2003-07-17 - 2:34 p.m. Dreams 8 Blending
I yelp, a short gasp of breath. I can still see my skin, and the clothes that I wear, but they are not being reflected. I am invisible. I get very excited, but still shower, brush my teeth, and comb my hair. I don�t shave though. Cause screw it!!! I head out for high school, and before I know it I am there. The very first thing I do is go into the girl�s bathroom. I have never been in here before and it�s strange. It�s red? I expected pink. And there is a condom dispenser. That�s weird for a school. No urinals. I then realize that the dispenser isn�t for condoms. A cute girl walks in and goes into the stall. I contemplate looking, but realize that this isn�t really the best spot for that. I mean, she doing something I don�t want to be a part of. I head out to my locker. I am going to skip homeroom, because it�s not like people will think I am here anyway. Sam is getting his books out for the day, and John is with him. I start knocking the books out of Sam�s hands. Sam tells John to quit it. John gets all sassy, knowing he didn�t knock the books down. Sam in turn gets sassy and starts telling John to tone down the sassyness. They get into a �what are you going to do about it talk.� I laugh at the fight I caused. John here�s my laugh and grows suspicious almost immediately. I need to stay away from him. He will figure it out. Now that I am invisible, the only thing I want to do is see naked girls. It�s so immature. But I can�t figure out how to see naked girls. I think that their should be some sort of room where only girls get to go and they can hit each other with lace pillows and be naked. This place will exist in case an adolescent male is lucky enough to become invisible and can sneak it. I think that the place should be used as a waiting room for girls getting that scoliosis back test done in school. They could just chill out in the naked lace pillow room, until the nurse calls them to see if their backs okay. This should be done daily. Of course the question always is; what do you do when you are looking at a horde of naked girls? Do you watch as were it a ballet of nudity, appreciating the art form? Do you drop the drawers and join them? Do you just join yourself? I feel that any of the options are just going to leave me being dirty. But look at me all invisible, and nothing to do. I suppose I will use this to eavesdrop. I am in the teachers lounge. Its smoky, and Mr. Thomas is trying to wrestle peanut M&M�s out of the vending machine. One last chocolate high before he returns to those accursed children. Ms Jason is painting her nails. Mr. Cubbage is looking for chalk and complaining how there is never enough chalk in his room. �some one MUST be stealing it� Everyone looks sad and lonely, and waits as the time passes. As I wait with them, it depresses me. A few of the older adults are flirting and being raunchy, but its gross. There is something less appealing about hearing adults talk about sex. I head out to the caf�. I am no longer interested in getting adult dirt. I am interested in listing to what the popular girls think. They all sit at the same table during lunch, and I bet they are going to talk about something juicy. As I approach their table I sit in a buffer chair in between them an another group. The start talking about class and how they don�t want to be here. Then Kristy says, �How about that Kevin Hinckley kid. He�s pretty cute huh? Another says, �I like that Sam kid, he�s hot!� And the list goes on: Wants to make dirty films with Kerbang, Get spanked by Bill, Shoot paintballs with Ready, Hump with Gump, Go to the mile high club with needles. I didn�t know girls felt this way. They kept talking about how cool we were. I kept waiting for one of them to say �not!!!� I started feeling sleepy. One of the girls had moved her hot lunch to in front of where I was sitting. My eyes started to shut and my head began to lean forward. The next thing I feel is the smothering of gravey and mash potatoes. I can never smell anything in my dreams. I wake up face down in my pillow, with drool coming out of my mouth. **attractive ** I already can�t wait for this day to be over. 3/14/93 The thing about middle school is that you are invisible. You aren�t on anyone�s radar. Except for the bullies; the bullies from grade school who just haven�t yet let go of the dream. The bullies who spit on you because their Dad beats them up. The bullies who get locked in their own closets as the dad takes �work� out on mom; then they come to school and whip dodgeballs at you. You wonder why kids are so screwed up. But bullies drop off the map like articles about SARS, and you being to become unimportant. When you were targeted by a mean kid, people stayed away from you. By the end of eight grade, the concept of bullies kinda disappears, and morphs into tough kids. These are kids you don�t want to fight, but probably won�t fight with you either. Bullies who realize they can be punished. One day in gym I was playing soccer. This was it as far as it went for gym and me. I was good at soccer. I never go picked last for any of the teams, but I got picked first for this one. (and badminton [ just kidding; I sucked at that too]). This was when it was still when boys and girls played together. I love girls, and I like guys, but let me tell you, we were not built to play sports together. I understand that there are girls who could kick my ass, and then break my ankles on the basketball court, but I maintain that we were not built to play together. I make no judgement on either�s talent. See my statement comes from experience. This day, in soccer, in the early spring. I was playing forward. I usually play defense. I am not a finesse player. I am a brute. I hit, check, and smash my way to the ball. Now, in a co-ed gym class I toned it down, saved for the occasional revenge on a kid who just thinks he�s better than me. But I try to stay reasonable in my play. But I wanted to score. I wanted to show the class that I was the best at this sport and that they couldn�t stop me. As I was coming up the right side of the field I had penetrated the defense. I was probably about 30 yards away from the goal. In net sat Jason Soo Ho. He was not a goalie, nor was he a skilled athelete. Hi chances of getting my shot were slim; even slimmer if I put some pepper on my steak. And I am talking Kate Moss slim. So I wound up. * Pause *I was on some bad teams. Real bad teams. I played sweeper. My secondary job was to take all the goal kicks. I had a good boot, for being 14 years old. * Unpause * She knew how to play, and she knew to stop this shot required a slide tackle. She was probably right. * Freeze * Jara Finnagan played defense for the girls team. He in class she was good enough to be their sweeper. She was really good at soccer. After this she switched to field hockey. *Unfreeze* I shot the ball as hard as I could at Jason. So hard I tripped after the shot. I felt like I hit that ball so hard I had popped it. But then I realized two things. The first which made me upset was that I didn�t score. The ball shanked away. The second was because I realized that I wasn�t the reason it shanked. Jara had slide tackled me, but her foot got in-between my leg and the ball. I kicked her right above the ankle as hard as I could, and broke her leg in two places. The police were called, and her father, the chief of police, arrived on the scene first. The other children had already convince me that I was going to be arrested. I wasn�t crying, and I wasn�t hurt. Both surprised me. I was afraid of getting arrested though. �I can�t believe that you would do that?� Kristen Joel said to me, �why did you kick her?� �I didn�t kick her. I mean on purpose. I was trying to shoot it!� �Well you didn�t shoot it. You broke her leg. We are mad at you.� Jill Kloppenburg informed me. �Well, I didn�t mean to. Why are you mad. I didn�t break your leg!� �We aren�t speaking to you anymore.� ---good--- I thought it; I didn�t say it. Jara was going to be okay. She wouldn�t go to the dance with Doug, she got really dumb, and she played wheelchair basketball for the rest of her life. Just kidding, she dated upper-class guys in high school and was a field hockey (hottie) chick. She teased me about the leg thing until � well � forever. I just remember that I was utterly rejected by the group again in gym. I remember that I started getting picked last, and that fewer people were talking to me. It was liked they were picking sides. There was no side to pick. It was an accident! Maybe I was a little negligent, but I was 14!!! I did feel bad for her. I didn�t want to engage with anyone from that class. I turned introverted. For those last few months, I faded into the background. I waited and looked forward to high school. | |||||||||||
