Cheesy Encounters with Charlie Sheen and Rumpelstiltskin

Happy New Year
******* This is very much influenced from A Clockwork Orange, one of my favorites;  hence the "very's" and the "skorry" and unintelligible runnon sentences*********
********Also I'm so sorry for the affluence of Mindless Behavior links they're sort of my One Direction except I love their personalities, not their music (which is to say I've become a bit of a music Satan). Don't worry I've kept my music taste in fly condition with the beauty of this playlist right here.

9/2/12

               Two days ago was pretty important. That's when I realized how sad I was in the interaction field. That's when all my nerves got to me, and I couldn't take it anymore, so I opened my mouth. So I guess it started on the second day of school, so that would be a Wednesday, or I guess four days ago. It was all very Ferris Bueller like, which was the movie I'd watched at my friends house and coincidentally became a very large part of my first four days at school. It was also when I realized that although I was surrounded by friends and cheese puffs watching an 80s flick on a projector screen, I was a pretty sucky teenager. 

            Anyways, the first day of school was very weird and very sucky. My schedule didn't have nine periods, and I was placed in neither honors chemistry nor honors PreCal, so I was with people I didn't know. That's ok. That's how one makes friends in the classic record. Anyway, I felt sort of out of place all day (naturally) but doing nothing all summer sort of forces you to forget there is such a thing as school, and you sort of freak out and try to get out of it once you're reacquainted. So that's what I did.

           To be honest, I didn't think my class was the stupid class at all. I was glad to be outside of the CAP bubble, and to be inside the Big. I was in Blair. Also, that kid from Sankofa was in my class, and he is always a fashionable asset to the classroom. It's fascinating how people make an affect on another, especially if that person is impulsive, and always feels vulnerable.

             I didn't like my teacher. She was some sort of missionary attempting to save the slow brains of my class of Poor Starving Ill Brain Fed Children. Then a lot of people came through the door 15 minutes into class, and they had come from the deep abyss of a familiar hallway I had forgotten over my nothing summer. One of those people was that guy from my eighth grade science class. I will admit. I did not expect to fail physics so embarrassingly that I would ever be placed in a class with him. Sometimes, as one insults another, they realize the insultee's presence is an insult. To be placed in a class with him, that's insulting. He called me a loser once. I said 'I will admit' cos I knew I failed physics pretty badly (I didn't actually fail).

             That was a most unpleasant realization. As I finished grimacing, the missionary's words began to penetrate my ears. We had to learn about what a kilo was, and then take a challenging pretest. I detest the sound of Pre-Test as it is, so I didn't appreciate the algebra questions very much, even though I love algebra as much as I hate the abomination of math. Then we had to write a sentence to remember the order of the metric prefixes, and I was pretty peeved so I thought it was all quite stupid. 

              My table had a girl with a bar in her ears, and a girl who was a lot less eloquent than I was, even though I'm not very much of a speaker at all. There was a girl with bright pink lipstick that contrasted with her dark skin and yellowish eyes. There was a Chipotle bag displayed in hers. I thought the girl with the piercing was ridiculously cool, and she had a really cool laid-back voice, and short hair. After class was over, she returned to the table where she sat in the beginning of class, and I saw 'Text me boy' was there. I had to, had to go.

               In January, after finals, I was standing at a bus stop cold an annoyed, thinking about my day that was delayed much like the but that was to be there three minutes before. I was sporting a very grunge look, and I didn't look very put together. At least I very much looked like me. My hair was everywhere. I needed to wash it. So I had a puffy brown coat on, and I had an afro. I buried my head into my coat because

1. It was cold.

2. I didn't care to hear the conversations at my bus stop (do you got to speak that loud? I need to know about your boy? Ok, that's nice.)

3. These fools were fighting and I hid myself so that I wouldn't have to see such foolery at my prized and beloved Blair (I had some mad school spirit).

One of these fools bumped into me and said, "What's your name."

"Aidan."

"Want to be my friend?"

           I wanted to say, no you are a fool, go and play your fool games with your fool friends and talk really loud about your girl because I want to know that, too.

"Sure," I said.

             And so there was a pause and I guess we talked smaller than small talk, the kind people on buses have when one has a good book, except the good-book-reader has a conspicuous mole on the tip of his chin, and the sharer of the conversation doesn't want to look at him much.

I heard, "Want to text me?"

            I was befuddled. I'm not sure if that's a real word, or, if it is, if I used it correctly, but it's rhythm is accurate to context because it was very cold, and I was all bundled up in my short brown coat, and my grungy flannel relaxed unkempt under, and I really needed to wash my hair cos it was getting to be a mess. 

"What...?" I said flatly.

"You wan teeyyyeeexxxtt ma?" He had an interesting way of speaking.

"Yeah, sure." I felt philanthropic because I spoke. No boy, I do not want to teyeexxtt ya.

"What's your number?"

                And he went on and played with his friend, for I don't think he was very mature, and I waited. I waited and waited, and the C6 came but not my bus, and finally I walked away very quickly. I hid in the school building (the bus stop was outside of school), eventually, next to the doorway. I imagined him as a Rumplestilskin figure, and he would come up at the glass and say "WELL, I DON'T GOT YA NUMBER! YOU WAN TEYYEEEXXTT MA????" I was scared of this strange boy and his strange speech, and I impulsively called my grandma. I was not going back to the bus stop.

              The bus came and the Teeyyyeeexxxttt Ma boy never searched the school for me. In a way I felt inadequate. If he wanted my number, would he not look for me? But, like the cuddling couple showed me from the parallel wall of the doorway, that must've been high school. And would I have really wanted that? I imagined him texting me.

-Hiiiii what's up?
-HEY WHA U DOIN IM AT MY GRAMMA HAUS WE EETIN SUM FRYS

I shook the thought out of my mind. Eventually my Gramma came, and I felt relieved for her arrival, cos she was going to take me far away from the school and the bus stop and the drive way, and Rumplestilskin would never steal my number as he did that poor lady's baby. I remembered why I had walked from Teeyyyeeexxxttt Ma boy in the first place. How could want to talk to me at face value? The thought scarred my mind. It sounded disgusting. 

                   That's why I was in the counseling office the second day of school and missing my introductory English and NSL classes. I was quite peeved, and annoyed, and nervous, and a bit excited that my schedule had been so unsatisfying, and I was called to wait and be awkward with people I didn't know. A boy next to me said "Hi," or something friendly that prompted conversation. 

"Hi."

"What are you in for?" He said something like that. In the few days of the event, I've been the story a bit to fit that of Jeanie and Young Really Uncomfortably Attractive Charlie Sheen, so really I forgot what he said.

"Well," I said, "I have no ninth period, and I'm not in Honors Chemistry or Pre-Cal, so I have no elective. You?" That sounded very not sweet, but I wasn't that resentful about it.

"I've got a hole for fourth period, but I have a fourth period for second semester."

                   And that's how it started. We talked about classes, and compared our ages in teacher's presences and assignments, and summers and classes and interests, and the Olympics, and Eastern. This time, Charlie Sheen was a really nice CAP Senior who didn't smell of cigarettes, and who was interested in World Studies. He spoke with an interested voice, scraggly like velcro, because I wanted to grip my ears to each of his words. He had a habit of looking up unexpectedly, and keeping your attention with clear blue eyes. He got me to admit my brother was always angry at me, and didn't like me a whole lot. I didn't tell a lot of my friends that. I don't know how, it all seemed very natural. 

                      When the conversation ran short for the first time, he got up from his seat and talked to the people sitting at the next counselor's line. From what I could overhear, these people didn't know him, but he recognized them (well at least one guy) from eighth grade science class. He was a politician. He was good at it. Then he came back to me, and I restarted the conversation, but he seemed like he'd expected it. Then the boy he had been talking to came over, and they talked as old friends of 5 minutes history. I think that's a high school thing. You talk because you become a politician for your self state. That's not popularity, that's not feeling awkward. 

                       So the Politician boy held two conversations almost at once between me and the boy, and a girl came out of the counselor's office so that was three, but then that merged into the one with the boy, so it was two again. And it all seemed natural. Everything came from my mouth as it should've, and Charlie Sheen and I were in that scene before he and Jeanie made out, the one they don't show that leads up to that moment. Only there wasn't any making out because I'm a square and I didn't want to make out with anyone and if anything, not on school premises.

                        The next day Politician boy was not there. Instead was a cast member I recognized from Les Mis, after the pit had to rehearse his scene ten times with the gratitude we never achieve, and I always had his part stuck in my head. I wanted the gratitude he never gave the pit. I was going to be a politician. My friend was sitting next to me, but then she went inside. The boy from Les Mis sat next to me.

"Hi," I said. 

I had said it. I spoke! I had said it. The next thing which popped in my mind was, I really am an introvert. It is something I don't even say in the hallways. I'm afraid of it. Now it's out like Pandora's Box or maybe posts on the internet, or just something you can't take back. I couldn't say,

"No, sorry, I didn't mean to say 'hi', let's ignore each other, you are free of a 'hi' from me."

Besides, he had those lovely earphones in his ears and probably wouldn't say hi anyway, I thought.

Sometimes words are over thinking, and that's it.

"Hi," he said, and he smiled. His eyes were really pretty. They were inviting and a clear brown. I didn't know what to do next seeing as how I had a fear of "Hi." I wasn't very choice at conversation, in the words of Jeanie's brother. If you're as awkward as I, I highly recommend ignoring awkwardness. He seemed sweet, so he said,
"What's your name?" He seemed like such a nice person. Three words were the certificate of niceness.

"Aidan."

"Aidan?"
"Yeah, what's yours." I was freaking out because I didn't think my name was that pretty, and he made it seem so. Then I wanted to ignore the words because sometimes over-thinking because sometimes it's uncomfortable jibber jabber. I wanted to dig myself a grave. The power of "Hi" was too much.

"What's yours?" Although my I was crying on the inside due to "Hi."

His name was really lovely, but I won't write it here.

"What grade are you in?"

Sometimes, people are so attractive or sweet or so anything I forget I have to think.

"Ninth. Wait! I mean tenth!" That sounded like something to be sure of. 

"Were you here last year?"

"Yeah."

 He was good at questions, and I completely forgot about Les Mis, and he was a Senior. He would look up like the Politician, but his eyes were sweet, so instead of dying my heart melted.

(Bet this makes you feel uncomfortable, I'm sorry.)

This was my time. It was my turn. "What are you in for?"

I was more clever than a choice car or a bag of chips. 

"I don't have to get anything done, I'm just with my friend."

That's adorable! He goes to such a place as the Counselor's Office for/ with his friend!

"What about you?" I had to think, I'd been so pressed before I came to the office, and here I forgot.

"Well, I have to switch from Tech to piano."

"Oh," He thought. "Have you taken Piano before?"

"No," I said. It didn't feel awkward, because my friend came from the office and I wasn't thinking. 

"Your turn," she said. So it was, and I went into the door.