You know that song? You know, this song:
Well, it occurs to me that when it says, "I can't live with or without you," that reduces to "I can't live." Pretty grim, right?
I like it.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
The Story of My Senior Prom
By senior prom, I had finally realized that formal dances were not for me. I actually wasn't going to go. I swear, I wasn't. Additionally, I was going to be secure in that decision, knowing that it would be better for everyone involved if I just didn't go. (Also, all the girls I would have wanted to ask were in relationships).
But there was one girl who decided to change that. I'll admit that she's attractive, and I had considered asking her to the prom (and initially decided against it). The thing is that she has a strong personality (I don't want to use the word abrasive. But now you might be thinking it. But I didn't say it. Okay). So, when she decided that she wanted to go to prom with me, there was really nothing I could do about it. You know, high school social pressure and all that stuff. So, I manned up, got a single white rose, and asked her out to her face, knowing that the asking was mostly a formality (which, incidentally, is a great confidence booster that I have not had occasion to experience since then). I left shortly afterward to finish eating lunch with other people.
So, the night of the prom, we decided to drive different cars - or rather, she didn't tell me where she lived or what time I could pick her up, so I assumed, correctly, that we would be using separate cars. Same group as the Homecomings. She was actually a part of that group, so all was well. We got another party bus (partially because the group had gotten to be ridiculously large over the last two years - it turned out to be just a bus). The air-conditioning in the bus didn't work, and it felt like it was approaching 90 degrees outside. I stayed in the bus while everyone else went into a 7-Eleven to get ice. She didn't sit next to me when they came back.
At dinner, we sat together, but I spent most of the time talking with the guy across from me about movies. She spent most of the time talking to the girl next to her about I-don't-remember.
At the dance, we went in together, but she went right into the big crowd of dancing people. I couldn't follow (I hate being touched by people in big dancing crowds - a fear and hatred that to this day I have only partially gotten over with the help of repeated exposure and alcohol). I went to my group of really close friends and spent the night dancing with them in a corner. I had fun. I never once danced with my date.
At the school-sponsored after party, I spent my time running around, bowling, playing laser-tag and video games, and just generally acting like a teenager. Without my date.
At my group's after-after party, I hung out with various people and talked about life, college, and the meaning of things. One of them was the girl I had actually wanted to ask to prom but couldn't because she had a boyfriend. None of them was my date. I'm not sure I've ever had a conversation like that with her. It's the type of conversation I wish I could have more often.
I finished out the night by watching Iron Man and the sunrise. Then I drove home and collapsed into bed.
In conclusion, I had some fun, but ruined yet another girl's night. I felt pretty guilty about that for a while, but now I think that she should have seen it coming when she used social influence to coerce me into asking her to the prom.
Luckily, I won't be expected to attend many more formal dances.
But there was one girl who decided to change that. I'll admit that she's attractive, and I had considered asking her to the prom (and initially decided against it). The thing is that she has a strong personality (I don't want to use the word abrasive. But now you might be thinking it. But I didn't say it. Okay). So, when she decided that she wanted to go to prom with me, there was really nothing I could do about it. You know, high school social pressure and all that stuff. So, I manned up, got a single white rose, and asked her out to her face, knowing that the asking was mostly a formality (which, incidentally, is a great confidence booster that I have not had occasion to experience since then). I left shortly afterward to finish eating lunch with other people.
So, the night of the prom, we decided to drive different cars - or rather, she didn't tell me where she lived or what time I could pick her up, so I assumed, correctly, that we would be using separate cars. Same group as the Homecomings. She was actually a part of that group, so all was well. We got another party bus (partially because the group had gotten to be ridiculously large over the last two years - it turned out to be just a bus). The air-conditioning in the bus didn't work, and it felt like it was approaching 90 degrees outside. I stayed in the bus while everyone else went into a 7-Eleven to get ice. She didn't sit next to me when they came back.
At dinner, we sat together, but I spent most of the time talking with the guy across from me about movies. She spent most of the time talking to the girl next to her about I-don't-remember.
At the dance, we went in together, but she went right into the big crowd of dancing people. I couldn't follow (I hate being touched by people in big dancing crowds - a fear and hatred that to this day I have only partially gotten over with the help of repeated exposure and alcohol). I went to my group of really close friends and spent the night dancing with them in a corner. I had fun. I never once danced with my date.
At the school-sponsored after party, I spent my time running around, bowling, playing laser-tag and video games, and just generally acting like a teenager. Without my date.
At my group's after-after party, I hung out with various people and talked about life, college, and the meaning of things. One of them was the girl I had actually wanted to ask to prom but couldn't because she had a boyfriend. None of them was my date. I'm not sure I've ever had a conversation like that with her. It's the type of conversation I wish I could have more often.
I finished out the night by watching Iron Man and the sunrise. Then I drove home and collapsed into bed.
In conclusion, I had some fun, but ruined yet another girl's night. I felt pretty guilty about that for a while, but now I think that she should have seen it coming when she used social influence to coerce me into asking her to the prom.
Luckily, I won't be expected to attend many more formal dances.
The Story of My Second Homecoming
Any sensible person would have realized that dances and me were a bad combination after the first Homecoming. I thought it might be different if I went with a girl I actually wanted to romance. How very wrong I was.
I had known her for a while, but hadn't thought very much about her until the summer before senior year when we were on the same trip with a school group through Italy and Greece. I'll admit, I had a crush on her - and actually my theater teacher had suggested us getting together (I assume in jest, but with her it's hard to tell).
Anyway, I did my usual Homecoming routine of complaining and whatnot. Underneath that I was gathering up courage for a feat of derring-do. I asked her out. Over the phone.
Someone out there is doing a facepalm. It's probably me.
She said yes.
Things were looking good, right? I'd actually asked her out - albeit over the phone, which was sort of a wimp move, but considering how nerdy I am, some might consider that sweet.
And then I realized that I hadn't specified that I didn't want to go as friends. Cue thinking far too much about it.
This time we did all the usual stuff - mums, football games, Homecoming shirts. We were with basically the same group as the first time, but that seemed like a better plan because this girl actually knew a good portion of them. The group got a party bus. I remember dancing next to her on the party bus. I remember dancing next to her at the dance. I do not remember dancing with her, probably because I didn't. I do remember feeling self-conscious the whole time. Our conversations tended to have this structure:
Me: awkward open-ended statement.
Her: awkward, short reply.
(awkward silence)
(repeat)
But overall I was feeling good about the whole thing, even after it was over. At least until I realized that we weren't talking anymore, ever. I tried going up to her, but it always ended up being awkward. I remember one time I found an especially colorful fall leaf and pressed it in a book and then gave it to her. Perhaps it was an interesting idea, but the execution made me want to hide under the covers until graduation. Finally I realized it was ending, and in a last-ditch effort to make something happen, I wrote a poem for her and gave it to her. Over facebook. It was a limerick.
She has since unfriended me.
I had known her for a while, but hadn't thought very much about her until the summer before senior year when we were on the same trip with a school group through Italy and Greece. I'll admit, I had a crush on her - and actually my theater teacher had suggested us getting together (I assume in jest, but with her it's hard to tell).
Anyway, I did my usual Homecoming routine of complaining and whatnot. Underneath that I was gathering up courage for a feat of derring-do. I asked her out. Over the phone.
Someone out there is doing a facepalm. It's probably me.
She said yes.
Things were looking good, right? I'd actually asked her out - albeit over the phone, which was sort of a wimp move, but considering how nerdy I am, some might consider that sweet.
And then I realized that I hadn't specified that I didn't want to go as friends. Cue thinking far too much about it.
This time we did all the usual stuff - mums, football games, Homecoming shirts. We were with basically the same group as the first time, but that seemed like a better plan because this girl actually knew a good portion of them. The group got a party bus. I remember dancing next to her on the party bus. I remember dancing next to her at the dance. I do not remember dancing with her, probably because I didn't. I do remember feeling self-conscious the whole time. Our conversations tended to have this structure:
Me: awkward open-ended statement.
Her: awkward, short reply.
(awkward silence)
(repeat)
But overall I was feeling good about the whole thing, even after it was over. At least until I realized that we weren't talking anymore, ever. I tried going up to her, but it always ended up being awkward. I remember one time I found an especially colorful fall leaf and pressed it in a book and then gave it to her. Perhaps it was an interesting idea, but the execution made me want to hide under the covers until graduation. Finally I realized it was ending, and in a last-ditch effort to make something happen, I wrote a poem for her and gave it to her. Over facebook. It was a limerick.
She has since unfriended me.
The Story of My First Homecoming
It was fall of my junior year of high school. I was preparing for Homecoming the way I had prepared for all school dances up to that point: worrying excessively, complaining loudly to my friends long after they stopped listening, coming up with alternate plans I would never follow through with (in retrospect, though, all-night Monopoly actually would have been worse than the dance), and definitely not asking a girl out.
While I was complaining one afternoon at lunch, one of my friends asked me to go with her. My immediate response was to start laughing - I'm not sure if it was because I thought it was a joke or because it caught me off-guard or because it just made me intensely uncomfortable. It slowly dawned on me, as she started looking really sad (did I mention that she's adorable?), that she had been serious. I apologized excessively before saying yes.
We more or less agreed to go as friends and not do any of the usual stuff - no mums, no football game. Then there came the question of going with a group. I don't remember exactly how or why, but we ended up in a group with my other friends - as in I knew almost everyone and she only knew me. While certainly not my only mistake, that was certainly the biggest one.
At dinner, she was sad and distant. Although I distinctly remember asking if she was okay, I mostly talked to my other friends. At the dance, we went and found some of our mutual friends. I danced badly, as is my wont. But mostly I remember the night as being straining and sad. Afterwards, several of our mutual friends accused me of being a horrible person. I agreed. I'm sure I apologized to her, but I'm not sure I could ever apologize enough. It would have been much better for everyone if I had just said no and spent the night watching CSI reruns.
While I was complaining one afternoon at lunch, one of my friends asked me to go with her. My immediate response was to start laughing - I'm not sure if it was because I thought it was a joke or because it caught me off-guard or because it just made me intensely uncomfortable. It slowly dawned on me, as she started looking really sad (did I mention that she's adorable?), that she had been serious. I apologized excessively before saying yes.
We more or less agreed to go as friends and not do any of the usual stuff - no mums, no football game. Then there came the question of going with a group. I don't remember exactly how or why, but we ended up in a group with my other friends - as in I knew almost everyone and she only knew me. While certainly not my only mistake, that was certainly the biggest one.
At dinner, she was sad and distant. Although I distinctly remember asking if she was okay, I mostly talked to my other friends. At the dance, we went and found some of our mutual friends. I danced badly, as is my wont. But mostly I remember the night as being straining and sad. Afterwards, several of our mutual friends accused me of being a horrible person. I agreed. I'm sure I apologized to her, but I'm not sure I could ever apologize enough. It would have been much better for everyone if I had just said no and spent the night watching CSI reruns.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Social Butterflies
People always used to tell me that I was a social caterpillar. Some day, they implied, I would find the right circumstances and turn into a social butterfly.
Lately I've realized I'm more of a social worm.
Lately I've realized I'm more of a social worm.
Interesting Thing
Group leader: Okay, we're going to go around the circle and everyone is going to say their name and one interesting thing about themselves.
...
Terrance: Hi. I'm Terrance, and I have trouble thinking of interesting things to say about myself.
...
Terrance: Hi. I'm Terrance, and I have trouble thinking of interesting things to say about myself.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
A Conversation
A friend: Terrance, I'm worried about you. I think you should talk to a psychologist.
Me: I don't need a psychologist. All my problems are just in my head.
(pause)
Oh....
Me: I don't need a psychologist. All my problems are just in my head.
(pause)
Oh....
Friday, January 27, 2012
Songs on Repeat
For some reason, I'm able to listen to the same song on repeat for hours at a time. Sometimes I really need to do that. One time, it was:
That was truly a dark period of my life. And also a really hard problem set.
But lately, I've been listening to
I find I have a certain affinity for it.
That was truly a dark period of my life. And also a really hard problem set.
But lately, I've been listening to
I find I have a certain affinity for it.
Last Night
When I went out, people kept asking if I was a freshman. When I told them I wasn't, one said, "Oh! You don't even go here, do you?"
Spoons
Today, I was hanging out with some friends, and I kept hanging a spoon on my nose.
(This is what I do when I'm left around utensils and run out of things to eat. Because apparently I'm three years old. I also tore up the tea bag I was using and the wrapper it was in.) The girls who were there said they couldn't do that, so one of the guys said that it was probably just a guy skill.
I disagreed. As I explained: The girl I had a crush on for more than three years in high school could definitely hang a spoon from her nose. I know this because she had an ultra-adorable facebook picture where she was doing that with her boyfriend, who was not me.
He was however a great guy and one of the funniest people I've ever met, and they dated until she graduated. I hate it when awesome people date other awesome people.
I disagreed. As I explained: The girl I had a crush on for more than three years in high school could definitely hang a spoon from her nose. I know this because she had an ultra-adorable facebook picture where she was doing that with her boyfriend, who was not me.
He was however a great guy and one of the funniest people I've ever met, and they dated until she graduated. I hate it when awesome people date other awesome people.
Ah, the good old days
I was once a twelve-year-old boy at Jew camp. For some reason, several girls thought I was attractive. Until they talked to me.
There was one girl that I think enjoyed making me feel awkward. Or else she was just really bad at taking hints and I scarred her emotionally for life. Whichever.
So, one night, my whole age-group of campers is sitting at the campfire, singing campfire songs. She sits down next to me. I squirm a little, like usual. She grabs my arm, and says, "Hey there, Hunkalicious." Internally, I'm on Red Alert, full fight-or-flight mode. So what do I do? Like any incredibly awkward twelve-year-old, I wait until a song when most people stand up, but instead of standing up, I roll backwards over the log we're sitting on and discretely run to the other side of the campfire where no one is sitting because that's where all the smoke is blowing. And I sit there with my shirt covering the lower half of my face until the end of the song session.
I can't help but feel that the Hunkalicious incident more or less set the tone for my romantic life from then on.
There was one girl that I think enjoyed making me feel awkward. Or else she was just really bad at taking hints and I scarred her emotionally for life. Whichever.
So, one night, my whole age-group of campers is sitting at the campfire, singing campfire songs. She sits down next to me. I squirm a little, like usual. She grabs my arm, and says, "Hey there, Hunkalicious." Internally, I'm on Red Alert, full fight-or-flight mode. So what do I do? Like any incredibly awkward twelve-year-old, I wait until a song when most people stand up, but instead of standing up, I roll backwards over the log we're sitting on and discretely run to the other side of the campfire where no one is sitting because that's where all the smoke is blowing. And I sit there with my shirt covering the lower half of my face until the end of the song session.
I can't help but feel that the Hunkalicious incident more or less set the tone for my romantic life from then on.
Third-Wheeling
I like it because it's the closest I ever get to being second-wheel.
See? Fun, right?
An explanation of sorts
This is likely to be the worst blog ever.
I take that back. There are some really horrible blogs.
It's based on a stand-up routine I did. I sort of hope the people who were there were blackout drunk. Otherwise there are a lot of girls who think I'm pathetic. Which is not inaccurate.
Like the stand-up, this may end up being mostly one-liners, but I'll try to mix in sad stories too. For the meat lovers out there. Never mind.
I take that back. There are some really horrible blogs.
It's based on a stand-up routine I did. I sort of hope the people who were there were blackout drunk. Otherwise there are a lot of girls who think I'm pathetic. Which is not inaccurate.
Like the stand-up, this may end up being mostly one-liners, but I'll try to mix in sad stories too. For the meat lovers out there. Never mind.
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