Oh Darling

Today I stressed out during school about my English paper that I'd turned in the week before and about the upcoming History paper and Chem and Spanish tests. I was so irritable that I called Bogo-San a chauvanist when he took me out to eat, bought me a cup of ice-cream and left his brother alone to help me work on my essay. It's so ridiculous I want to laugh and cry when I write it. After I calmed down a bit I apologized profusely and he forgave me instantly, because he is wonderful and for some strange reason loves me. It felt amazing.

One thing that saved me today was my English paper. I was a bit worried that Camille would hate it, because I wrote my essay about Othello (the character) when she specifically told me to write about Roderigo and Cassio (who are dull), and because I tried to include everything in the play when she told me not to and made it eleven pages at 1.5 instead of the suggested six at 2.0. When I got it back, however, there was a big fat A! on the cover. I felt like kissing Camille's overtly effeminate handwriting right off the page. "Wow, V.V.! What a tour de force! This is a very ambitious, brilliant & imaginative reading of Othello. I really like how much you include, how many angles you anayze. Your anaysis is very mature!" The pages were littered with great!s, good points, very smarts and yes!ses.

I'm only quoting.
Ok, I'm being a tad obnoxious. I can't help it. I'm proud of myself.

To add to my already jubilant mood, I figured out what the Industrial Revolution (and consequently my essay) was about, my sister made fun of me (a lot), B.S. made a bunch of little drawings that I taped to my ceiling, and my dad brought me a huge chocolate-chip cookie from Lafayette Bakery for no reason. (Actually, I think it had something to do with my essay, but whatever...)

I also read Travis and Frankie's blogs, in which they appraised Julia Dratel, a long-time favorite of mine who somehow manages not to think the less of me when I answer the phone oddly ("Well, Renata's technically here... but a big ugly black hole just opened in the middle of the piano, and I'm afraid she's lost."), sing showtunes at the top of my lungs when I take them (her and my sister) to lunch during the summer and generally cause people to give us all odd looks. I can't help it--she makes me feel very relaxed. Sweet thing.

But on to the true subject of my semi-daily stream of consciousness: Oona.

My darling Oona requested that I (as in threatened me with death and rape if I failed to) blog about her, and I must say I'm happy to oblige.

I am usually intimidated by people who I percieve as cooler than me, or hostile towards me, a tendancy that ran particularly rampant in me at the beginning of my Freshman year, when all my best friends from childhood had just abandoned me for other schools and I knew nobody. Having missed Powell House didn't help, either. Anyway, I was terrified of Oona and the distant philosophical look she occasionally gave me that made me feel as if she could see exactly what I was and didn't really mind how I reciprocated her judgements. Somehow this year I managed to overcome my insecurities and take a peek at the woman behind the curtain, and what I found there was truly amazing. She is, after all, a lot like me. And yet my polar opposite at times. Jack2 asked me to describe her once (because he didn't know who she was), and I told him that she was essentially meditative but wild, funny and coy, a free spirit burdened with societal restraints. I think he was confused by my description, because when he met her he proclaimed to me, "V.V., I met Oona last night, and she's not shy at all... what were you talking about?" I in turn then became confused, because I realized that there is simply no way to describe Oona. Once, we ended up in First Aid together, and spent the whole time looking away from the gory images on the screen and discussing what good kissers we were (because the sexless manequins inflated every time we touched them). "We're too good, V.V. Our talents are going to waste," she declared. "Too good for anyone but each other," I agreed. Wicked (but tired, because it was early) grins. We spent the four hours afterwards philosophising in the meeting house and various cheap cafes. Later, she and Will introduced me to MacGyver, for which I am eternally grateful, and Will's mother recognized me as the shy fifth-grader who sat in the corner with Oscar Wilde plays, which was a little embarrassing. (Footnote: I think Oona still has my gloves, but I'm not sure. She can keep them, if she forgives me for my comment earlier about the size of her butt...) One sweet testimonial from Oona makes my week. I love you, darling. Hope this post makes you happy.