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.       

                  

Grade 5 Disillusionment of Fashionable Red Pants and Stolen Reese's

               Grade 5 Disillusionment of Fashionable Red Pants and Stolen Reese's
                                                   Part 1 of a Homecoming Tale

           There was the lunch table. We don't usually sit together, but that day it was established. Sam was sitting next to Kwamel, on the left side, and on the right, Anne was doing her homework. We had all put our instruments down in front of the lunch seats, which ended towards the middle of the room, where the Pizza Line and Concession stand was set up, and where I my mom was selling candy to my friends. Behind the concession stands is the Grand Staircase of who in YO is Here Today. I had two slices of pizza in my hand, wrapped in tin foil, and a water bottle.

This is DCYO during lunchtime on a Saturday.
   
   "I just. I. Well ok you guys, so like  yesterday I had to go to homecoming game, yeah? And that was nice and all ok except for it wasn't. Ok? Please listen. I'm sorry, that sounded mean. Ok but yesterday I had to spend two and a half hours of my life standing out in the cold, and it was rainy, and my football team lost twenty-nine to zero! And then I couldn't even see the game because these shirtless boys were directly in front of me as mock cheerleaders, and it was most uncomfortable." DCYO is a lovely time for me to vent, because everyone is widely different, and the people I sit with don't go to Blair.

This is when Sam and Anne and Kwamel began to laugh.

"It's not funny! It took forever! And I was freezing and it was rainy and ugh they lost. I mean they lost!"
"I'm sorry," Kwamel is a mediator, he's the friendly type who wants you to feel ok. He's one of my best friends.
"Well. My homecoming game, I'm sorry, We're a pretty good team. That sounds awful. My game was cancelled last week and the referee wasn't even there!" Sam is one to talk about sports, but when he's not he's a good friend with substantial things to say, which never include rude comments.
"This is why I never go to Homecoming Game!" I have never heard Anne give positive feedback, or really say many positive remarks ever. She reads the classics for fun. It's fascinating.

"And you guys! You know what? I have to go to Homecoming Dance. I mean the dance. With dancing. Or grinding. I have to be with I have to go to Homecoming Dance! Oh God!"
"Calm down. Sucky schools have sucky dances. Don't go if you don't want to go." Sometimes Kwamel was too much of a mediator
"I went to mine and it was fun, but I go to an all boys school. The girls just come from places." Sam is a good friend who talks a lot.
"This is why I don't go to any school related events." This is why Anne is positively, or perhaps negatively, Anne.

       This is when all the other crew comes to the table. It's most of the YO kids in 11th and 12th graders. They're all nice people, and half are sports obsessed. Some are busy with academics and doing homework. Others talk about their lives the entire lunch period, and bother people with humor. I don't know everyone at the table, but there's not much room for clique drama in orchestra. There was, and that was painful, but that was during elementary school and another tale of a sort (which I don't quite remember).

"I JUST DON'T WANT TO GO TO HOMECOMING, KWAMEL." Usually I talk to Kiera, Anne, and Adia, but Anne was stuck in European History, and Adia was stuck in sports practice, and I think Kiera sat at the other end of the table. In truth I wasn't talking to Kwamel.

          He to whom I was talking was at the closest end to the table, close to the edge of the cafeteria, which was stocked with stale fruit to be sold Monday to eager students. After school, I go into the cafeteria, and there's a large refrigerator heated or chilled to a weekend temperature. This is what school meals look like. He to whom I was talking is not stale, he's very attractive, and  he had on very memorably fashionable red pants. He is Dutch, and from Holland, and he speaks using British terms.

         I've had a crush on him since the sixth grade, when all of the DCYO cliques had sprouted from their Elementary roots. He is very Dutch, and very polite, and he stutters when he talks. Once we were to play a motown medley piece, and he told me he hated "I'll be there" by Micheal Jackson. I thought he was an interesting fellow. We haven't really become very good friends, until now, and our friendship was recently broken because we're also intense rivals. We've always played Violin Super Mario. I've always been level up, first chair, teacher's favorite; When he was in H level I was in I.

Now he's in YO and I'm in JO, or the complete orchestra above me. He saved the princess and brought the flag down. He won the game.

          That''s why I wanted him to hear me. In a perfect world, he would've saved me. He would've said, "I can accompany you somehow to the dance, no matter the tickets and such. I will get you and me through the gates with my awkward Dutch Charm. I will admit to you that was not a fair audition because you are better than me. We will become friends again. We will arrive in a limo or whatever. We will dance like all of the cheesy 80's movies. We will be very fashionable. I will be the date to the dance even though I have a girlfriend and such-"

I felt a tap on my shoulder. It's not much of a pleasant moment, in any case, to have one interrupt perfect worlds. It even worse of a case when this person is your 10 year old cousin.

"NATALIE!" I try my hardest to embarrass her. I think this shows my love.
"Hi Aidan." She's more apathetic than a tenth grade teen debating whether to go to one of the most seminal dances of the year dreaming of dances with a red panted Dutch boy.

           Natalie had come to tell me she was going to New York City for a program with John's Hopkins. One day, she'll sit at the table, and she'll be the one in the crew doing homework but also causing havoc over who stole her Reese's while she wasn't looking. Natalie had also come to tell me strange things were afoot in the Fifth Grade. Two of her friends like each other, like like each other, and she doesn't know what to do. They won't even talk to each other! And you know what they did, they went on and made her the mediator, in case you didn't know what that means, that's when you have to talk to people through them.

Natalie's language is contagious. I was beginning to feel I didn't know as much as she did about relationships, or school, or what a mediator was, or why 80's movies were starting to sound not like High School, but the Fifth Grade.

Anyway, Natalie has to get her friends to talk to each other. I mean, why do they even like each other in the first place! What's my advice? I don't have any. I have some, but I'm not of expert experience. First, Natalie, you're in the fifth grade. Let it flow, just be a kid that's what High School is about, you know, the drama and all that. For now there's High School Musical. And don't even follow that drama! This is why you need to watch Veggietales. Veggietales rules. You know when I was your age, Natalie...

Natalie didn't care. I was a lame actual High School Student who Didn't even want to go to the Homecoming Dance.

         I wanted to go to homecoming because it meant fairy dusted dreams of my attractive Dutch violin rival and me in a Grease style slow dance with all of the other Homecoming attendees and because it was the staple of all High School Movie Staples. High School Movie Staples are so because they're really just the Fifth Grade. That's why I got rained upon. It was never a staple at all.

They're drama for the not dramatic. Youth invisibility. The teenager before the kid. The kid after the teenager. We're still kids. It's a staple because I'm young and impressionable and I'm too tired of being immature. But it's all about being immature. Fifth grade drama because that in high school isn't comparable to the television. I've already gone to homecoming dance. The drama I had in fifth grade was High School Musical. It was Pretty in Pink. I've already been to my homecoming dance, and now I'm just left to what's left of the Very Sorry Teenage Condition.

"See you later!" Natalie's not one to be phased. She doesn't care how much I embarrass her. I'm still the model junior to Troy Bolton.

It was 11:30 and the end of lunch.

"Good luck at homecoming," Kwamel said.
"Hope you have a nice time," Sam left the table.
"Dances are stupid." I'm not sure how Anne would know since she abstains herself from school activities, but I was afraid her point was affirmative. Negative. I'm not sure which.

It was 1

I decided to settle the matter with my mother and Kwamel's mom

"You don't go to homecoming to dance, or grind. You go to have fun. Really you go to find that person across the room" Kwamel's mom, Ms. Christian, is a wise woman.

"Who is that person?" I was naive.

"It's just that person. The person you'll be with. So you keep going to that party and that party until you find out there is no person across the room, in that room of course, and what you gotta do now is go somewhere else where there is." Ms. Christian was saying homecoming was a lot like 16 candles, but I won't exactly find my Jake. It was settled. Homecoming's just a fifth grade Urban Legend. Besides, Dutch boy wasn't going to be there, and I didn't like anyone from my school.

"But you have to go to that first party to see if that one person just might be there"

I was hoping that one person was a friend too, but maybe the legend wasn't so.


Peace