Paperback Writer

The word paper has finally been turned in. I was the first in my class to turn it in (I made sure to get it out of my backpack in third hour, right before English, and have it ready as I entered the English room), so I should be one of the first to get it back, if she does things the way she did for the trial paper. Jenny and Ross both read it at Barnes and Noble on Sunday, and said it was pretty good. After spending a lot of time painstakingly laying out the body paragraphs and searching for the right word order, I slapped together the conclusion in five to ten minutes. I just sat down and wrote, and left it the way it came out. As a conclusion, it's pretty bad, but it made me smile, particularly my completely random reference to "discarding regret in a forgotten Dumpster of unpleasant emotions." Don't know where that came from, but I kind of like it.

Okay, so no more going on about the paper. Sorry if I've been boring. Last night was Scoopie night for Quiz Bowl. It's this fundraiser thing at Culver's; members from a club or organization greet customers as they enter, take trays to tables, and so on, and try to get people to turn in little cards when they pay so that ten percent of the profits goes to the group. It wasn't bad; before my shift, I ate supper with Josh Boykin, Amy Nyberg, and Laura Burns, all people from school whom I don't know well but who seem nice and smart and everything. It was a little awkward; there were a lot of inside jokes and references to people I don't know, but at least I didn't have to eat alone. I worked the second shift, greeting people at the door and trying to get them to use the little cards. Ryan and Tyler worked that shift, too, and Alex Sward and Lindsey Pearson came to eat, so I had fun chatting with them. A fair number of Auburn teachers came, too, including the Longhenrys and their son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter. Those two are very cute with their granddaughter, a lot of baby talk and stuff I never would have expected. I always thought the Longhenrys were very serious, erudite people, and they are brilliant, but they also have a lot of corny everydayness in them. It's nice to watch.

Today the newspaper came out at school. I felt kind of embarrassed all day because I had six articles in this paper, up from zero last time and one or two in every other issue this year. Freshman and sophomore year I wrote a lot more, but this year people seem to assume that I have a lot of work to do as the editor and don't have time to write regular articles. This does mean that I get to write a lot more fun stuff, like book reviews and scathing editorials, and I have to turn press releases into short articles once in a while, which is easy and the kind of work I like. I always hate having to approach people for quotes. People either say stupid things or don't want to comment, or I just forget to ask people until I get to newspaper each day.

My most infamous article in this issue was an angry editorial written after my recent encounter with the hall aides, basically about how they shouldn't be so rude, and also that enforcing rules at the expense of the system they're supposed to uphold is stupid. I got a lot of comments, which was flattering but a little embarrassing. Several people shared their own hall aide stories. When I walked into English, Mrs. Longhenry said something like, "Nice article. Go for it," making me feel like I'd done something endearing but kind of dumb. I don't know. Then, later, while Lindsey Claeyssen was lecturing, doing a Lacanian interpretation of James Joyce's short story "Araby" (which, by the way, we've analyzed in every high school English class so far), Mrs. Longhenry interrupted and said something like, "If you want to know about objectification, read Colleen's article. That's what the hall aides did to you, they made you an object, and you stood up to them." Cue every head in the room swiveling to stare at me, an awkward silence broken by Lindsey's feeble "Go, Colleen" and clapping, and several people in the room grabbing newspapers and flipping through them to the article. I feel silly complaining--people tend to be annoyed by excessive modesty, as if the person's fishing for compliments or something--but it was highly embarrassing. I felt my face get bright red. A lot of the day was like that, actually; I'd hear people talking about the article or about the paper in general and not know where to look.

Think for Yourself

The other night, I went to the Youth Charity Jam. It's a concert put on by In Youth We Trust (a group Sonya's part of) to raise money for some community thing and to give local teen bands exposure. The music was okay; some of it was good, and I did miss the last three bands, so maybe there were some better ones. The best part of the entertainment was when Mike Hahn joined a band from Auburn onstage to sing and play the kazoo. Mike Hahn is the brunt of many a joke at Auburn, from his indignation at the Germanic tribes being called "barbarians" in freshman world history class to a legendary incident in which his watch went off in class, so he threw it out the window--and then tried to go out after it. He's just a funny kid.

More than watching and/or listening to the show, though, I enjoyed hanging out and seeing various friends. Sonya, April, and Ellen were there, and I hung out with them for most of the night; I also saw, from Auburn, Adam Morand, Laura Burns (and boyfriend), Amy, and Rick (for a short while, we sat in the back of Amy's banana-yellow truck), as well as Thomas Harris, Joslin, Jenny, and James Phelan. There were a few faces from the past there, too: Grant Anderson, from elementary school, played in one of the bands; Hannah Gough, also from elementary school, was one of the announcers; Jonathan Widergren, an old friend with whom I once put on a play called "Harriet Tubman and Andrew Jackson" (made no sense and involved a lot of tomatoes, I seem to recall), appeared; and Pier Debes, a sort of enemy from middle school, was walking around in a checkered fedora.

Most significantly, I saw the Stallings. When my sister and I attended Montessori, a progressive preschool, Valerie Stallings was the lunch lady, and her kids, Samantha and twins Michael and Caitlin (who are my age), went to school there. The families were friends; I remember them coming to our house. The school later closed and was torn down (it's now a barren field in the middle of town), and we used to see the Stallings occasionally, but I hadn't seen them for years. While sitting around at the Youth Charity Jam, I noticed a kid walking around that looked oddly familiar, but I couldn't place him. Then I saw a girl who also looked very familiar, but again, I couldn't place her. (I made no connection between the two at the time). Then I saw Samantha, and I remembered Emmanuel telling me that Samantha had been involved with the Charity Jam (his band, Prometheus, tried out but didn't make it into the concert). Suddenly, I made the connection, realizing that the other two kids were Michael and Caitlin. With Sonya, who knows the Stallings from In Youth We Trust, I got up the courage to approach Michael. I said, "Hi. You probably don't remember me, but we went to preschool--" He pointed at my face and cried, "Maureen!" "No, Colleen..." After a few slightly awkward moments of conversation, he walked away. Later, Caitlin came over and said hi. I never spoke to either of them again, though both waved to me when they happened to pass by. All right, so this whole incident is probably boring anyone reading this out of her skull, but I was excited (not least, I must admit, because Michael Stallings is not hard to look at).

Yesterday my family visited Marquette University in Milwaukee. It seems really nice; small enough for a sense of closeness and minimal walking between buildings, but large enough to be pretty diverse. Plus, it's Catholic, and I think I'd enjoy being around people who share and understand my faith. It would certainly be a change from Auburn. The main drawback--and it's pretty big--is that Marquette doesn't have film studies, the major I had decided I wanted. It does have a good journalism program, though, and I could still get into being a film critic or a columnist that way. It's just a different door. This summer, I'm going to visit Washington University in St. Louis (probably on the way to quiz bowl camp) and maybe some others that do have film studies, so I'll make the comparison. By the end of the summer, hopefully, I'll have something planned.

It just seems like every time I have a plan for my future, I somehow get thrown for a loop. Like planning to major in film studies, but turning out to really like a school that doesn't have that. Today at lunch, I was explaining some point when my mom said, pretty much out of the blue, "You should think about being a lawyer." I have never even given a thought to law. She claims that I like to argue, which is definitely true, but most of my arguments end with me getting in my opponent's face and yelling things like, "Uh-uh!" and "Shut up!" and "You're stupid!" Law just seems boring. Arguing isn't necessarily a huge part of it. I guess part of what made my mom think of it is that I was talking about a kid at my church that I'm predicting to be a wife-beater. He brags constantly about himself, especially about how he can beat up people, and demands perfection, plus he seems to have a low regard for women in general. He goes out with a girl at church named Anna. Other than her affinity for this kid, she's really smart and nice. Anyway, my mom said I should defend women who murder their abusive husbands. Oh, nice. Really sounds like something I'm interested in.

I'm finally done with my word paper! I think. Tonight I'm meeting with Aashesh, Ross, and maybe some others so we can proofread each other's papers. They'll probably find a few errors, but I think I've done okay. Other than that, this paper is done. Of course, now I worry about how I'll do grade-wise, but at least for a week or so, I can relax. Until Mrs. Longhenry starts handing papers back. I'm actually pretty happy with the paper overall. After a lot of floundering around, unsure about my philosopher and my poem, I found ones that really work well with my paper, and I was able to use them nicely. I also found some good literary criticism and ended up using my novel in, I think, a good way. My intro's nice, and my conclusion makes me smile, even if it's not exactly structurally perfect. I worried that it wasn't much like the sample papers, but then I remembered what Mrs. L. said about this paper defining who you are, and I decided that even if it's not like what Du'aa Elnoory or Lindsey Claeyssen did, it works for me. I'm not Du'aa or Lindsey, so my paper shouldn't be like theirs.

I keep pestering my dad to take me to get my driver's license. I don't particularly like driving, but I'm tired of having my parents tote me everywhere, and sick of my friends having licenses when I don't. I'll be seventeen on May 18; I had better have my license by then.

You Won't See Me

Well, I made it through another week, much like the previous one in that we had a lot of homework. I still have the word paper, but it's actually pretty close to being done. I just have to somehow include the Syntopicon (a two-volume set of essays about concepts like Love, Self, and so on. Regret was not in there, so I copied the essay for Experience, but I don't know how to fit it into my paper), poetry criticism, and Freud, which Mrs. L. keeps insisting is important, though I'm not sure how to work it in.

On Saturday, I'm going to visit Marquette. I'm going to try to keep an open mind--maybe I'll end up loving the place--but even though I'm going to visit it, I kind of doubt that I'll actually go there. Most of my decisions about my future change quickly, but right now I'm pretty sure that I want to major in film studies, a program that Marquette doesn't have. The history of film and criticism of film sounds fascinating to me. Plus, I have a kind of promise I have to live up to. Last year at QB Nationals in New Orleans, during one of our late-night talks in Bandy and Melanie's room, I said that I wanted to be a film critic. It was during a discussion of our dream jobs, regardless of money and schooling, and not especially meant to be a serious ambition, but Laura wrote in my yearbook that I should go for it: "If anyone can do it, you can," she wrote. Which was pretty nice, and kind of inspiring. I use the term "promise" loosely here; it's not like I'm going to pursue a career in film criticism at all costs, but I realize that it really is something I'd like to do, more than any of my previous half-hearted goals of being an English teacher or something. And all those tests we have to take that say what career you should have always place me in Communications, which I think film studies falls under.

We had a meeting at lunch yesterday to decide which Nationals we want to go to this year. I don't think anyone is particularly excited about going at all. School will be over, people have SATs and ACTs those weekends, and no one really cares that much. Last year, Nationals was like a fun class trip, plus it was a closing note on the seniors' high school career, not just in quiz bowl, but as a group of friends. This year, with only one senior--and Will told me today that he's probably not going, because of the money thing--he's saving up for college, obviously, plus there's Mr. McCoy's Canada trip--it will have a lot less finality, nostalgia, etc. And we're not going to New Orleans, but Chicago. Yay... I'm usually the one who tries to motivate people, but I've completely lost all my desire to be in quiz bowl at all. I'll have to think seriously about whether I really want to do it next year. All right, so I probably will end up doing it, but I'm kind of dreading--rather than eagerly anticipating, as I used to--all the practices and meetings and Saturday tournaments it all entails. Hopefully camp, this summer, will get me motivated.

Camp, by the way, is an entirely different situation. Answering actual questions isn't the thing I like most about quiz bowl, but obviously it's a big part of it; that's usually muddied up by Ms. Greene and school and winter and so on. At camp, the answering questions is a big and fun part of it, but there's also hanging out with people and having a lot of fun, without all the pressure. That's probably what I hated most about this past year: as a starter on the A team, I'm constantly blamed for stuff I didn't know or didn't get fast enough, whereas on the B team, no one really cared. Including the players (last year, Will, Bandy, Mike, Maia, Arpeet, and I). I'm really looking forward to going to camp this year, especially to see my friends from last year. Hopefully they're all coming back.

Eight Days a Week

All year I've been complacent in my belief that the "myth" of the horrible junior year is blown a bit out of proportion. True, I don't have physics or gov/econ this year, but I do have AP world history, which I'd say is a pretty hard class, and the year hasn't been that bad.

Then this month hit. We came back from spring break and got gobsmacked (to borrow a phrase from Sha'Donna) with work...a map activity, textbook notes, and a take-home test in history, sentence patterns and a practice PSAE in English, a bunch of worksheets in biology, and all this on top of the word paper, a huge bio project, and fast-approaching AP tests. The seniors in history are pretty philosophical about all this; apparently, this is how the month before AP tests usually goes, but for us juniors it's rather staggering. At least I made it through this week, and my ACT test this morning; now I'm just focusing on the third week of May. AP, SAT, PSAE (what an alphabet soup) will be over, as will the word paper my mom will have graduated, I'll be seventeen (not that that has anything to do with schoolwork, but it's a nice thought)...

I shouldn't complain so much, though, and make it seem like my life has been one torture after another. I got to see a couple of friends on Jeopardy this week (watching Jeopardy and eating Pop-Tarts after school has been a nice respite): Paul Gutowski, an Auburn graduate who's been practicing with the QB team, and Michael Braun, a horribly cocky but quirkily endearing kid from a couple of years ago at quiz bowl camp. Paul won; Michael didn't, but both were close games.

I also watched Garden State, which is my new favorite movie, with my new favorite soundtrack. In fact, I think I'm going to ask for it for my birthday. Simon and Garfunkel and The Shins? It's quite nice.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps

I recently read Nick Hornby's book High Fidelity (which I've heard is a great movie with John Cusack, but I haven't gotten around to seeing it), and although a lot of it went over my head because I'm neither a) British, b) a man, nor c) very familiar with '70s and '80s pop music, I really enjoyed certain parts of it. This one passage in particular reminded me of myself: "See, records have helped me to fall in love, no question. I hear something new, with a chord change that melts my guts, and before I know it I'm looking for someone, and before I know it I've found her. I fell in love with Rosie...after I fell in love with a Cowboy Junkies song; I played it and played it and played it, and it made me dreamy, and I needed someone to dream about..."

As I thought about it, I realize that a lot of my embarrassing, futile crushes over the years have been centered around a certain album or a certain song that I associate with the person. Andy Jones, 1999-2000? The Lion King soundtrack, which I was playing the piano music for at the time; I remember sighing over "Can You Feel the Love Tonight." (Hey, I was twelve.) Ross Makulec, 2001? The Beatles 1 album, especially "Eight Days a Week." That was the first Beatles album I ever listened to, and that song did "melt my guts."

Earlier this year--and this is painful to admit--I had a crush on a sophomore called Adam Garner. I would say that about forty percent of it was based on the Wallflowers' "Breach," which I was obsessed with at the time (the other sixty percent equally divided between his casual cuteness and his good writing skills, which I came across through newspaper and which have been wasted because of his laziness). There was one song, "Sleepwalker," that I always used to link to Adam: "Let me in, let me drown or learn how to swim/Just don't leave me at the window/I could be the one to be your next best friend/You may need someone to hold you..."
I still love the album, but Adam got on my nerves, I have to admit. Too smooth and too lazy.

I need to stop mooning about and playing CDs for these guys and do something productive. I know it's common for teenaged girls to spend a lot of time with obsessions with boys (I read an article about it online), but I can't help not wanting to be a stereotype.

Every Little Thing

Compared to Christmas break, spring break so far (I shouldn't say so far; it's almost over) (sigh) has been pretty uneventful. I did finally get out of the house the last two days. On Wednesday, I was going to call up a friend or two and go do something, but I couldn't think of anything to do, so I just went to the mall with my sister and walked around for a while. It was a gorgeous day; maybe we should have gone to the park. Now I regret not taking advantage of some of these nice days we've had this break. (And the sad thing is that every time I use the word "regret" now, I think of the word paper, which still looms menacingly over my head.)

When we got home that day, April had called me, wanting to go to a game night at her church, so I went. We played Scrabble with a woman named Erica, and then played this Disney music game where you had to listen to songs from Disney movies and know facts about them, first by ourselves and then with some other girls I didn't know. For some reason, I was really paranoid about being Catholic there, like they were going to try and convert me or something. When I went to Summerama, the day camp at First Free, no one ever said anything about Catholics, but at Vertical Extreme, the camp I went to at Rockford Christian, one of my counselors, Mr. Jones, said a lot of stuff about how he hated Catholics. Mr. Jones was an all-around bad guy, really conceited and snooty, although I probably provoked it by being really annoying (I complained a lot about having to play outside, to which he responded, "This is a summer camp. You're going to be outside!"). I was just annoyed at endless games of Capture the Flag and kickball. Once my sister and I, instead of playing kickball, snuck off to the far end of the field and played around in the sprinklers that were going back there. It was a lot of fun, but then we were soaking wet for the rest of the day. I can't remember whether we got in trouble or not.

Anyway, after the game night, April asked me if I could stay the night. My parents agreed to it, which surprised me; usually they're against sleepovers, but it wasn't like I had any plans for the following day. We played hopscotch in the dark, played the Carmen Sandiego board game, painted, watched TV, and made apple cinnamon muffins. I got to see The Daily Show for the first time, so now I know what all the fuss is about. It was certainly funny, although maybe a tad risque at some parts.

For the rest of the day, I just hung out and did homework, until Ellen called and invited me over, along with April. We just hung out and talked (and ate) for a few hours, but it was fun. Sonya came over later, too, after work, but April and I had to leave soon after she arrived. I've noticed that we can all do and say stupid things in front of each other without getting too embarrassed; we'll all tease each other about them later, but not in a mean way. Like when I blurted out something about the Jello eggs in the fridge looking like baby bottles, or when Sonya accidentally ate a Reese's peanut butter cup with the wrapper still on. With some other friends, I feel like I'm on my toes to be smooth and in control. It's nice to just be able to hang out with people.

Today I've got to get some homework done. The week has gone by way too fast, and I haven't even looked at my word paper (although I did make a PowerPoint presentation about mammals for AP bio, which was awesome, if I say so myself. I don't consider myself a really girly girl, but I did do the whole "Awww!" thing when I found some photos online of baby seals, and squealed when I had to get pictures of rats. Horses, however, still do nothing for me). Maybe later I'll go see a movie, although the selection looks painfully thin (it may be a choice between "Miss Congeniality 2" and "Ice Princess," or something equally mind-numbing).