Things - 3/5/2007 in 2005 - 2007: High School

I am in one of those weird moods right now. I spent the whole day at school wondering what was going on. I sort of felt like I was somewhere else. I laughed a lot. I got upset a few times. I don't want to go to school anymore.

Saturday after work I hung out with Molly, and we watched The Science of Sleep. It was very artsy and indie, but I liked it. It was about a guy who gets his dreams confused with reality, and his obsession with a girl. I liked that it doesn't make much sense, in the same way that Ghost World doesn't make much sense, in the same way that life doesn't make much sense. I liked that only as the film goes on do you realize just how crazy the main character really is. And how the love interest doesn't seem pretty at first, but she becomes pretty as he comes to find her pretty. I cried at the line, "because you're different, and everyone else is boring, and you don't like me Stephanie." I think that I only cry at movies for selfish reasons.

I hope that at least one of you has seen The Science of Sleep. You guys should see it.

It's a little weird that at this point I'm writing for a specific, select group of people. I appreciate that you guys read my diary even though I'm really terrible about reading yours.

After the movie we talked. It was a good conversation. Maybe everything is over. Maybe everything is fine. We are going to the Berklee jazz festival together. (Mr. Casto says that the band cannot participate in it this year because we are not good enough. But he suggested that we all go. Good ol' Mr. Casto.) Dave cannot go because he is touring a college. College. This college thing is sad and screwed up and makes me feel helpless. I cannot help that things are ending, they will whether I want them to or not. I also cannot do anything about the fact that I want to go to college. I want to leave. That is the sad part.

Sunday I worked for eight hours. I was happy. I am friendly at work. Somehow I just decided that I was not going to be that quiet girl at this job, so I'm not. I talk quite a bit to a fat friendly quasi-goth in my class who I sort of know, and I am making an effort to get to know other people. I'm sure Ann Whatsherface would be proud of me. I was going to her for a while. It wasn't going very well. I'm starting to think that maybe I just don't get therepy. I don't get what I'm supposed to do in it, and I don't get how it's supposed to help me. Anyway, because of the job I don't think I'll be going anymore. Again.

I find myself wanting to talk a lot about the job. I am not sure why. I guess it's because I get the sense that there is an entire culture centered around Brueggers, like there is a culture centered around band and things, and it is exciting that I get to enter into that culture. There is a shift manager who gave her two weeks notice a week ago. She spends most of her time hanging around in the back room not doing anything. On Sunday she blew up a bunch of yellow balloons and wrote things on them with sharpie like "Happy Birthday Bagels" and "FUCK".

"Did you know that it is bagels' birthday today?" she said to me when I went back there.

"I did not."

"They were all born. Today."

"Why are there balloons back here?"

"I dunno. I found them. Hey, I wonder if there's helium."

There was. She started inhaling it straight from the tank.

"Uh - I heard that that's not a good idea. Like it's dangerous..."

"It's okay, I do cocaine and shit."

This shift manager talks to me when I am doing the dishes. "So how do you like the job?"

"It's alright. I mean, it's a lot better than my old job."

"You used to work at that one that's run by that family, right?"

"Yeah. I think they were a lot more uptight about stuff because it was like, their store."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Well people are pretty relaxed around here. I mean, Pat's pretty awesome. Plus, you can always come back and have a job. I mean, I quit, and I can still come back and have a job. If they offer you shift though, say no. No way you want to get into that shit. It fucking sucks."

And suchlike.

I think my writing style's pretty weird sometimes. I'm not entirely sure whether it is a good idea to write this way. I'm not entirely sure I know what I'm doing. I know my new English teacher wouldn't approve of the way I write when I write on my own. I'm not sure whether I have any respect for her. I have no respect for the class.

I've always wanted to write a revised diary. You know, like after it all happened, going back and writing it over again. You could edit out things that are insignificant, and put in things that are that you forgot. There are a few of those. There are a few things that could have made very powerful entries that it is now too late to write about. And there are some things that the diary could do without. On the other hand, there are things that I guessed about incredibly well. I remember writing the entry where I introduced Speedy and wondering why the hell I was writing that entry. I didn't think it was significant at all. It turned out to be the introduction of a fairly significant character.

I guess that would just be a "memoir". I guess people do that. I also guess that I tried that already, and I gave up on it, the same way I give up on almost everything I start writing.