Alone

Thursday, August 27th.

Alarm clock rang. 11 AM. Time to go jog. Fuck that. Not today. I turned off the alarm and went back to bed.

Woke up at 2. I dragged myself downstairs to eat a bowl of cereal. Then I booted up my laptop and pretty much sat in front of it all day, neglecting showering and eventually (within one hour), more hunger.

Decided to head upstairs and sit down in front of the TV in the computer room around 7. I booted up the old PS2 and played some DDR on the PS controller. The mesmerizing graphics and upbeat, nostalgic music kept my mind mesmerized and my fingers pushing buttons for another two hours. I fucking hate this game.

Went back downstairs. I decided that I should maybe practice dancing. Ipod in pocket and earphones in my ears, I started moving. But I felt like I was only moving, with some music playing in my head. I wasn’t dancing. No inspiration. I found myself in front of my laptop again, browsing the depthless realms of the internet.

I need someone to talk to. I browsed my list of friends on facebook. No, he wouldn’t understand. No, I’ve never talked about serious stuff like this with her before. No, I just met him. No, haven’t talked to her since high school. Didn’t want to talk to her since high school. And him. And her. And him.

I exhausted the list quickly.

Frustrated with myself, I decided that I needed to do something with however many little hours there were left in the night, so I worked out.

Two hours later, I ate. And then I went to bed.

I don’t remember what I dreamed about.

Friday, August 28th.

My alarm clock went off at 11 AM. I am going to fucking do shit today. I dragged myself out of bed, ate some peanut butter, got into some light comfortable clothing, stretched out my legs, put on my shoes, and at 12, I headed out the door—holy fuck it was fucking burning. I pushed myself and ran anyway. I needed it. I needed sunlight. Air. No walls around me.

But then the run kinda killed my energy. I ate a bowl of cereal, took a shower, and found myself mindlessly pushing buttons to loud and annoying DDR music again. After an hour, I managed to pry myself away and heeded the growling of my stomach.

After eating, I listened to the summer intensive mix and realized that I still need high black socks.

Really though, I just had a tiny little urge to go to Oakridge mall.

But then as I was driving past it, I ignored the urged and continued to drive on. Kohls, which was across the street, had stuff for cheaper, and I found my black socks there. Sorry Oakridge.

Gunderson High School, where I taught with Breakthrough this summer, was in the area, so I dropped by there.

It was strange seeing the school. I think they had been back for two weeks already, and now they had something going on this evening. It was odd to see high school students. Tall, Hollister outfits, dressed like jocks, dressed like skanks. They were spread out all over the school, in the front, by the office, in the parking lot, in the grassy fields. They were everywhere that Breakthrough students weren’t allowed to hang around. Seeing these high school students occupy those spots, I just wanted to go up to them and tell them, “Sorry, you need to head over by the lunch tables where we teachers can see you.”

But I resisted. And it was good that all these older kids were spread out, because there was no one crowding around the lunch table area, where I normally taught my dance class. Where, today, I was going to practice.

I stared at my faint reflection through the window. I missed seeing them, the tiny little middle school students behind me, trying to keep up. I still had the Breakthrough mix on my iPod, so I selected it and ran through the set, for old time’s sake. I made this mix. I made this choreo. As much as I sucked, I missed being the teacher, the leader, the one in control.

After the run through, I practiced the summer intensive set. Our show is this Sunday.

I was there for about two hours, and then I went over to Trung’s place to drop off some X-Files that he wanted to see. We had a little walk, a little talk, and he handed me a folded note.

I left him after fifteen minutes, and as I was driving home, I glanced at the folded note, repeatedly. Distracted. The summer intensive showcase is this Sunday. I need to focus. On dancing. Dancing is all I have right now.

I tossed the note in the glove compartment. I decided that I would read it later.

When I got home, I sent an email to one of my students to check up on her and school.

I’m more alone then I really like to admit. During junior and senior year, I did a good job of slowly fazing myself out from my group of high school friends, both accidentally and intentionally. I often opted to hang out with my Oakridge friends (John, Peter, Miranda, etc.), and I acted very arrogant about it, like I was too mature for my high school friends. (And sometimes, I was. Which is probably why I didn’t regret isolating myself too much.) I’m sure they got sick of it and helped me speed up the process of my isolation.

I had always had a knack for dropping friendships like boiling shit. I could wake up the next day, feel fine and refreshed, go about doing my thing, and not be weighed down by any remorse. (I might’ve had some remorse, but it didn’t weigh me down.) I went to the arcade, bought some American Eagle junk, did whatever I loved doing back then.

Now, I’m here, back home during the summer. My UCI friends are far away; John, Peter, and Miranda are busy with their own lives; and I have no one to catch up with. I don’t regret the loss of friendship, but my need to confide in someone burns more than ever.

---
“Reflect: 8th Grade Year”
Written June 9th, 2004

[[I had one best friend from the second to the eighth grade, Seth, but I grew to hate him. This entry talks about how I managed to finally escape him. He wasn’t aware of all my deep-seated hatred though, at least, until he read this entry. Because it was public. Oh snap internet drama.]]

I think Seth loves to see me make an embarrassment out of myself, especially when in front of others. But when I actually have to show him that I’m hurt by the embarrassment is when Seth starts to be… even more ignorant. Let’s get to the incident now…

Me, Seth, and his new, third girlfriend Brittany and her friend are walking home… There’s some kid in the distance and Seth jokingly asks me, “Hey, why don’t you run to him and yell ‘HI!’” and so I jokingly begin do so. However, right as I lift my foot off a ground, Seth sticks his foot out, and I trip over his gay shoes [[“gay” oh burn]]. I fall flat on my face, but LUCKILY my knees hit the ground ([but] bleed of course), lessening the impact of my face on the ground. Embarrassment. Big time. Not in front of just Seth, but his girlfriend and her friend, and they’re all concentrating on me. BUT OF COURSE, since Seth has to be the big guy in front of his girlfriend, he saves his ~ALTRUISTIC~ pity for when just me and him are alone at his house. And so of course I’m trying to stifle my tears behind the three of them, as Seth and Brittany enjoy their ~nice~ walk home. When I got to his house, his sympathy was too pathetic and I actually felt embarrassed receiving it, so I escaped his hell house when he went in another room to answer the phone. [[I had no sense of verb tense consistency back then, sorry.]]

Second reason...Great America. Seth’s bullshitted lie. Yeah, in the beginning I blamed myself ‘cause I didn’t call to confirm when we’d go… However, when I heard his excuse for not calling me the night of that day, everything fell into place or fell out of place… “Well you see, my sister’s friend wanted to go and she was..and. blah…so..was family…and asdfghjkl so okay? That’s [my] excuse.” Again and again each time I asked him, Seth would begin with his sister’s friend wanting to go and then gradual drift on into vague muttering… He was hiding something from me… He didn’t want me to go? Maybe… Maybe if he invited me, he would’ve felt ever so bad about making me wait beside a ride because I WOULD HAVE BEEN JUST TO SCARED TO GO ON ONE boo fuckin hoo.

Just near the end of the school year, Seth went vacationing at Portugal during two school weeks. I took this time to bond with Randy and meet his friends establish better friendships with all of them. As you know, we’ve become good friends. I slowly drifted away from Seth. When Seth got back from Portugal, I hope the first thing he noticed was I didn’t follow him around at break or lunch or go to his house to endure his harassment ever again.

It was just the final two months of school when I wanted the year to last just a lil’ bit longer. Other acquaintance, who were friends of Randy, became my friends too. Each day was full of unexpected surprises and fun.

Tomorrow, I’m graduating from junior high as a Valedictorian. By moving on to high school, I’m leaving a whole year of mixed feelings and emotions behind to face the new challenges of freshmen year at high school.
---

In December 2006, I “settled issues” with Seth. Those issues actually had nothing to do with resolving our friendship. It was just me telling him that he was a bitch to his face. I wanted to do it because it was less cowardly than telling him through an online blog.

And Randy and his friends? Yeah, they were the friends I slowly phased out from my high school years.