Shouting the Poetic Truths of High School Journal Keepers

Sunday, January 30, 2005

January 30, 1995

Back to school once again. Love those weekends, don't you? Well, second semester is in full swing, so they say, and of course the always-entertaining report cards came out, and I am pleased to say that I have done mighty well, leading me to pen a song entitled "I Got an A in Drivers Ed," an uncertainty plaguing me ever since that fateful September 23 (cross-reference yourself)1 But everything is fine, except for the weather, which has kind of been mucky lately, but I mean, what do you expect for this time of year? Also on my agenda today is to report on one kick-ass movie, one Pulp Fiction I finally came about seeing with Marie & Chris on Saturday. God, was that a great movie. It was just so alive & entertaining. Mmmm. That's my report. I've been quoting dialogue since Saturday night; that's how much I liked it, because it entered my subconscious. That is a true measure of if you like something, I believe, because if something just enters your head without you forcing it in there, that's when you like it. When it preoccupies you. How wise. And as Mia Wallace said, you can tell when you're comfortable with someone when you can just be quiet & don't say anything to the person & you just don't fucking care. Or words to that effect. I'm paraphrasing the film there... I think it was Friday, though, that I had my grand epiphany, when I talked to Stacie on the phone & realized how much I like her & how much she truly means to me, at quarter to eleven at night, philosophical friendship discussions... It's a high of sorts, I think, a drunkenness of goodness & contentedness with my life2. I sometimes just get those pangs that say to me that despite it all, my life is good. And then I'll remember some impending homework assignment of some sort. But I truly think -- when compared with others, my old "friend" Ryan, for example (God, how much things have changed in such short a time ... the boy gets up & drives away when I enter a room) -- that I have a relatively happy life, good friends, etc. I am not angst-ridden or anything. Nor am I an affluent orchestra-playing suburbanite from Wheaton or Winnetka, which might be the opposite end of the spectrum, who's got it too good. Not that it's their fault that they're fabulously wealthy, I'm just saying ... It's nice. And it's nice that Diane Breining3r isn't in this English office anymore, especially since I didn't audition for the musical3 & she might be giving me evil glares the whole period.
--JMC 10:55 am

1 Ah, the perils of a print-based culture. Without a September archive yet, I'll just say that I skipped class on a day we had a test -- the only time I ever skipped in high school -- and subsequently received a zero, which led my average in the class to plummet.

2 It's worth noting, perhaps, that I'd never been drunk or high in my life at this point.

3 Little Shop of Horrors, for which I eventually worked stage crew.

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