[Note: I decided start posting journal entries so that those who may relate to me won’t feel so alone.]
As of now, it’s the second day of school. Why I didn’t start the first? That would have made more sense. I guess I hadn’t thought of doing this until now. My name is Sydney Kimber, and this is my sophomore year journal. I’m writing this because I’m nervous about the year ahead of me. Why?
There are some things you should know about me before I answer that. First, I’m an introvert. Not just an introvert, but a weird, shy, arrogant, and antisocial piece of shit. And by antisocial I mean it in a colloquial sense, not the disorder. I’m also a procrastinator and a daydreamer. So if I’m not hurriedly studying during the period before the test, then I’m probably just staring at something I’m supposed to memorize while thinking about something entirely different. And sometimes I don’t do any of that. I just wing it. I know, I have a problem. I’m also an atheist if you couldn’t tell by the everything about me, and I hate lying about my opinion on serious or intellectual matters. So if there is a god he’s testing me because I’m going to a Catholic school.
Now I’m surrounded by people who are all up in everybody’s business (it’s a small school), some of which openly hate me or think I’m stupid. On top of that, the classes are getting much harder and I don’t think I’ll be able to wing it anymore. And my mom is breathing down my neck for not having any romantic interests and going to the mall with a bunch of airheads or something. Malls are boring. I know you’ll chastise me for calling the people around me airheads. I’m well aware that there are people here leagues smarter than me. Hell, there are people here who are simultaneously much smarter than me and much more attractive and charismatic.
But hey, a girl’s gotta blow off steam. I’ll do some more of that by going over what happened at school the past two days.
Period One, Day One: AP World History
The teacher goes over the syllabus. His name is Mr. Briggs. He tells us we’ll have to turn in our summer reading assignment on Friday (it’s Wednesday, by the way). We read Guns, Germs, and Steel. I loved it. He warns us that if we don’t engage in discussion (actually not a problem) and study fifteen to twenty minutes a night (damn) that we would probably fall behind as we cover a lot each day. I decide to take this warning seriously for once (it is AP after all).
Period Two, Day One: Theology
I’m grumpy and apprehensive now. The teacher preached at us for a while. My mood worsens. She also said we’ll never have any homework. Alright, we’re even now. During her preaching, she asked a few questions. At one question, I unconsciously shook my head. She said, “You’re shaking your head…” and she used an adjective to describe how I was shaking my head but I can’t remember what it was. Everybody was looking at me but it still took me a few seconds to realize she was talking to me (I know, I was dense). The question was this: “Did Jesus have to die on the cross for us?” Instinctively, I said no. She asked me why, and I said that he could have just forgiven us. She looked around the room and asked the class, “Why didn’t he just forgive us?” I spaced out after that. Her name is Mrs. Freymen.
Period Three, Day One
Honors Algebra II and Trigonometry
As I’m about to head in, I see my geometry teacher from freshman year. His name is Mr. Reice. He was such a nice teacher and he really cared about the students. It’s a shame I don’t have him this year. I say hi to him. As I enter the classroom, we start of getting ushered to our assigned seats. Right off the bat we get our first assignment. Good. The teacher, Mr. Leaton, tells us that the biggest complaint he’s received about this class was how much homework there is. Even better. He is one of three teachers I have this year that I had last year. Last year he was a pushover (at least to me, but that’s probably because I would always be practicing my programming skills, even if he hadn’t told me to), but he seems a bit less so this year.
Period Four, Day One: P.E.
The teacher goes over a syllabus. She’s finished pretty quickly so we get to fuck around with our iPads for the remainder of the class. Her name is Mrs. Jones.
Period Five, Day One: Lunch
I eat a jelly sandwich and mini blueberry muffins. I had apple juice to go with it. I sat with acquaintances.
Period Six, Day One: Honors Literature: Speech
The teacher goes over the syllabus. Her name is Dianne Blackaller, but she wanted to be called Dr. Di. She gave us a worksheet with questions about the novel we were supposed to read over the summer. We had three choices: Speak, A Separate Peace, and The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. I remember deliberating on the last day of school last year about which book I should read.
• Speak: It’s about rape and vapid airhead high schoolers being vapid airhead high schoolers. That sounds like a fun read. Much enjoyable. I bet it’s not even sexy.
• A Separate Peace: Don’t know what to say. The summary just didn’t intrigue me all that much.
• The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian: According to Wikipedia, peace be upon it, this book has been made controversial because of sexuality, profanity, and major character deaths. Sign me up.
Dr. Di asked us who read what. Most of the class read A Separate Peace. Close in second came Speak. When it came to my book, I saw only two other hands raised. Good. The smaller the better.
Period Seven, Day One: French II
I see many old faces and two new faces. A lot of people didn’t remember the four essential irregular verbs. This one boy even struggled conjugating être. I’m not one to judge though. Our teacher’s named is Mr. Janas. I had a dream where he stole gardening supplies from a castle in our town that was just built to replace a steeple. He just kept denying it though, but I saw him.
Period Eight, Day One: Honors Chemistry
Our teacher makes everyone happy by saying he’s a fan of pop quizzes. His name is Mr. Haussmann. He told us about all the fun things we’ll do in chemistry, like boil water and stir things slowly. I’d rather be in biology.
Period One, Day Two: AP World History
Mr. Briggs says that Lucy was the earliest human skeleton discovered. I say it’s Ardi. The class is boring so I look up stuff about cicadas. Periodical cicadas, to be exact. There are fifteen different broods that either come out every seventeen or thirteen years. The brood by me is Brood XIII. They emerged from the ground back in 2007, when I was five. I remember picking them off the plants in my yard like cherries. I put them in a red bucket until it filled to the brim with cicadas suffocating under each other, then I sealed the bucket with a lid poked with holes. I went to a tree far back in the yard and dumped the bucket by the tree. They marched up the tree mindlessly. As far as I can remember, none of them died from suffocation. I wonder if it hurt. I was little, so I didn’t think about stuff like that all that much. I could be remembering it wrong.
Periodical cicadas (genus Magicicada) have a weird life. They are the longest living insects. For seventeen years, all they do is feed on tree roots. When they’re done with that, they have sex and die. They emerge in large numbers to satiate predators so that some are left over.
I wonder how long a sapient cicada could live before killing itself. I guess most of us are cicadas. I guess all of us are cicadas. In death we are the same as them. In life we are similar. Most of us do nothing, then we die. I’m a cicada. You’re a cicada. Those who march to their deaths because some dipshit dumped a bucket. Cicadas. Completely disposable. We live to reproduce. All we can hope is that one of the many babies born everyday does something.
But still, no matter how much we accomplish, we’re all still cicadas. Being a cicada is like autism: you’re on a spectrum, and some people are more cicada-y than others.
The cicada is my spirit animal. Fuck swans and foxes and deer and shit.
Especially the blue-eyed ones. I searched them on google images and most of the pictures showed cicadas with pale (nearly white) blue eyes. The ones that weren’t pale looked photoshopped. There was this one news article about a boy who found a “one-in-a-million blue-eyed cicada.” It must have been a slow news day. Anyways, it’s eyes were pale as shit. I found a cicada with deep blue eyes back in 07′. Why don’t I get media attention!?
Is it possible that my memory is photoshopped?
Period Two, Day Two: Theology
We went to the chapel to do be as still and quiet as possible. We were supposed to listen for god. After that we filled out a sheet of paper that asked for our parents names, emergency numbers, our religion, and our relationship with god. For religion, I put none. For my relationship with god, I put non existent. Last year I was able to be honest about that with my teacher. I hope it will be the same this year.
Period Three, Day Two: Honors Algebra II and Trigonometry
Absolute values review. Shitload of homework for the second day. Fuck it! This fucking thing sucks!
Period Four, Day Two: P.E.
Got my locker, then fiddled around on my iPad. Nice.
Period Five, Day Two: Lunch
Went to the the library with my student I.D. I was planning on hanging out there during lunch the whole year but apparently you need a lunch pass from your fourth period teacher. I can’t just ask Mrs. Smith for a lunch pass everyday. I wonder if I’ll ever be desperate enough to make a fake one. I went back into the lunchroom and was about to sit in the seat I did yesterday but some fat bitch told me the seat was taken.
So I sat alone, reviewing my French. What a buzzkill.
Some girl asked if I wanted to sit with her friends, but I rejected her offer. I hate the feeling of being pitied. Honestly, if I were to be raped or something, my first option would be to kill who did it and tell nobody. And torture them. And rape them. Because it’s fair game if they did it first. I’m pretty sure I read in a summary somewhere that the guy who raped the main character in Speak was named Andy. He probably has a perfect teenage boy dick, right?
My second option would be to tell someone. But that would be a buzzkill.
Period Six, Day Two: Honors Literature: Speech
Dr. Di announced the groups we would be discussing the books we read over the summer. She announced that the first group would be all the girls. I didn’t even look up. I knew for sure that not all the girls in class read the book I read. In fact, I was the only girl who didn’t read Speak. For my book (yes I keep avoiding using the title because that would be annoying), apparently there were three other hands, so I was put in a group of four. One boy said he read the first chapter and decided he was going to read it after realizing how much swearing was in it.
My guy right here.
If you want to know my opinion of the story, let me just say this: save the holocaust imagery and dub con, this story really did remind me of the super gay erotic fanfiction written by women with low income jobs for preteen weebs with high sex drives that I used to read when the only access to the internet I had was on my DSI. That thing could barely load a gif. The crying, the drama, the excessive use of the word faggot. And it was written by a dude! I really underestimated those fanfic writers. Maybe their stories were a bit more realistic then I gave them credit for.
Spoilers! Mary was like a cicada too. She spent most of her time underground. Then she emerged, found a mate, and died.
So in short, the story was cool.
Period Seven, Day Two: French
Verbs, clothes, and some kid came in thinking this was Spanish class and called the boy who sits behind me a string bean pineapple head. That’s a new one. I don’t mind him getting insulted though because he’s always trying to roast people and calls everybody a faggot.
Maybe he uses his DSI to get off to gay shit too. Wouldn’t that be a twist.
Anyways, I was proud of myself last year when I called him a pedophile dream boat. Typically I lack the balls to say shit to anyone. I couldn’t help it this time. He looks like he’s nine and acts like he’s seven.
Period Eight, Day Two: Honors Chemistry
And finally I got home. I watched the latest episode of The Real Housewives of Orange County while I worked on my math homework. It’s embarrassing, I know. Insipid shit. I resigned myself to knowing it isn’t real and that I’m no different from people who watch wrestling.
As I’m writing, it’s 12:16 AM. Friday. I’m tired as fuck and didn’t even finish my math. I set an alarm for 5:00 so I could finish it in the morning. I was also supposed to read the first two chapters of my chemistry book. Either I’ll find time for that or pray there’s no pop quiz tomorrow.