23 sep 09 22:13
secret conversations, i always know about them.
about a week ago i ran into my eighth-grade boyfriend, walid. he was the only boy to ever physically "fight" over me, for me. i don't know if i'm entirely proud of this. i was hit in the face by a volleyball during p.e. the offender - a short, stocky kid by the name of arturo - did not apologize. walid subsequently pounded him, fighting for my honor. i looked on, thinking, "so this is what it means to be liked? i don't want it!"
not surprisingly, he had completely forgotten this story. he told me that he liked me precisely because i was willing to get slammed in the face and not do anything about it, so somebody had to.
walid's great because he was in that strange p.e. class, those weird parties all festive with real peacocks and tigers, he was also friends with that kid who had a helicopter in his backyard yet lived next door to a slum. he finds this all completely normal, of course. he saw that time when i cried over a B+ on my report card, shaking with anxiety over my parents going "AZN" on me for my less-than-stellar grade. he knew that i was never popular in school, just well-liked for my complete and utter irreverence. (natalie, age 11, art class: "ms. benedina, what if you get raped... but you like it?") plus, i would hand out lollipops to everyone.
i think i've been conditioned to believe i'm a people-pleaser, but that's not really it. i just care too much to not make an impression, so might as well be a pleasant one.
can someone set me up on a date with Eli Roth, finally? we've had near-encounters for about 2 years now. we can watch horror movies for 8 hours a day and then use the remaining time coming up with new ways for him to bum off Quentin Tarantino. i can make some beautiful shirts for him - white dress shirts with perfectly dyed collars, red and bloody.
oh God, I think staging an awesome death scene for myself is just what I need right now.