Today I have my Mock-Mock Trial at 1:00 (the two sides of the RM team play each other), and I find I have: no Closing, and a morally ambiguous cross. Actually, there's really nothing morally ambiguous about tormenting a grieving mother with questions to the effect of, "Ha, guess you didn't know precious Jessica quite as well as you thought, huh?" I think if I have time today I'll draw flames in the margins of my cross notes - or else I'll cartoonize legal concepts, as Sandy and I have been doing periodically during meetings, drawing, for example, the Field of Danger (a football field with an fence around it, composed of rifles, swords, tanks, etc. - for some reason also an electric field). Er, I don't have any great ideas right now, but I have been meaning to draw a House-as-Instrumentality-of-Death (probably with fangs).


Since I've been so anxious lately, I've been asked several times what enjoyment I get out of Mock Trial. The enjoyment is twofold (hehe): one, very importantly, is the inside jokes, which are most likely a desperate coping mechanism for being seventeen and dressing up in little lawyer suits to smooth-talk the acquital of two deadbeat, drug-using kid-killers. Also, I have to admit, it's nice to win, and it's very reassuring to prevail consistently in something difficult. I enjoy Mock Trial for that feeling directly after a successful trial - when the next trial is forever away, and we're really giggly during Mr. Evans' post-match criticisms (akin to rehearsal notes), and I can't believe I really have to go home and do all my homework and be in high school.


In non-Mock Trial related news, I recently watched American Pie 2 and Fight Club. No contest as to which was better, or which had hotter leads (grin). The former brought me back to a delightfully embarrassing experience over the summer, watching American Pie with family in Boston. My college-aged, male cousin put it on at my sister's (age thirteen) and my behest, and then, at the last minute, my mom joined us too; my sister and I suggested she shouldn't, but that only made her more in the mood for a raunchy teen comedy. I felt sort of horrified on my cousin's behalf, as he winced visibly at each erection joke - and then my sister asked naive questions, and my mom gave knowledgeable answers. Ah, poor guy. Poor me (wink). Anyway, the sequel is arguably much worse of a movie, though I have trouble claiming to enjoy either.


Seth asked me, mockingly, what I thought of the films from a feminist standpoint. I actually did think it was kind of nice, though crudely done, how they turn cinema's voyeurism (note how many naked women you see in movies, versus naked men) in on itself to play with the boys. In the first movie, the lead character attempts to capture a hot classmate undressing on his webcam, successfully gets on camera a series of male fantasies, and then ends up broadcasting his own sexual humiliation, as she takes control of the situation.


The second movie goes further, starting with a lesbian fantasy (as basically everyone in the movie secretly watches/listens to two hot women trying on each other's bikinis), and ends with a, um, tit-for-tat situation (Seth's pun, but certainly he didn't think of that first), with the women promising to do anything the guys want - provided they do it to each other first. The girls end up sexually dominant, the boys end up objectified, the audience’s voyeurism is exposed; basically everybody wins. A true victory for feminism (wink). It's important to note, of course, that there's only female nudity in these lousy movies, and plenty of it. Oh, man, I really ought to be writing my Closing now. If you see me on AIM, distract me anyway.

SaffyCat (6:49:29 PM): If I ever have an idea that's worth offending people over, I'll post it
Rekcedeob (6:49:39 PM): Good. :-)

Meanwhile, back to the steady stream of G- and (gads!) PG-rated material. I finished my exams today; as I predicted, Physics was the only difficult one, but it did more or less kill me. After Econ on Tuesday, I finished my TOK journals in a rush - they're actually half-decent, compared to some of the ones I saw in progress in the cafeteria (grin) - and then I passed nearly two hours conversing with Scott K., Nick S., Josh, and other deadbeats from Mr. Evans' fifth period. It was actually quite fun, though the conversation kept returning, as if weighed down, to sexuality and snide remarks.


Today, I wrote about Soviet history for two hours - more scatterbrained in approach than I would have liked. I spent about ten seconds (a considerable period in a fifty-minute essay block) wondering whether the word I was vaguely sounding out in my mind was "cemented" or "fomented." I also think I put my thesis in the wrong place. Meh. Then, not a moment too soon, I got out and got lunch with Seth and we went back to his house for nonspecific Hanging Out. More specifically, I demanded that he shave right away; he'd been growing out a beard during exams, and looked basically unkempt and dodgy. The shaving was a major ordeal, since his hair was so long. I alternately stood by his sink and watched, sort of dumbfounded, and flipped through his English journal.


The only other notable thing was that we disagreed about the definition of a word, so Seth reached for his dictionary. We sat on his bed, bent over Merriam-Webster's, and he remarked, "Do you think other couples pull out the dictionary as often as we do?"

"I hope not," I said.

"Why? For their sake or because you want us to be special?"

"Both," I said adamantly. And then I went home and learned something absolutely annoying and ridiculous. I vented more than it probably deserved.

[Note: I deleted my last post after having a conversation with my mother about it. I understand that, in writing publicly, I assume the risk of all kinds of scrutiny - of people evaluating what I should and should not reveal about myself and others. I've certainly received scrutiny before. I find dealing with these vague lines of public decency very frustrating, though, so I guess I'll pull back from the edge.]

I've been building up things to blog about - one of which I really don't know how to discuss, so I'll leave it for last. On Monday of last week, Alison and I had makeup tests, History IA meetings, and Italy Chorus, so we hung around school together until about 9:00 PM. Seth was also around for drama, so we got an early dinner together at Pho 95 - squid, pho, and two novelty beverages of varying quality; one had brine + plums in it, which we drank until I announced, "I'd have more, but it makes me feel like I'm going to die." After we returned to school, we spent five or so minutes actively not letting Ben K. into my car - playing with the locks and stuff while he rammed my window with a tree branch - and then headed for Mr. Frezzo's room (it was locked), and then the auditorium.


The auditorium was dark and empty but not locked. I led us inside, and down to the shadowy pit, which was temporarily engaging but paled before the inevitable temptation of the catwalk. We wandered backstage and climbed the ladder in the dark, at which point we tried to work the spotlights (unsuccessfully) and then took opposite sides of the auditorium - Seth and me, and Ben and Alison - and shouted at each other, and apparently Ben and Alison made kissy noises (we, also inevitably, accused one another of making out). At one point, the janitor came in and pointedly ignored us; in gratitude, we tripped the security alarm on the way out. Whoops.


On Friday, I had my first exams (Physics was a mess, but English was essentially exciting and comfortable), and then I went over to Seth's house and played Scrabble. I'd never really played before, but I think I like the game - it was close, but I won by a ten-point margin: 276-266. At first, I amused myself during Seth's long, pensive silences by trying to build as many words as possible directly under other words (so that I'd get all the vertical and horizontal points). Then, as my focus degraded, I started finding dirty words among my letters instead. One was worth enough points that Seth convinced me to play it: COITAL. Then, through chance or fate, I ended up playing RIGID nearby. We went upstairs and helped Seth's mom with the Post crossword puzzle, making me feel at once sophisticated and silly.


Today the Mock Trial Team had its annual meeting with Ben Vaughan, our own feared and beloved legal genius. It was remarkable how much less frightened I was of him this year, and how much more willing I was to make an ass of myself on impromptu cross examination. He kept me afterwards to talk for a little while; I felt far more mature and capable than I was as a junior, and I hope finally to be an asset to the team. As for the final thing I had to say, I'm still not sure how to communicate it. I'll certainly try, but in a separate post, because this one is overlong as it is.

I'm falling into unhelpful old habits in that I'm obsessively thinking about Mock Trial and history (my IA topic, the Stalinist Great Terror), but not really accomplishing anything for either. I had a dream last night that I was for some reason attempting to write both my direct examination and my cross on the day of our first trial (February 3rd - please don't go, I'm terrified (grin)). What made it a Sharon Dream was that I was annoyed throughout because I was pretty sure the current date was actually January 10th. I exhibit way too much consciousness in my dreams, and once, as I fondly and frequently recall, I dreamed that Tara and I were walking through my dream, analyzing the obvious symbols.


In any case, I will work on those things today, or try. Yesterday was reassuring in that nobody knew how to frame Sandy's Opening Statement (there's no satisfying vignette when you're representing ecstasy users who let their teenage son have an unsupervised party that kills a girl), and for some reason I could see the first two paragraphs floating in my head. I sort of ineptly tried to articulate it, and I'm not sure I communicated well enough at first, but eventually they did take my idea, and happily. Incidentally, I can see the frame of my Closing Statement in my mind too, but the cross eludes me.


The other satisfying, sort of intellectual thing yesterday was the great enjoyment we all seem to be getting lately from Multi-Variable Calculus. We're taking our final over the next four days, in two more increments, then on to Differential Equations. Everyone I've talked to seems unusually enthusiastic about math this year, myself included. I think partly, though, my new love of math is just self-congratulatory, since I'm for the first time since elementary school not hovering in that gray area between an A and a B.


Before the final, we were "studying" in Madrigals first period. Early on, we decided it would be cool if there were an interpretive dance component to the exam. The rest of the period was spent with me and various other people egging Alison on to convey, through movement, such concepts as the unit tangent (she bent over and made her arm tangent to the curve of her body - "How does that show it's a unit vector?" I asked, and she made a one with her index finger), triple integrals (I think she did a bunch of somersaults or something; I'm not sure I intellectually understood this one), and vector fields (which Seth commandeered, and made a lot of random jerky motions and laser gun sound effects. Before tests, I tend to babble about math to him in the halls, which means he's learned some of the material).

Well, Seth was away for a large chunk of winter break, so I amused myself with girls. Tara and I went back to Victoria's Secret - this time with Amy, who has a comforting tendency to take charge when others are inept and ill at ease. She disparaged my previous choice as not sexy enough, and I was tempted to buy something lacier and more garish; however, I saw Amy looking interestedly at the thongs and snapped out of it (grin). We then saw My Big Fat Greek Wedding, which was almost unbearable. A neat mix of caricature and stereotype, with sort of incidental plot (in that the plot exists to make fun of everyone). "Well," I said thoughtfully, "that movie was successful in that it delivered a Greek wedding." The others agreed.


Oh, the other fun thing about that night was that Amy and I went online to look for our respective beaus. Instead, we found a frat boy from RPI who's been giving her trouble; she gave Tara and me free reign to deal with him as we liked. So of course we pretended to be drunk and horny and made him tell us what he was wearing, entertain us, etc. After awhile, we told him he was no longer interesting and that we were going to go make out with each other instead. Which we did. Actually, no.


When Seth got back into town, we spent the next two days on ridiculously long dates. Twelve hours on the 30th, fourteen on the 31st. On New Year's Eve, we finished dinner early and didn't know what to do with ourselves until Ben's party, so we parked in our high school lot for 45 minutes. As we were kissing in public (sort of), I commented, mostly joking, "I'm feeling pretty debauched right now."

He looked at me concernedly. "Good-debauched or bad-debauched?"

"Good-debauched," I assured him. Eventually we checked the clock and realized it was 8:00 PM, the party's start time, so we drove to Ben's somewhat ashamed of ourselves. A bit surreptiously, I showed off my "scandalous" sparkly black attire and was made fun of by many people in attendance. A side note: It's somehow comforting to be mocked for my naivete or stupidity, as I was over the Pop Rocks, my fear of lingerie, etc. I don't think I really want to be worldly, nor do I necessarily want to be eighteen in a month.


Anyway, the party was super. I'd never had a boyfriend at New Year's before, and I took full advantage of it, in that the normal no-kissing-in-front-of-friends rule was not applied. Here is a picture of Seth and me, for those readers who haven't already looked through the Bivalve photo collections. Anyway, we played party games and Monkey Island and watched two horrible, hilarious movies. I secured the enviable position of being Michael's protege (in Mock Trial and drinking) and then shared a pillow and blanket with Seth, which was sort of uncomfortable but nonetheless satisfying. The next morning, after dropping off Nick S. in Chevy Chase, Seth and I drove back to Bethesda, where, despondent over the end of winter break, we huddled in the car in the parking lot of my elementary school. I suggested we drive out to Eastern MS to make it three-for-three, but he dropped me off at home instead.


On Thursday and Friday, I somehow made it through school and Mock Trial. I met up with Seth, Dena, her brother, Ruchita, Hank, and Tara at Potbelly’s, then caught the 7:10 showing of Catch Me if You Can. It was pretty good, I must admit, though it precipitated a fight among Natalie G., Tara, and me. Then, on Saturday, I had a seemingly endless Mock Trial meeting in the middle of nowhere, before and after which Sandy ferried me around; we joked about my incompetence and analyzed our friends. I promised I'd learn one life skill by the end of the week.