Showcase: August, 2003

Given the unusual length of the most recent Selected Entries, I've taken the rare step of narrowing it down even further. I did what cutting I could to the August, 2003 Selected Entries, but found I couldn't excise much more without removing the substance of all that happened that month. So, rather than hacking the Selected Entries to death, I've taken a few entries out of them to post on their own. There was no particular criteria for selecting these, other than that they seemed particularly funny and offered a positive perspective on what could be a rough time during my adolescence. Anyone who wants to read the full Selected Entries can. Otherwise, there's this.

August 16, 2003

Surprisingly, the only city where major looting took place [as a result of the Northeast blackout] was Ottawa, the capital of Canada. This was a bit unexpected, as Canadians really just don’t seem like the looting type. On the Conan O’Brien Show last night they presented a parody video of the Canadian looters. They were all carrying hockey gear and yelling “Eh?” to each other. The police officer who followed them was also proclaiming “Eh?”

Blonde Friend would’ve laughed so hard; we had a Spanish teacher from Canada last year and we always found creative ways to incorporate “Eh?” into everyday class. I remember that one of the more popular methods was writing “Eh?” signs on the chalk board.

Another was asking her to repeat test answers: “I’m sorry Canadian Spanish Teacher, I didn’t get number two in section A, could you tell me what it was again?” “Why certainly…A.”

And when I once received a detention for a fart machine (that incidentally belonged to Blonde Friend) I said, “Detention today, eh?”

Blonde Friend was fairly hysterical and shortly thereafter I proceeded to run into a desk (on accident, of course). Powell and I are here by ourselves. Mom and Dad are at Thomas’s scrimmage. We have nine days left until the start of school. It certainly doesn’t seem like it. It still seems very far away, but when you think about it, nine days is only like Thanksgiving break. That’s exciting and depressing at the same time.

August 17, 2003

Only eight days left. Two days ago, Pie got into the pool for the first time. She looked genuinely confused as Mom carried her around in the water, a puzzled face looking around from beneath a little white hat. Powell and I agreed that it was one of the most adorable things that either of us had ever seen.

It thunder-stormed terribly last night. Powell and Thomas slept in my bed and I told a scary story that concluded with a serial killer standing outside of my closed door. We were all quite silent after that, and even I half expected the door to burst open. We were all terrified, and we were making all sorts of jokes to stave the horror away.

Powell continued the story, saying that Warrdell (my serial killer’s name) had entered the room to find us gone. He assumed that we were hiding in the closet, and he never guessed we might be under the bed.

“That’d never work, though,” I said.

“Why?” Powell asked, already laughing.

“Because there’s stuff under my bed.”

Powell started giggling wildly.

I continued, “And even if we could, Thomas would be like, ‘Stop pushing! Stop pushing! Did I say you could touch?’”

Powell was shaking with suppressed laughter at the thought of Thomas giving us away to a ruthless serial killer. We then fell asleep, shortly after I told an incomplete story about the three of us going to Heaven after the house gets struck by lightning. Last night’s lightning storm was unlike any that I can remember having seen before. The night was illuminated bright as day for several seconds at a time; it honestly looked just like a cloudy Saturday morning, more strikingly so than I can recall before then.

I’m nervous about school. I’m worried that Sophomore Year will be more difficult than Freshman Year. What if I can’t get straight As in Advanced United States History? I can’t wait to take World History. I want to take European History, like Annoyingly Perfect Cousin did. It sounds like fun. And I’m going to be in Spanish III!

I’ve been diverting between terrified, excited, and depressed in regards to the coming school year. I feel emotionally confused and I feel as if I have no idea who I am. I want to take a shower, but it’s about eleven o’clock in the evening. For lack of a better thing to do, I’ll probably go to bed.

August 19, 2003

After babysitting the neighborhood kids (not difficult, as they watched a Mary Kate and Ashley video the whole time) I went back home, quickly changed and got into the hot tub by myself, alone in the serene and beautiful nighttime. I was struck all at once with how breathtaking and awe-inspiring the night sky was, and how at peace I felt in my little hot tub, my large house, my home, looming above me, its secure grounds and fence all around me.

After a little while in the hot tub, I jumped into the pool, by then icy cold. And it felt so good and refreshing, and at that moment I was absolutely convinced that everything would be fine

I continued to alternate like that, between the hot tub and the pool (quite contrasting). I was eventually joined by Powell and Thomas. They first jumped in the pool, though, to cool themselves off from football practice.

Powell and Thomas went inside and I was alone once more. Powell soon called me saying that Dad had gotten sushi. I was overjoyed. We haven’t had sushi in the longest time, and Dad knows I’ve been craving it. I stepped out of the hot tub, and as I stood with my arms on the deck railing, surveying our backyard and the beautiful summer night, I thought, “We’re as wealthy as we’ll ever need to be.”