Little Moments

Over the second semester of last year, there were... moments. Moments where I caught myself feeling way beyond what I probably should have. I don't even know this guy's favorite color. I have no idea what kind of music he listens to. But are those arbitrary things? Do they matter? I think they do, but I have no idea. I've known (well, known of, certainly) this guy since the seventh grade. We never really spoke a ton, even though we've had every math class together from the seventh grade forward. That changed last semester, though.

We were all hanging out in the science classroom before class. For whatever reason, I brought it upon myself to make fun of him (we're talking about the President here, the same guy I've been rambling about the last few posts). When the teacher said we were going to draw random seats, I said something along the lines of, "God forbid I get stuck sitting next to you," to the President. So, of course, I ended up sitting next to him for the first half of the semester.

I had the sniffles something awful, so I was rather noisy that first week of the semester. At some point, the President said, "Well, that's attractive," and all of a sudden something in my head clicked and I thought, "Oh, no!" a la Mike Birbiglia. I thought it would go away, but of course it didn't. By Valentine's Day, I was dating someone else, and when he asked if he could be my Valentine, I said no in a more snippy manner than intended. He just said, "Oh."

Before then, we'd joked all the time about how clearly I was desperately in love with him, and at some point he'd tripped up making a joke about babies and had somehow managed to imply that I was going to have his babies. (I'm laughing just remembering it- at first he stuttered, trying to fix it, but then he just went along with it, which was even funnier.)

After that, it was weird for a week or two. Eventually we got back to normal, though we didn't joke about being in love with each other as much. I go back and forth between thinking that it's because he realized I liked him and didn't want to egg me on and that it's because he realized he liked me and didn't want to accidentally seem too obvious.

One time in the library, we were sitting talking at one of the tables- our math teacher was off doing something or other and had sent our class to the library for a few days- and we were talking about all the books in my bag. I said something about how they weren't going to fit in my purse, and I believe I started pulling things out of my purse and stacking them rather precariously. Of course, my calculator (a lovely bulky TI-84 Plus, my little baby) fell, and he caught it against my leg. Either he held it there for a second too long, or my mind stopped time for a moment. The latter is incredibly likely.

And then there's the time we did a science experiment involving burning metal solutions to determine which metals burned which color flames. The teacher, being an advocate for general safety and not catching on fire in the classroom, warned us all to pull back long hair and long sleeves. I pulled my hair- which I'd been wearing down regularly (without putting any effort into it) since it was cold as fuck- up into a bun while the President pulled his sweatshirt off. Which, by the way, he looked very good in, but even better out of. He can really pull off a t-shirt and jeans. Anyways, he looked at me and said, "You look... different with your hair up." I don't remember what I did, but I probably shrugged or some such. When my dear friend... hmm, what shall I call her? Oh, I know, Luna! When my dear friend Luna came over, she (as usual) told me I was looking exceptionally sexy. So, of course, I said in a very clearly-joking arrogant voice, "Yeah, [the President] here thinks so, too." And Luna and I laughed. But I thought- I could have sworn- I heard him say something along the lines of, "That was the message I was trying to get across," or "That was the general point." It was a while ago, so I don't remember the exact phrase, but it was something like that. But I think I imagined it.

To quote the great Brad Paisley, "Yeah, I live for little moments like that."

School Internet

Since I live in Nashville (Davidson county) and Harpeth is in Kingston Springs (Cheatham county), I'm actually not supposed to come here. Nobody really cares, though. I keep their test scores high, and if I can work it out so I go here instead of Hillwood (shudder) then boom ka boom, I get to stay.

In order to work it out so I can stay, I'm getting a ride with my friend Tyler's mom (my second period math teacher), Mrs. A. This would work out totally normal, except that Tyler is doing football conditioning or whatever- yeah, I'm not a sports person- and has to stay after school until about four o'clock.

So, to entertain myself, I brought my laptop today and hung out in the library (free wifi and all the books I can read, since Ms. Wuller loves me) for a while. I looked around for information on the publishing industry and talked to a few people online that said since I'm so young, I'll have a hard time getting published. "Why?" I asked. 

"Because young people aren't good writers," was the common response.

Ugh.

I literally groaned out loud the sixth time I got this reply, and Coach Kelso (he does the track team, and was doing some sort of massage thing for the teachers- not sure why he was in the library) goes, "You making much progress?"

"Not really," I say, frowning as I unplug the computer. 

"Uh-oh!" he says. I wind up the power cord. "You doing a research paper?"

"It's more of something for my own interest," I say, and close the laptop.

"What is it?" probes Kelso.

"I'm trying to find a way to publish the book I'm working on, even though I'm thirteen."

He raises his eyebrows, and whether he's genuinely impressed or humoring me, I do not know. "You should talk to some publishers."

No shit, I think, but manage to hold this sentiment back. "Yeah, I think I'm going to Google some in the Nashville area." I realize how often I say that phrase and wonder if it sounds weird. Anyone else in the Nash- erm, living around Nashville- say it often?

"Good plan. I mean, they're probably gonna be really impressed. People like you don't come around every day."

I smile and nod. He's right. Can we say 'confidence boost'? If- when- I get this damn thing published, I'm going to put him in that thank-you section I'm planning. You know, the bit where you thank every person that helped you, and a few that didn't, really?

But I won't overload it.

Anyways, I just glanced at the title of this blog and realized how off-base I just got. Here's the original HOLY SHIT IT IS RAINING REALLY, REALLY HARD 

Moving on. 

Original point: my home page in Safari is blocked. (It's the Pirate Bay. I guess Harpeth isn't a huge fan of torrenting? Psshh, that's their problem, not mine.)