Here it is. The entire month of February for the year 2000. Don't you just feel like a part of my life? Doesn't it make you all warm & fuzzy inside to know that I'm sharing a part of myself with you? I know it does. Read on, starting from the bottom.
February 19th, 2000: Sam. I don't know when I met Sam exactly. He randomly appeared at my school, & I somehow started talking to him. He was in Trig. & Chemistry with me last year, & it was then that I discovered that he likes silverchair. It was obvious that he wanted me to know that he likes silverchair. He brought his copy of Neon Ballroom to school & flashed it around when he knew I would be looking. It was kind of funny. Sam had a psycho friend named James. James had blue hair at one point. I'm not friends with people who have friends with blue hair. It just doesn't happen. But, for some reason, I didn't hate Sam. I became aquainted with Sam's friend Carl through this site, so Carl & I ended up talking about Sam once in a while (i.e. every day) through our AOL Instant Messangers. Carl didn't want me to like Sam, as far as I could tell. This summer, Carl ended up telling me some things about Sam that Sam didn't want me to know. Without knowing that Sam didn't want me to know these things, I passed them on to my dear friend Katie, who also happens to know Sam. She mentioned the things to Sam. Sam traced the things back to Carl. Sam got angry. I don't know if Sam was angry at Carl or Katie or me or all of us, but he was angry. Sam had a heated conversation with Carl online. Carl let me read it. It was cute. It seems that Sam didn't want me to know any sordid details about his life. I wanted to make things better. I talked to Sam at school. I asked if I could call him so we could work things out. That's so like me. I called Sam on a Friday after school. We discussed our problem. We worked it out. We started talking about music. Sam happens to like some of the same music I do. I was impressed. He even likes Cat Stevens. No one likes Cat Stevens. He likes The Beatles, & U2, & Pearl Jam. He likes Pink Floyd. He likes Collective Soul. He invited me to his house while his parents were away. I wasn't in the mood for sex. I went to Mike's instead. I talked to Sam again last Thursday night. We both wanted to see The Beach. I invited him to go with me. I said I would call him on Friday. I did. He asked if I was listening to the radio. I told him that I was listening to a CD. He didn't know that I like Radiohead. I didn't know that he does, either. He has all of the Radiohead CDs. I asked him to marry me.
Sam doesn't drive. I said I would pick him up. I got directions. I drove to his house. He lives in a housing development. That information is in no way important. I drove past his house. He was standing outside waiting for me. I didn't see him. I turned around. I pulled into his driveway. He hopped into my car. No. He didn't hop. Sam doesn't ever hop. He asked if I knew where we were going. I told him that I didn't. I said that I had been to the theatre a hundred times with Mike. I still didn't know how to get there. We pulled out of Sam's driveway. A commercial about coming out of the closet came on the radio. I turned the station. I think Sam thought I was offended by the thought of someone coming out. I wasn't. Sam lives extremely near Mike. Like less than a mile. Sam told me where to go. I had to turn onto Mike's road. The new Eels song came on the radio. I told Sam that I have a passion for the Eels. He told me that he has one, too. I was impressed. I told him that Electro-Shock Blues is an incredible album. He said that he's been looking for it. He can't seem to find it anywhere. I pointed out Mike's house to Sam. I don't know why I did it. I don't know why it matters that I did. I just imagined that it had to make Sam feel uncomfortable. Maybe it didn't. Sam said that he saw Mike in the hall the other day. He said that Mike gave him an evil smile. Sam thinks Mike is out to get him. Sam thinks Mike will do anything to keep Sam away from me. I hope that's true. It sounds exciting. We talked about music all the way there. Sam likes everything I do & more. He's incredible that way. Oh, we also talked about vegetarianism. Sam forgot that I am one. He doesn't seem to mind, though. He said that he was cooking hamburgers later on. I wouldn't have eaten one. Some vegetarians do on certain occasions. That drives me insane. We got near the theatre. Sam pointed it out to me. He asked if I had ever been to it. I told him that I had a hundred times. He asked why I didn't know where it was. I told him that I had never been the one driving when we went there. He looked at me knowingly. We got inside. Sam paid for me. I told him that I would pay for myself. He said that he had it "taken care of". It made me feel cheap. In a good way. We went in. We sat down. There was absolutely no one else in the theatre. I told him the story of the time Tracey & I got yelled at for sitting in the aisle of an empty theatre. I didn't want him to think that we would be having sex there just because the place was empty. (Kidding, Sam, kidding. Not that he ever comes here or anything.) We sat down. He took his coat off. I didn't bring mine in. He said he was going to get something to eat. I didn't know whether I was expected to go along. He asked if I was hungry. I wasn't. He left. I watched the annoying ads on the screen. The movie star scramblers were easy. One of the trivia questions asked what actress was born Caryn Johnson. The answer was Whoopi Goldberg. The answer slide was sideways. I tilted my head to read it. It was a totally unnecessary action. I could read it just fine without tilting my head. Sometimes you just feel like tilting your head, though, I always say. Sam came back. Another movie star scrambler came up. Sam laughed at how easy it was. I couldn't figure it out. Sam laughed at me. It was Jennifer Lopez. I really don't like her in any way. We talked about bad TV shows. Sam watches all the WB crap that I do. He thinks Popular is funny. I don't know about Sam sometimes. OK, so I think it's funny, too. Shut up. An ad for a film festival for kids 9 - 18 came on. I said that I've always wanted to make a movie. I told Sam about how Mike always thinks up crazy ideas for movies. I told him about Mike's Underground Snowtunnel Children idea. Sam liked it. Or thought it was weird. I wasn't so comfortable talking about Mike anymore. Sam told me about a time when his cousin brought a videocamera to Sam's house & they made a movie. It was when Lord of the Dance & Michael Flatley were popular. It involved Sam dancing around in an old pair of pants that his grandma once made for him. It was called Lord of the Pants. That made me laugh. It was a clever idea. An ad for something involving Tom Green came on. I told Sam that Tom Green cracks me up. Sam likes him, too. He told me that Tom isn't always funny, though. He told me about the time that Tom crashed a bar mitzvah dressed as Hitler. I laughed & laughed & laughed. It seemed pretty funny to me. The movie started. I smelled something funny. I realized that it was old cigarette smoke. I realized that it was Sam's old cigarette smoke. I ignored it. The movie was great. Leonardo looked fabulous. I try to deny the fact that he's insanely hot. He was all sweaty, though. Sweat usually isn't attractive in any way. It was on Leonardo. I've never realized what a bad name that is. Oh, well. He's still hot. Maybe he thinks Katie's a bad name, anyway. No. He loves the name Katie, I'll bet. There was a weird guy in the movie. I thought I recognized him. I asked Sam if he had ever seen Trainspotting. I knew that he never had. I was wrong. He said that it was the guy from Trainspotting. Sam's full of surprises. Some parts of the movie bothered me. It was weird. Weird but good. I want to see it again.
We left the theatre. Sam held the doors for me. He's polite. We left for home. Sam asked if I had ever heard of Split Enz. I hadn't. He told me that Crowded House was Split Enz's offspring. I said, "Neil Finn!" Sam likes Neil Finn. I took Sam back to his house. His parents weren't home. He told me that they didn't want me coming in before, because his mom thought the house was too messy. I think it was a hint for me to come in then. I could be wrong. I didn't think it would be good for his parents to come home & find us alone. I like good first impressions. I had a competition the next day at the Ohio State University. I wanted to get some sleep. I didn't tell Sam that. I hope he doesn't think I was rude. I felt weird going home. I was coming home the way I come home from Mike's. I turned a corner & saw the same red stoplight that I always see on the way home from Mike's. Yet . . . I hadn't been with Mike. I love that stoplight. I didn't know how to feel. I suppose that's how I was supposed to feel. So there it is. Sam.
February the 13th, 2000: We had our first snow day on Thursday, the 19th. (Yeah, so it took me a while to write this. Quit complaining, ya baby.) Wednesday night, Dad was predicting a 90% chance of us not going to school on Thursday, so I wasn't the least bit surprised when Joanie & I stopped at the intersection before the school & saw that the parking lot was completely empty & no attempt to plow it had been made. It was a happy moment, though I was wishing that the school would have actually called more than one television station so that I could have gone back to bed rather than spent the two hours it takes me to get ready for school actually getting ready for school. Dad wanted to go to the mall to get some stuff for my mom that afternoon, so we climbed in his truck & headed out. We split up, since I was sure that he wasn't interested in helping me spend my large amounts of bookstore gift certificates. I picked out a copy of Catch-22, bought one of those voice-activated tape-recorder things to aid me in my attempt to preserve my entire life in one way or another, and went to the food court to wait on Dad. As I was sitting there, just watching the people, a girl of about 16 & her friends walked by. She was wearing gray snow boots. & when I say "snow boots", I'm talking huge, gray snow boots. Everything else about her was "normal". She was wearing flare jeans & an American Eagle shirt, & she had her hair butterfly-clipped back. I really had to wonder what she was thinking when she put those boots on before coming to the mall. Was she saying to herself, "All of the girls at the mall are going to be so jealous of me in my huge, gray snowboots"? Or maybe, "All of the guys working at the Beanie Baby stand at the mall are going to want me in my huge, gray snow boots."? Or perhaps she just thought, "Hey, it's snowing. Maybe I'll put on my huge, gray snow boots so I don't fall & break my neck." I'm always wondering things like that about people. Like, does the guy at the Beanie Baby stand feel embarrassed to be working there? Or does he think selling bears with help him get chicks? What exactly are his motives? Maybe he likes older women & wants to flirt with the ones buying Beanies for their kids. Or else he likes the feel of the Beanie fur between his fingers. Yeah, I'll be that's it. I always think that people have ulterior motives, though. Maybe the guy just needed to earn some money & thought the Beanie Baby gig sounded okay. I suppose I didn't really have anything in mind when I applied to work at Subway. I wasn't doing it to impress anyone, & I certainly wasn't going to pick up any guys by working there. I just thought it would be cool to work with Bethany, & I was only a semi-vegetarian for part of the time I was working, so the thought of not having to work with icky, greasy hamburger was a definite plus for me. Or maybe I was just doing it so I could say the word "bain" 10-12 times a day. No, it was definitely so I could have a closet full of shirts that say "Sandwich Artist". Yeah, that's definitely it. ("Red velvet animals swim in black tea. There's nobody up here but me, and every mistake I make comes back to haunt me. Still I'm as happy as I've ever been." - Marcy Playground)
February the 7th, 2000: I tend to write myself little notes about things that I want to write about on here. I leave them all over my house, in my purse, in my locker, on my friends' foreheads, etc. Sometimes I forget where I've put them or even that I've written them in the first place. This is one such case. I went to Jonathan's a while back, but I completely forgot that I wrote some stuff down about it. I found my note to myself last night, & I remembered what fun I had, so I figure I'd better just write up a little something to keep myself happy, even though I forget most of what happened & most of what my notes mean. Anyway, here goes.
I was at Mike's house. I don't know how I got there or who initiated us getting together, but I was at his house. That morning, as I was getting ready for school, I saw Mike's dad on the news, talking about a murder. Mike's dad is a homicide detective, which means that he walks around in suits & trench coats all day (when he's not walking around in little shorts to impress me, that is), which completely rocks my world. I'm a huge sucker for a well-dressed guy, let me tell you. So, when I got to Mike's house, I was ushered into his family room-ish area, where his dad was watching Jeopardy, being the extremely intelligent man that he is. I said, "Hey, I saw you on the news this morning," to which he replied in a monotone voice, "Yeah. Someone else died." That's how you make a girl feel welcome, let me tell you. (Yes, I realize that I've already overused that phrase, but expect to see it several more times thruout this little story.) So, Mike's dad left the room in his little shorts while Mike & I settled down for some good, old-fashioned Jeopardy-watching. After a while, however, he got a little restless & started dancing around the room a bit. Then, for one reason or another, he stuck some money out of the band of his soccer shorts & started flicking it as he continued dancing around the room. (This is one of those time that I really wish I had a videocamera following me around, because I can't, for the life of me, remember why he was doing this or what I was thinking at the time. Therein lies the essence of Mike, I suppose.) After what could have been hours of this, Mike called Jonathan & asked if we could come over for a bit of Risk. I drove us there, but I made Mike get out & parallel park for me, since that's the one driving skill that I haven't even attempted to master. (Well, that along with actually keeping the car on my side of the road & backing up without slamming into other people's cars.) We went inside, but Jonathan was at a friend's house, so I sat on the couch & talked to Jonathan's mom while Mike scoured the kitchen for something to eat. When Jonathan came back, we chose to watch Shakespeare in Love rather than play Risk for some reason. As we were getting the movie started, Jonathan's cat, Sebastian, came & sat on my lap. I'm a huge sucker for nice cats who sit on my lap, let me tell you. Talking to myself but not really, I said, "Let's get a house cat," to which Mike replied, "LET'S get a house cat? . . . For OUR house?" That's right. In all seriousness, I think having a shared pet with someone is the ultimate way of showing that you care. OK, maybe not the ultimate way, but doesn't going to pick out a cat or dog with someone seem like a sweet thing? Good. I thought so. This is the point in the story where I forget everything. I remember getting cold & covering up with a throw from the back of the couch, & I remember inspecting a painting that Jonathan's family had sitting in front of their fireplace, & I remember Jonathan talking about his dad painting the fireplace a different colour, & I remember liking the movie, but I can't remember anything big happening. I suppose this is a good place to the end the story, then. It was interesting, wasn't it? I thought so, too. ("Give those pious soldiers another lollipop. 'Cause we're on the good ship menage et tois." - Beck)
