I slept in today, trying to stave off sickness. Group IV at Lake Needwood yesterday was somewhat of a bust; we collected our lame data on temperature versus depth of water, then wandered coldly and aimlessly for two and a half hours. The air seeped through my gloves and got fixed in place, so I'm still extra cold now at the memory. I did, however, enjoy the companionship of Alison, Ben E., Dena, and assorted others. And Pouya (much worse off than I was) fell in the creek and spent about ten minutes afterwards wearing only underwear as he changed into Tyler's flood pants. A sight not to be missed, I am sure.


Today my mood is kind of poisonous. I do not like The River Between; I think it is a monstrous oversight and irresponsibility to write about female circumcision in a time when the Western world knew little about it, and portray it as a meaningful tradition or at least a tribal quirk. I think Ngugi had a duty, given that he chose to write on the subject, to speak graphically about it - because his novel in effect whitewashes it. I do, however, identify with his protagonist, Waiyaki's, vulnerability to moods as alien, overwhelming forces. I never feel like my emotions quite belong to me; I always observe them from outside. And lately, I feel an insidious fog that I hope will go away.

I just found this and think it's amusing, so I'm sharing. It's from May 11, 2002, which is about ten days after Seth and I started talking at all.

SaffyCat (9:58:07 PM): when i was little, my parents bought me a toy truck. i made up a name for it and gave it a life and friends and family and adventures
SaffyCat (9:58:16 PM): my mom wept for my lost feminist potential
GMSlippy (9:58:36 PM): lost feminist potential?
SaffyCat (9:58:52 PM): i was supposed to learn feminism by playing with the truck
GMSlippy (9:58:57 PM): i would think that she would be happy that you were breaking out of traditional genfer roles
SaffyCat (9:59:06 PM): i wasn't though
SaffyCat (9:59:12 PM): i turned my truck into a doll
GMSlippy (9:59:18 PM): oh
GMSlippy (9:59:34 PM): so basically yer mom wanted you to be cold and insensitive?
GMSlippy (9:59:37 PM): like a man?
SaffyCat (10:00:35 PM): i imagine she wanted me to feel sexual dominance over a vehicle, like a man
GMSlippy (10:00:45 PM): haha
GMSlippy (10:00:55 PM): that's just how i feel about my roller skates

Okay, those were just filler posts, written at Ruchita's behest to sustain you all before the Big Weekly Post. Hehe. Well. First, the Harry Potter outing: I didn't know the people who went very well, except for Nick B. and Ranwa (and Josh showed up with Alix later), but I did note that we constituted roughly 90% of the theater-going audience, and made roughly 210% of the noise. Nick and Angie in particular have loud and distinctive voices, so it was amusing to hear their comments and laughter resonating throughout the nearly empty theater.


The movie itself was fine; I don't think anybody was expecting much, though fans are eagerly anticipating the next one (almost uniformly everybody's favorite in the series). I alternated between appreciation and dismay over casting choices. Mr. Weasley in particular bugged me, as I always pictured him as sort of dashing and dorky - yeah, I know, my kind of guy. The movie-version father had a triple chin and no apparent capacity for well-meaning semi-heroics. But this is nit picking. More generally, the movie and its predecessor moralize much more than the books do, which I think is silly and superfluous.


After it ended, we went to Potbelly's for dinner. A lot of money changed hands due to sharing and borrowing, so I have no idea whether the meal was a net gain or loss for me. A weird love triangle cropped up among Josh, Alix, and Nick, with the boys engaging in secretive if half-hearted flirting. Meanwhile, Ranwa and I gave each other long-suffering looks, since nobody was particularly flirting with us. We composed a dirty message for Pouya, joking that he eats there constantly and was bound to find it - it has the fairly obvious references to foot-longs and such.


The next day, Friday, was Senior Skip Day. I woke up at about 7:30 and took a bath because I could ("I love baths! They're like soup!" I exclaimed throughout the day. "They're also like amniotic fluid," Seth pointed out, which led me to realize and comment that soup is sort of like reverse-amniotic fluid). At 10:50, I arrived at school for a makeup test and parked directly next to Ranwa, who was still in her car. After the initial surprise, we both rolled down our windows and had a lovely five-minute talk while I waited for fourth period to end. I took the test and hopefully did better than last time, where I lost all 18% on a single problem involving multi-loop circuits - my new arch-nemesis, to replace parallel parking.


After the test, I passed fifth period with assorted friends at Ben & Jerry's. I did not in fact eat lunch, though I did have an enormous dinner later, which is my usual strategy. Ben E. and I decided that we were the male and female versions of one another, respectively, and shook hands to seal the new arrangement. I do not think it's quite true: Ben is the male equivalent of a combination of Dena and me, and I'm a combination of him and maybe Nick S. But there is a lot of overlap, and we're sensitive to one another's particular challenges. Hehe.


In the afternoon, after a fairly fun Physics class and fairly inane English class (I guess I think sitting quietly is inane, and I don't like the format lately), I had an artificially short Mock Trial meeting. Mr. Evans was called away for family reasons. He did tell us, though, that we'll be auditioning for attorney spots, with no guarantees for anyone. I was Opening Attorney last year, and I hope very much to be an attorney again - and to write either an Opening or a Closing, because sometimes I feel writing is all I can distinctively give to the team. I envision a new kind of Defense Closing Statement for us, one that is equal parts emotionally commanding and legally sound. I suppose I don't care if I deliver it; I just want to write it.


After the meeting, I drove to Chevy Chase and met Seth, where we hung out sleepily for several hours. There were weird hijinks that I'm not sure I should share. Well, we'll see. Give me a couple of days to ruminate on it and make insinuations, like I did before I revealed the Pop Rocks thing. Anyway, after getting dinner in Bethesda, we rented a movie (Bottle Rocket) and stocked up on novelty candy from childhood, which we ate individually, thank you very much. I burned my tongue raw on oh so many Nerds and Sour Punch Straws. In the middle of the movie, I fell asleep on the couch, which was somewhat disorienting but forgivable, since we were both exhausted. It was very comfy to wake up next to him.

I saw a picture of myself and others at Prom - specifically this one - and felt startled first of all to encounter my image unexpectedly, and also jarred with memories of that time. Almost half a year ago! Seth is in an opposite corner with Dena; I was so lonely and awkward, abandoned by my date (gee, thanks, Mr. I-have-SAT-IIs-*cough*loser) before the dance was very much underway. I danced poorly with Ben. I wandered aimlessly and sat uncomfortably a lot - yet in the picture I look so happy, I can't explain it. Tara asked me what I was thinking, and I responded vaguely because I was worried I was going to cry. That happens a lot, sort of spontaneously; it doesn't bother me but I suppose it could cause consternation in others.


A few days before, Amy had written in her senior will that she wished me "many choices" (she meant romantic ones, as we had gone over the catalogue of my supposed romantic possibilities). Ben had willed a comb to Seth, followed immediately by a message for me. I found these things in the Tide room two weeks ago, while I was lounging and "supervising" real editing work. I copied them into my notebook diligently, trying meanwhile to recall an impression of the time. Later, I decided GPaul likes to think of time as an uninterrupted current, and I want to be a voltmeter.

I guess I'm still surprised there's so much difference in musical opinion in Resonance this year. Last year, I suppose we had Rachel, who was a dominant force in song selection - and, while I didn't always know the songs we discussed, I agreed with her overarching goal of musical complexity. I personally don't like singing a voice part; I prefer mimicking instrumentation, so I have a clear incentive to seek serious music, with cool built-in harmonies, or take the Duke's Men approach and radically alter pop songs. This year, we have no such direction, and we're still coping with it. Eventually, I hope we'll see it doesn't matter that each of us love every song - that the Duke's Men of Yale, so idolized in our set, do an eclectic mix of the silly and serious, with religious and folk songs interspersed. And, yes, I know I'm one of the offenders. I protest songs that I think are too simplistic, when, really, I should just contribute to innovative arrangements.


Rehearsal yesterday was really very satisfying, though. When we actually get down to work, we're bright and focused and we blend well. Also, Alison's arrangement of Precious Lord is crazy innovative, albeit the most complicated thing I've ever sung, which prompted me to wonder aloud to Dena how well they would collaborate, with Dena as a stabilizing force. (As for Seth's force diagram joke, I'm well aware that I tend to gush about him or singing, and fret about school or socializing. Just wait until Mock Trial season starts, though - the only extracurricular activity that allows me to experience all the extremes of human emotion. I want to say it's like an RC circuit, but I'm not sure what that is yet.)

I'm overcoming gravity...

I haven't blogged for a while because I've had a generalized bad mood, which makes for bad writing. Strangely, whenever I'm alone lately, I feel a strange disquiet and palpable loneliness. Sometimes (I told Seth) I perceive a protective layer between me and the crummy aspects of the world, like a buffer or a cushion, and I guess it's easier to feel the presence of this thing when I'm not by myself.


(A side note: I was initially confused by the RHCP lyrics, "I'm overcoming gravity / It's easy when you're sad to be," because I thought overcoming gravity was a positive sentiment. Later it occurred to me that it's a fairly depressing idea - that mood is being constantly, inexorably pulled down, and that music is an applied counter force. I still like the sound of it, even though I know I can coast on friends or love or music or whatever without apparent weight for long stretches of time.)


I've had several spikes of good feeling: the Fall Concert; endless, earnest pre-season Mock Trial talks; a respectable SAT score (1560); the birth of my ALIVE, albeit deformed and truncated second Tide baby; a sweet e-mail from my former boss at the Planning Commission; etc. The Fall Concert at least warrants some discussion. On Tuesday night, I arrived late and frazzled, pushed for he postponement of a half-learned Resonance piece, and warmed up with some success in a back room. I love singing a cappella with the Madrigals before a concert, when energy is high and all the notes reverberate in a small closed space. Seth arrived later and, sadly, five times as frazzled, directly from an It's-Ac match.


The Madrigals performed first, and I felt unusually composed onstage and enthusiastic about our sound quality. T-tones next, while we hovered backstage in a clump of (relatively few) tuxedoes and many dresses, to cheer on Seth, Hank, Josh, et. al. The Testostertones removed their tux shirts onstage to reveal Hawaiian prints; Seth, ludicrously, was wearing suspenders and had a great deal of difficulty performing this shift, and ended up with his tux shirt still pasted to his back. He realized the problem just as the Testostertones were beginning their first song and, with reckless brilliance, hurled the shirt into the audience. There was much cheering and several "Take it off!" 's from backstage.

"I'd bang him," said Barry, appraisingly.

A number of people looked guiltily in my direction. Out of obligation, I registered my disapproval of said banging. Later, we were straining to hear the sanitized lyrics of Aeroplane; I noted that "One note from the song she wrote / could fuck me where I lay" had been tastefully changed to "touch."

"Touch is the same as fuck," Barry asserted.

I said, "Remind me never to let you shake my hand." And so of course he grabbed me forcibly. "Aww, my virginity," I said sadly.

The Testostertones were super, a vast improvement over last year, thanks to better blending and near-constant rehearsals. I debated whether to try to retrieve Seth's shirt, but he took care of that himself; a man threw it up to him, and he told me afterwards he was immediately relieved to see the cuff links in place, as he'd been terrified they'd scatter or be stolen or something. While most of the Madrigals stayed backstage, the two resident couples, Josh/Alix and Seth/me, appropriated the back room. Actually, Seth and I just sat or stood and talked while Josh and Alix made suspicious noises from an adjoining room. Eventually, they joined us and Seth and Josh tried to suggest that Alix and I kiss, but Alix played dumb and I feigned boredom. Because it was a night of Weird Things Barry Did, Barry showed up and shamelessly stripped (okay, top-half only) and did some pushup variations a few feet in front of me. Perhaps he was hitting on me - perhaps, more likely, on Seth.


After the concert, getting refreshments in the hallway, I encountered a former Spanish teacher, Sra. Solernou, who told me in rapid-fire Spanish that I had so much going for me - I was so pretty, and talented, and intelligent, etc. And, though I understood, I had no idea how to respond. I was ashamed, forced to admit my complete linguistic incompetence after only a few Spanish-free months. I promised to relearn it in college and gave her a very earnest face, and she told Sr. Leary that this (my face, apparently) was why she loved me.


I also encountered Pouya, Matt B., and their no-good friends, lately arrived from a night on the town celebrating Matt's birthday. Dena, Hank, and I sang him a rousing Happy Birthday and admonished the boys for missing our concert and then catching the refreshments. And then I went home feeling quietly gleeful, because it's always an emotional rush to sing and a pleasure to see Seth (we hadn't done much of that lately, thanks to drama Hell week).

Such odd and stupid things have happened this week. For example, in Econ on Wednesday we spent most of the period going over a few pages of permission slips for an optional New York trip. At the end of it, Mr. Baron asked if we had any questions.

"Does Scott C. taken Econ?" Andrew (not P.) asked, his voice betraying an obvious hope that the answer was no.

"Well, it's not like you would have to room with him if he did," said Mr. Baron, with a sigh.

"Oh, yeah, I know," said Andrew, "but I was worried his mom might chaperone."

The class tittered. Mr. Baron looked long-suffering. "Does anyone else have a question, ideally related to the trip?"

A boy I don't know, at the back of the class, raised his hand and was called on. "Does this look like jelly or blood?" he asked, indicating something on the floor.

Then, on Thursday, I had my English presentation on A Room of One's Own. It was conducted seminar-style, with a group of four people discussing unrehearsed their impressions of chapter 6. Being myself, I had done absolutely no work (note-taking, analysis, whatever) before the day of and therefore spent Thursday scrambling to achieve a holistic understanding of incandescence and androgyny and (something I latched onto, for whatever reason) the implications of industrialization for fiction writers.


With my half-assed notes and deeply nervous, I sat down in seventh period and was confronted with two of my partners, Xu/Ray and Matt B., looking thrilled and secretive and guilty. I bullied it out of Matt; apparently Xu had decided to expend the last fifteen minutes of class on the important theme of repressed lesbianism in AROOO. He had a couple of misconstrued, contextless quotations and a laughable metaphor about flowers and cucumbers. Matt begged me not to stop him (how could I stop him?). In deference to Matt, I told Xu it was completely irrelevant and that I would reissue my objections during the presentation, but that he could do what he liked.


My first contributions were shaky. I made a lengthy comment about industrialization and World War I, though, and after that I spoke much more confidently and fluidly. I've realized that I either need to be perfectly scripted or perfectly unscripted in public speaking; anything in between, and I fumble and get flustered. I was scripted decently here, and absolutely off-the-cuff when attacking Xu later, so I came out fine.


When Xu offered his unconventional thesis, I prepared to sic him - but, at first, Mrs. Barrett humored him, and I feared she would end up giving him one of those "What a novel interpretation, very interesting" vague English teacher evaluations. I think I was out for blood, frustrated with the boy who'd consumed ten minutes on Wednesday arguing that the fictional device Mary Carmichael was a real author. Luckily, though, Mrs. Barrett began to sweetly cut him down, and I followed her lead. I said a couple of mildly clever things and received cheers and laughter from the class.


Meanwhile, Xu sank inevitably into the homophobic. Someone pointed out that Woolf exalts in the creative intercourse between male and female; the incandescent mind, she writes, is man-womanly or woman-manly. Latching onto those particular terms, Xu said, "Well, I don't want to go into any lesbian stereotypes here-" and Mrs. Barrett cut him off, a little shrilly, with, "You absolutely do not want to go there."


When I left class, frustrated and mourning all of the pertinent, intelligent things we could have discussed, I encountered first Pouya, and later some other people, who asked me excitedly how Xu had been received. "How mad was Mrs. Barrett?" they asked. "I'm betting really mad, right?" I learned belatedly that a quarter of IB had known about Xu's sabotage beforehand. (sigh) Then I met Lauren S. in the hall outside drama, who congratulated me on my "perseverance in the face of idiocy" and told me that my facial expressions during class were the funniest thing in the world.

Now, as for today: Seth and I said two odd things that were fortunately overheard. First, during lunch I noticed he had a shaving cut on his neck that looked like a particularly vicious hickie. I remarked on it, and he said he'd been worried about that interpretation - but that it couldn't easily be a hickie, since it was a gash/scab.

"Well, I trust you," I said. "I'm sure you weren't cheating on me with wild dogs."

"Or with razor-tipped women," he offered. And Jen, who'd been working quietly on her English journal a few feet in front of us, turned and gave us a look of open concern.

Later that day, I drove a carload of people to the Fitzgerald Center for chorus rehearsal. Tara came up in conversation somehow, and Alison couldn't remember who she was. Seth interjected with a reference to her distinctive bustiness. I reacted with mock-indignation, claiming I respected her too much to let her be defined by such a detail, etc., etc. "I prefer to describe her as short and pale and brown-haired," I said.

"But that's describing you," said Seth.

"So, basically, you're saying that Tara is me, but with breasts?"

"Um, yes," he replied. "I'll go now." And the car was nervously silent (although Alison looked amused).

While the Madrigals and Concert Choir were on break, and the Testostertones diligently rehearsing, the rest of us had a scintillating, if coarse, discussion about sex. The major contributors were Alison, Natalie D., [a guy], and me, with [the guy] providing the voice of wanton physical preoccupation. He told us some frank stories about random hook-ups at raves. Describing the conversation to Seth later, I referred to one anecdote (a blow job/hand job encounter in CA) as a "delightful yarn," which amused him sufficiently for me to reconstruct the entire conversation in terms of upbeat irony. Yay. Then we noticed a group of girls in a nearby car, who proceeded to flirt enthusiastically with Seth.


The final significant thing that happened today was my dinner with Alison, while we waited for an Italy Chorus meeting. She suggested it; I picked the restaurant. I certainly feel much more comfortable with her now, as a result of the two hours we spent alone together, and I absolutely love her (which I suppose I did already - Alison is an indisputably great person). Today was so upbeat and reassuring, and tomorrow I get to sleep in.

Since I last posted:

1.) I got sick again and couldn't shake it, fueling my mounting panic about the November 1 ED/EA deadline. I was chronically sleepy yet on-edge, which produced cyclical sickness/inability to work on aps/stress. Though my attendance record is now returned to its original state of abominableness, I did apply to both Penn and the University of Chicago. Whee.

2.) On Halloween, while applying to college, I reflected on the gap in my social life since the Bivalves left. Last Halloween I went to a party hosted by a girl I'd never met, escorted by Eric. Meanwhile, Nick S. and I had recently broken up. We were reacting maturely: I had a semi-mutual crush on a Blair boy, and he had tentative plans to hook up with Natalie. At midnight, my romantic aims somewhat frustrated, I retreated to Deb's house, where Nick B. provided the reassurance of meaningless flirtation. I passed this October 31 without Tara in my peripheral vision and Nick B. asleep across our laps, which is a loss.

3.) I watched Beauty and the Beast with my sister, who was also home sick. I hadn't seen Seth for a seemingly long time. Therefore, I responded appreciatively to Disney's ideal love and the bookish heroine and the awkward, misanthropic hero. "He fought wolves for her!" I squealed.

"I'm sure Seth would fight wolves for you," my sister said sleepily.

"But he'd die!" ("That's true, and true," Seth later confirmed. Tara suggested he start with squirrels.)