"DOLE!" "Dole?" "DOLE!!!" "DOOLLEEE!!!!!"

Thank you all for one of the absolute best weekends of my life. I love you guys.

this is IT! ^_^

I haven't wanted to write lately. But it has been for a very very good reason: I'm having the time of my life. Honestly! These past few weeks have been completely incredible, full of anticipation, and friendship, becoming closer to some friends, sharing secrets and jokes and the best times. Since last Friday I haven't stopped dancing and I LOVE IT.

Things that used to matter to me - suddenly don't matter at all. Unimportant things have all fallen away. Why think about the meaning of life and read philosophy? I would rather be jumping around and dancing and talking and flying and LIVING. Right now. This IS the meaning of life.

This is the best senior year a girl could wish for, really. The important things: going to the Oak Hill Tavern to see Maddy sing at Christmastime... getting lost with Jill going to Abby's, going over the Newport bridge when we were supposed to be in Jamestown, all roads lead to tollbooths!, loitering in the parking lot with Jill and Kent after school, talking to Jackie in gym and gossipping with her (and Dylan!), conversations with Kyle made up of: "Wombat!" "Wallaby!" "PLATYPUS!!!" "WOMBAT!!!!!", being "DOLE!"d by Dave at various intervals, and everyone else, just everything. Dave's last entry was about how we all took a huge group picture at prom and when the cameras were going off just all yelled "DOOOLLLEEE!!!!!" And that was an absolutely amazing moment that just sums up all of our friendships. Absolutely incredible. THANK YOU, all.

This is the meaning of life! (Wombat Theology?) Jump in!

And this weekend! ANIME BOSTON! Thousands more memories waiting to be made. Let's go!

yep, pretty amazing

Jackie's house... sunlight... excitement, spinning around as everyone gets ready, shoes put on, purses taken up... Outside in the wind, standing in the grass with heels, pictures, camera flashes, posing, laughing...

More arrivals, phone calls from others, waiting, flowers!, more and more pictures... The van coming, waiting at the end of the driveway... loading in the overnight bags... And the rest of the group coming... time to leave!

Hard to arrange all the group in the van... "Kent pretend you're trying to fit in illegal immigrants!" Music on the way and Maddy and Jackie dancing in the backseat, "Play that song," "No that one!" And barelling through Brick Market and out and finally -- there!

Stepping inside... waiting and standing and meeting more friends as they come... Jill: "My date was stolen...!" Finally walking up the staircase and down the hall and into the ballroom and figuring out the tables and sitting down for dinner.

Group picture confusion... "Did you pay yet?" "What about you?" And chocolate cake.

Dancing dancing dancing - and Kyle and Spencer carrying Jackie across the dance floor (:D) - and taking pictures - more dancing - getting tired but it doesn't matter at all - out on the balcony, wind and cold air and harbor lights, but it's time to go back inside and dance even more...

Kat: "It's pretty disturbing when teachers catch you dancing like... that."

Outside in the hall cameras flashing again. All of us posing in a huge group. "On 3..." "DOOOLLLEEEE!!!!"

And spinning around between tables... "I feel kind of drunk... off life" More than halfway done, music and dresses, hair getting a little messy, some shoes off, ties off... And trying to figure out Cotton Eye Joe and failing absolutely -

The last dance, wanting it to last because it can't be over... But the music goes on so long and then finished... Lights go on - no -

Candy jars, picking up flowers and everything, out in the hall, going down the stairs, goodbyes... but not for long at all...

"Congratulations!"

"...For what?!..."

"You're graduating! Did you forget?"

"I want to forget!"

Out in the cool dark night in front of the hotel. Sad, it really can't be over!

"ANIME BOSTON NEXT WEEKEND!!!!"

Piling back in the van again, everyone exuberant, laughing, jokes flying all over the place, "Three guys walk into a bar," blasting the 'senior prank cd', almost falling off the seat every time the van takes a sharp turn. Holding flowers and jar of candy and purse and gloves -

The beach, cold cold cold and windy, stepping in puddles in our pretty shoes, but the ocean is loud, the stars are so beautiful, but we have to get back in!

Loud and laughing all the way back to Maddy's house, "Just park across the street and we'll walk over," "No is it this house?" All out again, grab up everything, flowers on the counter, overnight bag and purse and all on a chair, collapse somewhere, but it still can't be over!

"I want to just rewind!"

"Me too!" "Yeah..."

Playing Apples to Apples half asleep, "I'm too tired to keep playing," "Me too," "Let's stop"... Dark and voices dropping off... Laying awake all night I think... only remember morning and dawn through the kitchen window -

And breakfast at Oatley's, coffee, Dylan's mountain of plates, three (or four) cars, and dancing at stop signs -

And it still can't be over!

I love all of my friends SO MUCH. Thank you for every minute.

So, that was amazing. ^-^

platypus live onstage!

I sat there in French class with tingling nerves. Everybody else was watching a film on Napoleon but I was basically watching the clock. Were we going to be called down? ... 1:15... 1:20... 1:25!!!! Apparently not. My heart was beating quickly and - suddenly Jill appeared at the door gesturing wildly and then we were leaving down the hall and it was all starting.

I wasn't sure how to get onstage. Go in the back door and from backstage? But I couldn't mess up the curtain. Side door? But then I'd go in with the audience?

But I got on the stage anyway. Most people were already there. I found the chair stolen from backstage that I was supposed to sit in, and sat down. Onstage. My chair was right in the front, and I looked out over the audience. The memory is mostly black. The stage was black... and the audience was tinged black... and the lights made everything seem surreal.

You don't know how glad I was for those spotlights. I'd heard that the lights shine so brightly that you can't see the audience. It is true and I was ecstatic about it. If I could just stand on stage and pretend the audience wasn't there it might be okay.

But before the lights dimmed... I could see them all. Classmates in the senior section, all familiar - how could I go up and do a completely non-me-like monologue in front of them? Juniors - yep, friends in there too. Sophomores and freshmen, no big deal... But I kept looking through the senior section. They made me nervous. Until - I saw Kyle... and Kent... and Dave... toward the back. Then I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then the lights faded, the audience was dark and I could only see the front row, whose occupants still made me nervous. Matt was out in the audience and started his monologue. I sat there with my heart pounding fiercely thinking, "What the HELL am I doing up here?!?!?!??!?!" Matt kept going and I thought how bad it was to be number two, to have to follow one of the best actors in the school, and how absolutely terrified I was and wondering why I ever wanted to do this. So what if I wanted to try being on the Prout stage before an audience once before I graduate? I thought, it wasn't worth this TERROR!

And then... DARN IT... Matt walked back on stage. He finished. He sat down. And it was my turn. I waited for Matt to sit down... and got up... and walked to the edge of the stage... And started my monologue with that infamous first line and then -

It was okay. I didn't forget anything. I didn't mess up. I didn't fall off the stage. I didn't get rotten tomatoes thrown at me and no one laughed. ^-^

When I was finished I couldn't believe it. Last sentence... and I sat down... It was over. I had done it. I had just said a long monologue in front of more than six hundred people. WOW. I still cannot believe it. I sat still tense but with a quieter heart and listened to the next ones... during Andrew's I was still in aftershock... by the time it got to Jill's I was realizing it (and cheering inwardly for Jill ^_^)... and then it was over... Micah's happened... Sasha's and we were filing off the stage and out of the auditorium... And we all stood there.

WOW. I was on stage in front of more than six hundred people. HOLY CRAP. I can't quite comprehend it. Me. But I'm glad I did it. I forced myself to do it. I was terrified. But it was okay. And I'm incredibly glad I did it.

Nothing to say tonight really. Just -

Prom yay!!!! excitement!!!

And -

Anime Boston!!!!!!!!!!! ^_______^

That is all

nobody knows! [but that is plenty all right]

[dark. something stumbles into view -]

CONFLICT!

[tiny spotlight. it starts spinning around.]

Whew. Dizzy.

[fall]

[from the floor, a voice]

Heyyy there.

[dim spotlight. the something is revealed to be a PLATYPUS.]

Platypus: The meaning of life is afoot!

Audience: Whoa.

Platypus: Do YOU know what it is?

Ushers: NO.

Musicians: Tell us.

Director: Tell me at least.

Platypus: Nope.

[there is a riot in the audience]

[platypus stands up, dizzily]

Platypus: It would be fun to watch from behind the curtain -

[shouts and screams are heard from the audience, and an occasional thud]

Platypus: - But I can't go back. They told me to come onto the stage. Didn't you tell me?

Director: YES! Stay there. No! Stay there.

Platypus: [glances back at curtain, steps toward the edge of the stage] Hey out there!!!

Guy from audience: Shut up, we're being aggressive.

Platypus: Line?

Director: The meaning of life is afoot!

Platypus: No, next line?

Director: That's it. That's the end of the play.

Platypus: It is? What kind of bad writer ended a play like that?

Director: It had to end like that. But it doesn't mean the play is over.

Platypus: Hey you guys!!!

Audience: [fighting]

Platypus: SHUT UP!!!!

Audience: [rioting]

Platypus: Um. Um... Free pastries at the reception!!!

Audience: [silent] .... [files amiably out the back doors, chatting about turnovers and cinnamon rolls]

[house lights come on]

[Platypus stares over the ruined seats of the auditorium]

Platypus: What the hell was that?

Director: Act IV, scene 5.

Platypus: No I mean -

Director: Nobody knows.

Platypus: Oh. Yeah. I don't know. I got too caught up in the play.

Director: You're an okay actress.

Platypus: Huh. Well. I'm going to get some hot cocoa at the reception.

Director: Watch out for the audience.

Platypus: They're okay really. Just don't talk to them about the meaning of life. It's dangerous.

blargh

monologue of the platypus

It's so amazing.

Stepping outside. Even looking out the window. There are trees out there. And if the phone rings there will be a friend's voice. Annnd.... tomorrow at the end of the road?.... There could be everything.

Why fight anyway? Just don't say it. Believe what you want. Or don't believe. Just please don't say your way is right and everyone else's way is wrong. If you don't like the religious fanatics who say their way is the only right faith, then you shouldn't say your nonreligious way is the truth either. Right??

No one knows anything as a fact. I never understood facts myself. That's why I am terrible at things like logic... and math... Why facts? Why do they matter? Just look at the sky and think of... living.

the important questions. like, so where is my grapefruit, anyway?

There's a lot of the meaning of life floating around lately. And so I give you:

Platypus Theology - like Wombat Theology except rainbowcolored.

Feeling is knowing... logic is just the surface... it's more mysterious than we know.

Take what you have and turn it into something beautiful.

There is existential angst but there are also leaves young and brandnew on trees. Which would you rather occupy your thoughts with?

Help each other... make things colorful... dance or try to climb up walls or make some art... celebrate every holiday you can think of and if you can't think of one make it your own... give gifts... scream for the hell of it... write a theme song... walk in rain... and love with everything you have.

You're alive right now. What are you going to do about it?

rainy day

The rain is so beautiful really. No music on the ride home because the sound of heavy rain was enough. Everything looks different, more connected. Green leaves are greener and rain-mist thrown up by wheeling tires follows the road. The sky is remote. People don't go out usually and the world seems more private, not a rush or scramble but a close moment. Every sound in the rain, voices, tires, sounds different, more like it's the only sound, with a background of drops hitting pavement. The rain's kind of mysterious but quite friendly anyway.

And it's so much fun to jump in puddles. ^_^

religion and art

Blast! I would really really like to talk about "religion and art" but I'm going to miss Creative Writing YET AGAIN for the icky IB French exam. Grr...

But I'll write about it anyway.

There is a part in my favorite book of all time, I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, where someone says that religion is the ultimate art, an extension or fulfillment of that which all other arts attempt. I love that. I agree.

I'm not traditionally religious. I'm not Christian. I don't have a specific name for what my religion is but I really love spirituality. I'm going to talk about my personal beliefs because they shape how I view art... Basically I'm some sort of a pantheist. In my opinion, the universe is sacred, everything in it is sacred, all life is part of divinity. To me ordinary actions are sacred because they are expressions of life. I have this quote by the mystic Hafiz written on my "random writing notebook": "Slipping on my shoes, boiling water, toasting bread, buttering the sky - that should be enough contact with God in one day to drive anyone crazy."

So I believe art is also an expression of this sacredness, this beautiful life. I love beautiful art, bright colors and loudness, but even unpleasant art is also an expression of the same thing... because there are dirty parts. When publishers objected to parts of James Joyce's Dubliners, Joyce responded: "It is not my fault that the odour of ashpits and weeds and offal hangs around my stories. I seriously believe that you will retard the course of civlisation in Ireland by preventing the Irish people from having one good look at themselves in my nicely polished looking-glass." Joyce's arrogance aside, art really is a 'looking-glass'. Beautiful art reflects back to us the beauty within ourselves and makes us more conscious of it. Ugly art shows us the ugly parts of ourselves and prevents us from hiding them in shame.

Religion is a mirror too - a deeper one. Instead of just reflecting, it establishes contact, connection. Between us and everything else, other people, other forms of life, other stars, and what is deep within and far behind them all.

Did I make any sense at all? ^^; Anyone?

favorite words (yum)

A post containing some of my favorite words. Whahoo! First the weird ones:

Eldritch: adj. Strange or unearthly; eerie.

Haberdashery: n. pl. The goods and wares sold by a dealer in sewing notions and small wares (chiefly British).

Smaragdine: adj. Of or relating to emeralds; having the color of emeralds.
Smaragd: n. Emerald.

Tourmaline: n. A complex crystalline silicate containing aluminum, boron, and other elements, used in electronic instrumentation and, especially in its green, clear, and blue varieties, as a gemstone.

Carnelian: n. A pale to deep red or reddish-brown variety of clear chalcedony, used in jewelry.

Peregrine: adj. Roving or wandering; migratory.

Wicket: n. A small door or gate, especially one built into or near a larger one.

Beck: n. n. Chiefly British. A small brook; a creek.


And favorite words that are not so (ahem) obscure:

Delirious. Umbrella. Phonograph. Avenue. Sorcery. Witchery. Lackadaisical. Magic. Pamplemousse. Wander. Gypsy. Elephant. Platypus, Wombat, Wallaby. Enchanted. Downs. Glade. Moor. Lake. Mirror. Wish. Whimsical. Twirl. Sky. Swirl. Rapture.

not brief

Generally I'm not an advocate of brevity. I mean, look at how I write. Paragraphs and paragraphs. And look at what I read. I enjoy reading Dickens, Joyce, Tolkien, fabulously long chapters, complex descriptions, thick books. I would rather a book be very thick than thin because it will last longer and I can live inside it more. At the end of good books I always think, more more! don't end yet!

I think that when one tries to be brief, he often misses something. Brevity is too often oversimplification. Yes, being brief helps when you want to be witty. But even wit tends to oversimplify. Which is fine if you're going for a joke. But when I want to explore something, brevity just doesn't do it.

I want explanation, deep exploration, to know what and how and what it is like. I love long descriptions in books. Multiple paragraphs spent describing one flower? Delicious. But just a quick little jot of something, a brief sentence followed by nothing but the expectation that the reader will understand, can be very annoying. What if I don't understand (which often happens)?! Breathe it out, ramble over and through it, make it long and detailed to keep from missing anything.

But I suppose brevity is okay sometimes too. Some things are not long and thus should not be described at length. A flash of light is a flash, not a drawl. And being long-winded can be needlessly confusing. I can't stand to read jumbling mumbling circuitous academic papers, for example.

Brevity: useful sometimes, but a grievous mistake under many circumstances. Difficult to use properly. Be careful and do not think it is a rule.

the plight of the introvert

(a response to dylan's post of 5/5)

You see them sometimes --- lurking around the corners, or standing next to you, lips annoyingly sealed, immobile and looming awkwardly. You think, what a creep, or, why doesn't she talk?, or think they are snobby or stupid.

But they're just shy.

Being "shy" is like a stigma. It brings whole lists of annoying things to encounter. Those who are outgoing don't know: they think shyness is just getting butterflies about doing things like asking someone to a dance or talking to an authority figure. But, unfortunately, it's more irritating and infuriating than that.

When you are shy or introverted, everyone wants you not to be. Outgoing people take it up as their special duty to get you to be outgoing, too. They think something must be wrong with you: you were sheltered too much as a child, or were raised with too many inhibitions. Teachers, instructors, and outgoing acquaintances make it their mission to "break your shell", and the insistent taps of their pickaxes are an embarassing annoyance interrupting your peaceful thoughts. Especially when somebody especially heroic decides to give "your shell" a good whack and the noise almost shatters your eardrums and just makes you want to find a new cave to hide in.

And when you are shy, people view you as unconfident, awkward, possessing the taboo Low Self Esteem. When really you are perfectly fine - you have confidence in your abilities - and can speak up for yourself if you need to - and have ambition to realize your dreams. But they just won't leave you alone because they do not understand shy people.

Why would anyone want to be alone for a little while with nothing but their own thoughts? There must be something wrong with them. Why would anyone want to observe other people without talking to them - they must be creepy stalkers. No, no, no!

Introverts are often very interested in other people. They care about them and tend to be empaths. But they are not extroverted - they don't feel the need to voice their thoughts or let others know all that's inside them. And that's perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with introverts - we're just different from extroverts. We're not creepy or snobby or stupid, we just think in our own way.

So, go easy on the shy ones. When they're standing silently next to you they probably have lots to say, only are too shy to say it. And they are not just standing there to eavesdrop on you or to be creepy --- they probably really want to know you, they just don't know what to say to you. Or don't have anything to say but are waiting around in case they think of something. And don't think that's a big problem you have to fix. Do not pity them because that is what they are most afraid of.

You probably can't understand the terrible hand-wringing and twisted-insides-feeling of not being able to talk to people you don't know well. It's just incredibly hard for some of us. And that is why the shy ones hang around the edges --- not ready to be noticed --- but not quite chicken enough to vanish away by themselves. And if you really are having a private conversation, the one hanging around the edges probably honestly does not know it is private --- too busy worrying about whether or not he or she should be there! Half wanting to leave, but half wanting to stay so as not to fail again at talking to people.

It's not their fault, not a choice, or a decision; it's a trait, a natural and controlling characteristic. What to do? Nothing. Be patient and accept them --- try to actually get to know them instead of just writing them off without even knowing anything about them except for their silence. How would you like it if no one gave you a chance? And again, don't think you have to fix them. They'll work up the courage eventually, by themselves.

Just be quiet too for a little while. It might be a nice change.

portrait! artist!

Caution: If you read A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man while half-asleep, you may very well have dreams about it. In my experience. :P

Buuut, yes, I'm reading this book for English class, and I like it very much. I've been looking forward to it all semester, especially when we spent three months stuck in Hamlet (I now do not want to look at Hamlet for a very, very long time). I've never read James Joyce before, but I always had the suspicion that I would like him because everyone else always said that he wrote very strangely. And I was right, I do like his odd style. He wrote the way thoughts are thought: not neat and in a straight line but jumpy and cylical and whichway but more fun because they're like that.

I like his style because it's how I try to write stories sometimes. Not a set trajectory or arc of plot but a roaming about and turning things in on themselves. Weird to realize I've been trying to write like Joyce while never having read Joyce.

But, for Portrait specifically, I like the first chapter and am now in the third chapter. In the second chapter Stephen was dreadfully pretentious but I still like the book because it seems like just the character was being pretentious, not the author. The way Stephen does things sometimes, or says or thinks things, just seems like it is open for criticism and eye-rolling, not meant to be taken absolutely seriously. Hopefully.

honesty

Ugh. This is what I really want to write about.

One month left. College decisions made and deposits sent in and things all set. But I just want to hold summer back and drift here.

What? Next year no drawing comics in the back of math class and passing them to Kent and no sitting next to Jill and Chelsea in creative writing? --- And no sitting about with Jill and Maddie and Jackie in the morning? Or being attacked by Kyle? Or encountering doledi at every turn?

I have always wanted to get out of high school. Most classes are boring and most of the things I am supposed to be learning I have no interest in. Buuut... I'm terrified of stepping past it.

It's not even a big deal really --- I'm not going far for college --- not out of state --- for goodness' sake, my college is closer to my house than Prout is! And I'll be commuting --- no big change?

But some friends won't be around. And the friends who will be around, I'm afraid we won't even see each other. Big school. Not Prout.

I just feel incredibly drifty. And see next year as drifty. As in insubstantial and unstable. And it makes me sad.

It would be absolutely terrible to spend next year missing high school.

I don't think anyone has even realized it because no one ever talks about it, about leaving. We all anticipate graduation but we don't talk about what it means.

Hummmmm.

in defense of unicorns

- I won't be in Creative Writing again on Thursday because I have to take the AP English exam. [Also the excuse for a few others not being there.] So I won't be able to 'defend my point' in person... but here ya go anyway. -


After having doubted and been sad about how things are in the world and how we don't know things and about the big universe out there --- and after having thought my contant optimism maybe wasn't the thing that works --- I've realized something important. The world needs unicorns.

The world needs some who will spread color and joy, some eternal optimists who will persist in believing in fairies. And who will be viewed as foolish and shallow by some others but who really do know better. It isn't just airheadedness. "Be not simply good -- be good for something" is more like it.

Of course it can't be defended in a thesis, or explained even, but most important things are like that anyway.

postpostpost for your information

So, while you all sit in Creative Writing reading blogs, I will be in some remote room in the recesses of Prout, taking the AP Statistics exam. When I found out that the 12:00 exam meant I would miss Creative Writing I was quite disappointed. Not only do I have to take a very unpleasant test on an utterly dull dubject, but I also don't even get out of a class worth missing. Instead I have to miss the one class I like going to! [Aside: I also get to miss Physics and French. But meh.]

Really, what is the point of exams in May? AKA, the last month of high school. I do not know. Indeed, senioritis is not a disease, nor is it a good excuse, but it's there anyway. Complainnnnnn.

Hey you guys! Dr Hillman! Talk about something interesting in class today! DO IT. [Then catch me up.] I mean something REALLY INCREDIBLY INTERESTING. Something you've never talked about before. I dare you!!! I dare you to stir things up without talking about politics OR war OR government.

But whatever you do, don't talk about Thoreau again without me. ^_^

college decision MADE

Soooooooo, I sent in my tuition deposit to URI the other day. Yep, I am going to the University of Rhode Island in September.

It's weird. I don't feel like the decision has been made or anything at all. I haven't realized I am enrolled in college - after all this worry - and tossing things back and forth - and speculation. "The deed was done" last Wednesday, but I haven't been able to think up what to write about it.

I also sent in a deferral request to Wheaton. I asked them to hold my place at Wheaton until 2007. Then I can decide whether to enroll there for sophomore year or not. Once again it depends solely on how much money they decide to give me next year and if it is a ton more than this year I can go.

I'm not really excited, but I'm not disappointed, or something, either. I'm glad to have a definite place where I am going next year and to be done with thinking about getting in to college [a most exhausting subject!]. College - this year - won't be a big huge jump or voyage or intrepid venture for me. I'll be commuting from home instead of living in a dorm, which is fine, because the university is actually closer to my house than my high school is. Perk of this: I am getting a car of my very own this summer. =)

Soooo, yeah. I don't know. It has not hit me yet that I am going to college. There is one month left of school and I just want to soak up and fully live the last month of high school with my friends, especially because one of my closest friends in school will be moving all the way across the country for college. Really, schoolwork is falling rapidly away, spring is blooming and flourishing and greening everywhere and the sky is so incredibly blue and wisped with clouds, and I've realized that friendship is the important thing.

wood-cow story

On the road I take on Saturday mornings, there is a farm, that has a hilly green field with dwarfish trees, that slopes down into woods that stretch back and down the road. Often there are cows milling about in the field. Today, as I was driving past, I looked into the woods, still full of dull red and orange tones from the winter, but the green is starting to come. The trees grow close together and the ground is rocky and hilly; there are brooks and streams winding past. I looked into the woods and then could not believe my eyes. A whole troupe of cows was standing there in the middle of the woods, among the fallen leaves and tall trees and little leafy plants growing by a stream --- like some newly-discovered wild forest cattle. They stood all grouped together like they were trying to figure out how they had ended up in the woods and were plotting about what direction to run off to next.

When I came back on the same road two hours later, the cows were standing in the field like normal, completely calm and cool. I wondered if the owners of the farm had noticed the cows were missing and gone into the woods to retrieve them --- or if the cows returned of their own will, never to tell anyone about their woodland rendezvous.