The Catcher in the Rye

I guess it started this morning when I woke up fifteen minutes before my alarm. Half day for AIMS testing. I'd never admit it out loud, but good thing there's standardized testing so I can sleep in 2 hours four days a year. Take that, state.

Then I went and paid $12.56 for coffee at Starbucks--one hot chocolate, one white mocha, one peppermint mocha. For me, P, and L. Forgot J. The other two paid me back.

My left arm sunburnt from sitting out in the Sun for 2 more hours waiting for classes to start. S wasn't there, so there weren't any cards to play 31 or Bullshit with. We sat there a while on the red bench and talked about nothing. It's amazing how much nothing there is to talk about. 2 hours' worth.

Classes started. I had TA--teaching assistant. Mrs. L doesn't like assigning work after testing, so she had each student sing the "Quadratic Song". Then they had to sing Happy Birthday to a girl in the class. Her face turned pink and she was shy. I laughed too hard.

Lunch was a similar waste. 40 more minutes spent staring at a tabletop in the hope that something exciting will happen. Maybe the fire alarm will go off--but no, that would mean going back into the Sun. My arm was turning redder by the minute. Maybe this would be the day some emo druggie kid takes out his self-hatred in the form of a gun and a bullet. That would be exciting. Anything would be fine. Anything at all.

4th, I learned how many people died in Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August, 1945. Then we watched color footage. A man watching the mushroom clouds called them beautiful. I guess they were, even if they peeled your flesh back.

More preparation for standardized testing in 6th. Signed up for the ACT again. Signed up for a test I care nothing for beyond the number it will assign to me, and I will prove faithful to. The number that categorizes me, so I read easy on paper. It's an important number.

I ate Chinese food with E, EA, LN, and P after school. The whole restaurant was empty but for us. The server folded napkins the whole time we ate sesame chicken and lo mein. He almost meant his smiles. I meant my laughs. It was a good time, if short. Maybe all the good times are short. Maybe, like death, they make things more precious, if bittersweet. Like the quote, "All great and precious things are lonely." I forget who said it. They were precious.

Then I find out from Facebook that N, my brother, dropped out of college, got kicked out of the house, and joined the Army. I register a complete and utter lack of surprise. We are the sum of our past and our intentions. He had neither. No one told me what he'd done, so I guess they aren't surprised any more than I. Never get so low as to be unsurprising. It's the worst thing.

I read a while. Then I got the urge to give away everything unnecessary in my room. I don't want these bracelets, or books I read once, or empty pens, or notebooks. I don't want the stuffed animals or awards or birthday cards. I'm not sure, but I don't think sentiment means much anymore. I don't want my emotions invested in tangible things. I think that makes them unchangeable. So I want to get rid of them, all of them, even the plastic cube puzzle and 8th grade painting. I don't want anyone to have the ones that matter the most, but the rest, they can take. I want someday to be able to stand up and lace up my sneakers and leave out the front door. I want to be able to walk down the street past the slumbering houses and it won't matter then, all the things I've left behind. There will be just pillows and pens left. I don't hold stock in pillows and pens.

The Catcher in the Rye, because anyone who's read it understands. And if you don't, you haven't really read it.