The Winter Dance and Such

It's just struck me that I'm going to have a terrible time at the dance tomorrow night.

I mean, everyone else has friends or a date. I'm going to stand as a third-wheel clingy type, or an outside partaker, or a lonely wallflower in the corner eating cookies-- and they're going to run out of cookies because they're not a top priority.

That's the way it always works: I cling.

I don't even have someone to go with, not even a girl, not even a group. I'm not going out to dinner beforehand, apparently. I'm just going to drive my damn car over to the dance and show up, and stay to clean up, and drive home afterward. I'll probably talk to two or three people in the interim, probably people that don't even want me around and that I have to force myself in to get to talk to and converse with them.

It's a pity, really; people have been going on about how pretty my dress is (those who have seen it), and I can't help thinking it's a waste, because no one is going to pay any attention to me. I'll feel pretty . . . but so what?

Maybe I'll go out on a starlit terrace under the winter sky and cry to myself, all alone, and someone will see me and come out and it'd be like some big romantic fantasy . . . lol . . .

. . . you know, because we have a big starlit terrace at Central. We just have a cafeteria-- which I feel guilty about not decorating but I had to babysit.

Screw the dance. Life is better outside.

Alas, I'm forced into it. It's like cafeteria lunches. No matter how many times you try it, you never get used to sitting along at a table in a school cafeteria. I was even pathetic on Wednesday, and, having no one to sit with, went outside and sat with Robert and Alice and pretended to sell tickets with them, of which I am not clocking hours but would have much rather preferred to have done that sit alone. I sort of joked about being pathetic, and Alice said that yes, I was, and that really didn't help because I wasn't joking, I was being vulnerable and hoping for assurance.

I often feel like Alice and Robert don't want me around.

There's no Victorian Tea, either; I couldn't get ahold of the lady in time.

We don't have any of our Christmas stuff up yet, not even the Advent Calendar. We really need to get on that . . . it's my last year, darn it!!!

Last year, when we went to get the tree out of the basement, I was working on the downstairs computer and Dad knocked the tree box against the wall and hit the picture of FDR hanging above the computer and he came flying out at me, and it was freaky.

Presidents with elaborate funerals scare me. That comment that man made in that video about JFK being a fallen king scared me. FDR served too many terms and I'm glad there's a law against that. Reagen getting that crazy elaborate funeral when he didn't die in office is just sort of . . . unsettling.

Anyway, that's my political shpeel for the night.

The Winter Dance and Such

It's just struck me that I'm going to have a terrible time at the dance tomorrow night.

I mean, everyone else has friends or a date. I'm going to stand as a third-wheel clingy type, or an outside partaker, or a lonely wallflower in the corner eating cookies-- and they're going to run out of cookies because they're not a top priority.

That's the way it always works: I cling.

I don't even have someone to go with, not even a girl, not even a group. I'm not going out to dinner beforehand, apparently. I'm just going to drive my damn car over to the dance and show up, and stay to clean up, and drive home afterward. I'll probably talk to two or three people in the interim, probably people that don't even want me around and that I have to force myself in to get to talk to and converse with them.

It's a pity, really; people have been going on about how pretty my dress is (those who have seen it), and I can't help thinking it's a waste, because no one is going to pay any attention to me. I'll feel pretty . . . but so what?

Maybe I'll go out on a starlit terrace under the winter sky and cry to myself, all alone, and someone will see me and come out and it'd be like some big romantic fantasy . . . lol . . .

. . . you know, because we have a big starlit terrace at Central. We just have a cafeteria-- which I feel guilty about not decorating but I had to babysit.

Screw the dance. Life is better outside.

Alas, I'm forced into it. It's like cafeteria lunches. No matter how many times you try it, you never get used to sitting along at a table in a school cafeteria. I was even pathetic on Wednesday, and, having no one to sit with, went outside and sat with Robert and Alice and pretended to sell tickets with them, of which I am not clocking hours but would have much rather preferred to have done that sit alone. I sort of joked about being pathetic, and Alice said that yes, I was, and that really didn't help because I wasn't joking, I was being vulnerable and hoping for assurance.

I often feel like Alice and Robert don't want me around.

There's no Victorian Tea, either; I couldn't get ahold of the lady in time.

We don't have any of our Christmas stuff up yet, not even the Advent Calendar. We really need to get on that . . . it's my last year, darn it!!!

Last year, when we went to get the tree out of the basement, I was working on the downstairs computer and Dad knocked the tree box against the wall and hit the picture of FDR hanging above the computer and he came flying out at me, and it was freaky.

Presidents with elaborate funerals scare me. That comment that man made in that video about JFK being a fallen king scared me. FDR served too many terms and I'm glad there's a law against that. Reagen getting that crazy elaborate funeral when he didn't die in office is just sort of . . . unsettling.

Anyway, that's my political shpeel for the night.