The picture taking was fine, and I can't remember talking to my date's mother at all. I talked to my mother, and she threatened me with certain doom if I didn't go and pay some attention to said date (I had slipped out to watch her to Ginny's makeup), and I was perfectly civil and we were not altogether pathetic on the whole.

That paragraph makes no sense. I can tell that it makes no sense, but I am uncertain as to how to resolve the problem.

My dress was, I think, shorter than I'd previously realized. Everyone else looked gorgeous. I still think Cammie looked like a Grecian goddess of awesomeness.

I'm having trouble remembering little details and conversations. I can clearly remember Yuma bringing onion rings and mozzarella sticks for Ginny. I'm thinking that the gap between pre-prom and the time I got some solid sleep is long enough that I can't remember preprom.

Okay, I'll cover the regular prom later....yup. Lab today was fun. I got made fun of for skipping out before happy hour last week. Good stuff.

The Afternoon After

There are more posts---one about how I've only just realized that I'm leaving, at least one about prom---but I'm exhausted, so, for now, all you get is a transcription of the latest weird dream. This one occurred during my accidental three hour nap. Corrections to my atrociously written post-wakeup writing in italics.

I was at a hotel with Nyx, Cammie, and others (actually, I believe it was our prom group + Genie + Peter's mother and brother (who was named Reggie and does not, to my knowledge, actually exist)). I do not (written in journal as "donot") remember all of the mechanics of things. I know the three of us had been up to no good (I think there was swimming involved) and were covered in slimy blue stuff. Cammie was in the shower. The hotel was fancy. Nyx, who was in the midst of lecturing me about my need to be more spontaneous, declared that she was going skinny dipping.

"Where?" I asked, but she had already climbed out the window.

I stripped off and ran after her, clad only in Peter's tux jacket (which was long enough to make me perfectly decent, somehow) and carrying an orange towel. I rushed after Nyx, and she continued to iterate all of my flaws and all of the changes I should be making.

The road we were walking down turned into my street, and the hotel transformed into my house. We went in the direction of the culdesac. I saw Brian and asked where Nyx had went, but he didn't seem to know.  I rushed on. When I was nearing the end of the street, Peter showed up in front of me.

"You are not going to do this." Coincidentally, at that moment a police helicopter swooped over us. "See, it's illegal!" he finished, though we both knew that he didn't think the copter was at all related to me.

"No," I said. "I need to be more spontaneous, I need to be more spontaneous."

He tried to get me to put on more clothes, but I just kept saying no. He slid his arm over my shoulders and walked me around the neighbor's garden party, continuing to repeat that he wouldn't let me. We both ate food. I think he had me convinced. Then my mother woke me up.

A Wonderful Feeling

Today, my grandparents got back from their winter in Florida, so, of course, they had to come over for dinner. Mom made something yummy, and Grandma found a way to make a dessert that Mom wouldn't object to.

My grandparents, having been in Florida, naturally had not yet seen my prom ensemble. So I left when we were about halfway through washing up to zip myself in and slide (or, erm, wrestle) on my shoes. I love the way the dress feels when I put it on---just the right weight, just enough give in all the right places, the perfect shade of purple. And it's soft on me, and light, unlike the layers I've been piling on for lab every day.

I went into the kitchen and did my best imitation of a model's strut. I stood still and twirled while they preened, Papa being his typically skeevy self and Grandma being nothing but kind. It was nice to be preened over, nice to be the center of attention. When I was, at length, dismissed, I went upstairs rather than back to my room---the closest full-length mirror to my room (discounting my younger sister's, which is small enough that I can't see my entire person in it) is in the exercise room upstairs.

I clacked up the stairs, and I stood on the rubberized mats, and I looked at myself, and I was beautiful. That's how I looked to me, anyways. The right balance between legs and curves, the perfect dress, the perfect shoes, the somewhat glowy smile---perhaps I wasn't wearing glasses, so I couldn't see the flaws, but, in that mirror, I was as sexy as sexy could be. I looked at myself and I saw that ugly duckling daydream, of the great nerd---who is really only nerdy because of her glasses and involuntary participation in some variant of Quiz Bowl---showing up at prom and being suddenly beautiful, suddenly breathtaking, and leaving them all in awe. It's ridiculous, I know, but I felt like I could be Taylor Swift at the end of that cheesy, cheesy music video.

And I didn't care. Seriously. I was more excited about getting into Harvard than I was about this---which is saying something, since the only reason I was even glad I got in was that it meant that Bryant hadn't fared any better than me. I looked at myself, and I could see the dream existing, that little thought in the back of my nerdy mind that I was the belle of some imaginary ball, and I didn't care.

I liked the way I looked, sure. I hopefully will still like it once I get through the actual event (with any luck, it'll be enough to allow me to survive prolonged contact with Peter's mother). But it paled in comparison to my academic accomplishments. RSI, MIT, April 30th, Thiel, even last night's High Honors dinner, was worth more to me than the discovery that someone pretty lurked underneath my cargo shorts. What matters to me is exactly what I have.

It's a triumphant feeling, somehow. I'm not at all certain that I'm expressing it properly, though maybe it doesn't matter. I feel, to use something Meg Cabot liked to have Mia worry about in those Princess Diaries books (the books, mind, not the movies), self-actualized. I'm not sure Mia ever realized what it was---or maybe she did, and I wasn't old enough to appreciate it, so I've forgotten whatever life lesson she picked up---but it was something about knowing who one is and being excited about it. And being an adult, or mature. But I think it was understanding of oneself and satisfaction in that understanding. And right now, I feel like I get it.

It's a wonderful feeling.

Whhheeeeeee

Chem. We learned organic nomenclature. Yuma still does not appreciate being hugged.

Science Research. We watched interviews with Feynman on youtube. I read more of that bio paper I really need to read even more of.

Fiction. Boredom. Book talks.

Math. Again, nothing was done. I think I did four practice polar integrals before the boredom overwhelmed me. But then we went to lunch, which involved food, which is always nice, and then I got Yuma and Ginny and Brian and Nyx to play Contact, which made everything still more better (and the multiple ands? Totally necessary).

Then I at last made up my David Copperfield essay test--for some reason I was required to answer two essay questions, and she only gave me one test booklet, so I wrote two separate essays, each crammed onto two double-sided pieces of extra-wide margin paper. Yay! Talking excessively about Uriah Heep and making uninsightful points!

I then went prom dress shopping with my mother. We went to a bunch of stores, and decided on something that is pretty and purple and not-too-short-not-too-long, which was pretty much exactly what I wanted anyways. Then I went home and didn't do homework.

Not doing homework is becoming a disturbing trend.

The fact that I'm not longer willing to use this medium as a mode of expressing my general sense of "gahh, boys are stupid, mrgh" has made this post somewhat boring. My apologies.

Whhheeeeeee

Chem. We learned organic nomenclature. Yuma still does not appreciate being hugged.

Science Research. We watched interviews with Feynman on youtube. I read more of that bio paper I really need to read even more of.

Fiction. Boredom. Book talks.

Math. Again, nothing was done. I think I did four practice polar integrals before the boredom overwhelmed me. But then we went to lunch, which involved food, which is always nice, and then I got Yuma and Ginny and Brian and Nyx to play Contact, which made everything still more better (and the multiple ands? Totally necessary).

Then I at last made up my David Copperfield essay test--for some reason I was required to answer two essay questions, and she only gave me one test booklet, so I wrote two separate essays, each crammed onto two double-sided pieces of extra-wide margin paper. Yay! Talking excessively about Uriah Heep and making uninsightful points!

I then went prom dress shopping with my mother. We went to a bunch of stores, and decided on something that is pretty and purple and not-too-short-not-too-long, which was pretty much exactly what I wanted anyways. Then I went home and didn't do homework.

Not doing homework is becoming a disturbing trend.

The fact that I'm not longer willing to use this medium as a mode of expressing my general sense of "gahh, boys are stupid, mrgh" has made this post somewhat boring. My apologies.

Things Found While Cleaning My Room

• Five buckeyballs
• My RSI Summerbook
• The block of wood I cut when first learning to use a table saw (note: this was two weeks ago)
• Money
• More money
• Saudi Arabian money
• JSHS Pen
• A broken watch
• My Princeton Preview lanyard, which I'm keeping for the summer because it is very high quality.
• A "This is what a feminist looks like" bumper sticker
• A sexy silver lanyard I have no recollection of previously seeing
• 5 towels in various stages of dirtiness
• The bookmark I got for buying a prom ticket 
• 70 more buckeyballs
• Approximately 600 tampons (note: hyperbole)
• My MIT CPW folder (MIT! <3 <3 <3)
• This was the point at which I became fed up and threw everything remaining into one large bin.

In other news, I went prom dress shopping and came home with two new pairs of shorts and some chocolates for my beloved mother, but no prom dress. Sweet success!

Musings on Nothing

I am cold. For some reason, the temperature of the air when I'm walking outside in the sun doesn't translate well to the inside of my room.

I am hungry. Apparently the cupcakes I devoured during lunch were not sufficient to hold me over. The dry rice crispies that my tutor-ee and I ate while I was teaching her to classify triangles was also not enough...Shelby just came in to call me to dinner. More later.

It is now later. Dinner was chicken parmesan, and it was delicious. I wish that I was capable of spelling delicious without the assistance of spellcheck, I really do. I'm now trying to think of what happened today in an attempt to come up with something halfway worth reading. The squabbles in the truck on the way to school with Genie and Shelby, for example, do not qualify as interesting. Nor does the fact that our household ran out of 2% milk.

I keep wanting to add \ to the front of the percent. LaTeX is slowly doing me in.

I have been be-ticketed for prom. I let Peter pay for my ticket--I'm not sure that I should have, but he said that he was in a brook-no-arguments sort of tone that really ought to have bothered me but didn't. Dad advised me, when I was worrying over it later, that his mother was probably paying for it, and she'd given me at least eighty dollars of grief over the years, so I really shouldn't worry. Ginny and Yuma have also both be-ticketed themselves--I'm not totally clear on whether her parents are aware that she's going with Yuma, though I don't know how much they'd care at this current point in time anyways.

I hope Ginny starts blogging again when she gets to college, because I'd like to have some way to keep up with her life. Hopefully I will have more to write about than just psets, and this will be a decent medium for keeping up with my life.

The second half of my physics final was uneventful. At least, I think it was uneventful--first period isn't usually clear enough in my memory for trustworthy recollections. My free periods in the caf dragged on for far too long. Facebook ate a bunch of notifications. I should probably play the piano but lack the motivation.

I've continued reading Woolf's The Voyage Out. Her characters are remarkably realistic. I feel like I know them, and they're tangible, and yet they're far too complex for me to predict their behaviors. It's a big departure from Sanderson's characters--his women in particular seem to all be somewhat similar, a complaint that's frequently been made of Jordan's work, which is interesting. But, then again, Woolf is on a whole different playing field.

I'm going to go back to my reading.

Physics Study Party

Things I have done since embarking on this ridiculous task:

• Chatted on facebook with Leila
• Gchatted with Maxwell
• Talked about testicular tension with Nyx and Josh, the my two fellow participants in this party of ridiculousness.
• Drank tangello juice
• Read over the list of MIT housing seminars
• Attempted to find a complete online physics test
• Gave Nyx unnecessary advice on how to study
• Removed 96% of the clothing on my floor from my floor
• Spot treated my mattress pad
• Listened to Nyx explain rref in matrices to Josh
• Facebook chatted briefly with Jordan, who is on my list of people I want to be friends with when I get to college. 
• Stopped chatting with Jordan because she said that the AP Physics test was hard, and she went to physics camp, so I figured I should study--though she's probably just one of those people who says stuff is hard that isn't, I dunno.
• Played with Buckeyballs
• Ate dinner
• Started one AP Physics problem
• Got bored
• Announced intention of not studying
• Gossiped
• Sent emails about prom dress shopping
• Worried about prom being awkward
• Laughed at the spelling of the word awkward
• Worried about the fact that this list is probably not as funny as previous list
• Noted that nearly all of Josh's clothing is logowear related to his future college
• Congratulated self for using the proper where/wear in the above bullet point
• Listened to Nyx talk to herself

Hatred and the Physics SAT-II

It's almost enough to make me hate physics.

You know, the whole studying for the SAT-II thing. I'm so behind; I need to get through the whole book in the next five days, because I've forgotten far, far too much. I realize that this will mean a difference of about fifty points in my score, so it's a lot of work for a minimal payoff, but I want those points, so I'm making the effort.

Speaking of physics...*obsessively checks snapgrades.* Oh, look, it's been over a week and Mubbles still has not graded our tests. Oh, how woeful I am, how much I wish to know the truth. I know it will change nothing, but I've never really been a huge fan of suspense.

Some good kinds of suspense: looking forward to RSI, looking forward to being done with my SAT-IIs, looking forward to knowing physics, looking forward to the World Science Festival next weekend. You know, nice, fun things.

I washed three cars today. Granted, it was with Dad's help, and I ended up being the hose-offer, as I was a rather pathetically slow scrubber. At some point during this, I was reminded of a prom event, which, of course, I had never really gotten around to sharing.

I rode to prom in Cormac's car, along with Cammie and Nia. We were driving along, rocking out to the Beatles, when, much to our surprise, we saw a small tree in the middle of the road. The car in front of us swerved massively into the other side of the road and then continued.

"Gosh," we said to ourselves. "That sure does look mighty dangerous."

"We could go move it."

"We should go move it."

"Let's."

"One, two, three, GO!" said Cormac, of course, and the four of us, in rather impressive synchrony, leapt from the minivan. This is particularly impressive when one considers the facts that a) the minivan has rather sticky sliding doors and b) half of our party was wearing high heels. Regardless, leapt we did, and, in quick, effective motions, we cleared the tree to the side of the road and reloaded the car before driving off to the dance.

We spent the remainder of the ride discussing how awesome the aforementioned event was.

I'm Skipping some SHP

because, in the scheme of things, prom is more important.

We will ignore the fact that prom has already begun to fade into a distant memory, and, instead, pretend that is was today. Or, yesterday, or whenever you would like to pretend that it was.

I was going to transcribe either Archie and Rube awkwardly meeting or my feminism and gender-equal education discussion or debate-esque conversation with Archie on the train ride home, but it is now vague enough in my mind that I doubt I could properly explain his opinions and statements without some really huge misrepresentations, so I shalt not doeth so.

Anyways, I got home, and my dear, darling mother set me to cleaning. By that, I mean that I put a few dishes away, took one look at the mess that was my room, freaked out that Genie was putting things away without telling me where she was putting them, convinced myself that it was so messy at this point that it really didn't matter, took a shower while Genie finished my room, and then sat, completely patiently, on the stool that goes with my keyboard, a stool which I am loath to call a piano bench because it is, really, rather small, although quite comfortable.

But I digress. Genie spent a considerable quantity of time blow drying my hair, as well as running up and down the stairs to our mother's room to obtain a wide variety of blow drying implements and sprays. I had no idea how much tech it took to get my hair to look "just like it normally does, but better." I am very glad that I don't do this blow-drying beeswax on a regular basis, because, again, so time consuming!

Next I put on mismatched clothing and proceeded to rush madly about the house in a fruitless attempt to get everything ready. This included vacuuming. I love to spell vacuum. It is a fun word.

More to come.

I have seen the future, and it is wonderful

I just asked Dino how many of his parents are coming to prom. I am fairly certain that implies that a) he is bringing his parents to prom, like this boy did his grandmother, and b) that he possibly has more than two parents. Then again, if we count his programmers as parents...

Today, Ginny went to school, but she was technically excused, so she elected to skip many of her classes. I stole her for her final pre-statistics-AP-test hour. After she ate her unidentifiable sandwich (I think it might have been egg), we went outside and sat on the grass.

Well, I sat on the grass and tried to drag her down with me. She was reluctant, as she "didn't know where the grass had been." However, by the time I was lying down, she had at least reached a low crouch.

We spent a while daydreaming about the time to come. First we tried to think of next year.

"We'll both be sitting here," I said, "in the sun, and it will be AP week, so we'll be stressed. Oh, wait, no, we'll already be into amazing schools. You'll be going- where do you want to go?"

"This would work better if we knew where we were going."

"This is true."

"What about the reunion. Do you think we'll go to the reunion?"

"Yes. How about the 75th. We'll both go."

"What'll we do there."

"Well, I'll spot you first, and your hair will be all gray. I'll try to flag you down but I'll have trouble, what with my cane and all, so I'll start yelling, Ginny, Ginny. Then you'll finally see me, and you step into the light and your hair is gray. My first response is to say 'gosh, Ginny, you don't even look Asian anymore.'

"You become very angry, call me racist, and start hitting me with your cane. I hit you back. Then we get into a wicked awesome cane fight.

"Dino comes over to break it up, and he says "guys, stop-p-p-p" and starts to shake, as his circuits have a tendency to get a bit rusty."

"Is Owen going to repair him?"

"No, Owen died off ages ago. That's why Dino is having problems- his self maintenance has issues."

"Ah."

"Anyways, Dino short circuits, so then we go back to fighting when Vicky comes trundling over, walker and all. She somehow manages to force us apart and says 'TEA! GINNY! OPMINN!'

"'What? Where? I thought she'd left.' I say.

"US History! Remember the battles! Remember the Mohicans and the women and portfolios! What a class. What. A. Class.' Vicky continues to babble, somewhat incoherently, about the wonders of US history."

Ginny laughed. "Who next?"

"Well, if Dino is there, Tybalt probably showed up."

"What about Bryant?"

"He's busy building robots and saving the world."

"Oh, of course."

"Anyways, Tybalt is there. He's working, doing something. Recently divorced- he tried to hard to have the perfect, cookie-cutter life, and it fell through. What's his job, though?"

"Something important. Presidential advisor? To Sonny, maybe, who beat out Lumiere in the race."

"Oh, naturally. Anyways, Kathrya is there as well. She and Tybalt broke up, ages ago, when she went off to college. Anyways, he's been finding life unfulfilling, and he showed up at the reunion in search of the one that got away. Kathrya, of course, has been fine without him, living it up and being awesome, as usual. She sees the cane parade by us, and comes rushing over."

"Rushing?"

"She exercised as a youth, she can still rush. Anyways, she gets rather excited to see us, and starts yelling about love and other lovely things, and then she sees Tybalt, and their eyes meet, and she immediately falls silent. And we get kind of confused, but then Tybalt comes over under the pretense of oiling Dino's joints, and, suddenly, we understand."

Ginny sighed. "What about Mario? How's he doing?"

"Mario...hmmm. He's a big businessman, somewhere, really rich. Anyways, he shows up, and we all start laughing about the whole peeing-in-a-cup beeswax. Then he tells us that we can't tell anyone, as it will ruin his reputation and destroy the stock of his company. So, we blackmail him and all get a million dollars."

"That's some fast monetary accumulation."

"That it is."

"He really ought to be thinking more about the consequences of his actions."

I laughed. "What about Gretchen?"

"I bet she's at a university."

"But which?"

"She's at MIT, and you're at Harvard."

"That's realistic. But sure. How is she doing?"

"Did she marry Phil?"

"Maybe she has a really cute baby. But with who? Mario?"

"If he isn't Asian, the kid won't be."

"Well, if the baby is half..."

"Not enough. Besides, Phil is way better."

"Yeah, but she'd never marry him."

"But-"

"Okay, fine. Two weeks ago, Phil came to perform a violin thing at Harvard, and I brought Gretchen to see him, because we're still all buddy-buddy and whatnot. Anyways, she and Phil fall madly in love and start an illicit affair. Also, now Gretchie is pregnant, and she and Phil are avoiding each other so as not to arouse suspicion."

"What about Nyx."

"She's living in Swahili, speaking Swahilian, and saving the world, one starving child at a time. She's doing great, though. That's kind of boring. No plot arc."

"Darn."

At that point, the bell rang, and we went up to my physics class. However, we resumed our discussion in the evening hours. A summary of that will come....tomorrow.

Petty People

Dino is mad at me because I didn't offer to step down before New Englands.

I am mad at me because I didn't believe that Dino was a good enough person to let me keep my New Englands spot. I am also mad at Dino because he is refusing to speak to me.

Dino has now decided that he wants to go to prom with Lauretta (Vicky's buddy from U.S. last year, I believe). I have no idea if he has yet asked her. However, due to the fact that Dino is lacking in friends (I'm mad at him. I'm going to be mean) he can't get a prom group. So, he wants to join the one meeting at my house. However, he unfortunately can't bring himself to ask to join, so he had Tybalt ask me.

I told Tybalt that he could join if Dino would talk to me. Then I felt bad, because I would still like to be friends with Dino, and the only way we're getting out of this is if I don't get mad at him. So, I said that I wasn't going to be petty, so he could join regardless, although if Dino manages to get through it without speaking to me, I will be rather impressed with his dedication.

I will, however, still be angry. I mean, honestly, even Livny will smile back at me, and I can't remember the last time I talked to him.

So, Dino, please stop being a jerk. It is times like this when I am reminded why I didn't trust you in the first place.

P-p-p-prom Planning

Pre-Prom at my place (woo, woo). There will be far too many people involved, by my count, but we shall have fun regardless.

My cousin sent me her bat mitzvah souvenir sweatpants. They are too small. I feel sorry for any of her fatter friends.

I can't do more than a one-liner, I'm sleepy. Work, work, work. Well, chat chat chat, mostly. Andy and Dino and Cammie and Kathrya and Gretchen. No wonder I don't get work done. Too busy with friends.

I like having friends.

Dear World

I am stressed out and exhausted.

Even though it is only nine o'clock.

Even though my calculus final is now over and done with.

Even though I have wonderful friends, and I'm not fighting with any of them.

I think it's residual stress from the calc panic, coupled with those silly menstrual cramps that mimic the lump-in-stomach feel of stress.

That's probably it.

After all, the whole confusion about Rube alone, and then more when Allana's opinions of him are added in, shouldn't be causing nearly this much stress.

I think some of it is residual emotional strain left over from the rememory paper.

Oh, and the constantly creeping sense of proma isn't helping, nor is the inescapable pull towards college admissions. Because I'm touring next week, and it really just never goes away.

How utterly depressing.

How pathetically whiny.

---------

On a happier front, my random woot shirts came. There is the weird ugly red one and the pretty brown swirly one. Andy found the links for me, based off of me saying that "one is brown with pretty blue swirls and the other is bright red and has a kramus on it." Yay for Andy.

The Myriad of Uses for a Free Period

I spent the entire period today sitting in the math/science learning center talking to Mario. Well, first I was talking to Mr. Booth, asking him to sign my National Honors Society application. So then we had a brief discussion on that application, and then we started talking math team.

Mario at least had the decency to act a bit surprised that I didn't make states. Then we got another motivational Beat Treeburg! speech from Mr. Booth about wanting to watch them squirm. Honestly, I think competitiveness should be more about being the best than watching the losers squirm, but Mr. Booth has a different opinion, I guess. Eventually, the Learning Center woman shushed the three of us and Mario and I returned to our work. Well, I checked my email, and he did something to the essay he was writing for Economics.

At some point, he turned around to talk to Bryant, who was taking a test on the other side of the room. "What would you say about this?" he asked.

Bryant ignored him, so Mario began commentating. "Oh, he's rubbing the ear, this must be a good problem."

This made Bryant look up. "It's decent. Not really that interesting." He went back to his test.

"Ooh, he's got the chin going now."

"Look at that pen twitch," I added.

"That," said Mario, "is a significant pen twitch."

"Is testing that much better with commentary?"

"I'd say so. Oh, look, he's moving back to the ear."

Bryant grinned but didn't look up.

"He's pretty skilled, to be able to test through that sort of distraction," I said.

"Yeah. Too bad he can't get a prom date."

"He has a prom date."

"No. Really?" He turned back around. "Bryant, you have a prom date?"

"Yeah."

"Who is it?"

"It's Nancy. Stop distracting him," I said.

"Nancy? Seriously? Bryant, you getting Tybalt's sloppy seconds? You double tap her or something?"

This Bryant ignored completely.

"What?" I said.

"Tybalt went with her to Counties, right?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure that's precisely the language I would use, though."

He shrugged, and we both went and worked a bit more.

A later conversation:

"Oh, was it you who told Ms. Seltzia- oh, what was it...."

"The nipple thing?"

"No, she told us that was you."

"Damn, she told you?"

"Yeah. Then she wanted to know where you were that period- period 8- and I actually knew, which was kind of weird."

"Weird?"

"Knowing that many of your classes."

"Well, I haven't got very many, so it's not like it's difficult."

"True."

"You know, I never bothered to learn Scarlett's second semester schedule."

"Are you still...?"

He shrugged. "Well, I mean, I've developed this new theory."

"What's that?"

"I'm trying to figure out how to say it. It's like, the less invested I get, the better the payout. Like, when you try too hard, it doesn't work."

"A bit depressing." Why does that sound like a hint?

"Nah, I mean, once you change your attitude a bit, what really ends up happening is that you're putting in less effort for greater returns."

I shrugged, and we both went back to our respective work, which, by now, had evolved to him crafting a flow chart on Inspiration and saying "bam" every time he changed the shape of an object, and me flipping through xkcd cartoons, looking for good visuals for English.

Gretchen and Tea add Kathrya to the Conversation cont.

Tea: "odd really like Kad"

Gretchen: Good boy. He can spell. Sort of.

Kathrya: Not at all, he fails at spelling, he will fail the English part of the SATs

Gretchen: He took the ACT.

Tea: oddked kar to prom?

Gretchen: What are you responding with?

Tea: "girlfriend" he said. I said "Kathrya and Gretchen are making fun of your spelling." Now he's mad at me for showing you our conversation.

Kathrya: Oh, lordy.

Tea: How many details am I allowed to share. Probably none right?

Kathrya: Pretty much.

Tea: I told him that he can get it from Tybalt, and it's a girlfriend, and if he says anything else, I'm telling him that I'm going to talk about my period until he shuts up.

Kathrya: YES.

Tea: Genie wants to know how many Apolo Ohnos Tybalt could lift. Also, have you seen She's the Man? Because that is the BEST MOVIE EVER and there's a scene where Olivia goes into the gym, and Duke is weight lifting, and she's like "how many of me could you lift?" and he's like uh, uh, tries to count on his fingers and then slams his head into the machine. I LOVE THAT MOVIE.

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.

Math Geeks and Prom

Because, of course, we need to be thinking about prom dates already. Although I was having perfectly reasonable conversation with Ginny, Tybalt, and Gretchen, the group in the back had other ideas. Owen couldn't figure out who to ask to senior prom, so Mario suggested that he ask a junior or sophomore- if you ask down, the girl is so excited to even be going that she'll enjoy it more. Because that worked so well for Mario, who barely talked to his senior prom date (he is, by the way, actually going to Counties with Rachel. This still pisses me off. A lot. I wish I could tag along a cackle gleefully over their awkwardness, because, as it is, I'll just be stuck trying to sleep and being accosted by horrible images of what they could be getting up to. HCl, HCl, HCl). They consensus was that Irving put out an advertisement on the morning show and request applications, two recommendations needed. This started because of some brief mention that Dino was in need of a fembot, as Irving and Owen had only just noticed that Dino talks like a robot, and they seem to find this the funniest thing in the whole world.

They were laughing as much as Kathrya did this morning when she said I wanted to see Mario without any pants on and I started throwing shirts at her, and she decided that meant I was proposing marriage and crumpled to the floor, dissolved into hysterics.

I told this to Gretchen, and her response was to look at me, confused. "You want to see him without PANTS on?!" "That's not the point," I responded.

Anyways, after the math meet, I was walking towards my truck with Melissa, Tybalt and Bryant.

"So, Tea," Melissa said. "If, hypothetically, Dino asked you to prom..."

"Hmm?"

"If, hypothetically, and I'm not saying he will, it's just that I'm supposed to find him a date and I think I need to start asking early, Dino asked you to prom, would you say yes?"

"Well....." I trailed off.

Tybalt and Bryant laughed.

"I mean, I don't have any big vendetta against him or anything, and I can't see any reason to turn him down, so I'd probably end up saying yes, but...don't make me your first choice, okay?"

"Sure. It's just, you're nice, so I thought you'd say yes."

"I need to get meaner."

"It's alright, I'll start looking for sophomores. I figure if I find someone now, I can introduce them and give them time to get to know each other before hand."

"I don't want to be mean to him, it's just that, well, if we went together, we'd just end up insulting each other the whole time."

"Awwww. It'd be like a love-hate relationship!"

I snorted incredulously. "Bye!" I called and then split off to go to my truck.

I think Tybalt or Bryant said "bye" back. Melissa definitely didn't.

Small Children and Facebook

This morning, I showed my cousins my facebook. First I pulled up the homepage, and explained that it was kind of like email. Then I checked my notifications, and there was a picture of Gretchen on there, so I clicked on it. May (who is 8 years old) looked at it. "Is she Chinese?"
"Yes."
"Oh," she said, nodding. I then clicked over to my sisters wall, on the post I'd sent yesterday, and Kat (who is 10) wandered over.
"Watcha doin?" she asked.
"Tea's showing me her facebook."
"This is Genie's wall. Do you want to write anything?"
They did, talking about Kat's new drum set and how obnoxious they thought it was. Then we went and wrote on other cousins' walls.
To a girl two years older than me: Kat says, "whatup? you missed a great vacation. I got a great new drum set that's sparkly and silver and big and loud." May says, "how's your boyfriend doing? he has really long hair."
to that girls one year older brother: Hi. How was your trip home? Kat says "I GOT NEW DRUMS!!! How's your girlfriend?" May says "she's like up to your chin because she's so short."
to another boy, a junior in college: I'm sitting here with kat and may, and they both wanted to talk to you. Kat says "you're so obnoxious. I got a great awesome new sparkley big and loud drum set." May says "All Kat's talking about is her awesome new drum set that she's only allowed to have for a year because she's borrowing it from her friend. Say hi to your girlfriend."
Then they just sat there for a minute.
"Do you want to see anything else?" I asked.
"Can we look at pictures of your friends?"
"Sure. Who do you want to see?"
"Hmmmm...." said Kat. "How about Mario-y"
"Who?"
"Mario."
"You want to see Mario?"
"YES!"
"Okay, okay." I went to his profile.
"Oh my god," said Kat. "He's hot!"
"What?" I said.
"He is!"
"Can we see more pictures of him?" asked May.
"Sure." I clicked open on his photos (there are only eight of them, fortunately)
"Why's he all dressed up?"
"He went to prom."
"Did you go to prom?"
"I already told you I didn't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not a junior."
"And he is?"
"No..."
"Then how come he went to prom?"
"Cause that girl asked him."
"Is that his girlfriend?"
"I don't know, I don't think so."
"Are you going to prom with him next year?" asked Kat.
"Um, I don't-"
"You should ask him out!" said May.
"What?!"
"Yeah! Ask him to see a movie or something."
"I can't just-"
"Yes you can. Just call him and ask."
"It's not that easy."
"Is too!"
"It's be weird. I haven't seen him for like a month."
"So?"
"Maybe next year, alright?"
"Okay..." said May. "Do you know anyone else who went to prom?"
"Uh, yeah. This is Tierra," I said, going to her profile. "That's a picture of her at prom."
"She's not very pretty. Do you think she's pretty?" asked Kat.
I turned and glared at her. "Excuse me?"
"Well, she's not the prettiest person in the world, I don't mean that she's ugly or anything."
"It's still mean. And she's perfectly nice looking!"
"I guess so. Can we see more pictures."
I sighed. "Sure." I pulled up the pictures of Tierra at prom. "That's a girl from math team. I love her dress. And that's the boy who asked Tierra."
"Is that her boyfriend?"
"No, they're just friends. And that's a girl who color-codes her closet."
"That's weird."
"Yes it is."
"She looks prettier in this picture."
"Thank you," I said.
"Can we see pictures of you, now?" asked May.
"Yeah, sure." I started clicking through. When I reached the one of Gretchen and a girl who went to China with Nyx, Kat turned to me and said, "You have a lot of Asian friends."
"Um, yes. I do."