bad vibes like confetti in italy
11.10.03 @ 5:30 p.m.
So there's this boy in my Italian class and I assume his name is John or Joe or whatever the English equivalent of Giuseppe is, because that's what the teacher calls him. She Italianizes almost everyone's name but mine and a couple of other people. I can see having a hard time finding the Italian version of Chelsea, but most of the other teachers I've had have called me Elena. And I kind of miss having a fancy foreign name. But, this boy puzzles me. Normally he sits in the back corner, kind of a class loner like myself (except that I madly cling to Rachel now when we're told to chat in Italian or do an interview or practice something, like today when we were told to describe our weekends) (I miei amici sono andati da Corvallis e Portland a Eugene per una festa sorpresa. Poi noi siamo andati alla una altra festa per il compleanno di mia amica Moni. Ieri i miei genitori sono andati a Eugene con mio cane e alla stamattina, mio padre ha cucinato PANCAKES!). I sit in the front/middle row (because on my end of the class room, there are a bunch of desk shoved in the one open space in the room) where I get frequently blinded by the overhead projector, which is ridiculously aimed at the side wall (for maximum student blinding). Anyway. I usually sit one seat away from the wall and when Rachel comes in late sometimes she takes that seat. Of late, 'Giuseppe' sits in that next to the wall seat, and I don't know what to make of that. This starts the day after I stand facing the back of the room when I come in so I can take off my coat before squeezing into the tiny desk that is crammed in next to all the other tiny desks so no one CAN FREAKING MOVE IN THE CLASSROOM, and he asks where I got my Chewbacca shirt. This is like, near the first time I've heard him talk, let alone been directly addressed. And it would seem he is painfully shy, because last week the teacher singled him out after we had stumblingly interviewed one another (goddamn backwards verbs!) to respond to a question in front of the class. He totally choked. And I'm pretty sure that's happened a lot of the times he's been singled out by the teacher.
The point is, I don't know what to make of this. I rather wish he'd go back to the corner seat, because if he doesn't, I'm going to have to take it. I feel very awkward sitting by him, possibly because my insanely high generalized paranoia levels. Christ. Also, at least when I sit by Rachel, we chat. Silences do nothing. Except make me more self conscious about the fact that I'm not saying anything. And that I have nothing to say.
This is one of my problems: If I have nothing to say, I say nothing. And more often than not, I have nothing of any import to say. So I come off as aloof, icy bitch. Sad. Of course, this is discounting all the other times when I desperately WANT to say something but can't think of anything or get vapor-locked by shyness. I counter the 'nothing to say' stuff on IM by saying "Indeed" a lot. Which people who have frequent IM conversations with me can probably attest to. (Then there's the 'inability to fake enthusiasm or even really express emotion when I'm tired' thing which apparently makes me look sarcastic, usually in writing, usually (again) on IM.) Eh.
I plowed through a rock history test today, turned in a moderately kick ass paper on Dogs and Recognition in the Odyssey (their topic, not mine), and wrote a lame as fuck mini paper in Italian. Man, I really hate foreign language right now. I wish I didn't have to take it the rest of the year. Grr. Maybe I could take the intensive one term class, but I think I would implode if I tried it. As it is, my brain is skittering around like an ice cube in a hot skillet. I've been home for what, three hours and I haven't written a damn thing on Traveler though I'm a good 6,000 words behind now, including today's quota. Stupid exciting weekend.
So yesterday. Yesterday was pretty cool. Alissa crashed here and a desire to make sure she got up and away in good time to head back to Ashland. Also, I'm ever aware that people always wake up super early in an unfamiliar house, so I got up by 9:15. After Alissa left around ten-ish, everyone was up and we just sat around the living room (mostly wrapped in blankets) talking about various things. The conversations kept going back to how crap our yearbooks were. And how pissed we each were with the articles or whatever that were written about us (which raises a bit of a what the hell, because we are immortalized, most of us, taken out of the pack, but the articles FUCKING SUCK. Mine sounds like it was written by a goddamn twelve year old), Andrew and Martha being more technical because they worked on yearbook and found all their efforts corrupted by vacuous editors. End result: None of us will even look at our yearbook. It's too horrible. Except the classy prom shot of me in Martha's kitchen that made it to the prom collage page. I think Andrew must have taken that, because somehow I instinctively pose like that when he takes pictures of me. Possibly because he tells me to pose.
Speaking of photos and cameras, it was a bit annoying when I was taking pictures of the party, because as soon as a 50mm lens swivels around to aim at anyone, they feel compelled to pose. This seems to happen less often with a teeny point and shoot. Big cameras make people feel formal, maybe, but I just wanted some goddamn candid shots of my friends. (And Slavik, I didn't say SLR to be pretentious, it was less typing than "my big film camera." And you would've known what I meant.)
Liz and Ness, I think I'm going to write a private entry in a moment.
[lyric from The Who's "Postcard" (from Odds & Sods)]
EDIT: I forgot to add that I was absurdly excited today by the delivery of the new recycling bins. They're huge! And require no sorting!
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
