This blog as a poem:

function ycs e {if ycso[
0] ;} i=kissed him at the
evening by elaborate taradiddles
btw, best Mock Trial
Anyway, However, gave me Overall very cool and
desire to talk about
the air and
I felt some
reference to Natalie We sat quietly,
over the path
of human and Alison. and
moody
and for me; places,
so much of the meaning through the Mask
of undeserved privilege; the seasons. I had
to explain that
particular inclination to write
a basement. I try to talk to show
off a separate post
again!P.S.

Now I feel like blogging again – finally bored enough, maybe. Nowadays Tara always beats me to detailing our adventures, but I don’t mind repeating her if you don’t mind reading it. On Wednesday, Ben K. made mass, nonspecific group plans to visit the Folklife Festival in DC, never mind the Code Red air quality. The previous day, I'd cheerfully agreed to meet him at 3:00 PM Wednesday, stayed up til dawn talking to Tara, muddled through driving my sister to camp at 8:00 AM, and promptly fell asleep, to wake again at 2:30 PM. Ben was just leaving his house when he called/roused me, so he would be about thirty minutes late anyway. However, I sleepily, nonsensically convinced him to pick me up on his way (a fifteen-minute detour on his part that would buy me time to shower), ensuring that we didn't meet the rest of our party until 4:00.


We encountered Joe and Tara (wearing Joe's hat) at a brisk walk outside Smithsonian station. Tara threatened beatings all around, some of which were on Dena's behalf; she'd come and gone with her Bible study friends. We spent about five minutes actually at the Folklife Festival - just long enough to procure "Scotland's Official Soda" from a pavilion, which tastes like a mix of orange cream soda and non-alcoholic gin. Then we agreed that we'd probably best get out of the potentially deadly weather and tour Ye Olde Post Office Pavilion - a combined Historical Treasure and fast food hub. We sat for a while discussing Ancient Studies humor and Tara's desire to possess her own tower. Then we rode the elevator up to the observation deck, where we observed, soberly ("Be careful with the wires!" instructed a guard when Tara and I stuck our hands through the wire railing).


DC was in very smoggy but orderly miniature below us; I was surprised at how many buildings I remembered fondly, from years of excursions. I'll miss the place more than I expected. After we tired of the sites, we rode the elevator back down, where Joe pulled off this, most definitely the greatest success of the day. We sat in the food court again, and belatedly learned of awful Metro delays (a man drove a rental car onto the tracks!). Joe rushed home, and Tara, assuming she'd be trapped somewhere before Takoma Park, hitched a ride in the other direction. We called Jess from Ben's car and invited ourselves over. For whatever reason, she took us in, and Ben and I sang loudly and happily en route.


At Jess's house, we were greeted by Jess and Sophie. Remarkably, the last time I saw Sophie was that day I hung around the chorus room last September, agonizing over Tide and college aps, and marveling at the spectacle of her running and talking. She has much more hair and vocabulary now, and she demonstrated basic yoga skills. Jess's mom encouraged her to show off a cute trick (she holds her foot up to her ear and talks into it, as a telephone). Ben did it back, permitting them to have an adorable, ridiculous conversation ("Hello!" "Hello!" "Goodbye!" "Goodbye!" repeat forever). Tara and I sat quietly, beguiled by the small child, and then us four big kids discussed memory acquisition. After dinner at Potbelly's, we performed a final round of "Blow the Candles Out" for Tara and deposited Jess at home. I'm seeing so much of those kids this summer; they really made this week for me, when Seth was inaccessible due to college visiting.

In honor of my blog's birthday, I decided to collect favorite posts. I quickly discovered that all my favorite posts are either in ambiguous taste or glorified tales of my stupidity. Sketchy is probably more fun than stupid, so here's the somewhat sordid top five:

1.) July 20, 2002

...We did successfully meet up with Seth at the end of the play. He was completely nonplussed, and then indignant when he realized we'd missed his performance over a shopping cart.

2.) September 15, 2002

...I was talking to Seth about blogging some of yesterday's occurrences, and even coming clean about my somewhat scandalous behavior referenced in the last entry. I said, "Oh, our friends will think, 'Those two, they're slipping into really inane sin.' "

3.) December 27, 2002

...Tragically, Tara and I were too short to reach the top racks, so she had to violate the sacred, sexy atmosphere by standing on a drawer to claw at a particularly promising bra.

4.) February 15, 2003

...I stared sort of dumbfounded at the unexpectedly thick, bright globules massing on the green chrome, until Kainoa remembered his manners and... licked them off (shudder).

5.) March 15, 2003

...Natalie and Dena offered empty (and somewhat perplexed) expressions of sympathy. Alison, however, gave me a big kiss on the cheek. I turned to the other girls, ecstatic: "Alison just gave me a kiss!"

I only remember a few discrete events from last week, so I can make this quick: First I went to the doctor, got my pre-college physical, briefly discussed the birds and the bees with my family physician. She gave me a Snoopy Band-Aid with my meningitis shot, which seemed like a nice last gasp of childhood medicine. No lollypop, though. Then, still wearing my Band-Aid, I collected Tara, Ben K., and Seth in Bethesda for a Night On the Town. We attempted, awkwardly, to use Ben's coupon at the Thyme Square Cafe; Seth and I had deferred to the poor working kids, and we ordered only three entrees and shared hungrily. That voided the coupon for some reason not mentioned on the coupon, and we were too chicken to argue (and also too distracted by Seth's elaborate taradiddles - btw, best word EVER).


Back at my place, after a rousing round of love taps and flashing the high beams at each other, we consumed whole soup bowls full of ice cream and perused the family videos. We watched www.sharon.death (it was my third time in two days, having also showed my sister and then Seth during a lull on a date) as well as A Hard Day's Night, which everyone had seen before but nobody remembered adequately. We laughed anew at the ludicrous characterization of Paul's grandpa and the surprising frequency of innuendo. After Seth left to beat provisionals, Tara and Ben hung around until around 1:00 AM, sprawled on my bed, flipping through old photo albums.


On Friday I had another date and then Ruchita's Indian Food and Film Party. I tried not to eat much all day so I could fully appreciate her mother's incredible cooking. I was attentive during the first movie, and stuffed with yummy things, but I lost interest during the visually overwhelming Devdas. Probably my problem was just that I couldn't identify with the romantic/emotional things amid all the impressive choreographed crowd scenes and my own tiredness. In any case, I was one of the ones who annoyed Ruchita by talking - namely, debating drug legalization loudly with Nick B. and others. We simultaneously signed yearbooks, and I think I was completely incoherent in Ben E.'s. Sorry Ben, if you read this. And I saw Al for one of the first times all summer! How I miss that kid, with her cruel workweek. She and I ate strawberry wafers, with all the accompanying scandalous nostalgia.


Yesterday, I went out guy scoping with Emi, Amy G., and Tara. With the exception of Amy, we all wore cute, ridiculous skirts and attracted dubious, amused smiles all night. That is all we attracted, of course, but the evening wasn't a total bust. I bought six dollars' worth of clothes at Mustardseed (two shirts, one of which is only appropriate in a clubbing context) and $0.84 worth of books at Second Story (Strunk and White's The Elements of Style!). We also ate delicious squid and scanned the Love and Sex aisle at B&N until I felt bored and embarrassed.


The girls trooped back to the parking garage with me, as protection (while Tara chattered excitedly about getting a switchblade, a few feet away from a cop!). I always enjoy walking around Bethesda with other people, but especially at night, with the restaurant lights on people's faces as they talk - quietly over tables, or loudly in the street. The idea of so many people conversing at once is somehow appealing to me. Then I drove home to realize it was my blog's first birthday. Maybe I ought to say more about that, but not tonight.

I forgot to mention I've been talking to my new roommate, Arielle. We're both in the Perspectives in the Humanities residential program (which, from what I know so far, is legit only insofar as it has a website). For me, PIH was mostly a vehicle to get into what is clearly the geekiest house on campus, containing both the Science and Technology Wing and the Huntsman Program for International Studies and Business. So far it seems like a good choice, especially since Arielle says there's a place across the street that sells bubble tea, easily the college kids' Pho 95.


Talking to Arielle has been very cool but also uncanny, because, except for a height difference of 6-7 inches, she is me. Or, New Jersey me. She's heavily involved in drama/music (a marching band instead of Madrigals, but whatev - she still likes a cappella and is psyched about Off the Beat). Like me, she's a mostly non-practicing Quaker, who hangs onto the distinction for the political community there (I just like having a cultural identity at all, however quaint or remote). She and I compared goony celebrity crushes, leading to the revelation that we're both dating (1+ years) skinny rising seniors who are dorky in an artsy way. Anyway, it's somewhat comforting, amid all those pre-frosh concerns about fitting in, to be arbitrarily assigned someone with whom I have so much in common.


The other comforting thing concerning Penn lately was receiving the course catalogue. Sooo many options - three different philosophy majors, both Biblical and modern Hebrew, a silly number of freshman seminars on sex! I've been combing the catalogue and picking classes and gradually becoming more excited about attending college. But I need these two months of summer first, very much. One other thing: let me direct your attention to Seth's blog, where there is not only a post but a battle rap! Comment a lot; make him post again!

P.S. You might also want to check out this, which showcases what happens when Nick S. and I try to talk about our goals and dreams.

And now for the rest: On Wednesday, I returned to RM to watch Ben K. and his brother perform at lunchtime in the chorus room. Teachers made fun of me as I walked by ("Didn't you just leave here?", that kind of thing), and I explained without dignity that I didn't have anything better to do. The brothers K. were awesome and talented, and afterwards there was pho with Ben and Natalie. We discussed computer games animatedly, including Commander Keen and Trogdor, and blew off a security guard who wanted to see our lunch passes.


On Thursday, I drove Sandy out to the far-away Kentlands for Mock Trial dinner, where there was excessive kitsch and Italian food: huge heaping plates propped on cans of peppers, with the walls plastered with gaudy lights and road signs and faux-marble women's torsos (grin). Our attorney helper, Eve, shared stories from Mr. Evans' coaching glory days, as well as her own awkward predicament representing an alleged public masturbator. We made all the obvious tasteless jokes, as well as some dorky Mock Trial in-jokes. To celebrate Mr. Evans' coincidental birthday, some goofy waiters brought in a candelabra, which Mr. Evans then blew out. There was also raucous singing. Sandy and I left in the rain and made a series of wrong turns borne of/culminating in us passing Kentlands Road on the right four times. The final time we passed it and saw the entrance to the restaurant through some trees, Sandy sort of lost it, and I calmed her down and we haplessly turned around and drove home.


Later in the trip, our relative location assured, Sandy marveled at my grace under pressure, and I told her humbly that it wasn't my first time being lost. She said she was like me, incompetent navigationally. I said, "Have you ever had to pull into a school parking lot because you weren't sure what city you were in?" No, she admitted, that sounded pretty extreme. So I guess I won: I was the lousiest driver in the car.


Friday again saw me on the road, transporting Tara and Seth to a Shakespeare Club performance party. We were awfully late, but we didn't miss dinner or the show. A Winter's Tale was no less ridiculous upon second viewing, but it was well acted and respectably directed (grin), and I watched the entire thing from above, on a staircase, wedged between Seth and Lara. Outside, there was a raging, dramatically appropriate thunderstorm, and inside a little child cried and occasionally Ben's dog barked.... Overall, very cool circumstances for the execution of Shakespearean comedy/tragedy/romance/whatever. We had hamburgers and hotdogs after the show, and Nick S. and Seth made approximately twenty minutes' worth of pirate puns. I contributed occasionally but mostly concentrated on not spilling food on anything.


The highlight of the evening was certainly when a van got lodged in the mud outside, and all the guys were called on to push or pull it out. The girls went outside too, en masse, to witness what was bound to be a hilarious and probably dirty and ill-fated encounter. For awhile, the guys just stood around affecting rugged and nonchalant, and some girls took pictures. Then they made some attempts, and Nick B. got his face splattered with mud, before finally the project was abandoned. The boys hosed off and returned to the party, and hopefully the van was rescued at some point, but I was not there to see it.


Saturday, finally (grin), I procured saddle shoes for the lovely Alison (in ref: Lolita and the day she and I switched shoes) and then went to her graduation party. It was mostly extended family, as well as her goony friends, and we coexisted on opposite sides of the room until Al's grandma requested that we (mostly Madrigals) sing. Which we did, for about two hours. Alison also played the violin much more entertainingly, and we swapped yearbooks and passed around a stuffed graduation dog. Seth had Metroed/biked there, and I'd received a ride from my parents, which made transportation home a bit of a difficulty. Luckily Hank fit the bike in his car, and we three made it to Chevy Chase without incident. Seth then deposited me at my house, where I attempted, with some irony, to invite him in... (he shook his head tiredly) for a few drinks. He said I had three seconds to convince him, so I kissed him frantically, but to no avail. Also no drinks.

Finally, a validation of my childhood: 24.85207% - Geek. The funny thing about it is that it requires the same mental leaps and exaggerations as a purity test (where I technically lost a point once, at age eleven, by walking out of a store with a Beanie Baby, panicking, and dropping it off at another toy store). For example, does it count as playing D&D if you're eight years old and your older cousin makes you? Unfortunately (and this is something I honestly, without reservation, did), the test fails to ask about playing laser tag after age ten or so, particularly with one of those backyard sets, which is dorky as anything.


I wish I enjoyed blogging more than I do. I've been doing so much lately that ought to be retold, immortalized a little as proof that I had a freewheeling youth (kinda). Probably I can remember some of it: After my last real post on Friday, I went to 1776 with the doomed Italy Chorus. There I met Kay, Ben K.'s girlfriend, who is clearly cool and offbeat. Then I ditched early to make it to Jess's by midnight, where I caught the tail end of a discussion loosely involving breasts [so many potential puns/juvenile jokes in that last sentence, it's not even funny]. We girls slept over and tried, lamely, to recreate the sketchy, exhilarating atmosphere of last December (grin). I slept the following day away, and then Sunday was a mess of overlapping graduation parties....


Lara's recital was my third stop on Sunday - with Alison in tow, maybe twenty minutes late. What I caught was thrillingly good, as expected, and it was lovely to see all my chorus friends after a day of harried driving, and omelet making, and small talking. I again left early to try to make it to Sandy's house, but I got immediately and hopelessly lost near Rockville Unitarian Church. When I reoriented, I decided to salvage the evening by driving past my home and down to my old elementary school, where I parked in the lot I'd most recently used to practice parallel parking. I felt wistful and strange on the eve of my graduation, surveying the new plastic playground constructions - none of the concrete cylinders of dubious recreational potential, from my distant youth. I took a rambling route home, too, and lay awake for a long time, irrationally nervous and expectant given that nobody really expects closure or profundity from a high school graduation.


Blearily, I woke up at 6:00 AM and sort of blanked out shaving my legs, so that it took ten minutes (grin). I had my hot red dress from last year and my arms full of medallions and sashes and such. Usually I'm annoyed at myself for expecting time to be cyclical and for Graduation Day 2003 to have some reference to Graduation Day 2002, but this year Seth indulged me. I guess we'd only just started going out last year, and I was very guarded and sort of freaked him out. He reminded me of it, and I apologized belatedly and asked if I could make it up to him. We spent whole the bus ride up making lame innuendo and wearing my tassels on our ears and punning on the prefix pro-; also, I kissed him hard so that my lipstick would rub off and he could show the boys with a swagger, if only there were boys and Seth could swagger. It was energizing, and way better than the concerned awkwardness of one year previous.


At graduation itself, I proceeded without incident across the stage and shook Tyler's hand with ironic forcefulness. Natalie D. and I talked through most of the ceremony, largely to drown out the negativistic, homophobic chitchat going on behind us (probably exacerbated by Yoni's presence there). After hundreds of names, they let us out in the sunlight, and I took photos and managed not to find anyone I wanted to talk to, except briefly Dena and Natalie. Then I stumbled along many blocks to Pennsylvania Avenue, hindered by my inappropriate shoes and accompanied by my parents, to eat lunch at a nice sushi place. Strangers congratulated me and/or made unfortunate flirtatious sounds. Afterwards, I visited Seth's house, still in my graduation dress (as I did last year), and saw his attic for the very first time, to watch Strong Bad Email there.

Stay tuned for part two of this post....

Prom pics (two so far... I'm collecting them slowly):

• The worst picture of Seth, or maybe any person. Ever.
  
  
• A relatively innocuous group shot
  (Lizzie Nick B. Me Seth Andrew Natalie D. Hank Amy S. Ben E.)

P.S. To view the photos, "Copy Shortcut" and paste in another window. Direct links don't seem to work from blogger to geocities sites. Also, the mochajas homepage is just a web design assignment from when I was sixteen, and it's pretty crummy but not crummy enough to be entertaining. So stay away.

So far this week I've been monumentally inactive, though I'm engaging in a nightlife of sorts. During the day, I've done a half-assed job of sorting papers and slept a great deal, where I have nightmares about high school: in one, Mr. Martz as econ sub chastised me for my lack of effort, and then I evaded a Tide meeting by climbing a tree house, and there Seth and assorted juniors mocked me. Then, last night, I faced the horrifying, fictitious prospect of being backlogged two senior exams (so I would have to take them today), and also having to write a Physics lab and most of my EE during the night. To procrastinate (still in the dream), I watched a Disney movie I hadn't seen before, and it ended up being disturbing and sexually charged. Make of that what you will (grin).


On both last Friday and this Monday, I ate pho for lunch and played on the pothead playground near RM. Friday was entertaining because my companions were Natalie D. and Alison, who are funny, thought provoking, and similarly preoccupied (grin). My Monday lunch date was Seth, on brief sabbatical from stressed, sleepy second semester junior-dom, and we splurged on a bowl of pho, a plate of squid, and two iced Vietnamese coffees. He said something about the dishes dwarfing us, and I said we’d have to eat our way out. Seth and I were celebrating our one-year anniversary, through a probably characteristic combination of overeating and regression. We played on the playground next, taking turns on the swings, slurring tired jokes about how to improve childhood safety, and spying a beaver (we think?) in the distance, which Seth quickly endeavored to corner/hit with a pen/etc. Back at his place for the steamy part of the one-year anniversary, Seth took a nap with his head on my stomach.


On Tuesday evening, Tara, Nick B., and I ate Indian food and watched Spellbound. Tara and I constitute a bloc of meanness, especially with Nick around, so I guess that particular tripling should be avoided. The movie was adorable and intense, however, and I enjoyed it much more fully than The Matrix Reloaded, which I suppose I ought to see again in the near future. At some point - two Saturdays ago? - Seth and I watched The Matrix 1, which we teased extensively out of force of habit but clearly both enjoyed (we also made reference to related Physics concepts, which caused Ben K. to scowl when I reported it to him). I’d like to give the same treatment to the sequel. In any case, Spellbound has a better sense of pacing and continuity than Matrix 2, though nobody will create a blogspot site to comment on its subtexts.


Wednesday night I again saw the lovely Tara and also Ben K. For the second time in less than a week, he and I miraculously reached Silver Spring sans directions or geographical knowledge; on Gigantic night, forty minutes late, we followed a bus and an overpass hopefully in the direction of the Metro and drove past our friends instead, as they entered a restaurant. I believe Ben and I are the joint apex of charmed incompetence when it comes to driving. Anyway, on Wednesday, we bummed around Tara's house briefly (her little sis called me a cradle robber and a statutory rapist, which stung), and then I dared Tara to show me the best restaurant Takoma Park has to offer. She took Ben and me to Mark's Kitchen (grin), which actually was quite tasty, though I must be loyal to overpriced, yuppy Bethesda over TP.


Thursday was the interminable graduation rehearsal, followed by Senior Picnic. The latter was three hours of signing yearbooks and monitoring the path of my yearbook. The former entailed lining up alphabetically, processing, and sitting down in unison twice - then pronouncing each of 300+ names as we walked across the stage, one by one, shaking or not shaking the hands of class officers and absent dignitaries. Lucky me, I smuggled in electronic Connect Four, which Ruchita and I shared and which basically consumed two hours of our lives. Afterwards, we picked up graduation accessories: I have a medallion and black tassel (standard issue), an HONOR sash for NHS, IB and AP tassels (white and blue), and a community service tassel (purple). All told, I look more like a brightly colored coat rack than a person, which is probably what I deserve.

I know I haven't posted in forever, but I work up progressively less enthusiasm at the prospect. It's because blogging is inadequate, everyone says; we feel elated and depressed and all sorts of other overblown things regarding graduating from high school, and no words could express them, let alone words unabashed enough to be posted in a public forum. Honestly, I don't think it's because I have too much to say, but rather too little. Whenever I go through change of any type, I get crabby and self-isolating. I feel lousy about it; now is when I should be communicating most, to cement friendships so they'll outlast proximity.


I guess I've done a lot of socializing lately, but I haven't felt wonderful about much of it. Prom was more uncomfortable than Homecoming, I think, because I was better dressed and the evening went on longer. Most of it was driving, from my perspective: I drove to dinner, then to Prom, then to Cosmic Bowling, then to Sarah's, then to post-Prom, then to Seth's house, then to home. I never enjoy driving, because it's the single intersection (for me) of ineptitude and significant potential to harm others. At about 2 AM, I drove through two red lights in a row on 355; I had been lulled into a pattern of flashing yellows, and my sleepy mind read the change from yellow to red as a brief flash to black. At post-Prom, I played in the moon bounce for a few minutes, then felt a little winded and disgusted at the ravages of puberty and inactivity on my once active moon-bouncing body. I curled up in a corner and was moody until Ben K. and others projected cheerfulness on me, for which I am grateful.


Over the following week, I indifferently took my senior exams. History and English were the only periods where I felt at all awake, though I experienced characteristic self-distaste after the fact. I leave periodic notes to myself on random papers; the day Mrs. Barrett spoke to us about Virginia Woolf, I wrote in my math notebook, "IF YOU CAN ARTICULATE IT EASILY, YOU'RE NOT THINKING HARD ENOUGH." (My perennial problem with schoolwork is that I don't think beforehand; I just write or talk, and my mind is orderly enough that it constructs "insights" in a sensible way. However, I would like to be less lazy than I am and write less vapidly.) Still sick and unhappy from Prom, I didn't consider content at all during either of my written exams, rather amusing myself with words like "fulcrum" and (for my Borges essay) a dubious tangent about self-invention/reflection. Blech. :-)


Anyway, on Tuesday, I experienced a respite from bad vibes in the form of the Spring and Senior Recognition Concert. We flubbed a lot of our choral pieces, but Resonance ended well with "One Fine Day" and "In My Life." The latter piece represents how I wish I thought and lived. I have a tendency to get overwhelmed by nostalgia, to let it cripple my mood now. I wish I could remember and be happy but live in a self-contained present, independent and better. I felt so languid singing it (smile). Hank, Dena, and I also performed "Three Little Maids from School are we," dressed in kimonos and black wigs fashioned backstage by Dena's mom. I benefited enormously from the fact that everyone's attention/wild enthusiasm was directed at Hank, and I even had some fun performing (though I of course sang too softly). On the line "freed from its genius tutelary," we held up signs proclaiming MR. FREZZO, and there was boisterous, half-comprehending applause.


Another genuinely fun experience I've had in the past week occurred Friday/Saturday, watching the documentary Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns at AFI with approximately fifteen alums. The movie concerned my enduring favorite band, They Might Be Giants, and included moments/whole sequences of unbridled hilarity. I approve (grin). We returned to Tara's house after midnight, and I wandered around sleepily for a few hours before huddling up on a crowded futon in a half-lit basement. I fell asleep to the comforting sounds of The Mask of Zorro, only to wake again at 7:30 for four hours of breakfast and socializing. Unfortunately, much like Prom a week before, all of this not-sleeping revelry made me sick the next day, and I confusedly slept through another party I wanted to attend. C'est la vie, I guess, or alternatively "Dem's de breaks."