Gloating and Bermuda and Seventeen and Hiroshima

[tabular_rasa]

The living room is rearranged, the way it used to be during the summers when I was really little. We haven't done it in a REALLY long time. I mean a REALLY long time. When Dylan was here between 6th and 7th grade we weren't doing it-- probably even before then, too.

Wow, I typed that whole paragraph blind and didn't make a typo. Woohoo!

I talked to my friend about my story and gave him more to read . . . apparently my 7th grade girls are too smart, lol . . . but he says he wouldn't doubt I was Japanese in another life based on the stuff I know-- and this is coming from the Asian kid! Lol . . . okay, so I am proud and gloating . . . but it feels good, so I'm going to indulge the hedonism, lol . . .

I found this awesome site . . . it's all the Top 40 hits from 1930-1999. It's so funny to read and look back to like where we were little, or like when we were born (I also am using them, the 1975 ones, for my roleplay journals).

I listened to a lot of songs today my grama had on her CDs-- there was this one cool one I liked called "Jealousy" and it was on a CD that was all instrumental versions of vocal songs so I don't know if it even has words or what, but eh . . . and also I heard Invitation to the Dance, which we are playing in YHO next year, and that incited me to put on my (actually, grama's, from her wedding, the one that went to her tiny little wedding dress-- I can at least fit in the hoopskirt, kind of, even if it is a little short-- and thin )-:-- for me) hoopskirt and go and dance around the kitchen, pretending I was at a waltz in a grand Austrian or something ballroom with those men in tight decorated jackets with those tassels over the shoulders (I always find out what that word means and I always forget it) and swords (the only men Dad can dance like without looking foolish and being called a Nazi-- besides Nazis, I guess). So that was fun.

So Mom and Dad got to walk back in the house from Bermuda and go, "Yup . . . that's our family, all right . . . it's good to be back."

They gave us all keychains and souvenir shirts (I always feel weird, though, wearing shirts to places I've never been) and lots of Bermudan candy-- which is really British candy. Made me remember my trip to England. Wow, that was really fun . . . I miss it. I also miss Japan. As it grows closer to my Japan trip's anniversary . . .

Sad song about being 17 . . . I found yet another, yet it's sad:

I learned the truth at seventeen

That love was meant for beauty queens

And high school girls with clear skinned smiles

Who married young and then retired.

The valentines I never knew

The Friday night charades of youth

Were spent on one more beautiful

At seventeen I learned the truth.

And those of us with ravaged faces

Lacking in the social graces

Desperately remained at home

Inventing lovers on the phone

Who called to say come dance with me

and murmured vague obscenities

It isn't all it seems

At seventeen.

A brown eyed girl in hand me downs

Whose name I never could pronounce

said, Pity please the ones who serve

They only get what they deserve.

The rich relationed hometown queen

Married into what she needs

A guarantee of company

And haven for the elderly.

Remember those who win the game

Lose the love they sought to gain

Indebentures of quality

And dubious integrity.

Their small town eyes will gape at you

in dull surprise when payment due

Exceeds accounts received

At seventeen.

To those of us who know the pain

Of valentines that never came,

And those whose names were never called

When choosing sides for basketball.

It was long ago and far away

The world was younger than today

And dreams were all they gave for free

To ugly duckling girls like me.

We all play the game and when we dare

To cheat ourselves at solitaire

Inventing lovers on the phone

Repenting other lives unknown

That call and say, come dance with me

and murmur vague obscenities

At ugly girls like me

At seventeen.

Kinda sad, kinda uplifting, I guess, in a way, maybe . . . there were a couple songs I had never heard that I liked . . . there's one I want to make a parody to . . . lol . . . I have never actually heard any of these, lol . . .

So I had a good day, today, I think (-:

I like it when I have good days.

Yet they come in too many at a time, and I feel drunk, and then I feel bad because not everyone is having a good day.

So I can never have a totally good day.

Wow, that was poetic, kind of, in a four-year-old kid sort of style . . .

I think I am going to make (yet another) parody . . .

I think I may go back to that Hiroshima message board again, August 6th, say I showed up last year, and, after a year of American history and year to get over the emotional scars of Hiroshima, and say I still stand on what I stood before, that it was wrong and unnecessary, and now I know even more to prove it, to corroborate it. YET MOST IMPORTANTLY what I have to say is that maybe, just maybe, in the scheme of morality, it was meant to happen so that we could hear the stories and know never to tamper with it again. If hundreds of thousands of people had to miserable deaths to save the billions to come, then it is worth it. I mean, the Cold War didn't happen (er, get Hot) because we were afraid. We had the power to kill ourselves several times over, and yet we didn't. Yeah, we feared for ourselves, our weak human worries, but we never pressed that red button. Scared for ourselves, sure, but maybe, just maybe, for the others, too? I'd like to think we were. Also . . . 'twould be a pity for us to die at our own hands . . . out of our own knowledge . . . it's like Eden, knowing too much, it undoes us; we're not meant to have it.

"Do you always wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it." -Daisy, the Great Gatsby

It's on Monday, guys; don't miss it!