Blog Every Day August: 8/27

Why do I think about Dobbin so much? He is hardly worth this effort.

The last time I

wore this skirt

it was for him

and I remember that night

in fuzzy picture memories

romanticized twilight

and standing up against a railing

and taking your hand

and holding it there

and you were lost in other things,

as I told you where the quotes the proud graduates

read aloud

were from

and the breeze, and

the world dimming

turning my head away

as you looked at me,

fussing with my

skirt against the wind

Your curved smile

and your words,

you wanted to cry

as your friends went out into the world

and somehow I knew

this would be

what I

remembered.

Silly teenage girl poetry? Why yes. Stream of consciousness, straight from my teenage girl journal. I promise I don't usually write like this. This blog should be some proof, hopefully. I was sitting in our senior class meeting and feeling pessimistic. Nine months from tomorrow, we graduate. What? This place leaves me feeling alienated and alone, often. I am not excited about graduating. It isn't the shiny beautiful present for me that it is for so many. I haven't grown up with these people, and most of them want nothing to do with me.

I am optimistic, mostly, but these are truths as I see them. And as much as I hate that I think about Dobbin so much, it is what it is. Maybe it was two months ago. Maybe he was just some boy, not worth my time. But... something. And now I have to see him every day and it makes me angry that he is now in my bubble, in my life even in this peripheral way. Because I felt like periphery around him most of the time. And I still want to find logic in all of this. I still do.

In Psychology today I had the urge to burst out laughing as the teacher spoke. "This class," he said, "can act as a safe haven for you, where you can come and not be scared over what people might say. Say someone is a jerk to you, and they are in this class. You really don't want to be around them. They're a jerk to you, but you're nice to them anyway. It's like they say: fake it til you make it." Or some such blatherings. The teacher seems like a nice enough guy, honestly, but this discussion left me muttering to myself in hysterics. Things to come: group work! Oh, goody.

On Fridays staff/teachers are allowed to wear jeans with a school t-shirt, but I don't own such a shirt yet... unfortunately enough. I wore a cute skirt instead and my "boss" (I guess? The head librarian, who is really really cool and nice) said I looked "very nice" today. It made me happy. Dressing up is proving fun.

ALSO: I love the library. True facts. I hope the feeling lasts. So much fun. Yesterday I was formatting a table to check off the magazines we've received each month and it was supremely exciting to me. Problem solving! How can I format this so it doesn't explode? It's like playtime for Katherine! It's still kind of scary, working, but they're so nice and libraries and librarians are awesome.

You know who I also love? Teachers. Teachers are the best. I get tingly thinking about it.

And stuff.

Later: My awkwardness is so beautiful. Sigh.