In reading through yesterday's comments, I remembered a handful of other boys' names I love: Joel (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), Avery, Jude, James (I prefer Jamie, but I'll let him decide), and Harrison, who can be Harry if he'll let me. Also, Ilse for a girl. Oh, and you guys must read this comment from SnakesAndWorms:
"I am going to have all kinds of fun with names since my last name is Sleezer. If
I ever have a boy, I am seriously considering naming him Julius, so he would be
Julius Sleezer. If not that, then probably Ebeneezer. If I have a daughter I'll
probably give her a hippy name like Moon Child."
I figured you guys neeeded that laugh before I bombarded you with an ice-cold bucket of angst. I have a little over one week left of high school, and it is positively unbearable. The morning started off with me flopping lifelessly out of bed, realizing that my hair was huge to the point of being unstraightenable, and having to force myself into stiff clothing while my head begged to go back to sleep. In first period, my crazy Government teacher ranted breathlessly for forty-five minutes about his "friends on left," which is what he calls the liberal media he despises. That I'm used to. What threw me for a loop, though, is what happened next. The man wears khakis, a patterned short-sleeved dress shirt, and a differently patterned mismatching tie every single day of his life, and upon seeing my old green sneakers, said, "Those shoes are gross. You should dress for success." I'm not sure I have the power to convey just how surreal and out of character that comment was, but I'm still kind of floored by it.
In second period, my choir director began by telling us how bad our big show is going to be this weekend, due to missing rehearsals (TO TAKE AP EXAMS) and "negative energy." Our class this year is made up of about 90% seniors. Can she honestly expect us to be thrilled to be going through the motions when the end is so near? The real kicker, though, was when we did "Seasons of Love." The soloist was having a really, really hard time today, and for good reason-- it was early in the morning, he was already having a bad day, and the director was telling us how much we suck. It doesn't help that the soloist, a friend of mine, gets made fun of a lot for being gay, and although I'm fairly certain he is, he hasn't even come out yet. (No wonder, huh? Seeing as how accepting and lovely his peers are?) So we're all standing on the edge of the stage, waiting patiently for him to find his footing in the solo, and the director goes off on us. She says that we're all rolling our eyes and quietly making fun of the soloist, creating an atmosphere of negative energy. And you see... even if one or two of the jerk boys did roll their eyes, the soloist didn't know he was being made of at the moment. He was having difficulty hitting the notes because they're hard to sing. The director thought she was helping him by yelling at the other boys, but really she was just exposing to the soloist that he was being made fun of. She therefore humiliated him for, like, ten minutes. And she thinks she's a saint for it. To make matters better, as she screamed at us, she said, "He got the solo because he had the best male audition, and it's a male part. So SORRY, Hayley." First of all, what a kind thing to say to the other girl who auditioned. Second of all, I never said a single thing to absolutely anybody at all but Jess about that solo, and the director made it sound like I was walking around complaining about it. Third of all, it was like she was telling the soloist that he was only the best of the boys for the part, after she'd already embarrassed him practically to the point of tears. It was absolutely terrible.
Later in the day, I nearly blew up. Everyone at my tiny school knows about my internet life, but it's mostly just something the seniors make fun of me for at the parties I'm not invited to. I make an effort to speak of it only cryptically when necessary or when I'm convinced no one but my friends can hear, because people probably expect me to brag about it, and I can't stand to give them what they want. But today, I heard a casual friend telling my Newspaper advisor about these guys at my school who make poorly-lit, loud horror movie vingettes with crappy copyrighted music. "They get paid by YouTube!! Isn't that amazing?!"
And that's when the color drained out my face. I KNOW this is the world's PETTIEST thing to be upset about, and I know I sound like an ASSHOLE. But it would be literally impossible for those boys to have ever received a single partner check, as they don't make any partner videos and no one outside our school watches their channel. And the friend who was telling this to the super-excited teacher knows full well what YouTube is to me, and yet I'm the closeted internet freak, while these stupid boys are our "resident filmmakers." God. I do not want praise. I do not want to be worshipped. I do not want everyone to fawn over me and talk constantly about how I spend my free time. It's just totally, completely unfair that the teacher who won't even tell me "good job" on something awesome I turn in thinks a group of boys with a digital camera deserve to be celebrated for their amazing accomplishments, when I do the same thing SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER.
I just can't stand it.
This phone conversation I just had with my mom pretty much sums up today.
Mom: Are you still grumpy?
Mom: (with some sympathy) Why are you grumpy?
Me: School sucks.
Mom: You have seven days left!
Me: Seven days is a long ass time!
Mom: People are in childbirth for seven days!
Me: People are not in childbirth for seven days.
Mom: For a good week before birth, the woman's cervix starts dilating, and it's really painful and--
Me: Oh my gosh, Mom, can we not talk about dilating cervixes right now?
Mom: Go make a 5AG video.
I think I will. RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chipotle burritos this year: 18
Days left of high school: 7