*This article is going to be me narrating a day in my life in high school. For
memory's sake, we're going to go with senior year, meaning 1998-1999.
Some of you might gain insight from this. If not, then it's still going
to be interesting for me. I'll be writing in the style of Rorschach
from Watchmen. If that means something to you, then you'll know what I mean. Otherwise, never mind.*
Eyes blearily open. Dreamworld of superpowers and loyal friends shatters at the sound of Garfield alarm clock. New day is upon me. Usual routine now commences. Mother has prepared whatever breakfast she thinks is healthy this week. Her disgust with my weight is reliably evident, but it gets lost in the sea of her grievances with me. Breakfast ends and shower begins. Mirror gives me insight into what everyone else will tired of seeing today. Fogs up, and a thin veil is a momentary mercy. Get dressed to song Footloose. Hope it helps morale. Maybe a little, but temporarily and not much. Not like when I was a little kid caught up in the energy and the optimism of it. No real place for energy and optimism anymore. Still, certain minimal levels of cheer necessary to function.
Leave for school earlier than normal kid, like usual. Getting there early means entering building peacefully. Less likely to get spat on. Has become issue lately. On way play The Touch from Transformers: The Movie to try and increase morale. Failing that, Instruments of Destruction will come on next and I'll imagine the glorious burning ruins of my enemies. Catharsis will follow. Almost enough to take my mind off of house where girl I have crush on used to live. Almost enough to make me think of something else. Anything else but what I have been cheated out of because of who I am. Hatred for who I am seethes through me for a moment, going above normal levels before the music distracts my focus and I wait to see if that hill the Firebird always dies on will delay me a moment today. It doesn't.
High School comes into sight and memories flood into me. Looks light a brighter happier place than the thuggish cesspool that was the Junior High. Newer and shinier doesn't mean better though. Just a newer better decorated hellhole. Upon pulling in, I park in a distant spot favored by no one, preparing to avoid interaction with classmates after school. Spot positions me well to use a less favored side entrance. If I'm early and lucky enough there won't be guys waiting to spit on me there today. No need to go to locker once inside. Too tempting for bullies to mess with it. Once had vaseline coated all over the inside. Carry everything, all the books and supplies, on my back. Can be watched that way. Can be kept safe.
Attempt to proceed directly to class without incident. Restroom stop maybe. Can only hope to hide inside classroom for first class. Hide from hostiles. Nonhostiles out in the hall too. No trouble from them. No eye contact. No acknowledgment. Hostiles will antagonize at slightest provocation. Passing them in hall all the justification needed. Taunts unsophisticated, but relentless. Picking on shortcomings long since acknowledged by everyone. Futility of their sadistic game enrages me. Maybe I fight back with words they don't understand. Hasn't mattered for for over a decade. Damn sure doesn't now.
First class begins. English. Good at it. Frustrated endlessly with the lack of enthusiasm from my classmates. Will say something at least once to earn a strange look from some of them. Rarely will know what I said. Classmates will usually say or do something to get in trouble with the teacher. Bores me and wastes my time. Futility in their behavior apparent. Inexplicably irrational as they were the first day at St. John's.
Second class begins. Accounting. Bad at it, but have accounting professor aunt tutoring me. Tend to do better in class than most of my classmates. Have eccentric habit of using expensive fountain pen to do accounting homework. Have dumber than usual classmates. Strange. Accounting shouldn't attract them. Preparing for careers in white collar crime perhaps. Do not end up dwelling on it.
Third class begins. Study Hall. Usually bring book to this or talk to coach who teaches the class. Classmates have conversations in this class that make the ones classmates have in other classes of the day seem like Tarintino dialogue. Bored mostly.
Fourth class begins. Business Management. Seems I'm ahead of the curve on this class just from reading Dilbert books. Classmates seem to have more well-rounded intelligence levels. Enjoy the different conversational texture. On entrepreneurship team in FBLA via this class. More social with classmates out of necessity. Not nearly as painful as doing so would've been a few years ago. Making progress perhaps? Whose progress? Yours? Theirs? The teacher's? Who is to know?
Lunch begins: Choice to be made. Lean up against wall. Eat bag lunch in underpopulated area. Avoid hostiles and avoid making nonhostiles uncomfortable that way. Or sit at table and irritate and alienate all present with personality. Depends on patience. Depends how how merciful I'm feeling. Mostly lean against the wall. Don't go where I'm not wanted. Besides lunch is weird. On Atkins. Cold meatloaf, pork rinds, and sugar free jello cup. Enough to gross out anyone. No social capital anyway. Could have charbroiled live puppy for lunch. Wouldn't matter. Outcast. Understand that rule. All too well. Far too long.
Fifth class begins. Second Study Hall. Same thing. Instead Let's assume pep rally happens today. Wearing all black. Dressed specifically that way for today. Greatest tormenters are athletes. Only hatred for them. No spirit. No love. No joy. Only contempt reserved for greatest enemies. Teachers and coaches expect it by now. Tell me to have school spirit. That it's important to support school. Not supporting anything. School showed me worst of human nature. Gave me terrible education. Among worst in country. Yet seeking praise. For their sins. Rot in hell. Go to pep rally though. Filing in along with the rest of them. Wear Terminator shades, black turtleneck, black dress pants, and shiny black shoes. Black sweater too if it's cold. Never cheer. Never stand. Never clap. Only during the pledge of allegiance and the Star Spangled Banner. Loyalty to my country I have. None to my school. None to my betrayer. None to my tormenter. None to the destroyer of all that is good in life. Am assaulted as I sit motionless locked in unbroken deadeyed stare with the coaches. Assaulted verbally. Assaulted physically. Breaking me, they think. Not even getting close. As they resort to violence and intimidation to try and enforce conformity, I feed off their energy. No real point. If had one, wouldn't have to resort to violence and intimidation. Might as well beat me to death. Scream until I'm deafened. Won't budge. Would've been just fine reading a book quietly while the damned thing went on. Had to push me. Had to invite a wet blanket to your party. Fine. Wet blanket desired. Wet blanket provided. Am immovable object. Pep rallies not unstoppable force. Will be proud to dying day. Never broke.
6th class begins: Journalism. In offshoot class from main journalism class. Just four of us in the library. Coming up with stories. Mostly write movie reviews and whatever else teacher asks me to write. Lots of goofing off in this class. Classmates are not really popular kids either. Get treated better than normal. Consider them all nonhostiles. Consider majoring in journalism in college. Good experience. Went to Halloween Dance as Michael Meyers from Halloween. Got treated better than normal because no one knew it was me for a while. Got to be in journalism group photo. Journalism class highlight of day.
7th class begins: Business Law. Learn a lot in this class. Feels like college course. Have had a few of those by now. Great feeling to learn so much. Especially regarding banking business. Classmates equally dedicated to learning means hostiles and nonhostiles largely irrelevant. Everyone on learning. Good.
School ends: Mission is escape. Likely holding in considerable bowel movement due to unwillingness to use school's restrooms for that purpose. Mad dash for car. Should be largely abandoned around it if all goes well. Experience rush of adrenaline upon exiting school. Sure today will be the day one of the teams kicks my ass. For the pep rally business. For not liking sports in general. Just because I'm Frank. Just because they know I wouldn't hit back. Just because they could get away with it. Attack doesn't come, and I race home to superior restroom facility. Watch TV and do homework when arrive home. Maybe go out to see movie by myself later. Tomorrow will do the same thing. Lonely life. Barely feel human. Wondered what it would be like to be one of these people since time out of memory. Always outside of them. Sadness overwhelms. Where did it begin? Their cruelty? My weirdness? Chicken? Egg? Doesn't matter. Nothing changes. Nothing ever changes. Head hits pillow. Dreams follow. Superpowers. Loyal friends. A time and place where dreams survive.
-Frank
Eyes blearily open. Dreamworld of superpowers and loyal friends shatters at the sound of Garfield alarm clock. New day is upon me. Usual routine now commences. Mother has prepared whatever breakfast she thinks is healthy this week. Her disgust with my weight is reliably evident, but it gets lost in the sea of her grievances with me. Breakfast ends and shower begins. Mirror gives me insight into what everyone else will tired of seeing today. Fogs up, and a thin veil is a momentary mercy. Get dressed to song Footloose. Hope it helps morale. Maybe a little, but temporarily and not much. Not like when I was a little kid caught up in the energy and the optimism of it. No real place for energy and optimism anymore. Still, certain minimal levels of cheer necessary to function.
Leave for school earlier than normal kid, like usual. Getting there early means entering building peacefully. Less likely to get spat on. Has become issue lately. On way play The Touch from Transformers: The Movie to try and increase morale. Failing that, Instruments of Destruction will come on next and I'll imagine the glorious burning ruins of my enemies. Catharsis will follow. Almost enough to take my mind off of house where girl I have crush on used to live. Almost enough to make me think of something else. Anything else but what I have been cheated out of because of who I am. Hatred for who I am seethes through me for a moment, going above normal levels before the music distracts my focus and I wait to see if that hill the Firebird always dies on will delay me a moment today. It doesn't.
High School comes into sight and memories flood into me. Looks light a brighter happier place than the thuggish cesspool that was the Junior High. Newer and shinier doesn't mean better though. Just a newer better decorated hellhole. Upon pulling in, I park in a distant spot favored by no one, preparing to avoid interaction with classmates after school. Spot positions me well to use a less favored side entrance. If I'm early and lucky enough there won't be guys waiting to spit on me there today. No need to go to locker once inside. Too tempting for bullies to mess with it. Once had vaseline coated all over the inside. Carry everything, all the books and supplies, on my back. Can be watched that way. Can be kept safe.
Attempt to proceed directly to class without incident. Restroom stop maybe. Can only hope to hide inside classroom for first class. Hide from hostiles. Nonhostiles out in the hall too. No trouble from them. No eye contact. No acknowledgment. Hostiles will antagonize at slightest provocation. Passing them in hall all the justification needed. Taunts unsophisticated, but relentless. Picking on shortcomings long since acknowledged by everyone. Futility of their sadistic game enrages me. Maybe I fight back with words they don't understand. Hasn't mattered for for over a decade. Damn sure doesn't now.
First class begins. English. Good at it. Frustrated endlessly with the lack of enthusiasm from my classmates. Will say something at least once to earn a strange look from some of them. Rarely will know what I said. Classmates will usually say or do something to get in trouble with the teacher. Bores me and wastes my time. Futility in their behavior apparent. Inexplicably irrational as they were the first day at St. John's.
Second class begins. Accounting. Bad at it, but have accounting professor aunt tutoring me. Tend to do better in class than most of my classmates. Have eccentric habit of using expensive fountain pen to do accounting homework. Have dumber than usual classmates. Strange. Accounting shouldn't attract them. Preparing for careers in white collar crime perhaps. Do not end up dwelling on it.
Third class begins. Study Hall. Usually bring book to this or talk to coach who teaches the class. Classmates have conversations in this class that make the ones classmates have in other classes of the day seem like Tarintino dialogue. Bored mostly.
Fourth class begins. Business Management. Seems I'm ahead of the curve on this class just from reading Dilbert books. Classmates seem to have more well-rounded intelligence levels. Enjoy the different conversational texture. On entrepreneurship team in FBLA via this class. More social with classmates out of necessity. Not nearly as painful as doing so would've been a few years ago. Making progress perhaps? Whose progress? Yours? Theirs? The teacher's? Who is to know?
Lunch begins: Choice to be made. Lean up against wall. Eat bag lunch in underpopulated area. Avoid hostiles and avoid making nonhostiles uncomfortable that way. Or sit at table and irritate and alienate all present with personality. Depends on patience. Depends how how merciful I'm feeling. Mostly lean against the wall. Don't go where I'm not wanted. Besides lunch is weird. On Atkins. Cold meatloaf, pork rinds, and sugar free jello cup. Enough to gross out anyone. No social capital anyway. Could have charbroiled live puppy for lunch. Wouldn't matter. Outcast. Understand that rule. All too well. Far too long.
Fifth class begins. Second Study Hall. Same thing. Instead Let's assume pep rally happens today. Wearing all black. Dressed specifically that way for today. Greatest tormenters are athletes. Only hatred for them. No spirit. No love. No joy. Only contempt reserved for greatest enemies. Teachers and coaches expect it by now. Tell me to have school spirit. That it's important to support school. Not supporting anything. School showed me worst of human nature. Gave me terrible education. Among worst in country. Yet seeking praise. For their sins. Rot in hell. Go to pep rally though. Filing in along with the rest of them. Wear Terminator shades, black turtleneck, black dress pants, and shiny black shoes. Black sweater too if it's cold. Never cheer. Never stand. Never clap. Only during the pledge of allegiance and the Star Spangled Banner. Loyalty to my country I have. None to my school. None to my betrayer. None to my tormenter. None to the destroyer of all that is good in life. Am assaulted as I sit motionless locked in unbroken deadeyed stare with the coaches. Assaulted verbally. Assaulted physically. Breaking me, they think. Not even getting close. As they resort to violence and intimidation to try and enforce conformity, I feed off their energy. No real point. If had one, wouldn't have to resort to violence and intimidation. Might as well beat me to death. Scream until I'm deafened. Won't budge. Would've been just fine reading a book quietly while the damned thing went on. Had to push me. Had to invite a wet blanket to your party. Fine. Wet blanket desired. Wet blanket provided. Am immovable object. Pep rallies not unstoppable force. Will be proud to dying day. Never broke.
6th class begins: Journalism. In offshoot class from main journalism class. Just four of us in the library. Coming up with stories. Mostly write movie reviews and whatever else teacher asks me to write. Lots of goofing off in this class. Classmates are not really popular kids either. Get treated better than normal. Consider them all nonhostiles. Consider majoring in journalism in college. Good experience. Went to Halloween Dance as Michael Meyers from Halloween. Got treated better than normal because no one knew it was me for a while. Got to be in journalism group photo. Journalism class highlight of day.
7th class begins: Business Law. Learn a lot in this class. Feels like college course. Have had a few of those by now. Great feeling to learn so much. Especially regarding banking business. Classmates equally dedicated to learning means hostiles and nonhostiles largely irrelevant. Everyone on learning. Good.
School ends: Mission is escape. Likely holding in considerable bowel movement due to unwillingness to use school's restrooms for that purpose. Mad dash for car. Should be largely abandoned around it if all goes well. Experience rush of adrenaline upon exiting school. Sure today will be the day one of the teams kicks my ass. For the pep rally business. For not liking sports in general. Just because I'm Frank. Just because they know I wouldn't hit back. Just because they could get away with it. Attack doesn't come, and I race home to superior restroom facility. Watch TV and do homework when arrive home. Maybe go out to see movie by myself later. Tomorrow will do the same thing. Lonely life. Barely feel human. Wondered what it would be like to be one of these people since time out of memory. Always outside of them. Sadness overwhelms. Where did it begin? Their cruelty? My weirdness? Chicken? Egg? Doesn't matter. Nothing changes. Nothing ever changes. Head hits pillow. Dreams follow. Superpowers. Loyal friends. A time and place where dreams survive.
-Frank
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