COMMENTARY
Junior High Eight Grade English Class. I loved this particular class because my English teacher Mrs. B loved books and reading. I can distinctly remember her having a bookcase in class that extended the lower part of the left wall. In it paperbacks from the 1960s to what was the present, the 1990s; some were tattered and weathered but they seemed to her like treasures with hidden secrets. I admired so much her collection of books, that ever since, I started my own paperback collection that is ever growing with books of Evelyn Waugh, Lester Bangs, and Alan Moore.
The time had come for us to write a book report on a historical novel. I chose “Wuthering Heights” merely because of the cover, with its psychedelic cover of purples and greens with two lovers made of stained glass holding hands. I still remember the publishing of that book being 1968. I can only remember the basic plot and the knowing of the name Heathcliff but it had brought the Bronte sisters into my world. And until this day, I have not read any other book from the Bronte sisters. All this may change soon.
Whenever I see a good movie that to me, speaks into the depths of my soul, I immediately feel ethereal and happy and then a day or so later complete deep depression and melancholy takes over. This happened to me recently when I saw the 2011 adaptation of the Charlotte Bronte novel “Jane Eyre” directed by Cary Fukunaga. I had never read the novel and never knew what the plot was about and the trailer made it seem like a scary gothic love story. Watching the film I became enthralled on the character of Jane Eyre and her harsh life shown through her face, traces of never knowing happiness in her life. Her wall of protection from cruelty begins to break as she starts feeling something towards the byronic Mr. Rochester with his simple gestures such as putting a flower in her hair and lingering stares, she never budges, never shows any emotion and even when she realizes that someone loves her in her life, she shows sentiment but cannot believe it and thinks it unreal. Enchanted throughout the film, I must admit I even cried at the ending. I think I swooned a couple of times and loved the wonderful romance of the film, it reminded me of another book that I had read, the ever wonderful “Pride and Prejudice.” A couple of days passed and the depression loomed in, a gloominess I’m sure “Jane Eyre” and “Pride and Prejudice” fans can relate to. And the source of that gloom was that I want THAT kind of romance, like in “Jane Eyre” simple gestures that shudder souls such as hand holding, stolen kisses in a meadow, discussions on subordination, (okay maybe not that), but walks in the park and declarations of love and kisses while the wind blows around you. And the depression looms still because I know that type of romance truly does not exist anymore. Sure, we can dive deep into our Austen and Bronte but sooner or later, we’re gonna have to go back for air, polluted air it might be, but how else are we gonna live? But must text messages with symbols on it be signs of romantic gestures?
Note: For Jane Eyre fans, I would do what Jane Eyre does in the book and film, particularly in that scene, if you know what I mean (wink wink.) No matter how much it hurt.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Poinsettia Pete
I love parties. Parties in college are my ultimate love. They have different themes, you meet interesting people, and you meet interesting cute guys. My friend *Fanny* lives on the spur of the moment and her parties stayed true to their theme, from the usual ugly sweater party to a disco party with disco music! This may not matter but once in junior high, I went to a “Decades” party advertising disco balls and Michael Jackson where in actuality was a taupe multipurpose room with a fog machine and terrible late 90s rap.
Fanny’s latest shindig was a “Christmas in July” party. The dress code was to be jolly and yuletide. As I entered *Fanny’s house, it was wrapped in red and green Christmas lights, plastic Santa glow statues, silver tinsel on the floor, red ribbon bows all over and “Jingle Bell Rock” playing in the background. The guys were dressed in their Christmas Cosby sweaters or red/green shirts. The girls wore red or green dresses or the usual Santa or reindeer hat with regular summer dresses. I had on a Christmas green sparkle mod minidress that I had never worn and was excited to see my friends from school. I had just seen Inception and was eager to chat about the film on what had been a hot summer day turning into a great summer night.
Throughout the party, there were a-many cute guys, but the one who happened to be allegedly staring at me was Poinsettia *Pete*. Remember that nickelodeon snickcom from the 90’s “The Adventures of Pete and Pete?” He looked just like older Pete but with cuter eyes. He even had the same haircut now that I think of it, with a darker hue of red hair. He was wearing a USC red shirt, jeans and a poinsettia behind his ear. I found it funny that he had a poinsettia on his ear and it reminded me of pagan Rome for some reason. I remember me and my friends were chatting it up with some guys who I found interesting but no potential for anything. A friend of mine was disappointed that her “Santa” hat fell off so she gave it to me to wear. Me, dressed in Christmas glitter green with a red Santa hat on, I wish I knew how I looked. Cute? Stupid? An Idiot? Whatever I conveyed, I attracted *Pete*.
The night went on with Christmas covers by the Muppets, Kinks, and Run DMC. The usual craziness of people chatting, dancing, and making out in public happened as always. All this time, *Pete* would just pass by me, eye-ing me as I could see from the back of my eye as I chatted on. I still speculate that he may or may not have noticed me but a piece of evidence I vividly remember was while chatting, *Pete* and his friend climbed the roof of the house to take a look at the far away skyline. Everyone was cheering and as I waved at them,*Pete* waved back and suddenly my skills as lip reader came to me unbeknownst. “Who’s that (something)?” I heard his lips say to his friend and he in reply said, “One of *Fanny’s* friends.” He said either “Who’s that Girl?” or “Who’s that Person?” but the point being they probably were talking about me. Probably. Where did I F it up as they say? The time came for him to leave and it’s all a little blurry (because it hurts to remember) but all I can remember are fragments,him saying goodbye to *Fanny* then coming back to talk to my guy friend, apparently they had talked during the party, and then another painful memory of him just standing there, looking cute with his possibly fake poinsettia, looking at me, waiting for me to say something. It was perfect, “Hey I like your poinsettia!” simple compliment that could’ve started something; he’d compliment me looking like Christmas cheer and the story writes itself. But not for Hope, he went again to *Fanny* to say goodbye and left. Last I heard he went to study in England. My friend *Fanny* who could never stay in the same place, went off to conquer the southwest with her charm, and that night as the cops came to shut the party down because we played Bing Crosby a little too loud, all I could think, how I still think whenever I see poinsettias during Christmas time, how stupid I was for not talking to him. There really should be a diagnosis for my predicament.
*= names changed to spare embarrassment and to protect the innocent and cool.
Fanny’s latest shindig was a “Christmas in July” party. The dress code was to be jolly and yuletide. As I entered *Fanny’s house, it was wrapped in red and green Christmas lights, plastic Santa glow statues, silver tinsel on the floor, red ribbon bows all over and “Jingle Bell Rock” playing in the background. The guys were dressed in their Christmas Cosby sweaters or red/green shirts. The girls wore red or green dresses or the usual Santa or reindeer hat with regular summer dresses. I had on a Christmas green sparkle mod minidress that I had never worn and was excited to see my friends from school. I had just seen Inception and was eager to chat about the film on what had been a hot summer day turning into a great summer night.
Throughout the party, there were a-many cute guys, but the one who happened to be allegedly staring at me was Poinsettia *Pete*. Remember that nickelodeon snickcom from the 90’s “The Adventures of Pete and Pete?” He looked just like older Pete but with cuter eyes. He even had the same haircut now that I think of it, with a darker hue of red hair. He was wearing a USC red shirt, jeans and a poinsettia behind his ear. I found it funny that he had a poinsettia on his ear and it reminded me of pagan Rome for some reason. I remember me and my friends were chatting it up with some guys who I found interesting but no potential for anything. A friend of mine was disappointed that her “Santa” hat fell off so she gave it to me to wear. Me, dressed in Christmas glitter green with a red Santa hat on, I wish I knew how I looked. Cute? Stupid? An Idiot? Whatever I conveyed, I attracted *Pete*.
The night went on with Christmas covers by the Muppets, Kinks, and Run DMC. The usual craziness of people chatting, dancing, and making out in public happened as always. All this time, *Pete* would just pass by me, eye-ing me as I could see from the back of my eye as I chatted on. I still speculate that he may or may not have noticed me but a piece of evidence I vividly remember was while chatting, *Pete* and his friend climbed the roof of the house to take a look at the far away skyline. Everyone was cheering and as I waved at them,*Pete* waved back and suddenly my skills as lip reader came to me unbeknownst. “Who’s that (something)?” I heard his lips say to his friend and he in reply said, “One of *Fanny’s* friends.” He said either “Who’s that Girl?” or “Who’s that Person?” but the point being they probably were talking about me. Probably. Where did I F it up as they say? The time came for him to leave and it’s all a little blurry (because it hurts to remember) but all I can remember are fragments,him saying goodbye to *Fanny* then coming back to talk to my guy friend, apparently they had talked during the party, and then another painful memory of him just standing there, looking cute with his possibly fake poinsettia, looking at me, waiting for me to say something. It was perfect, “Hey I like your poinsettia!” simple compliment that could’ve started something; he’d compliment me looking like Christmas cheer and the story writes itself. But not for Hope, he went again to *Fanny* to say goodbye and left. Last I heard he went to study in England. My friend *Fanny* who could never stay in the same place, went off to conquer the southwest with her charm, and that night as the cops came to shut the party down because we played Bing Crosby a little too loud, all I could think, how I still think whenever I see poinsettias during Christmas time, how stupid I was for not talking to him. There really should be a diagnosis for my predicament.
*= names changed to spare embarrassment and to protect the innocent and cool.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Blooming Bull Moose Love
Did you know that Teddy Roosevelt started a third party?
You may not know this but I learned in my Political Science class, there are such things as splinter parties. You undoubtedly know about populist parties like the Libertarian or Communist Party. You know about third parties which are actually single issue parties like The Green Party. And then there’s the splinter party which usually splits off from one of the main political parties. Teddy Roosevelt started the Bull Moose Party in 1912 and it took more than part of the vote. It bit into it. It took 27% of the vote- that’s 4.1 million votes. The Bull Moose Party didn’t last for long and is a small footnote in the history of America, but I will always remember that tidbit thanks to one cute dude. It’s funny how certain things stick with us because of people we’re smitten of and in my situation, sometimes people we never even talk to.
My college political science class was a bore. Although the professor meant well, his/her ramblings usually were so confusing that at times, you understood more from the text than from the lecture. And yet *Teddy* brought that class to life for me. From kindly correcting the professor on what cops can and can’t ask for when they stop you in your vehicle, to asking about the jurisdiction of standing committees and Rules committees, to putting in his two cents of judiciary cases and their outcomes. I’d seen these guys before in my class, only they were discourteous nerds who rudely corrected the professor and got turned on by solved logarithms as they sat in the front row. *Teddy* sat in the back, at the row of desks that faced the wall, hidden and yet comfortable with asking questions. He looked like the typical All-American jock, but he actually had a brain. I always admired his intelligence but never had the nerve to say, “Hey, You’re smart!”. How WOULD a guy react to that? Who knows, one day, I went the guy approach.
It was a Tuesday and three days prior, I had volunteered at a friend’s function where I met actors who got me out of my shell and their spontaneity and outgoing ways rubbed off of me. When I arrived to class, my adrenaline from that day was still operating , a friend of mine even said I was “glowing.” I certainly felt different, I felt like doing something brazen, but what is brazen for a shy girl?
Ever since I’ve been in college, I have always gotten “stared” at. This could be because of my overwhelming ugliness or a slight “attractiveness” I must have. I never like being stared at, but with this almost drunken unabashed feeling, I decided to do what guys had been doing to me: staring. The victim: *Teddy*. *Teddy* sat at his usual spot, and I sat across him, two empty desks between us. Splinter parties was the topic and he of course mentioned Teddy Roosevelt’s Bull Moose Party and its brevity. I of course stared at him, that lingering stare (not that STALKER stare I’d been a victim of) and repeated this gesture about twice, I knew I had gotten his attention when I saw the back of his eye wondering in my direction. At the time, I believed I had freaked him out. He was probably thinking “Is there something on my face?” “Did I say something?.” My brazen self could not resist this, I wanted to laugh out loud but had to wait until I was on the Mass Transit reminiscing what had happened a mere hour ago. I had done what guys had done to me, freak me out, made me self conscious, and wonder what the hell they were looking at. I had fun and was saddened that this adrenaline rush wouldn’t last. By the next class session, the “daring adrenaline potion” had run out and I was back to my old, depressed self. I sat wherever I could, it was a full class, which was unusual. *Teddy’s* original seat had been taken and he had to sit in another seat. We were a seat apart that had been taken by someone. I didn’t have a good angle to stare at him but wondered, would he look at me back? Would the experiment be successful or not? The test subject’ response was positive. He did. I really didn’t know how to react and neither did he. As the semester passed, our usual seats were taken by other people and we just didn’t have a good angle to steal looks. Did there ever come a time where we could’ve spoken you may ask? well yes there was and I F%$*&* it up.
Our professor almost always was absent, and one day, I had come out early from my previous class, went to the ladies room to look what I have been called “my cutest.” In I go, and it would’ve been the perfect serendipitous meeting, we both see the class is cancelled, we complain on the professor’s recent deficient absences and off we go into the sunset talking about our first pets and what our fourth grade English teacher’s name was. Alas, for me encounters like that don’t exist. As I went into look at the sign at about approximately the same time as he, his friend came in to ruin the party and I easily slinked away into the red colored brick wall. As for classroom looks, this went on and off, one class session he didn’t even bother looking at me, from what I know anyway. Other class sessions, I could tell *Teddy* was looking at me and there was one instant where I saw him when he was looking at me and he looked away. So this was all very confusing. I think the climax of this tale came at when else, the final exam.
The final exam consisted of three essay questions, murder on your writing hand, but hey them’s the rules. I knew that this was most likely the last time I would ever see him, so I decided to take looks from Kate Middleton and wore a sun dress, black cardigan, flats and ray ban black sunglasses. I must have come in with the wind blowing in my hair or the sun shining on me because he took notice. We were both a row apart, he with his friends, me with my notes and textbook, the row between us was full of students. I had given up, I was done, I took out my metaphorical white flag, whether he liked me or not, I didn’t care, I was here to study for my exam. *Teddy* has a loud awesome, demagogue like voice and I didn’t want to hear it. I put on my mp3, cranked up some rocking Radiohead and some furious Hives, going over what the difference between inherent and implicit powers were, how a bill becomes a law until the professor arrived. When the professor did arrive, I was ready for the exam. The exam began and as it closed in to an hour and a half, the row between us had gone and left, I usually looked at the clock and stretched my hand as I went further to write more about the legislative or judicial branch. As I was writing, at one point, *Teddy* turned his back and just blatantly stared at me. Throughout the exam, he stared at me, acted nervously as I stretched my hand and glanced at the clock, I knew he wanted me to look at him. All signals pointed to yes, the control tower gave the all clear signal and I did not do anything. Even as he wanted me to look at him at more than three times, I didn’t do anything. I finished my exam and left. I didn’t look back, I didn’t do anything and I hate myself for it. I’ve always wanted a relationship, a companion to talk to, to have fun with and when I get the chance to have this with a guy I actually am attracted to, I refuse it.
In the beginning, I felt happy knnowing the experiment was a success, but when the reality set in, I became depressed. I thought of him when I watched “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart” or when regular news talked about inherent powers, executive orders, executive agreements, or standing committees. Friends tell me that:
1. If you had looked at him, he might’ve looked away
2. If you had looked at him, you might’ve smiled and then what? You’d be accused of cheating because it was a final exam.
I agree with them but another friend told me that my consolation prize was that if he was into you, he might be suffering too, regretting he never spoke to me. I think if that is true, if he thinks or suffers for just one microsecond, at least I know I’m not alone in this painful regret and wish to just see him again. To get a second chance, but sometimes I think fate gave us, or me, so many chances, I doubt it would spare one more.
*= name changed to spare embarrassment.
You may not know this but I learned in my Political Science class, there are such things as splinter parties. You undoubtedly know about populist parties like the Libertarian or Communist Party. You know about third parties which are actually single issue parties like The Green Party. And then there’s the splinter party which usually splits off from one of the main political parties. Teddy Roosevelt started the Bull Moose Party in 1912 and it took more than part of the vote. It bit into it. It took 27% of the vote- that’s 4.1 million votes. The Bull Moose Party didn’t last for long and is a small footnote in the history of America, but I will always remember that tidbit thanks to one cute dude. It’s funny how certain things stick with us because of people we’re smitten of and in my situation, sometimes people we never even talk to.
My college political science class was a bore. Although the professor meant well, his/her ramblings usually were so confusing that at times, you understood more from the text than from the lecture. And yet *Teddy* brought that class to life for me. From kindly correcting the professor on what cops can and can’t ask for when they stop you in your vehicle, to asking about the jurisdiction of standing committees and Rules committees, to putting in his two cents of judiciary cases and their outcomes. I’d seen these guys before in my class, only they were discourteous nerds who rudely corrected the professor and got turned on by solved logarithms as they sat in the front row. *Teddy* sat in the back, at the row of desks that faced the wall, hidden and yet comfortable with asking questions. He looked like the typical All-American jock, but he actually had a brain. I always admired his intelligence but never had the nerve to say, “Hey, You’re smart!”. How WOULD a guy react to that? Who knows, one day, I went the guy approach.
It was a Tuesday and three days prior, I had volunteered at a friend’s function where I met actors who got me out of my shell and their spontaneity and outgoing ways rubbed off of me. When I arrived to class, my adrenaline from that day was still operating , a friend of mine even said I was “glowing.” I certainly felt different, I felt like doing something brazen, but what is brazen for a shy girl?
Ever since I’ve been in college, I have always gotten “stared” at. This could be because of my overwhelming ugliness or a slight “attractiveness” I must have. I never like being stared at, but with this almost drunken unabashed feeling, I decided to do what guys had been doing to me: staring. The victim: *Teddy*. *Teddy* sat at his usual spot, and I sat across him, two empty desks between us. Splinter parties was the topic and he of course mentioned Teddy Roosevelt’s Bull Moose Party and its brevity. I of course stared at him, that lingering stare (not that STALKER stare I’d been a victim of) and repeated this gesture about twice, I knew I had gotten his attention when I saw the back of his eye wondering in my direction. At the time, I believed I had freaked him out. He was probably thinking “Is there something on my face?” “Did I say something?.” My brazen self could not resist this, I wanted to laugh out loud but had to wait until I was on the Mass Transit reminiscing what had happened a mere hour ago. I had done what guys had done to me, freak me out, made me self conscious, and wonder what the hell they were looking at. I had fun and was saddened that this adrenaline rush wouldn’t last. By the next class session, the “daring adrenaline potion” had run out and I was back to my old, depressed self. I sat wherever I could, it was a full class, which was unusual. *Teddy’s* original seat had been taken and he had to sit in another seat. We were a seat apart that had been taken by someone. I didn’t have a good angle to stare at him but wondered, would he look at me back? Would the experiment be successful or not? The test subject’ response was positive. He did. I really didn’t know how to react and neither did he. As the semester passed, our usual seats were taken by other people and we just didn’t have a good angle to steal looks. Did there ever come a time where we could’ve spoken you may ask? well yes there was and I F%$*&* it up.
Our professor almost always was absent, and one day, I had come out early from my previous class, went to the ladies room to look what I have been called “my cutest.” In I go, and it would’ve been the perfect serendipitous meeting, we both see the class is cancelled, we complain on the professor’s recent deficient absences and off we go into the sunset talking about our first pets and what our fourth grade English teacher’s name was. Alas, for me encounters like that don’t exist. As I went into look at the sign at about approximately the same time as he, his friend came in to ruin the party and I easily slinked away into the red colored brick wall. As for classroom looks, this went on and off, one class session he didn’t even bother looking at me, from what I know anyway. Other class sessions, I could tell *Teddy* was looking at me and there was one instant where I saw him when he was looking at me and he looked away. So this was all very confusing. I think the climax of this tale came at when else, the final exam.
The final exam consisted of three essay questions, murder on your writing hand, but hey them’s the rules. I knew that this was most likely the last time I would ever see him, so I decided to take looks from Kate Middleton and wore a sun dress, black cardigan, flats and ray ban black sunglasses. I must have come in with the wind blowing in my hair or the sun shining on me because he took notice. We were both a row apart, he with his friends, me with my notes and textbook, the row between us was full of students. I had given up, I was done, I took out my metaphorical white flag, whether he liked me or not, I didn’t care, I was here to study for my exam. *Teddy* has a loud awesome, demagogue like voice and I didn’t want to hear it. I put on my mp3, cranked up some rocking Radiohead and some furious Hives, going over what the difference between inherent and implicit powers were, how a bill becomes a law until the professor arrived. When the professor did arrive, I was ready for the exam. The exam began and as it closed in to an hour and a half, the row between us had gone and left, I usually looked at the clock and stretched my hand as I went further to write more about the legislative or judicial branch. As I was writing, at one point, *Teddy* turned his back and just blatantly stared at me. Throughout the exam, he stared at me, acted nervously as I stretched my hand and glanced at the clock, I knew he wanted me to look at him. All signals pointed to yes, the control tower gave the all clear signal and I did not do anything. Even as he wanted me to look at him at more than three times, I didn’t do anything. I finished my exam and left. I didn’t look back, I didn’t do anything and I hate myself for it. I’ve always wanted a relationship, a companion to talk to, to have fun with and when I get the chance to have this with a guy I actually am attracted to, I refuse it.
In the beginning, I felt happy knnowing the experiment was a success, but when the reality set in, I became depressed. I thought of him when I watched “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart” or when regular news talked about inherent powers, executive orders, executive agreements, or standing committees. Friends tell me that:
1. If you had looked at him, he might’ve looked away
2. If you had looked at him, you might’ve smiled and then what? You’d be accused of cheating because it was a final exam.
I agree with them but another friend told me that my consolation prize was that if he was into you, he might be suffering too, regretting he never spoke to me. I think if that is true, if he thinks or suffers for just one microsecond, at least I know I’m not alone in this painful regret and wish to just see him again. To get a second chance, but sometimes I think fate gave us, or me, so many chances, I doubt it would spare one more.
*= name changed to spare embarrassment.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)