Dust On The Bottom Of My Foot
"Falling Down" by Metrohead
March 10, 2016 Thursday 10:51 PM
And a feelingless 'fuck you' to you as well.
There is dust on the bottom of my foot. And I was just remembering some people I've tried not thinking about and it made me feel kind of mad. Or something. I dunno. It didn't reach very far into me. Weirdly, I feel impenetrable. Weird because the it's more like I'm skinless; say one thing, do one thing, that's a little off in my eyes and I'll go on a wordless tangent inside this head of mine. I'll think you hate me, and I'll tell myself I'm dumb for thinking that, saying it's more likely they simply don't care too much for me and that's fine. Fine, fine, fine, is what the head will say and then I'll be frowning for hours after.
But still, some things just really don't reach me even when they should. Like disasters. Or misfortunes in general, even when they happen to me or someone I love very much. All the bad things stay on the surface of my skin. I wonder what that's about. I wonder why I'm so cold and empty way, way, way down there. I am not upset about it. Just confused. Is that normal? Not the confusion, the weird emptiness. Most of the time I think it's going to sink in and it never does. Sometimes it tears me up for a little bit when I've glanced at a... a fucking sunset or something, and it's as if I've caught a glimpse into another world. Just like that, it's gone and I just. Huh.
Why do the dumb things feel so much bigger than all this?
Those are the digits of pi I have memorized over the course of the last week and three days. The pi day competition is on the fifteenth (that surprised me haha). I think that if I'm not nervous, I can win. But I DO get nervous and then I can't breathe and the challenge is to say as many digits as you can in one minute.
!!! Today was very good.
Track has been alright. My body sort of hurts. I have no stamina. But it's fun. Human beings...
Twenty minutes ago, I got back home (that's one thing I hate about being involved in stuff – on Mondays, I don't get home til almost 9 PM and other days usually around 6 and just... ugh.... on Saturday, I am going to be at school from 9 to noon and then I'll be at piano lessons and then we're supposed to go out to eat with Polly The Piano Teacher afterwards. When do I rest?).
Oh yeah. Anyway. Twenty minutes ago I got back home from a fucking night club haha. We went to see a concert. Mr. Sandwich's (hot) sixteen year old son is in a band and so we went to see them play.
I'm surprised the guy let us in the club. He asked for ID's (I fucking knew he would. Just like Sandwich to tell us to go somewhere and then not??? give us any information??? at all???) and I was all, "Oh... hold on, um..." so we went back outside and tried calling the guy but he didn't answer.
Then, the night club bouncer-ish dude (he didn't seem very... bouncy. He wasn't astonishingly tall and he smiled all nice and crinkly. Not menacing at all. Also, he wasn't wearing black, he was wearing a cool white t-shirt and some flannel type thing over that) – he came outside.
We said hello, sort of explained the situation to him because he asked, and then he said, "Look... I'm not supposed to do this but.. I'll let you guys in." It was so nice! He had to X our hands so we couldn't get any alcohol, but I hadn't been planning on that anyway.
Maybe a year ago I would've been hopeful but there's too much at risk now. Which I hate. I wasn't reckless enough! I got drunk like one time and got high... well, I can't count how many times I got high, but I was far from a pothead. On one hand, yay, I was safe but on the other???... I feel like I might've missed out on some good ol' Stupid Teen Years. I'm thinking, "Oh, maybe in college," but I'm sure I'll have my excuses then too.
Anyway. We went into the club and it was just. Fucking nice.
Metrohead is Sandwich's sons band. They are fucking amazing live. I like their EP and all, I've listened to it a few times in the past (mostly in December), but they fucking kick ass when standing five feet in front of you.
They played their own songs and a couple of covers (Pink Floyd's Time, some Black Keys song, Ain't No Rest For The Wicked by Cage the Elephant... something else, I believe??? And Um, at first, they played a weird rock version of one of the Spongebob tunes and even that was awesome. Small-Sandwich is so fucking good at guitar. I cursed under my breath half a million times, just because I was so awestruck). I wanted to die.
At some point, someone played this whiny sort of guitar sound like you hear in Modest Mouse songs and I wanted to cry. I love them. I frickin' love them. And I have a small crush on Small-Sandwich.
Oh yeah. After they played their set, Small-Sandwich approached us:
Him: are you guy's my dad's students?
Us (us being me, Liv, and Alexis):Yeah
Him: Oh cool. He told me to talk to you
(that was sort of lame bc I mean. No one wants to be an obligation haha...)
So we talked a little but not really much. I don't think he wanted to converse with us all that much, was just doing his dad a favor. He asked our names and when we introduced ourselves, said bluntly that his dad had never mentioned us (he's technically met me one and a half times before, but I wasn't offended that he didn't remember me since I had mostly been trying to disappear at those first couple meetings). Not surprising. Earlier in the evening, I'd been fancying the idea that maybe Sandwich actually adored us in his own Sandwich-y way, but when his son said that... I wasn't surprised.
Maybe Sandwich doesn't really care about us at all. Well, he probably does on some level. But we're not special. We're just his ex-students and soon we'll be out in the world like a thousand of his other ex-students and it's likely we won't speak to each other anymore, and less likely that maybe – if we're lucky – we'll come up in a story he tells to future students.
So yes. I was not saddened by this. Honestly, I'm probably thinking way too hard about such a small sentence.
It feels weird losing people. Feels inevitable instead of heartbreaking. It's never a surprise.
I think maybe I don't need anyone. I love human beings, but I am so whole all on my own. A lot of the time, I really don't think there is room for anyone else. I will always survive as long as I have the part of me that is... amiable? I mean, there's the other bit that likes to tear me to shreds, but she's gettin' weak so.
I wish I were a bit more dependent, though. Sometimes, I think about my parents dying or my sister or Liv, and the scenario plays out all dramatic where I'm crying and I try to figure out how I'd react other than that. Probably, I'd go to school, just on the off-chance that I could find someone to cry at, and to avoid my own thoughts.
I think eventually I'd let them fade, though. Which is natural. I just... never mind. This is a subject for another time. Right now it's half past eleven and I still have homework.
The concert was nice.
The conversation with Small-Sand (tired of typign the whole thing) was short.
I told him his band sounded like Modest Mouse sometimes. He said they were his favorite, which made me grin because they are my absolute number one favorite. He asked me my favorite album. I looked down and said I didn't really think about that (which I don't–I think if anything, I'd choose This Is A Long Drive for Someone With Nothing To Think About but I'm not sure......... I love that Ugly Casanova album, but I mean. That's just Isaac Brock, not all of Modest Mouse. anyway JESUS) and instead said I have a favorite song.
He asked what it was. I said, "Ionizes and atomizes." Small-sand did not hear since the whole club-bar-thing was loud, so I had to lean in sort of close by his ear and say it again. He said he liked that song, also said he preferred the older stuff like "Broke" which again made me smile because that's one of my fucking favorites.
Oh, yeah. Small-sand also said something earlier in the conversation, about falling in grocery stores and about how that was "a crazy time" in his life. He looked so serious. I wonder what he means by that. What a... what a Sandwich thing to say, Jesus Christ.
Sandwich says slanted things like that too. Like father like son. God, I hate that idiom.
Anyway, I want to touch Small-Sand. I am content with just the idea, though.
On the way home, I was thinking that maybe I have a think for blondes. Birdy is blonde and I still have a crush on him kind of. My first real crush in third grade is blonde (I realized today that he is actually still really fucking cute, aw), and so is Small-Sand. My second real crush was hispanic (plus I don't have real crushes on either Birdy or Small-Sand so...???). Yeah, well. I'm just... gonna end this paragraph. I got bored of it.
Okay. I have a problem. I expect too much from people. They can't live up to my idea of them sometimes, even though I try to see them as flawed human beings. Funny 'cause I hate feeling as if I'm expected to be a certain way. Perhaps that hate stemmed from my constant disappointment in others, though, haha.
(By the way, sorry about all the boy-talk lately. They are a recent fascination of mine. Not because I want a boyfriend – which, yes, I do, but not any more than I have in the past – but because they are unfamiliar to me. In the way they think and react.)
So yeah, today was good.
Plus, Washington told me that he thinks I might think more deeply about history than anyone else in class. He said this because he's upset I don't speak up more in class, said to the Psychology teacher, "If we were to have a discussion in class, Veronica wouldn't say a word, but on her paper would be... Well, just today, as an response for one of the prompt questions, she had written something down that didn't even cross my mind! I wouldn't have known if her friend (Lily) hadn't spoken up!"
Something like that. It was nice. Also made me sort of sad. I hate to disappoint him, I really do. I just... choke up. Stumble. Forget every single word in my head. My body freaks out, starts shaking and stops breathing. Even when my head is perfectly fine (if not mildly irritated by the unwarranted physical reactions).
Sigh. Washington is like my favorite teacher. Disappointing him is way worse than disappointing myself.
Okay. I love Chemistry. That is all.
(I just like doing the math and experiments and I love the logic of it all, it's almost not enough)
I am... going to go now. I really should go to bed. No way I'm finishing my homework tonight. Fuck that.
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