My gym teacher is strict. And by strict, I mean if you are not playing like you are in the Olympics 100% of the time, including when we're playing something like dodgeball or crab ball, he will yell in your face and humiliate you in front of the whole class. And that's just his first-warning punishment. He would send people to the office so much, the principal eventually had to say that no PE students were allowed to be sent down to the office except after three serious offenses. So it's a given that he does not accept the lousy excuse of "I have to go to the bathroom right now or I will pee my pants" as a worthy excuse for stepping out of the PE area. And so it happened that I was waddling around the gym pregnant-woman style, trying desperately not to think of waterfalls. I tried to do it subtly, not draw attention to myself, but most people noticed anyway, and automatically knew what I was about. They sent me looks of pity and tried to help me play as little as I possibly could while still looking like an Olympic champion in battle. When PE ended and I was finally able to race to the bathroom like the track star coach wants me to be, the words running through my head- other than finally I can pee! were, "I can not wait until summer."
I sat at my computer and stared at the half-written essay in front of me, trying to grasp the word that was on the tip of my tongue, that was the perfect conclusion to the ending sentence of my second body paragraph. I bit my lip and looked at my backpack on the floor next to me. It was open, halfway unzipped, and my desk lamp was casting a shadow on the many binders nestles inside. I turned in my chair and stared at my room for a moment. My bed was made, my clothes littered on top of it and all over the floor, and three pairs of shoes lay near my half-open closet door. Two books sat on my bedside table, another one, folded open at the seam, on the floor by my bed, next to my Muse t-shirt and dark jeans. I sighed and folded over in the chair, tucking my head between my knees. Picking up and leaving right after settling in, again, was going to be hard enough- why did I have to have all this added pressure?
There was a storm Monday night. I sat in my room and listened to the rain pattering on the roof, remembering the days when I could look over to the window and watch the rain fall. Tonight I could sleep in my room, but on especially warm nights, the room would get too stuffy, and I'd have to go down the attic stairs to sleep in the guest room. The Saltwater Room by Owl City played out of my speakers, and I whistled along with it as I stood up and started rearranging my drawers, pulling out the clothes and refolding it, taking out the occasional old garment that I had forgotten about to give to Salvation Army. I closed my drawers and looked up at the poster above them- a picture of the 80's band Devo. Their outfits were bizarre, totally sterotypical 80's. My sister had never really liked their music, but she said she liked their "philosophy". I remembered her telling me once about how "devo" was short for "de-evolution". She said that the band members believed that as technology advanced, humans became more lazy, more stupid, and basically de-evolved. I wasn't really sure what I thought about their "philosophy", but they did seem to fir the mood of our room...so I never asked her to take it down. Now, as I stood and stared at it, I bit my lip and reached up, tearing it down. The wood underneath the spot where it had been was faded, lighter than the wall around it. The poster was nice enough. But I thought that the spot where it was might be a good spot for something else.
© 2010
No comments:
Post a Comment