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Well, Salad's back, and the symph people went out last night, and I sat there feeling stupid. I've read all the books he's given me without age limits. He suggested Slaughterhouse Five. Some people said happy birthday, and once there was a consensus (more poeple knew about Pam's birthday, which was the 6th), they sang a big choral happy birthday and impressed the rest of Chapultepec. There were rose petals all over the table. I ate some.
B wasn't there at first period today. We could've used him; he could've fielded some of the guest-speaker/substitute-for-a-week's economics questions. Oh well, he'll be crucified next time. He came in after half an hour of second period, having been stuck between a 6-car pileup and a 2-car accident in the freeway coming in from Katy.
L was being his typically immature, male, high-school self at lunch, while managing to be engaging and suave at the same time; I really don't know how he does it. He can be in a forkfight with Tracy and a bottomless pit of philosophical discussion with Chris at once. He doesn't take himself seriously. Come to think of it, neither does any of these three. Is that it?
No. One, he's nice to look at and thoughtlessly meaningful; at some point he stopped being just pretty and that ceased to matter in my attachment. It just... I don't know. It's not even that it became mindless, because the other two are kind of that way, and he's the least. A long time ago I stopped getting any attention for anything but borrowing a calculator; that's really quite excruciating, but what can you do? I mean, he still puts a hand on my shoulder or spins quarters against me, but he does that for everybody.
Now, two, B, all angles and a foof, is not really about pretty. I'm so frustrated that I'm starting to become another hanger-on for answers or homework help. He helps everybody, gives up his own time to the point of week-long insomnia, does very little homework, and still manages to be 14th in a class of 138. I used to be more of an equal, and I feel like I've regressed. It's not that he's condescending; never. In fact, he's so supportive and has such reassuring ego-boosting habits, that I feel like he thinks I'm smarter than I am. I've become lazy, because I can mooch help in theory and math from him so I don't have to think (not that he ever tells me the answers; just how to do it so I won't have to figure it out for myself), and I think he knows it. He's started consciously trying not to help me think. Just guide. I feel like such a twit. No original thought. And I follow him around so much I don't know if my excuses are holding. I mean, he really is my best friend at the school, and we have all but two of our classes together, but am I so needy?
I feel the same way with number three, my Salad, but worse because I can't claim to know him very well and he has an even bigger circle of people with legitimate claims on his attention, or he directs it all away from himself and I can't put it back without making it look like I'm being partial (which I am. I mean, there are about three, maybe four people in the after-rehearsal group, whom I like a LOT and the rest I can tolerate, but he's the main reason I go). There is only so much you can say to a grownup twice your age, without revealing yourself to be a dumb 16-year-old, at least a smart grownup when he's not drunk off his feet.
I'm probably thinking way too hard and reading everybody all wrong, but I hate it when I see stuff like the Smallville I just watched the tape of (I love that Chris Reeve clone), where poeple say things so close to what they mean; well, even so close to what they're thinking. And when people tell each other stuff about the other one; I wish that happened. Cause it doesn't. I can never tell what anybody thinks of me. Not that I should care. But I do.
B wasn't there at first period today. We could've used him; he could've fielded some of the guest-speaker/substitute-for-a-week's economics questions. Oh well, he'll be crucified next time. He came in after half an hour of second period, having been stuck between a 6-car pileup and a 2-car accident in the freeway coming in from Katy.
L was being his typically immature, male, high-school self at lunch, while managing to be engaging and suave at the same time; I really don't know how he does it. He can be in a forkfight with Tracy and a bottomless pit of philosophical discussion with Chris at once. He doesn't take himself seriously. Come to think of it, neither does any of these three. Is that it?
No. One, he's nice to look at and thoughtlessly meaningful; at some point he stopped being just pretty and that ceased to matter in my attachment. It just... I don't know. It's not even that it became mindless, because the other two are kind of that way, and he's the least. A long time ago I stopped getting any attention for anything but borrowing a calculator; that's really quite excruciating, but what can you do? I mean, he still puts a hand on my shoulder or spins quarters against me, but he does that for everybody.
Now, two, B, all angles and a foof, is not really about pretty. I'm so frustrated that I'm starting to become another hanger-on for answers or homework help. He helps everybody, gives up his own time to the point of week-long insomnia, does very little homework, and still manages to be 14th in a class of 138. I used to be more of an equal, and I feel like I've regressed. It's not that he's condescending; never. In fact, he's so supportive and has such reassuring ego-boosting habits, that I feel like he thinks I'm smarter than I am. I've become lazy, because I can mooch help in theory and math from him so I don't have to think (not that he ever tells me the answers; just how to do it so I won't have to figure it out for myself), and I think he knows it. He's started consciously trying not to help me think. Just guide. I feel like such a twit. No original thought. And I follow him around so much I don't know if my excuses are holding. I mean, he really is my best friend at the school, and we have all but two of our classes together, but am I so needy?
I feel the same way with number three, my Salad, but worse because I can't claim to know him very well and he has an even bigger circle of people with legitimate claims on his attention, or he directs it all away from himself and I can't put it back without making it look like I'm being partial (which I am. I mean, there are about three, maybe four people in the after-rehearsal group, whom I like a LOT and the rest I can tolerate, but he's the main reason I go). There is only so much you can say to a grownup twice your age, without revealing yourself to be a dumb 16-year-old, at least a smart grownup when he's not drunk off his feet.
I'm probably thinking way too hard and reading everybody all wrong, but I hate it when I see stuff like the Smallville I just watched the tape of (I love that Chris Reeve clone), where poeple say things so close to what they mean; well, even so close to what they're thinking. And when people tell each other stuff about the other one; I wish that happened. Cause it doesn't. I can never tell what anybody thinks of me. Not that I should care. But I do.
