Cleaning Out the Past

What better way to get myself in the mood for graduation than cleaning up my room some more? Digging back up old memories attached to those tangible things which provide them, glancing at them for one last moment, and then throwing them away forever, left with only the memory, if it stays, with nothing left to bring it back to attachment.

I feel like I should be right back in 9th grade. I guess it's mostly because I've been looking through all of my old 9th grade things, my old backpack, which, well, hasn't been cleaned up since then . . . I just got a new one, lol . . . but, for some reason, 9th grade seems to be hitting me right now. I suppose I'll feel like a 4th or 5th grader when I clean all of that stuff back out of my closet . . .

It's really surprising me how well I'm handling this. I'm throwing aways years of stuff . . . some of it really isn't that important, and I'm saving most that IS important, but, still . . . locking it away in bins, knowing that's the only place where it's going to be from now on, as my room becomes open game for anyone, as I can't just sift through any of it any old time that I like . . . as I can't come back and stay nestled in it. My photographic memory will lose its practice, as I have so many memories of simply just WHERE things are. Those will be pointless memories, now . . . unless I want to go back and put everything back where I found it, someday, like if I buy the house from my parents or something.

I guess for the longest time I'd always just had this hope that my room would remain the way as it was forever and ever, as like a sort of shrine to me . . . I guess that memory just sort of stays coupled with the belief that I was going to die before now, too . . . and that maybe the family would just save the room as it was, so that they could walk in and feel my aura all over again, and remember me . . . and I'd have left them plenty of hints about my personality and things to discover, should they choose to search for them.

That's what I'm doing . . . de-aura-izing my room. That's crazy. Yet I do believe that that is true . . . I don't have a soul home-base anymore . . .

I'm crazy.

Anyway, I'm going off to commencement rehearsal in a bit, and I need to eat lunch.

(WTF-- they remade that "Listen to Your Heart" song??? I just heard it on the radio . . . that song's only like 10 years old . . . okay, maybe 15, but . . . shut up . . . )

Cleaning Out the Past

What better way to get myself in the mood for graduation than cleaning up my room some more? Digging back up old memories attached to those tangible things which provide them, glancing at them for one last moment, and then throwing them away forever, left with only the memory, if it stays, with nothing left to bring it back to attachment.

I feel like I should be right back in 9th grade. I guess it's mostly because I've been looking through all of my old 9th grade things, my old backpack, which, well, hasn't been cleaned up since then . . . I just got a new one, lol . . . but, for some reason, 9th grade seems to be hitting me right now. I suppose I'll feel like a 4th or 5th grader when I clean all of that stuff back out of my closet . . .

It's really surprising me how well I'm handling this. I'm throwing aways years of stuff . . . some of it really isn't that important, and I'm saving most that IS important, but, still . . . locking it away in bins, knowing that's the only place where it's going to be from now on, as my room becomes open game for anyone, as I can't just sift through any of it any old time that I like . . . as I can't come back and stay nestled in it. My photographic memory will lose its practice, as I have so many memories of simply just WHERE things are. Those will be pointless memories, now . . . unless I want to go back and put everything back where I found it, someday, like if I buy the house from my parents or something.

I guess for the longest time I'd always just had this hope that my room would remain the way as it was forever and ever, as like a sort of shrine to me . . . I guess that memory just sort of stays coupled with the belief that I was going to die before now, too . . . and that maybe the family would just save the room as it was, so that they could walk in and feel my aura all over again, and remember me . . . and I'd have left them plenty of hints about my personality and things to discover, should they choose to search for them.

That's what I'm doing . . . de-aura-izing my room. That's crazy. Yet I do believe that that is true . . . I don't have a soul home-base anymore . . .

I'm crazy.

Anyway, I'm going off to commencement rehearsal in a bit, and I need to eat lunch.

(WTF-- they remade that "Listen to Your Heart" song??? I just heard it on the radio . . . that song's only like 10 years old . . . okay, maybe 15, but . . . shut up . . . )

Commencement Rehearsal and Plans and The Pants Book And Movie

Bush's Stubborness May Be Hindering Him. Huh. I could have told you that, a LOOONG time ago . . .

I practiced my violin again, and cleaned up a little bit more of my room, as I mentioned before . . . slowly, but steadily, lol . . . as this is definitely going to be an all-summer-long project, lol . . .

Commencement rehearsal was hell. We show up, on time, and they harrass us at the front door about IDs as if they don't know who we are. Someone even made Seth get a sign-in sticker, since he didn't have his. I mean, come on, you people at the front desk have to know Seth . . . Also, the people who came late WEREN'T harrassed . . . it was ridiculous . . . even people walking right in front of me weren't . . . it was just some special people targeted, or something . . .

Then we get to the auditorium and everyone's just about found their seats, when the fire alarm goes off. We all flee like the dickens outside, and then we stand there in the hot sunlight and humidity for about 20 minutes. Seriously-- it was that long, not just the five-minute waits that FEEL long because's it's cold or too hot. There was a fight that almost got started out there, so a lot of milling around, and some girl almost passed out, too, on the way back in. It was like last year (when I was wearing my Moony shirt, lol . . . ), when the gymnasium light caught on fire, lol . . . only a much worse wait, and no fire trucks, apparently . . .

So we all go back in, and Mr. Gerard starts explaining the process for the commencement ceremony. Then the fire alarm goes off AGAIN. He calls it "technical difficulties," and we're forced to stay inside. That's illegal, as far as I know.

I've heard eight kids are suspended for the first week of the school year next year. That's crazy. I wonder who they are.

So then we practice the ceremony. I got to at least stand under the bleachers for a while, until I was able to processional out-- the one benefit I've EVER found to have a later last name . . . the A-Ks were all out in the sunshine the whole time (so, ha ha to you all, eating your lunches and getting your awards first forever and ever! lol . . . ). IT WAS HOT AS HELL. We sat in seats that burned our backsides (black plastic) and everyone kept stealing Tarrah's open house invitations to fan themselves with, lol . . . I couldn't hear anything, because the microphone echoed, but I didn't really want to, anyway, because I couldn't even concentrate. I felt like boiled shrimp, sweating and gasping for air. It was ridiculous.

They did end up letting us go home early, since it was so hot. Only the first three rows got to practice, lol . . . Nichole is a lucky, lucky girl, getting sick and not having to show up, lol . . . and she still gets to walk in the ceremony, should she so choose.

It's going to be worse on Sunday. We're going to be dressed nicely-- guys in pants and ties, even, REQUIRED-- and covered in plasticine fabric for our caps and gowns, lol . . . plus we're out there for THREE HOURS or something like that . . . Andrew, Mr. Mow . . . talk fast . . . Kylie, say that Pledge of Allegiance like there's no tomorrow . . . lol . . .

Mom's calling Grama and Winston and telling them not to come because it's going to be so hot. They'd pass out. It's not worth it.

Anyway, so I'm confused about plans for tomorrow. Originally, I was going to see the Pants movie today, and then do the movie night with Liz tomorrow, and bring Jamien along if he could make it.

Then I found out Liz meant for the movie night thing to be a movie day-- like at noon or so (which, for future reference, Liz, if it's at my house, drives my dad crazy like no other . . . he'll harrass us to no end if it's a "beautiful day" we're sitting inside watching movies). Then Nichole got sick (yes, on top of her accident, she then began throwing up this morning-- completely accident unrelated) and I got too pressed for time, since the showing was late and I had to be inducted into Tri Kappa tonight. So now that's scheduled for tomorrow. It works best for Nichole at the 7:00 showing. I don't know how the movie thing with Liz is working out, since she hasn't gotten on yet to talk to me about it, but it can still fit in before. Jamien, I think you got screwed in all of this . . . I don't think you really want to come see the Pants movie, lol, and you said you couldn't be here until about 7-ish, right? *Sigh* We'll have to find some other time, then . . .

Anyway, the Pants movie . . . in case you're wondering, NO, we're not going because we expect a lot out of it, lol. I read that book way back on a plane flight to occupy myself, and then I loaned it to Nichole and Kristina each because they found it in my room and began cracking up over the ludicrisy of it. The whole book is so ridiculous, lol . . . very sappy, sentimental, worse than chick-flick . . . yeah . . .

Thing Kristina and I have been talking about: Wouldn't those pants be really nasty? They aren't allowed to wash them, as part of the pact. They'd be so dirty-- particularly since it's summer, and one would sweat in heavy denim like that. Then what if you got your period in them and leaked? Would the others be forced to look leaky forever after? Also, there's some pretty sexual activity (I would even guess some full-out stuff in the later books, lol-- though I only read the one)-- what if you got semen on them? That's positively disgusting.

Anyway, lol . . . I'm going to go to sleep pretty soon. I've been tired all day.

Commencement Rehearsal and Plans and The Pants Book And Movie

Bush's Stubborness May Be Hindering Him. Huh. I could have told you that, a LOOONG time ago . . .

I practiced my violin again, and cleaned up a little bit more of my room, as I mentioned before . . . slowly, but steadily, lol . . . as this is definitely going to be an all-summer-long project, lol . . .

Commencement rehearsal was hell. We show up, on time, and they harrass us at the front door about IDs as if they don't know who we are. Someone even made Seth get a sign-in sticker, since he didn't have his. I mean, come on, you people at the front desk have to know Seth . . . Also, the people who came late WEREN'T harrassed . . . it was ridiculous . . . even people walking right in front of me weren't . . . it was just some special people targeted, or something . . .

Then we get to the auditorium and everyone's just about found their seats, when the fire alarm goes off. We all flee like the dickens outside, and then we stand there in the hot sunlight and humidity for about 20 minutes. Seriously-- it was that long, not just the five-minute waits that FEEL long because's it's cold or too hot. There was a fight that almost got started out there, so a lot of milling around, and some girl almost passed out, too, on the way back in. It was like last year (when I was wearing my Moony shirt, lol . . . ), when the gymnasium light caught on fire, lol . . . only a much worse wait, and no fire trucks, apparently . . .

So we all go back in, and Mr. Gerard starts explaining the process for the commencement ceremony. Then the fire alarm goes off AGAIN. He calls it "technical difficulties," and we're forced to stay inside. That's illegal, as far as I know.

I've heard eight kids are suspended for the first week of the school year next year. That's crazy. I wonder who they are.

So then we practice the ceremony. I got to at least stand under the bleachers for a while, until I was able to processional out-- the one benefit I've EVER found to have a later last name . . . the A-Ks were all out in the sunshine the whole time (so, ha ha to you all, eating your lunches and getting your awards first forever and ever! lol . . . ). IT WAS HOT AS HELL. We sat in seats that burned our backsides (black plastic) and everyone kept stealing Tarrah's open house invitations to fan themselves with, lol . . . I couldn't hear anything, because the microphone echoed, but I didn't really want to, anyway, because I couldn't even concentrate. I felt like boiled shrimp, sweating and gasping for air. It was ridiculous.

They did end up letting us go home early, since it was so hot. Only the first three rows got to practice, lol . . . Nichole is a lucky, lucky girl, getting sick and not having to show up, lol . . . and she still gets to walk in the ceremony, should she so choose.

It's going to be worse on Sunday. We're going to be dressed nicely-- guys in pants and ties, even, REQUIRED-- and covered in plasticine fabric for our caps and gowns, lol . . . plus we're out there for THREE HOURS or something like that . . . Andrew, Mr. Mow . . . talk fast . . . Kylie, say that Pledge of Allegiance like there's no tomorrow . . . lol . . .

Mom's calling Grama and Winston and telling them not to come because it's going to be so hot. They'd pass out. It's not worth it.

Anyway, so I'm confused about plans for tomorrow. Originally, I was going to see the Pants movie today, and then do the movie night with Liz tomorrow, and bring Jamien along if he could make it.

Then I found out Liz meant for the movie night thing to be a movie day-- like at noon or so (which, for future reference, Liz, if it's at my house, drives my dad crazy like no other . . . he'll harrass us to no end if it's a "beautiful day" we're sitting inside watching movies). Then Nichole got sick (yes, on top of her accident, she then began throwing up this morning-- completely accident unrelated) and I got too pressed for time, since the showing was late and I had to be inducted into Tri Kappa tonight. So now that's scheduled for tomorrow. It works best for Nichole at the 7:00 showing. I don't know how the movie thing with Liz is working out, since she hasn't gotten on yet to talk to me about it, but it can still fit in before. Jamien, I think you got screwed in all of this . . . I don't think you really want to come see the Pants movie, lol, and you said you couldn't be here until about 7-ish, right? *Sigh* We'll have to find some other time, then . . .

Anyway, the Pants movie . . . in case you're wondering, NO, we're not going because we expect a lot out of it, lol. I read that book way back on a plane flight to occupy myself, and then I loaned it to Nichole and Kristina each because they found it in my room and began cracking up over the ludicrisy of it. The whole book is so ridiculous, lol . . . very sappy, sentimental, worse than chick-flick . . . yeah . . .

Thing Kristina and I have been talking about: Wouldn't those pants be really nasty? They aren't allowed to wash them, as part of the pact. They'd be so dirty-- particularly since it's summer, and one would sweat in heavy denim like that. Then what if you got your period in them and leaked? Would the others be forced to look leaky forever after? Also, there's some pretty sexual activity (I would even guess some full-out stuff in the later books, lol-- though I only read the one)-- what if you got semen on them? That's positively disgusting.

Anyway, lol . . . I'm going to go to sleep pretty soon. I've been tired all day.