Middle School Men

I used to fake a friend’s name in middle school.  I did.  To clarify, I faked his name in writing.  I didn’t know how it was spelled, and I never worked up a way to find out (and to remember) how to write it.

Traditionally, I always wrote people’s names clearly.  Sure, my handwriting was sloppy and small and almost always in cursive.  However, I took the time to write people’s names, oftentimes in print, and much better than my standard note-taking, squinty script.  So, when it came to this one friend’s name, I faked a sloppiness that was not my own.

See, regularly, when he wrote his own name, he connected the last two letters together somewhat, making it unclear as to whether it was a hurried -an or -on at the end of his name.  It was a somewhat irregular name, and so I had no basis for comparison.  Plus, the pronunciation didn’t help – there were plenty of foreign-like names that had an -an sound like a US English -on.  (Take Han Solo for example.)  To top it off, the first note he gave me, whenever he signed his name, I couldn’t tell which way his name was spelled.  And, since I saw it that way first, that was what stuck.

I had heard how people spelled his name wrong all the time, and I had seen it spelled by others both ways.  I was not about to make that same mistake.  Therefore, I just threw in a stab of – and I say stab casually, but it truly was painful for me – sloppiness whenever I wrote his name in particular, and no one ever had to find out.

(Until now, of course, but that is beside the point.  These sorts of things mattered among young people learning to become friends in middle school.)

It was kind of funny, really, remembering all of this tonight.  It all came to me, because of something similar about slightly illegible writing, but, because it was from middle school, I ended up with the song “sk8r boi” by Avril Lavigne in my head (a middle school hit).  As I thought about the song, I happened to notice how my middle school was somewhat the reverse of the “sk8r boi” scenario.  The nerd-esque boy in the ever-present UT jacket that seemed to conceal any shirt he ever wore – oops… I digress – now, he seemed to want me (and everyone knew it).  I semi-wanted him, but I declined because he was not the cool kid, so to speak; he didn’t have the skater boy edge to go along with his book brains.  (I didn’t actually like the skater boys at my school either, but my brothers roller skated and skate boarded a little, and their general coolness was my standard for what was needed in a desirable guy [and still is], in addition to brains.)

I somewhat cared about what all my friends thought about him, but that totally wasn’t my reasoning.  I just didn’t actually have a crush on the guy.  We were classmates, and I had a blast going back and forth in contest with him over having the highest grade in class (math class for sure, I remember).  But he didn’t have what I desired – he was just a half package, so to speak, not the whole thing.  Come to think of it, that’s how I’ve felt about most any guy I’ve known.  Perhaps that’s part of why I’ve never really been in any kind of dating relationship – I’m only looking for the whole package.  Anything less is fine for a friend or acquaintance, but not for dating.

huh… not quite where I expected this thought line to go tonight… 😛

Post-a-day 2018

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No causality here

Today and tonight, I was doing photography with a Korean, and I had a Korean drinking song somewhat on repeat in my head all day and night long…, and one actually had nothing to do with the other. 😛

Post-a-day 2018

The Opera

Opera is ridiculous.  One night, I have a constant close-up of an incredibly-endowed woman’s exposed nipples, and another is packed with the gag-inducing stupidity and lovey-dovey total BS drama whose only competitor is telemundo’s telenovelas.  Actually, they are almost all packed with that last bit.  Most nights, eye rolls abound, and we occasionally have to restrain intense laughter at the nonsense of people’s declarations of what their love must mean and be able to do, or else what their rage and fury must now cause.  Tonight was one of those nights.

And yet, it is such spectacular music, it is what I long to hear most evenings, as I am settling in at home for the evening.  I feel as though most of the dramatic operas are best when the words are not understood.  Otherwise, they are all just idiots, and you really don’t seem to mind at their dying (slash you kind of want them to hurry up and just die already).

Let us be clear here: I love opera.  It is just painfully dramatic and ridiculous at times, that I just want to punch people and hit a fast-forward button, so that the stupidity will end already.  I get enough of that in real life.  Let’s not dwell on it so dumbly in our entertainment.

Post-a-day 2018

Kids these days… and those days

Have you ever seen the musical West Side Story?  If you haven’t, go watch it.  I hate it.  It takes what was once for me a spectacularly and distantly comical situation of unreal reactions – Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare – and places them into a modern-day(-ish) setting, and makes it more real than one could ever want it to be.  Seeing it tonight, I was disgusted by people.  It is just like how I hate Elaine in the TV show Seinfeld – she reminds me too well of people who make me angry in life, people who seem to ruin everything.  So, too, was my experience tonight.  These people were, for me, the epitome of closed-minded, undereducated, and monocultural individuals in our world.  Quite frankly, I wanted just to remove them all from the gene pool immediately, and lock them up in some way… it had me wonder if that was how the whole Australia situation started, because I found myself looking for a similar situation.  You guys can go blow yourselves up on your own private little island, but you don’t get to be a part of the real world, because you just ruin everything with your behavior.

Anyway…, the music of West Side Story is spectacular, and I love it.  Fortunately, I am already being able to disregard the story and to return to the music as I had known it before: splendidly fantastic.  I was genuinely worried after the performance if I would be unable to enjoy the music ever again, because I now had such a horrible association through the actual show.  However, I believe the association will be lost easily once I am finished sharing about the show (in less than a minute).

So, yeah.  Go watch West Side Story.  It’s good.  It really is.  It’s just a musification of what I believe is one of the worst parts of our current society… and, apparently, has been a terrible part of society for a long, long time (and quite possibly even in Shakespeare’s time, seeing as how he wrote the original scenario anyway… I always just thought he was making it up as a worst-case scenario on all fronts, not as though all the general stupidity was already taking place, but hadn’t ever been arranged in such a dramatic order.).

Post-a-day 2018

Easter, again

To finish up the Easter, I share what my mom shared with me this morning.
‘Kay, go for your Easter Egg Hunt.  There’s one egg.  It’s hidden already.’
‘…Wha..?’ I frown at her.
She wiggles like a puppy that can’t sit still, and I know for sure that something is up, and that she’s about to break.
She laughs, and I know I’m getting it, whatever it is, now.  ‘That’s what R- said.  Because it’s April Fools, tell the kids, ‘Okay, kids.  Go look for your Easter Eggs now!’ but don’t actually have any hidden.’
‘That’s terrible,’ I say as I join her laughter, shaking my head.

Happy Easter, and Happy April First!
P.S. Did you see John Legend and that gloriously surprising cast tonight?  More importantly, did you HEAR them?!  Check it out. It was fab.  Jesus Christ Superstar Live 🙂

Out of nowhere

…I taught dance this weekend.  It was utterly ridiculous in circumstance – 11 girls at noon on a Saturday, in the middle of their celebrating a bachelorette party weekend, and in an airbnb house that kind of looks like a drug house from the outside.  I had met two of them at the rodeo, and I had offered to show them for free how to two-step (since they’re interns, and interns typically have minimal money), when they had asked where to learn it.  I genuinely began the lesson by asking with what level of intoxication I was dealing, and they loved it.  (Surprisingly, it was rather low, but they had just had a lazy start to the day, I guess, because mimosas were definitely happening.)  By the end of it all, I was clear that it wasn’t about how well they all danced, but that they loved what they were now doing, thanks to me.  And, to be fair, a good handful of them could actually two-step (and some even polka) decently as lead and follow by the end.  And they could identify the difference between a two-step and a polka.  Not bad for the middle of a bachelorette party weekend.  🙂

I really enjoyed it.

Post-a-day 2018