2004-10-05
My ex -boyfriend, the Canadian writer & the shameful high school hierarchy
I have been trying desperately to keep on top of things this week, and my article is still not placed, because Ms. Bluestone wants many more people to look at it, and for me to amass as much information as possible. This article, she says, �Is a very important article...not to be screwed up.�
Things are getting more and more difficult, however. I find my mind wandering to other places I�d rather be--daydreaming of other things and distant places that I only dream of at night. I find that I am more sensitive to the changing breeze--autumn�s breeze, and I�m taking things in with more stride.
Pierce and I attended a string quartet concert Sunday afternoon. It was a perfect opportunity for me to wear the skirt I ordered from Italy some time ago--a very lovely white skirt--knee length and hugging the curves without it being too scandalous--I don�t do scandalous. It is also an excellent piece to wear along with Liz Claiborne sunglasses...and my handbag from Lotus. Afterwards, we went for dinner. That�s probably been the most relaxing evening I�ve had in some weeks--finally, a relief from the usual political or college-oriented conversations everyone is so keen on having throughout the school day. We spoke about music--about the concert...
My ex-boyfriend, who published his very first book about two months ago, has just sent me a copy via post. The cover illustration is very clever, if I should say so myself; but what I really love is the fact that months ago, I had asked him to write me a dedication on the cover page. And so, he did:
Dearest Libet,
You�re my Florida sunshine, bringing hope and joy to my cold, Canadian existence. Truly, I hope you enjoy my book, and that as a result, you will fall madly in love with me...unfortunately, by the time you do, I�ll be dead, seeing as how that is the only way men can catch your attention these days (posthumously). I truly hope to receive a full, lengthy commentary from you.
Your Polar Bear,
Al
There have been some questions about the previous entry I wrote--whether or not it was dedicated to Roger. This is the perfect time to clarify...no, my previous entry was not dedicated to Roger--it was for Al. Never have I believed in fate, or in soul mates, or in love-at-first-sight, or signs---those things have always sounded silly to me. I am a firm believer in logic, and always have been. Yet, this is the only time when I will put away my beliefs and doubts and say that this friendship was--in some ways--fated.
Roger left and the barren winter approached my soul--my heart withered, and the life completely taken from me--a shell, is what I became. Oh, but Al is my beautiful Gabrielle...with consoling words, he breathed life into my heart. It is a dreadful shame that our relationship didn�t work, yet, I have gotten something much grander, much more beautiful out of it all. I always carry his heart within mine...
On a less important note, �Senior Class Favorites� were announced yesterday. Apparently, Ben and I were voted �most likely to succeed�. I have also come to the conclusion that high school is just a large, popularity contest, and I truly don�t understand why the vast majority of American teenagers are so fixed on the whole idea of being popular and getting invited to all the parties--so?
Seriously, there are other seniors in the school who have worked harder than I have--really. I get invited to the parties because by some strange inner-workings of nature, the day I was born, some high school fairy tapped me on the head with her wand, thus declaring me socialite material.
But I have never understood the whole �high school hierarchy�...and in fact, I only found out one existed in my junior year of high school--I don�t understand. Aren�t we all supposed to be equal, despite the clothing that we wear...or who we know? It is just silly, the way we tie ourselves to this...the way some of us degrade ourselves. So, after four years of observation, I have now reached my conclusion (and if any junior high kids stumble upon this, perhaps it will be of great use to them): if you care and actually want to be invited to the parties, they will see right through you and undress you for the desperate charlatan that you are...thus, declaring you an outcast. If you simply don�t care and regard this mindset as silly, stupid, and immature (which, it is), then, they automatically love you.
Out of all the parties to which I�ve been invited (too many to count), I�ve only attended about three--maximum. Ironically, I�ve gotten invited to more parties, as a result. Gee, I wonder what would happen if I ran for Homecoming Queen...
Attention America�s Teenagers: grow up! and please...try and attain a bit of self-respect, instead of going around and doing all of this boot-licking!
It�s actually quite healthy for me to write my finishing thoughts on high school: it has been wonderful, and yes, I would absolutely do it again. Not only that, but the average American high school would make an excellent idea for a satire!
♥