it's in the abc of growing upSo, got there with everything (i am so articulate) &, of course, there were already people there. Got to talk to Ms Helfer & Ms Schweitzer, saw Mr Wineholt, Ms Lesilidze... y'know, stuff. It felt fine at first, though i didn't know anyone there personally. Though, seriously, Abdi Farrah (the infamous Abdi) is one of the nicest people i've ever met. Funny story, actually: he had this poster he'd printed that he wanted to hang in the show, of a guy holding a huge gun & a girl, & these humanoid creatures attacking.
Key words: Huge gun.
Mrs
I mean, not only was it a huge gun (can i emphasize this enough), but everything was pointing towards it. It was like the focal point; there were even action lines. Then there were the suggestions: "What if you stick wings on it & make it into an airplane?" "Can't i name it... 'The Hope Gun'...?" "'Hope dispenser'? Draw a heart on it? Grab a Sharpie...?" "Put a little bit of water coming out of it!" In the end, it obviously didn't go up (i think Abdi went upstairs & asked Mr G), but Abdi was a good sport about it.
We started to hang the show, eventually, which also involved taking staples out of a wall. Some fool didn't have the common courtesy to remove their own blasted staples from the wall, so a bunch of us were using wrenches & screwdrivers to extricate the things. I'm all achy from it. A girl from my year (i forget her name) was telling Mrs McShovlin that whoever did it should be given an F, but i think it was for a senior show, so they're gone by now. We were all not best pleased.
Also, still need to see Inglourious Basterds. Abdi saw it. Cypressi saw District 9. XD
The thing about hanging the show with one's own crap in-- as opposed to last year, when i was helping hang with nothing in-- is that one begins to look at the other stuff-- especially these-- & one has to crush the urge to take one's own shit & kick a goddamned hole in the canvas, which, i suppose, is horrible to say/think, but there it is. Next to all this utterly amazing work, my shit just looked like shit. Instead of making me want to better it, it makes me want to stop. I am pathetic. This is nothing new. On top of this is the sheer, utter lonliness & feeling of not being wanted, even when your once-teacher takes you all out for pizza, as is customary, & a friend shows up. And it doesn't help when one feels guilty about feeling lonely even around said friend, & then of course, talking to teachers about how one has absolutely no direction despite being a college junior, but everyone else seems to at least have goals, know who they are, where they're going, what they want to try to do. And you, you are just this idiotic little fool, with no talent in anything whatsoever & so you really just ought to take your crap home & not even try.
This despite the amusing conversation popping up over lunch, in which Orpheus claimed that Michael Jackson had no balls ("Why do you think his voice was so high?") & Abdi ("I'm a Michael Jackson aficionado.") told him he should do a book of MJ conspiracy theories.
"And illustrate it," he said, then-- "No, wait, don't--"
"It would be a very graphic novel," said the woman sitting next to me, & i laughed.
On top of that is the looming fact that, come 2012, this building will no longer exist. They are building a new school on what were the fields we used for gym classes on good days. Hell, we even painted out there. Supposedly it's going to be "green" & all, but i really can't get over the deliciously cynical fact that they are tearing up green earth & tearing down trees in order to build a "green" building. It also doesn't help that... the Carver i know, the Carver a bunch of classes knew, will simply be gone. No, it's not the same as when we were there, but at least you can still walk in & know where to go. Commons is down that hall, up that stairway. If those doors are locked, you can probably still find a way around, & if those doors are locked, you're going a long way around. Down this hallway you can pass mr Cook's room & see what he's written on the little blackboard today. You know places where things happened-- there's the corner we sat in in the morning, here was so-&-so's senior show, this is the route Kayleigh & i took back to study hall while singing "Prima Donna." Things like that.
By 2012, we won't have that anymore. They're going to tear down our school, for some new building with no memories.
I mean, what about the AP Studios? All the stuff up there, written & everything. And, just, the building is so Carver. Mrs. McDaniel-- Shovlin-- would tell us, in class, the job of an artist is to "take the ordinary & make it extraordinary." Which, i mean, didn't everyone do that with this building? The sculpture room used to be where cars were serviced or whatever. If Theatre had a proper theatre, Carpentry wouldn't have been able to make the awesome set they made for Jekyll & Hide. We did the best we could with what we had, in a box-like building full of the trappings of a trade school or whatever. Some new, fancy, soulless building will not only not have the memories, but also it just won't be the same. Where's the creativity in having everything you need handed to you?
I need to go back some day & take more. Stupid fucking school. It takes years for me to give a damn about you & then you're just going to go get yourself bulldozed down? Goddamn it all.
They've already moved the trailers & roped off the fields.
I apologize if you're seeing this twice.
Lonely
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