First Week - 9/10/2006 in 2005 - 2007: High School

A week of school has gone by. Here's how it went:

Tuesday, I got up and walked to school. I wandered the halls trying to find my friends. I found Dave two minutes before the bell rang. I followed him to Odyssey and awkwardly said hi to Mr. Sampson. First block I had gym. With Ivy.

"Are you here for adventure leadership?" she said.

"Yeah."

"Oh yay, me too. Is that your schedule?"

"Yeah."

"Can I see it?"

I gave it to her.

"AB calc? Why aren't you taking BC?"

"Because I didn't... want to?"

"Yeah, I should actually probably be in AB. I signed up for it, but then Fletcher started making fun of me for not being smart enough. So now I'm in BC. Wow, you have like, no classes."

"Those studies are going to turn into independant studies. I'm doing a senior exhibition."

"Oh really? Me too!"

"What's yours?"

"I'm writing a novel."

It went on like that. The worst part of hanging out with Ivy is that I find myself starting to turn into Ivy. In all honesty, I'm probably about as snobby as she is. I'm just better at hiding it, and also lazier. And when she tries to be competetive at me, I find myself competing back at her. I defend myself, when really I shouldn't say anything. I shouldn't be trying to be more Ivy than Ivy. I should just say, "Yes Ivy, that is true. I do not have a lot of classes. I guess I am just not as cool as you."

We played a dumb get to know you game. I made a little bit of a fool of myself.

Next I had Chinese. With Adam. We sat two seats away from each other and avoided eye contact. Also in my class are about fifteen Chinese kids. I assume they are just brushing up. Or maybe getting an easy A. The teacher speaks English a little worse than Madame Bellakanovski, but is much more awesome. We started actually learning the minute class started, and it was fascinating.

Third block I had a study with a senile history teacher who used to be a woodshop teacher, but who had so much seniority when they cut woodshop that they couldn't fire him. At lunch, I sat with Eric and ten of his other female friends who I didn't know. It was kind of awkward.

In AB calc we played a dumb get to know you game. I made a little bit of a fool of myself. We also got back the summer work. I got a seventy on it. I don't understand why. I had thought it was easy. I walked home and cried. Because if I'm going to take a math class without any of my friends in it and be all socially uncomfortable, I should at least be one of the smarter kids in that class. Because I'm not that far behind my friends. Right?

I didn't feel like going to band practice. I did. I ran my lap. I made other people run their laps. I made other people do arm circles. I held the corner spot in block. I marched the opener over and over. I felt miserable. Dave was visibly miserable as well. Upset, actually, for the entirety of practice. I asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing."

"Really? You look like something's really bothering you."

"I'm just... In over my head. Look, are you walking home tonight?"

"No, I have a ride."

"Oh. Are you going to be on the computer later?"

"I wasn't planning on it, but I can be."

"I... just... need to talk to you about something."

My stomach tightened up painfully again. I spent the next forty five minutes, during which I drove home with my mother, took a shower, and waited around for him to come online, fretting about what it was that he could possibly "want to talk to me about." I couldn't imagine that it was anything good. Or anything that would get me to relax. When he came on, he told me that after we all got home from the wedding, he hung out with Molly and Tom again, and they all smoked. He said that Molly didn't really want to, that they pressured her into it. He called himself a shitty person several times. He said that he broke a promise to himself when he smoked - that he'd told himself that he wouldn't do it again, but he did anyway. I don't think I've even written about this, but over the past few months, Dave really has become a mild stoner, solely thanks to Tom. He said three or four times that he would stop, but the next time he would hang out with Tom, Tom would get him to do it again. This bothers me a whole lot. Not that Tom got Dave to do it once - I really see nothing wrong with trying pot once or twice - but that he got him to do it over and over again. They started doing it on a regular basis, even though Dave specifically told me he wanted to avoid "becoming a stoner." Even though every time he would tell me about smoking, he would say, "But I think that was the last time. I really don't want to keep doing it." And now he's doing the same thing to Molly. When Tom started a conversation with me, I yelled at him. Then I went to bed, miserable.

Wednesday I got up and walked to school. I wandered the halls and couldn't find any of my friends at all. First block I had AP French, with Eric and ten of his other female friends. Most of the people in the class actually speak French. It's kind of bizarre. I can't be one of the most talented kids in the class just by default anymore. Madame Belakanovski spent most of the class making it clear to us that this was going to be a hard class, and that we would still all probably fail the AP exam.

Chinese. More actual learning. By the end of the class, I had learned one short, simple conversation. It was still fascinating.

Concert band. The band room was full of people who looked really out of place in the band room. You know, normal people who play sports and stuff. At the beginning of the block, as people were noisilly hanging around and snacking on things, I heard someone behind me say, "Ah, the band room. Just as I'd left it."

Julian. I turned around. "Hey," I said. "...You're in concert band?"

"No, no," he laughed. "Just visiting."

"How was... stuff?"

"Stuff?"

"All that stuff you did this summer?"

"Oh yeah, that was good. That was really good."

Pause.

"Well, I'll be going now."

That was the extent to which I have seen Julian this year.

I sat next to Bonnie while Mr. Thomas made a speech to the effect of, "Look you guys, concert band needs to actually be serious this year. There is no more going to Wendy's. There is no more hiding behind the file cabinets playing Nintendo. There is no showing up twenty minutes late with lunch. There is no more showing up on time with lunch. What is it with you guys and eating? Anyway, I'm at the highschool full time this year, so I really can't look the other way when you guys like... leave. Alright?" We didn't do any playing.

Gym. We played a dumb get to know you game. I made a little bit of a fool of myself.

I accidentally fell asleep for two hours when I got home. Then I was up, freaking out, until four in the morning. I woke up two hours later and walked to school with my trombone. I was completely exhausted by the time I got there. I almost passed out during gym. I almost passed out during Chinese. I managed to get out of Mr. Senile's study so that I could turn the study into an independant study. I sorted out all the beaurocracy during first lunch. Then I went to second lunch. Then I went to third lunch. I felt pretty okay through that.

Then I went to AB, and I almost passed out again. I asked to go to the nurse. When I got there, I immediately fell asleep. Ten minutes later the nurse kicked me out. I felt just as nauseous as I had ten minutes before. I walked upstairs and then walked back downstairs.

"I'm sorry, I can't," I said. And she gave me a disapproving look and let me sleep for the rest of the block. When I woke up, I went down to band practice. I hid behind the file cabinets and cried. Dave found me and talked to me, but really it didn't help because there was nothing to talk about. I seemed to be having an emotional breakdown out of nowhere. We practiced. I played badly. I conducted badly. I went home and ate dinner, and then I went to bed. I slept for about ten hours.

Friday I felt pretty okay. I aced an AP French quiz. I played well in concert band, and then I hung around in the band room with the usual people, and also some of the rookies, who are already becoming very hardcore. (Aw, Brand new band geeks. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.) In gym I played pickleball, which I was humiliatingly terrible at. You don't even have to understand what pickleball is. It's not important. Just imagine the most humiliatingly terrible one can possibly be at a sport. That was me. By the end, my humiliatingly terrible partner and I were just laughing at ourselves. But it was still humilating. Then I went for extra help in AB, which was also slightly humiliating. The extra help session may or may not have helped much. I also had a conversation with the teacher about where I went wrong on the summerwork. Afterwords I realized that I had come across as a terrible snot. I guess I was just trying way too hard to make him believe that I'm smart. I really want people to believe that I'm smart. But I haven't been showing it much in recent math classes. And I really can't figure out why. I'm just... getting worse at math. Maybe I just don't care anymore. But I want to care. Because I want to prove that I'm smart, damnit.

At night there was a football game. The halftime show went better than I had anticipated, but overall the game was just... not that exciting. I was just in a shitty mood. I hung out with Dave and Chris and Bonnie and some other people, and I guess that was okay. But throughout the game I just wanted to go home. (Molly wasn't there. That kind of sucked. I really hope she doesn't have mono. For her sake. And the band's. And Dave's.) Really the only things that cheered me up were Craig's cheers of "Yay football." and "Go... Team." I would be willing to guess that a large percentage of the band has no idea what is going on in any of the football games, and really doesn't care. We just cheer loudly when everyone else does because that's our job. It was refreshing that Craig aknowledged that. Now that I think of it, Craig is sort of becoming the new Eric. Or at least, he's about as sarcastic.

So yes, it's been a pretty shitty week. I'm really not sure why. I just feel unhappy. I feel stressed out. I kind of feel like sitting around playing the Sims 2 for the rest of my life, but not having to pay the consequence of being considered a loser. That's how I feel. And also, I feel terribly socially awkward almost all the time. I don't want to talk to people I don't know. I want to hide in a corner.

Maybe once I settle into a routine it will be okay.