2004-08-09
First day of school, oh, what kindred spirits are running around
The beeping of my alarm clock gently seeps in through my head and into my dreams, where I can clearly hear it as I stand in the middle of that foggy moor I�m always dreaming about. It feels like something out of Wuthering Heights, and after looking down at my dirt-stained white dress, my eyes open, and I am introduced to the darkness of my bedroom. The wooden carved pillars of my bed loom over me, and my chiffon canopy lightly drapes down onto the Spanish tile floors--I feel so...Hamiltonian. (not necessarily pertaining to government or economics. I could also use �Jeffersonian�).
With much hesitance, my bare feet touch the cold tile as I make my way towards the bathroom, and of course, the thought that school starts today is ever so present in my thoughts. I decided to wear my pastel-coloured, green-striped J. Crew Tee and denim jeans. After taking my pills, I grab my backpack and Urban Oxide metro-pouch that I purchased at Lotus (my favourite place to shop), along with my keys, and am on my way to school, which isn�t very far away.
I have absolutely no jitters on this particular morning, only the realization that this is my last year, and Carlynn, Brittany, Mike, and Brandon are all gone--last year�s seniors. Looking at the activity of the parking lot through the humid-like, foggy morning drape, I begin to remember this very day, about a year ago when I was an incoming junior. Nothing really changes, save for the staff and oftentimes, the classroom locations, but generally everything feels the same as it did two months back. For one moment, I wanted to envision myself once more in that eleventh grade year that was seemingly infinite and torturous. I grabbed my pouch and backpack, and made my way towards first period, which would be Honours Economics.
The setting was suitable, and Ben a.k.a. Mr. Democrat is in the class, so rest assured that my first hour certainly did not pass by without a few laughs. However, that does not detract from the fact that the atmosphere is quite competitive. Many of these people have been in classes with me before, and I have noticed that the majority of them are quite competitive--violently competitive, regarding academics. I know this from the infamous Honours Bio I with Dr. Arndt. Personally, I am not a creature to disclose my grades, and somehow many of these people make it their business to find out. I can see now that this will be my main annoyance as the quarter passes. However, I have made a strict promise to myself that I should maintain discretion to the best of my abilities.
Second period is perhaps one of my favourites so far. Prior to this year, Mrs. Leonard had been in the exact same building, seeing as how the entire mathematics department is in one side of the campus--easier, right? Now, they have switched her over to what is intended to be the science department and VPA dance department (I attend a Liberal Arts school). Opening the door, I see Mrs. Leonard�s familiar face as she points the way towards my seat. The class that I am currently taking with her is Probability and Statistics...simply because there are no more math classes offered save for AP Calculus I, and I�m starting that one in October. As the room begins to fill up, there many familiar faces who have been in prior math classes with me. However, the light of the entire room is Aaron. Since I returned from Georgetown, I have been very eager to see him, especially after he told to me that he dyed his hair...again. Walking in with his hair of dark burgundy (it looks like a mix between dark brown and burgundy, but I am useless at describing these things) and spiked, I think him gorgeous this year--very attractive (not that he isn�t on a regular basis, but this hair colour contrasts perfectly with his blue eyes). Immediately, he notices me and after we radiantly smile at one another, I stand up as he comes towards me with arms wide open. Lifting me up slightly as we embrace, he tells me, �Hello love, how was your summer?�
With a coquettish grin, I mention only a few highlights as he puts his satchel on the desk next to mine. Immediately, he tells me that he�s taking Honours Physics this year, and that the classroom isn�t the same without me. We also begin to fondly recall the �date� we had a few months back, in which he was helping me study for a physics final, and instead we wound up drinking a bottle of Sake at his house and discussing the Quantum Theory (I refuse to disclose any further information). And for those of you, who are new to reading my diary, Aaron is the guy whom I have had an off/on crush on since grade nine. For the most part, we�re quite fond of one another, but prefer to keep it at that. The entire class time, him and I chit-chatter about physics, and he mentions something about taking me to a physics lab, but I didn�t pay much attention. Then, we start talking about Japanese Rock (both of us are die-hard fans) and I tell him to completely forget everyone else except X-Japan and start listening to Melt Banana. He says he will.
I ate lunch with Evelyn and Brienne.
Fourth period was my favourite, seeing as how it was journalism. Unfortunately, Creative Writing was not offered as an elective this particular quarter, thus, I took journalism, simply to get some writing done in my day. I told the teacher that I would just be happy writing political editorials, book reviews, and I could cover all of the VPA music concerts. Although, whenever I enter a class that involves writing, the teachers tend to have already familiarized themselves with �my type�. It is my impression that all of the English teachers that have had me (Lane, Yerkes, and Kulikowski) gossip amongst themselves in the teacher�s lounge--sometimes about me, and many times about some other students. I�m feeling rather uncomfortable, because in the past three years, I have developed a certain reputation with my English teachers to be rather...wordy. They�ll tell me things such as, �That�s nice, but cut it down�.
I think the only person who didn�t complain about it, but rather, pushed me to take proper hold of my talent, was Mrs. Lane. In fact, she informed me not so long ago that for her qualification exams (to qualify her to hold the place of head of the English Department) she took samples of my work, and wrote about them. I don�t know whether she intellectualized my work, or criticized it. Either way, she never clarified. Of course, the very thought of people judging or scrutinizing my work gives me a sense of...nakedness. As hilarious as that may sound, I don�t purposely put connotations in my writing, and neither do I use a certain structure. I�m certain there are connotations and symbolism, but I don�t actually think about it when I put it there--I feel it, and then write it down. That most likely didn�t make sense to anyone. Either way, I feel as if I am being probed, and oftentimes people give me blank stares saying that my things make no sense--they do to me, and that�s the important part.
But of course, the day could not be complete without my seeing Justin. Walking towards the parking lot, I see a spiky-haired brunette boy, with a semi-skin hugging (my own coined phrase, I suppose. Again, I am useless.) Abercrombie Tee, and a pair of his �emo� glasses, he calls out to me, �My favourite slut!�
�My favourite self-proclaimed man-whore!� I call back.
The other kids are now giving us funny looks, but we ignore them.
�How was your summer, bitch?� He asks me in his usual, queeny-type voice.
�It was damned good, whore� I respond. Him and I usually call each other these names in the most kindhearted fashion.
�Wanna see pictures of my new boyfriend? I promise he�s hot,� says Justin
�Sure�
He takes out his silver flip-phone and starts browsing through the pictures. I see his new boyfriend with a button-down light blue shirt (Polo, perhaps) and dark hair--hot! I congratulate Justin on this incredibly delicious find, and we depart. Therefore, yes, I had a very good first day back.