sache's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'll do a "Mary" short description: Love, strange things, etc. For those of you who have chosen not to read the blog... Two very strange things happened today. Number One: Today, as I was walking to lunch, I spotted Mr. DeRoo, my seventh grade science teacher, and Dr. D., another social studies(?) teacher, talking. I heard Mr. DeRoo mumble: "There's my favorite student," and I wasn't sure if he meant me or not, so I turned my head just a teeny bit around, trying not to be too obvious. Obviously he HAD meant me, because he smiled this kind of dorky science teacher smile, and I smiled back. Then Dr. D. asked who it was, and he said, "Carly Lane." But I didn't hear the rest, because I was beyond the double doors and off to lunch. Obviously this does not seem like a strange thing. But it is to me, because even though Mr. DeRoo has asked me to do a lot of extra-curricular things for him, it never once occurred to me that I was his favorite student. Not once. Not even a slight little inkling of a thought passed my mind. I mean, I knew he liked me, but not enough to call me his favorite student. He fixed our car once, too! We were in Safeway, and my little sister, being the un-smart one she is, left the car door open, which drained the car battery of all its energy, which stalled the car. Mr. DeRoo had pulled into the space across from us, and we asked him to charge the battery up. So he did. Anyway, it's a strange thing, and a good thing. Number Two: As I was leaving my piano lesson this morning, there were some workers stripping the roof of my church, which is where my lessons take place. As I was waiting for my mom to pick me up, one of them let out this sharp wolf whistle. I wasn't sure if it was at me, so I just kept waiting. Then when my mom pulled in and I opened the door, the wolf whistle came again. My mom said something like: "Are they whistling at you? They'd better not be!" Now, I'm not going to go into the whole "not pretty" topic, because I and someone else we all know and love have had this discussion before. But for total and complete strangers to WOLF WHISTLE at me? That was just... weird. I didn't feel good about it either. I mean, I wouldn't care if a certain person who has memorized my Perfect Guy List whistled at me, but you can't pick and choose. (Cont. entry - this stuff I decided not to post in my blog): Alright. In one of my blog entries, I got a question asking how I would describe love: Love is feeling so much happiness that you can't tell where you stop and your lover begins. Love is what makes life so sweet.. the not knowing what could happen the next morning and not caring. Love is crying yourself to sleep over the one person who broke your heart. Love is all the hardships, all the heartaches, all the joy, all the passion, the affection, the tenderness. All the emotions blur together until you just roll with the punches and take whatever comes your way. Love is complete chance, utter serendipity. Love is what I feel. For someone. And I don't know if he knows, but he has said it to me. Of course, it's over IM, so there's no real sincerity in it, but I long to hear the words tumble from his lips. *sighs* It's so bittersweet. I have him, and yet, I don't have him. 7:40 p.m. - Tuesday, May. 21, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'll do a "Mary" short description: Love, strange things, etc. For those of you who have chosen not to read the blog... Two very strange things happened today. Number One: Today, as I was walking to lunch, I spotted Mr. DeRoo, my seventh grade science teacher, and Dr. D., another social studies(?) teacher, talking. I heard Mr. DeRoo mumble: "There's my favorite student," and I wasn't sure if he meant me or not, so I turned my head just a teeny bit around, trying not to be too obvious. Obviously he HAD meant me, because he smiled this kind of dorky science teacher smile, and I smiled back. Then Dr. D. asked who it was, and he said, "Carly Lane." But I didn't hear the rest, because I was beyond the double doors and off to lunch. Obviously this does not seem like a strange thing. But it is to me, because even though Mr. DeRoo has asked me to do a lot of extra-curricular things for him, it never once occurred to me that I was his favorite student. Not once. Not even a slight little inkling of a thought passed my mind. I mean, I knew he liked me, but not enough to call me his favorite student. He fixed our car once, too! We were in Safeway, and my little sister, being the un-smart one she is, left the car door open, which drained the car battery of all its energy, which stalled the car. Mr. DeRoo had pulled into the space across from us, and we asked him to charge the battery up. So he did. Anyway, it's a strange thing, and a good thing. Number Two: As I was leaving my piano lesson this morning, there were some workers stripping the roof of my church, which is where my lessons take place. As I was waiting for my mom to pick me up, one of them let out this sharp wolf whistle. I wasn't sure if it was at me, so I just kept waiting. Then when my mom pulled in and I opened the door, the wolf whistle came again. My mom said something like: "Are they whistling at you? They'd better not be!" Now, I'm not going to go into the whole "not pretty" topic, because I and someone else we all know and love have had this discussion before. But for total and complete strangers to WOLF WHISTLE at me? That was just... weird. I didn't feel good about it either. I mean, I wouldn't care if a certain person who has memorized my Perfect Guy List whistled at me, but you can't pick and choose. (Cont. entry - this stuff I decided not to post in my blog): Alright. In one of my blog entries, I got a question asking how I would describe love: Love is feeling so much happiness that you can't tell where you stop and your lover begins. Love is what makes life so sweet.. the not knowing what could happen the next morning and not caring. Love is crying yourself to sleep over the one person who broke your heart. Love is all the hardships, all the heartaches, all the joy, all the passion, the affection, the tenderness. All the emotions blur together until you just roll with the punches and take whatever comes your way. Love is complete chance, utter serendipity. Love is what I feel. For someone. And I don't know if he knows, but he has said it to me. Of course, it's over IM, so there's no real sincerity in it, but I long to hear the words tumble from his lips. *sighs* It's so bittersweet. I have him, and yet, I don't have him. 7:40 p.m. - Tuesday, May. 21, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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