18 February 2007
♥ *teen girl squad voice* mock trialed!
It was, surprisingly, really fun. I mean, most people wouldn't describe eight hours in a courtroom over the course of two days as "fun," but it was. I even cried, thereby securing myself an outstanding witness nomination. Like real salty tears and everything. That's right, reading about internal bleeding gets me all choked up. You know you're jealous. Actually, the best part of the tournament was seeing the captain of the Ralston Valley varsity team having to wipe that shit-eating smirk off his face when Lakewood freaking owned his cocky team.
Anyway, I'm getting to that weird place that I always get to this time of year. It's mid-February, and I'm bored with pretty much everything in my life. I'm sick of all the restaurants we always eat at, I'm sick of my dumb job, I'm sick of my favorite classes. I haven't done homework at home in, like, weeks. I'm in that in-between-winter-and-spring season, and nothing seems even remotely engaging. I guess that's why they say February is the cruelest month, right? It feels like spring should be getting the show on the road, but you're jumping the gun, tiger: you've got another two months to go.
I keep hoping something will spark my interest: college campus visits, the possibility of that internship at the Post, the mysterious note in my pocket after the Shins concert. As interesting as those things would normally seem, thought, I feel entirely apathetic about all of them. It's not that I don't have fun in certain settings--at school, with friends, you get the drift--but that everything is intensifying in its complication, and that there are three more months until we get a break from this whole thing.
Okay, I'm going to talk myself in circles now. I won't be offended if my readers skip over the next few paragraphs, because unless I'm struck by an unexpected bout of creativity, I don't think I'm going to say anything I haven't before.
There's no reason I shouldn't be happy. I have groovy friends, a stable family life, a decent (albeit somewhat annoying) job, and I'm even relatively talented in a few (okay, one) area(s?). I have a lot to look forward to: that trip to the British Isles this summer, a promotion to editor-in-chief in the fall, and, with the understanding that I manage to stay out of motor-related trouble for the next couple of months, a summer with a car.
But those things all seem so far away. And some of the things I think I can't wait for are, under closer scrutiny, absolutely terrifying. F'rinstance: college. God, I can't wait for college. I can't wait to get out of stupid high school and all the petty little things that go with it. I can't wait to stay out as late as I want with whomever I want and say "fuck" out loud at home and let my living space get as deliciously messy as I want.
On the flipside, I'm completely frozen in terror at the prospect. What will I do without all these amazing people I've met? Not just the people who are basically extensions of me, like Kayla and Alli, but the people I want to get to know better. The people who make me laugh in the middle of an especially soul-crushing Spanish class, the people who make my otherwise somewhat mundane life that much more interesting.
Honestly, as lame as I know this might sound, I've never been away from my family for more than a week or so at a time. Maybe it's caused the lack of siblings, but whatever it is, my mom is basically my best friend. Even though I can't stand her sometimes, I know I'm going to miss her when I can't just come home from school and tell her every minute detail of my day. What if I stay in state and wish I had left to see the world? What if I'm stuck in Colorado forever? What if I go out of state and die of lonelienss and can't make any new friends? What if I've already found all the people I need?
I know you can keep in touch with the people who matter most to you. I know that if you really want to, it's possible to remain friends with someone years after you go your separate ways. But it's not the same. Even if you call them occasionally or have lunch every month, someone who was once your best friend becomes a stranger. Soon you're forgetting their siblings' names and wondering if they have a boyfriend and racking your brains to remember if they ever did make the swim team this year. It's not that you don't like them or that you don't care about them, but it's not the same when you don't see them every day. You can't share your every triumph and downfall, because they don't know any of the people or places you're talking about. Everything changes.
But is change really that bad? Because the more I think about how I don't want any of it to end, the more I realize that it has to. Of course I can't stay in high school forever, and anyway, why in the world would I want to? I'm sick of the drama, the secrets, the fact that nothing stays a secret, everything. But I don't know what I'm going to do when I have to leave it all behind.
Anyway, I'm getting to that weird place that I always get to this time of year. It's mid-February, and I'm bored with pretty much everything in my life. I'm sick of all the restaurants we always eat at, I'm sick of my dumb job, I'm sick of my favorite classes. I haven't done homework at home in, like, weeks. I'm in that in-between-winter-and-spring season, and nothing seems even remotely engaging. I guess that's why they say February is the cruelest month, right? It feels like spring should be getting the show on the road, but you're jumping the gun, tiger: you've got another two months to go.
I keep hoping something will spark my interest: college campus visits, the possibility of that internship at the Post, the mysterious note in my pocket after the Shins concert. As interesting as those things would normally seem, thought, I feel entirely apathetic about all of them. It's not that I don't have fun in certain settings--at school, with friends, you get the drift--but that everything is intensifying in its complication, and that there are three more months until we get a break from this whole thing.
Okay, I'm going to talk myself in circles now. I won't be offended if my readers skip over the next few paragraphs, because unless I'm struck by an unexpected bout of creativity, I don't think I'm going to say anything I haven't before.
There's no reason I shouldn't be happy. I have groovy friends, a stable family life, a decent (albeit somewhat annoying) job, and I'm even relatively talented in a few (okay, one) area(s?). I have a lot to look forward to: that trip to the British Isles this summer, a promotion to editor-in-chief in the fall, and, with the understanding that I manage to stay out of motor-related trouble for the next couple of months, a summer with a car.
But those things all seem so far away. And some of the things I think I can't wait for are, under closer scrutiny, absolutely terrifying. F'rinstance: college. God, I can't wait for college. I can't wait to get out of stupid high school and all the petty little things that go with it. I can't wait to stay out as late as I want with whomever I want and say "fuck" out loud at home and let my living space get as deliciously messy as I want.
On the flipside, I'm completely frozen in terror at the prospect. What will I do without all these amazing people I've met? Not just the people who are basically extensions of me, like Kayla and Alli, but the people I want to get to know better. The people who make me laugh in the middle of an especially soul-crushing Spanish class, the people who make my otherwise somewhat mundane life that much more interesting.
Honestly, as lame as I know this might sound, I've never been away from my family for more than a week or so at a time. Maybe it's caused the lack of siblings, but whatever it is, my mom is basically my best friend. Even though I can't stand her sometimes, I know I'm going to miss her when I can't just come home from school and tell her every minute detail of my day. What if I stay in state and wish I had left to see the world? What if I'm stuck in Colorado forever? What if I go out of state and die of lonelienss and can't make any new friends? What if I've already found all the people I need?
I know you can keep in touch with the people who matter most to you. I know that if you really want to, it's possible to remain friends with someone years after you go your separate ways. But it's not the same. Even if you call them occasionally or have lunch every month, someone who was once your best friend becomes a stranger. Soon you're forgetting their siblings' names and wondering if they have a boyfriend and racking your brains to remember if they ever did make the swim team this year. It's not that you don't like them or that you don't care about them, but it's not the same when you don't see them every day. You can't share your every triumph and downfall, because they don't know any of the people or places you're talking about. Everything changes.
But is change really that bad? Because the more I think about how I don't want any of it to end, the more I realize that it has to. Of course I can't stay in high school forever, and anyway, why in the world would I want to? I'm sick of the drama, the secrets, the fact that nothing stays a secret, everything. But I don't know what I'm going to do when I have to leave it all behind.
2/18/2007
