This is year is the craziest so far. My ex-currics are piling up and I haven't even gone to school on a Wednesday yet. And now I'm in charge of a lot of things and am dating someone. On the relieving hand, I've also given up caring about extraneities like my appearance, my reputation, and the pitch of my voice so I can work on the real shit.
I'm on student leadership. Half of the class is Da Vincians (duh). There's a lot less room for my own new ideas than I was hoping but it's fun to be helpful anyway. I'm on clubs and services led by Isaiah, the only other useful gay in the school. He's apparently super conservative and for everything I'm not (except the homophobia, I guess...) but in the only experiences I've had with him he's shown himself to be smart, efficient, productive, and creative. And I can't wait to work under him. Figuratively.
The switch to Marshal campus is throwing a big wrench into all of my leadership projects. I want to secure a reasonable amount of single-person restrooms in the school (for girls with dicks/people who don't believe in gender/unwrapping tampons/cry seshes/making out at school for kids with parents who don't want their icky sex in their house for some ballistic reason/literally anyone who ever needs some privacy, meaning literally everyone) but that is turning out to be complicated because in two years Grant will take place down at 82nd and two years after that, we're moving back to Grant campus but the school will be an LA housewife after a field day of botox. And I have absolutely no intention of extending my stay at ratchet ass GHS, even for the well-being of my fellow genital people.
I'd also like to get some good murals on the walls (All of the walls! No blank space!) so that there's something to look at other than b&w pics of the 1940 Grant rugby team and their weirdly shaped crotches. Visual arts just don't get enough exposure at grant and it looks as if I have made this speech so many times that even typing is making me want to gag. Anyway, what with this year's walls being two years from retirement I'm not sure how to get that done. I no way in hell trust the future leadership classes of grant (or even this year's, to be honest. Finn is kind of a controlling dick and he's not even smart.) to get my projects done satisfactorily. As for the bathrooms, the Grant redesign team rejected by application so clearly my input isn't going to be a part of that endeavor. Maybe it was God.
I'm finding it harder and harder to care about the future of a high school that has treated me so poorly. Does an organization with such a haphazard manor even deserve my help? I'll mail this question with all of my others to Mr. I Don't Wanna, 1234 Procrastination Lane for approval.
Marimba's starting up this year. MyLinda only let in one new 5th grader with sticks this year, so we might have a chance at not starting from the beginning like most years. She's been really set on getting Africa Party playable so I guess that's happening. We're also bringing back Earth. If we manage to spell Immi's name right and get a better than Fred-quality recording I might raise my chances of getting noticed to a substancial 1%. What a dream come true.
Piano lessons will be the same, maybe with more direction. I'll leech off of my mom's material too and make it worthwhile. I always do. But I do hate the way Mike talks about money.
Tabletop club is off to a rocky start. Before the first day of school, a regular at club named Cameron (my long time crush on him is still making its way out the door, dragging each step like a rude zombie) began a facebook group message with some of the members and started coordinating a meeting day, as well as suggesting the number of club presidents be increased to 5 (pretty much appointing himself as the made-up "game master". "Alright, Thursday it is," he said, as me and Georgia exchanged cellular glances, pondering this new change of regime. Me and Georgia are a well-working team, each supplying for the other's downfalls. We created the club in an excited passing time verbal dodgeball and made it happen with our own communication, game carrying skills, mobile coordination, and hard work pestering our friends to attend. The club is our baby and Cameron was trying to adopt it from us, without our permission. I explained that scheduling couldn't be finalized because Me and Georgia didn't know what our calendars looked like, and obviously we were the priority. He responded with a restatement of his make-me-an-authority-figure idea, enlightening us with the basic logic of our attendance being irrelevant if he were also in charge. I laid down the deal and told him straight-up that his proposal (demand, rather) was just not going to happen. Georgia is really the one who put it most eloquently: "One does not simply promote oneself."
A new addition this year, me and my tap team Lucy and Finn (from DV of course) have officially begun a tap dance club. I think it will be a lot more informal than the other two are expecting. So far the only definite newcomer I know of is Hailey (/Haley/Hayley/Haileigh/Heyli or whatever the fuck. I really don't care) from Hollywood Studio. She's a good dancer for sure, but my infatuation with the girl stems from her lowkey but aggressive anxiety. There have been a few moments when I've noticed her have a privileged retireee-style meltdown, screaming and kicking and crying multiple liquids, but it's all just in her eyes. Her posture remains calm and composed and though stress is replacing the blood in her veins by the second, she tries with every ounce of her to keep it under wrap, and even thinks it's working. In the the two situations at hand, one was a complete overreacting, an on-the-spot moment in class that was really no pressure at all but by the time her 1 minute of messups was over she was slipping in her own sweat. The other time, however, was in my opinion a drastic underreaction. She had found out earlier that day that her dad was addicted to meth. I envision her learning the news and forbidding her tear ducts to do their work, making it through the day at school as an adult with nothing on her mind, breaking down inside. By the time she got to class the tension was so great that she gave one sentence about her predicament and immediately started crying. She's an excellent character. And she kind of idolizes me, I think. She thanked me profusely for giving her the lowdown on tap club (totally unnecessary, I despise being thanked for something more than once) and I think she was really nervous for high school. Girl will be running the school in senior year.
On Tuesdays I'll be doing hourlong tap classes at Hollywood and then two-hour Royal Blues rehearsals. I'll be tired but that's not new. I probably won't remember that I should do all my homework on Monday but maybe.
Ugh there's a tiny spider on my spacebar and I don't want to squish it
ok it's gone now
So, I guess I'm stepping up to be a leader. I've always kind of had the mindset that I would rather closely follow a competent leader than be one, but as I enter adulthood I'm finding that to be more and more rare. Sometimes I'm think I'm in good hands a slowly discover that the one I had trusted turned out to be a bumbling idiot all along. A reluctant leader just isn't as good as a passionate one, but sometimes even my reluctance is a more powerful force than someone else's complete conviction. I wonder if I'll be remembered as arrogant.
Engraver
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