E to the Mizzle (revokethygift) wrote,
E to the Mizzle

I remember watching Scooby Doo episodes on Cartoon Network over at my neighbors' house when I was little. You know how in each episode, there are always some monsters running loose and mysterious things happening, but, in the end, Scooby and the gang end up pulling off the "monsters'" masks to reveal criminals or the mayor or someone playing a dirty trick, all dressed up in creepy costumes and makeup to make everyone believe they were really vampires or ghosts or werewolves? When I was little, regardless of how many episodes I'd seen, I always went into it thinking, ohmygosh, this time the monsters are real! What are they going to do? And I was a smart little kid. Like, really smart. And regardless, I was like Shaggy and I fell for it everytime. Then I always thought it was the coolest, neatest relief when the masks were finally pulled off and the bad guys were carted off in handcuffs by the all-business police officers.

The point I am making is that things don't really change. Regardless of how well I do in chemistry, or what math class I am in, or whether or not I score the highest on Euro, I am extremely naive and gullible. I make the same innocent little mistakes or lack perception in the same situations over and over. It's kind of nice, I think. Certain people bring it out in me. I enjoy laughing, including at myself. I enjoy making awkward, silly comments, just to get a rise out of people. This spring break has been so nice and surprising and cute. I feel like I take on the little sister role with some people, but I love it. I love it a lot. And I had a Diet Coke commercial moment, a real movie moment, and it made me smile more than that black kid I saw at school once with the flashing, fluorescent grill. And there is a nice, sweet boy who holds my hand and cuddles with me and kisses me and comes around and opens the passenger door before getting in the driver's seat. And I have nice, sweet friends who are all different and understanding and so, so, so smart in different ways.  And I'm drifting, drifting, drifting; I feel myself drifting from some people but all I can hope is that we will come full circle. But even if we don't, I know that you guys are having a great time and getting so close, and all I can do is be happy for you all; I'm so far past the point of jealousy or resentment or skepticism. I applaud you all and your lightheartedness and your perkiness and your wit and your closeness. And I am happy myself, I would say, genuinely happy, regardless of whether or not I have the photos to prove it.

This year is drawing so quickly to a close. The seniors will be gone so soon. I'm not the type to miss people; when I leave TIP, I'm not part of the group standing around sobbing on the steps. But I honestly think it's just going to be so strange next year. I'm--we're--getting so old. I went to UM to watch my dad's classes earlier in the week. It was the first time I've gone there and been treated genuinely as an equal. His sophomores are only two years older than some of the people I am closest to. I looked at them, and they no longer seemed like adults, eons older and wiser than myself. They asked me if I were a student; the guys looked at me; the girls made small talk. I walked to the food court, and no one gave me a second glance. I passed for one of them. I'm going to college soon-I'm going to be self-sufficient and independent. People like Dan and Lia and Hardy will be gone next year; to be self-sufficient and independent now, already, on their own.

Exactly a year ago (last Good Friday, or Bad Friday, as my mother coyly puts it, ever-seeking to bring up the subject of her failed marriage and "treacherous" husband) was when my mom found out about my dad. I'm proud of myself. I guess I don't talk much about what goes on at home, but as mediation is finished and divorce lawyers are met with and it all reaches a climax and tensions run high and my mother barricades the bathroom door and desperately searches for a scapegoat and my father tears up, worrying that he's fucked me up for good--I think I manage to stay strong and composed, logical and capable, defensive yet honest. And I'm sorry that so many other people have gone or will go through similar situations, but the way I see it, it's all material for our memoirs, right? (And we will only fabricate just a little bit, so Oprah doesn't get on our case.)

Prom is next weekend. I want to look pretty and have fun. I am a joyful girl.
("i do it for the joy it brings
because i'm a joyful girl
because the world owes me nothing
and we owe each other the world
i do it because it's the least i can do
i do it because i learned it from you
and i do it just because i want to
because i want to")

I don't think Ani Difranco is "angsty" at all; I think she is profound and articulate and poetic and amazing.
The school year will be done, probably, before I write another one of these. It flew by.
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