Saturday, November 15, 2008
Sympathy
I quietly cursed under my breath while quickly trying to scribble down the daily quote in my studio art class. I was hoping to finish swiftly so I could go up to the teacher and ask her some questions about next week’s art assignment, But of course I was not fast enough and a line of about seven people were before me by the time I was finished. With a sigh I turned on my heel and headed back to my seat, hoping that eventually the line would die down so that I could saunter over and have a few words with her. I pulled out my sketch book and a mechanical pencil so I could begin the weekly drawing while keeping a wary eye on the line. Minutes went by and I quickly came to a conclusion that when one person was done talking to her two more bodies were added to the line… I wouldn’t get to talk to her today. Another heavy sigh escaped my lips and I flipped my sketchbook closed, I didn’t really have the patience to draw today.
I like where I sit in my art class, I have two of my best friends sitting on either side of me and good acquaintances opposite of us three. We have good discussions and give each other a lot of beneficial feedback, which is an exceptionally good thing in an art class (because critiquing is very important in perfecting your skills and artwork). After closing my sketchbook I’d gaze over my friends sketches, inside my mind was yelling at me and condemning me to imperfect procrastinating artwork for the rest of my life because I had set my sketch aside. But my conscience was silenced when I turned to the right of me and saw his face (We will call this boy Goph for privacy and the purpose of avoiding embarrassment).
Goph had his head slumped on his arms strewn on the side of the table, his hood shadowed his face and his breathing was heavy. I crept closer so that my face was close to his, and whispered. “Are you okay?” He shuffled a bit in his seat and slightly lifted his head up so that he could be audibly heard. “No.” He grumbled, then dropped his head upon his arms once more. The corners of my lips turned down into a sort of pouting expression, and I pulled the back of his hood down so that his dark golden curls shone in the diffused light of the classroom. He groaned at this and shifted his head so that he was peering at me. Like a ninja one of my hands disappeared beneath the table and skillfully poked his side, this made him jump a little and I pulled a face at the same time. This made him smile, which resulted in me smiling. Goph hardly ever smiles, but when he does it is like rain falling upon a dry harsh dessert; Very rare but welcoming like a blessing.
After seeing him smile I took the chance and attacked him with more questions, since I had left him vulnerable. I was not being nosy, just trying to figure out what was wrong and if I could help. Quietly, like a whisper in the wind he told me his story and then once more slumped down upon the table. The story had left me distressed, and contemplative. But I sat up and gradually placed my arms around him in a comforting and affectionate hug, one of his hands had found my elbow and he squeezed it (this apparently was his show of mutual affection). I whispered some things in his ear, and he did not reply… But I did not expect him to. Shortly after the hug the bell rang to excuse us from class, and my head was filled with puzzled questions and emotional conclusions. The majority of the class was pushing out the door like ravenous wolves trying to be first to lunch, but my feet slowly shuffled along down the hall while my gaze never left Goph, my heart whispered “Please be alright.”
I like where I sit in my art class, I have two of my best friends sitting on either side of me and good acquaintances opposite of us three. We have good discussions and give each other a lot of beneficial feedback, which is an exceptionally good thing in an art class (because critiquing is very important in perfecting your skills and artwork). After closing my sketchbook I’d gaze over my friends sketches, inside my mind was yelling at me and condemning me to imperfect procrastinating artwork for the rest of my life because I had set my sketch aside. But my conscience was silenced when I turned to the right of me and saw his face (We will call this boy Goph for privacy and the purpose of avoiding embarrassment).
Goph had his head slumped on his arms strewn on the side of the table, his hood shadowed his face and his breathing was heavy. I crept closer so that my face was close to his, and whispered. “Are you okay?” He shuffled a bit in his seat and slightly lifted his head up so that he could be audibly heard. “No.” He grumbled, then dropped his head upon his arms once more. The corners of my lips turned down into a sort of pouting expression, and I pulled the back of his hood down so that his dark golden curls shone in the diffused light of the classroom. He groaned at this and shifted his head so that he was peering at me. Like a ninja one of my hands disappeared beneath the table and skillfully poked his side, this made him jump a little and I pulled a face at the same time. This made him smile, which resulted in me smiling. Goph hardly ever smiles, but when he does it is like rain falling upon a dry harsh dessert; Very rare but welcoming like a blessing.
After seeing him smile I took the chance and attacked him with more questions, since I had left him vulnerable. I was not being nosy, just trying to figure out what was wrong and if I could help. Quietly, like a whisper in the wind he told me his story and then once more slumped down upon the table. The story had left me distressed, and contemplative. But I sat up and gradually placed my arms around him in a comforting and affectionate hug, one of his hands had found my elbow and he squeezed it (this apparently was his show of mutual affection). I whispered some things in his ear, and he did not reply… But I did not expect him to. Shortly after the hug the bell rang to excuse us from class, and my head was filled with puzzled questions and emotional conclusions. The majority of the class was pushing out the door like ravenous wolves trying to be first to lunch, but my feet slowly shuffled along down the hall while my gaze never left Goph, my heart whispered “Please be alright.”
Labels: Affection, Art, Distress, friendship, high school, impatience, Love, sad, sympathy
--Cloud Envy.
10:08 AM
0 commented
10:08 AM
0 commented
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
An Upsetting Realization
Early in the period the Yearbook Staff went around the school and passed out little sheets of paper which were supposed to signify awards; Several slips were given to kids in my class, and I also was given one. Upon receiving it I leisurely read it over and wasn’t surprised, it said:
Congratulations!
You have won best artist of the school!
Come to room #156 During homeroom
to get your picture taken for the yearbook!
I wasn’t surprised because I had won the Art Student of the Month for October, and put all of my energy and time into my Art and Photography class, but of course I was pleased. After reading the slip a deep and heavy sigh escaped my lips while my eyes concentrated on the digital clock; I was impatiently awaiting the bell to ring and dismiss my seventh period class. I focused my eyes and bit at my lip, straining my brain to make the laws of time change for my will- I was unsuccessful, and so I sat in my seat listening to the subs nasally voice bark out the answers to the worksheets we were grading.
There were several attention-seeking no good misfit idiots arranged sparingly around the classroom that would occasionally interrupt her making the time pass even more slowly. I growled under my breath in frustration cursing all the idiots and especially the sub, the only person hearing my barely audible whispers was my table partner. She would chuckle slightly at my threats, finding my annoyance in the situation amusing. I had never had a good past with subs, but this sub was the worst: She was old (one of those stupid old people that think they’re always right, and when they’re proven wrong they act like the correct answer is what they thought the entire time) and her voice was nasally and high; it made my ears hurt. I sat there getting more and more irritated as the minutes passed by, I was correcting my partners worksheets- but of course she didn’t do it so there wasn’t anything to correct, so it left me to sit there and observe all the nuisances and condemn all the pests to the deepest pits of hell. My day hadn’t been a good one, so it had left me very irritable especially because it was the end of school. Finally when my hostility was reaching its peak, the bell rang and the class exploded out of their seats. I cradled my binder and textbook to my chest as I slowly waited for my peers to file out of the room.
I walked slowly from the classroom to my locker, usually I would be in a haste to get home, but I was tired and sore. The rest of the world seemed to be much faster than I was today, but I let people push on by,” Who cares how fast I go? I’ll get there all the same”, I said to myself to suppress my anger of the impolite people. I was approaching my locker when a grunt expressed my frustration, my locker neighbors were still packing to go home. The people who use the lockers next to mine never have the decency to scoot over and allow me to get into my locker until all of their things are packed away, I snorted at them and hastily pushed them aside; I had no time for manners. Of course they guffawed and huffed at my behavior, but I didn’t care. “My day is going terrible, I have the right to be mean” I thought. I placed my three binders and thick book The Count of Monte Cristo into my backpack, and swung it over my shoulder carelessly kicking my locker shut. I turned on my heel to head out the doors, the doors to freedom of the educational chaos.
It was chilly outside, and a light breeze tickled at the skin of my cheeks. I was thankful I had worn my jacket today. I slowly glanced over the vehicles lined up along the curb, I was looking for my ride, I didn’t spot it. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my grandma’s phone number. The dialing tone blared in my ear several times until I was forwarded to her voicemail. I became frustrated and hung up, afterword dialing her number numerous times and repeating the ritual. I huffed and started walking along the sidewalk, apparently I wasn’t getting a ride today. As I was boiling over inside, I remembered my grandma telling me yesterday that she probably wouldn’t be able to pick me up because of a doctors appointment. At that moment I received a text, I dug around in my pocked for my phone and read the message, “Nate’s dad is crazy!” I quickly replied with the question “Why?” The sender of this text was my best friend, he had skipped school today. *This was the main reason my mood was so glum and irritable, I had spent the majority of the day worrying why he wasn’t at school until I texted him during 4th period and received the answer Because I’m staying home with friends, skipping. I have always tried to pound the importance of school into my friend’s thick skull, and his rebellion against all that is good always upset me, but today it really took its toll. I had walked about a block before I got a reply to my question, “He’s trying to kill us!” He was referring to himself, Nate, and Julian.This sent worry quickly across my face and mind, and I called him on instinct. I became nervous because he didn’t answer for several rings of the dial tone, and when he did his voice was a characteristic “Yeahhh?” I demanded him to tell me what he meant when he said He’s trying to kill us! and he replied, “Oh yeah well his dad found out he skipped at my house and so he’s been bangin’ on the door all day and threatening to call the cops”, something like this wasn’t new news to me… He, my friend, was reckless beyond reason but while he was giving me the explanation Nate shouted in the background “Get off his back girl, you’re not his mom!” (he said this thinking I was calling my friend to yell at him for skipping) Because of Nate’s outburst, I didn’t listen much to my friends details of the text. The outburst sent a sudden wave of emotion through my body, and I quickly snapped into the phone “Okay, goodbye” before I rudely hung up.
I no longer was fretting over the distance I had to walk to get home; I wasn’t mumbling about the stupid sub, all that I could think about were those words. You’re. Not. His. Mom. Before I knew it my feet had lead me home, I stepped through the front door and walked to the kitchen. Not until then did the emotion and weight of what had been said fell upon me. All my feelings and emotions and fatigue from the day I had experienced blasted me at once, and I sagged down to kneel upon my knees. I blankly stared at my hands and the ground, until I came to a nasty revelation: He was right, I’m not his mom.
* Refer to my previous Blog for further information and in depth detail about why I was upset about him skipping, and the emotion and protectiveness I have for him.
Congratulations!
You have won best artist of the school!
Come to room #156 During homeroom
to get your picture taken for the yearbook!
I wasn’t surprised because I had won the Art Student of the Month for October, and put all of my energy and time into my Art and Photography class, but of course I was pleased. After reading the slip a deep and heavy sigh escaped my lips while my eyes concentrated on the digital clock; I was impatiently awaiting the bell to ring and dismiss my seventh period class. I focused my eyes and bit at my lip, straining my brain to make the laws of time change for my will- I was unsuccessful, and so I sat in my seat listening to the subs nasally voice bark out the answers to the worksheets we were grading.
There were several attention-seeking no good misfit idiots arranged sparingly around the classroom that would occasionally interrupt her making the time pass even more slowly. I growled under my breath in frustration cursing all the idiots and especially the sub, the only person hearing my barely audible whispers was my table partner. She would chuckle slightly at my threats, finding my annoyance in the situation amusing. I had never had a good past with subs, but this sub was the worst: She was old (one of those stupid old people that think they’re always right, and when they’re proven wrong they act like the correct answer is what they thought the entire time) and her voice was nasally and high; it made my ears hurt. I sat there getting more and more irritated as the minutes passed by, I was correcting my partners worksheets- but of course she didn’t do it so there wasn’t anything to correct, so it left me to sit there and observe all the nuisances and condemn all the pests to the deepest pits of hell. My day hadn’t been a good one, so it had left me very irritable especially because it was the end of school. Finally when my hostility was reaching its peak, the bell rang and the class exploded out of their seats. I cradled my binder and textbook to my chest as I slowly waited for my peers to file out of the room.
I walked slowly from the classroom to my locker, usually I would be in a haste to get home, but I was tired and sore. The rest of the world seemed to be much faster than I was today, but I let people push on by,” Who cares how fast I go? I’ll get there all the same”, I said to myself to suppress my anger of the impolite people. I was approaching my locker when a grunt expressed my frustration, my locker neighbors were still packing to go home. The people who use the lockers next to mine never have the decency to scoot over and allow me to get into my locker until all of their things are packed away, I snorted at them and hastily pushed them aside; I had no time for manners. Of course they guffawed and huffed at my behavior, but I didn’t care. “My day is going terrible, I have the right to be mean” I thought. I placed my three binders and thick book The Count of Monte Cristo into my backpack, and swung it over my shoulder carelessly kicking my locker shut. I turned on my heel to head out the doors, the doors to freedom of the educational chaos.
It was chilly outside, and a light breeze tickled at the skin of my cheeks. I was thankful I had worn my jacket today. I slowly glanced over the vehicles lined up along the curb, I was looking for my ride, I didn’t spot it. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my grandma’s phone number. The dialing tone blared in my ear several times until I was forwarded to her voicemail. I became frustrated and hung up, afterword dialing her number numerous times and repeating the ritual. I huffed and started walking along the sidewalk, apparently I wasn’t getting a ride today. As I was boiling over inside, I remembered my grandma telling me yesterday that she probably wouldn’t be able to pick me up because of a doctors appointment. At that moment I received a text, I dug around in my pocked for my phone and read the message, “Nate’s dad is crazy!” I quickly replied with the question “Why?” The sender of this text was my best friend, he had skipped school today. *This was the main reason my mood was so glum and irritable, I had spent the majority of the day worrying why he wasn’t at school until I texted him during 4th period and received the answer Because I’m staying home with friends, skipping. I have always tried to pound the importance of school into my friend’s thick skull, and his rebellion against all that is good always upset me, but today it really took its toll. I had walked about a block before I got a reply to my question, “He’s trying to kill us!” He was referring to himself, Nate, and Julian.This sent worry quickly across my face and mind, and I called him on instinct. I became nervous because he didn’t answer for several rings of the dial tone, and when he did his voice was a characteristic “Yeahhh?” I demanded him to tell me what he meant when he said He’s trying to kill us! and he replied, “Oh yeah well his dad found out he skipped at my house and so he’s been bangin’ on the door all day and threatening to call the cops”, something like this wasn’t new news to me… He, my friend, was reckless beyond reason but while he was giving me the explanation Nate shouted in the background “Get off his back girl, you’re not his mom!” (he said this thinking I was calling my friend to yell at him for skipping) Because of Nate’s outburst, I didn’t listen much to my friends details of the text. The outburst sent a sudden wave of emotion through my body, and I quickly snapped into the phone “Okay, goodbye” before I rudely hung up.
I no longer was fretting over the distance I had to walk to get home; I wasn’t mumbling about the stupid sub, all that I could think about were those words. You’re. Not. His. Mom. Before I knew it my feet had lead me home, I stepped through the front door and walked to the kitchen. Not until then did the emotion and weight of what had been said fell upon me. All my feelings and emotions and fatigue from the day I had experienced blasted me at once, and I sagged down to kneel upon my knees. I blankly stared at my hands and the ground, until I came to a nasty revelation: He was right, I’m not his mom.
* Refer to my previous Blog for further information and in depth detail about why I was upset about him skipping, and the emotion and protectiveness I have for him.
Labels: Anxiety, friendship, grievance, protectiveness, revelation, sad, school
--Cloud Envy.
4:01 PM
2 commented
4:01 PM
2 commented