Youngest of One

Your Ice Makers For The Evening:

Tonight I shall continue to recall past events so that I may not have to revisit them during my future at Susquehanna University.  I have chosen to replace all of the names in this entry, for reasons that I do not completely understand.  I have been single ever since last October, when my first serious relationship ended in precisely the sort of way that one always hopes it will not (i.e., with a text message from her).  Therefore, two weeks before my senior prom, I still did not have a date.  Since I went to a high school exclusively for boys, this search for a date was exactly the sort of teen drama--the kind you see endlessly powdered and presented on the CW--that I had always hoped to avoid.  The situation could have been more cliché only if I had suddenly found a zit on my face at the last possible moment before the prom.  As it turned out, I never found that blemish, but I did find a date.  As I was leaving school one day, I ran into my friend Miranda, and we immediately started catching up because we do not see each other often.  During my senior year, I had mostly gotten to know her through speech tournaments, because she was also in the category of Duo Interpretation.  When we came to the subject of the prom, she asked who my date was, and my response was something to the effect of: "Yeah, um, you see, I haven't exactly worked that out yet."  Within seconds, the matter was settled.  I would take her to my senior prom.  Little did we know then what sort of clever union of tension builder and ice maker we had accidentally created, but it didn't take us too long to figure out.  In fact, we discussed it with a lot of laughter on the car trip to the event.  You see, we each had our own sordid past in our little high school community, and together we were a force to be reckoned with.

I first realized the happy accident when one day my friend Luigi approached me in the hallway.  We greeted each other as warmly as ever, and at first I had no idea what he had on his mind.  Then he spoke.  He said, "So, Will, I heard that you're taking my ex-girlfriend to the prom."  I do not recall my exact reaction, but I think that it is safe to say that I probably laughed openly, the same way that I laugh whenever I think about it.  I'm sure that it was okay to laugh, because their relationship ended something like two years ago, and I believe that he ended it.  Quite frankly, I didn't know these people back then, so I'm not entirely sure of the details.  I do know, however, that Miranda has had dates or other relations with a few other students at my high school, including my classmate Blake.  (I'm not being clever about these fake names at all.  Take my word for it.)  According to my understanding, this encounter with Blake led to the end of her relationship with Luigi.  Blake and Luigi, of course, were both at my senior prom.  At this point, I hope that you are beginning to understand that Miranda and I might cause tension or awkwardness at the prom, but we knew we could love every minute of it.  Also, at this point, I realize that all this information may start to confuse you.  I'm afraid that I can take no measures to prevent that.  I am describing, to the best of my knowledge, not one but two sordid pasts, and all of these names and facts are bound to get mixed up because they're all new to you.  That doesn't matter, because I'm making a point.  It doesn't matter who dated whom.  What matters is that I demonstrate what long, strange histories my date and I each had.  Now, where was I in this avalanche of code names and details?  Oh, that's right.  I was just about to tell you about my history.

I only had that one relationship in my whole time at high school, but it's funny how just one relationship can spread like an airborne contagion and create so much tension.  For almost a year, mostly as a junior, I dated a girl named Tracy in what can best be described as an "is it on now or off again" relationship.  Over eleven months, our relationship was put on hold, shifted around with other priorities, put in time out, delayed for rain, and finally ended.  The break-up sent me spiraling into a heap of loathing, from which I eventually emerged the more bitter, more cynical, more laid back person that I am today.  (I like the new me, by the way.)  A few months later, Tracy started going out with one of my classmates.  I think I'll call him Humbert.  Yes, the name Humbert fits very nicely.  I hardly noticed Humbert throughout three and a half years of high school.  He was barely an acquaintance of mine.  Then, he started dating my ex-girlfriend, and suddenly I started seeing him everywhere.  I had no idea that he often used to hang around with my friends, especially my Duo partner.  There's no point in changing Joe's name, because I've already used it many times in previous entries in the context of Duo.  Anyway, Joe was still going out with a girl named Molly, a close friend of Tracy, which means that Joe started hanging around with Humbert and Tracy's crew a lot more than he spent time with me.  And, of course, they were all going to the prom in a limo together.  The most difficult part of preparing for the prom was deciding who would sit at our table.  My close friend Esteban insisted on sitting with me, and I gladly agreed.  Unfortunately, even though I made a lot of friends in high school, not many of them are well liked by Esteban.  After much deliberation, we came up with three other names that reduced the awkwardness and maximized the fun at our table.

Our prom was held at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City, which was extremely classy and downright elegant.  Personally, I bought my own tuxedo rather than renting one.  Of course, I shouldn't say that I bought it.  I've never earned a dollar in my life.  My parents bought it for me, because my mother said that renting one would be almost as expensive.  Miranda wore a lovely orange dress, which was a nice coincidence for me because orange is one of the school colors at Susquehanna University.  (Those colors, by the way, are maroon and orange.  I realize how atrocious that sounds.  They realize it, too.  But it's much better than you might think.)  Our professional couple's photograph turned out very nicely.  In fact, it looks much nicer than any prom photo should.  What the heck am I going to look at and laugh about several years from now?  I guess my yearbook will have to suffice.  The prom was a pleasant event, even a night to remember (once in a while).  I danced quite a lot, even though I usually don't do that.  I'm very lanky and uncoordinated, especially on the dance floor.  There was even a dance contest. I had enough sense to avoid participation, but I had a lot of fun in the crowd cheering for my favorite pair of dancers.  After the prom, some friends and I went to a bowling alley and then went our separate ways.  Miranda and I didn't cause any scenes.  We did, however, have a few good laughs at the expense of others--those who had wronged us in the past and then came face-to-face with us again on what was supposed to be the happiest, most exciting night of their young lives.  If the whole night was a movie or an awful teen drama on the CW, I'd like to think that we were the two outcasts who showed up fashionably late in order to have fun and knock the popular kids down a few pegs.  At dinner, my friends and I even discussed who would play us if we were roles in a movie.  My friend Lorenzo (I would never change Lorenzo's name) told me that I could be played by Michael Cera.  "But he only plays geeky, pale, awkward, sad characters," I replied.  He only laughed and said, "Yeah, exactly."

End Post.

Everything Is Eliminated:

Since I am moving to Susquehanna University on Thursday, I have only a limited time left before my life undergoes a dramatic change.  For almost a year now, I have almost fallen out of the habit of blogging, with an average of about one post per month.  Therefore, with such infrequent updates, I have not taken the opportunity to tell you about some memorable events in my life.  I think perhaps that, after my life at college begins, I may hesitate to recall and write about these events, since I would prefer to focus on my new friends and other new developments.  Therefore, I think it is safe to say that these last few days before the 21st are my final opportunity to tell you about the lost chapters of my life in high school, the ones that went undocumented during the last few months.  I can think of only a few events that deserve this last-minute attention, two or three at most.  Today, I would like to bring you all the way back to early April, as I do my best to remember and recount my experience at the New York Speech and Debate Championship in Albany.

As I have explained before, my speech partner Joe and I never asked to be a part of the Hearn, our high school's speech and debate team, but the coach knew us and thought we had some talent.  With our hesitant consent, he signed us up to perform together in the category of Duo Interpretation with a comedic piece called "The Bible: The Complete Word of God (Abridged)."  I was happy to accept this script and play the role of God, which provided a great opportunity to use my booming baritone voice.  (That's not how my voice regularly sounds, by the way.)  Joe and I worked our way through several tournaments with some successes and some defeats, earning two trophies, one mug, and a full qualification to compete in the State Championship.  Of course, our high school sent dozens of students to the State Championship, so our achievement was hardly singular.  But it's a wonderful achievement nonetheless, especially for us as rookies.  We packed our things and boarded one of the school's buses headed for a hotel in Albany, where Joe and I, like all Duo partners, shared a bed.  Sure, we had a dispute or two.  He claimed that I was stretching across to his side of the bed, while I (rightfully) claimed that he was hogging all of the covers.  On the second night, though, we used all those extra hotel pillows to build a wall between us, and from then on we were two happy bedfellows.

The competition began at Albany High School on a Saturday afternoon, but we arrived at the hotel on Friday night.  With our spare time, my friends and I crossed the street and a large parking lot to get dinner at a nearby T.G.I. Friday's, where I drank a delicious Red Bull-based smoothie drink and ate some food that later made me regret my decision to eat at T.G.I. Friday's.  (The choice was so appropriate, though, because it was Friday.)  Before we returned to the hotel, some friends and I went to the nearest mega store.  It was probably a Wal Mart, but for all I know it might have been a K Mart, Walgreen's, Duane Reade, or anything to that effect.  Anyway, four or five of my friends invested in some Nerf guns that they would then bring back to the hotel.  It was here that I learned that Nerf actually makes a product that looks just like a shotgun--a slightly small, lightweight, bright yellow and orange shotgun.  Two were purchased that night.  Personally, I chose to spend my money on nourishment, specifically Reese's peanut butter cups and Red Bull.  By now, you may be thinking that I have a dependence on energy drinks.  Actually, I can quit any time I want.  All I need is one more fix, and then I'm off the stuff for good.  In all seriousness, I don't need energy drinks in my everyday life.  They provide a welcome boost under demanding circumstances, such as a speech tournament, which is more strenuous than you might think.  There are so many rules to follow, there's a lot of waiting to do, you have to be dressed very nicely, you have to worry about going over time as you're performing, and you're almost always in an unfamiliar setting.  It's more than enough to take a lot out of you.

Speaking of the competition, I found that the State Championship was really not much different from a regular tournament.  While there were many teams in the field of competitors that showed amazing talent, nevertheless there were also teams that I could only watch and wonder, "Really?  State Championship?  You guys?"  Of course, there are probably a few people who had the same thoughts while watching me perform, because these matters are so subjective.  Nonetheless, during the weekend of competition, I came to the conclusion that some of the other teams must have come from less competitive districts in order to earn a qualification for the State Championship.  I would hate to see the teams that they were able to beat, because the worst part about forensics is sitting through an awful piece.  Actually, the worst part is probably the judges or the long hours without sleep.  There was one particular Duo team at the State Championship that I will never forget, nor will anyone else who saw them that day.  In the second preliminary round, Joe and I, surrounded by two friends from our school and two friends from a sister school, watched in horror and astonishment as that infamous team performed a piece called "A Walk in Your Shoes."  The plot is simple: a married couple wake up to find that they have switched bodies for reasons that are never explained.  Lots of yelling and raunchy jokes ensue.  It was the yelling that really captured our attention.  The young man, who played the wife in her husband's body, screamed many of his lines in the shrillest, harshest tones that I have ever heard.  To watch it was almost maddening.  As we exited the room at the end of the round, the six of us could not contain our laughter.  For hours and days afterwards, we told stories of the strangest Duo team any of us has ever seen.  I offered the theory that perhaps we had all suffered a collective hallucination, but the truth is that it was all too real.

The fifth and final preliminary round ended before lunch on Sunday, and the results came in during the afternoon, after what surely must have been an eternity of waiting.  Huge sheets of paper were hung up in the Albany High School auditorium, each one bearing the code numbers of the performers who had been chosen to move on to the finals or semi-finals in each category.  Joe and I stepped down from the bleachers and found that our number was not among the chosen few.  In that moment, we knew we were eliminated from the competition, but it felt like more that that.  Everything was eliminated.  My career in the world of speech and debate was over.  I had already won all of my trophies.  I was no longer a performer.  I was no longer playing God.  Minutes later, I watched a girl pass out.  I would later take that girl to my senior prom.  That is a story for my next blog entry.  As for me, with no more rounds to go to, I had a lot of time on my hands.  I loosened my tie and stepped outside to think for a while.  Within ten or fifteen minutes, I gained some perspective on the matter.  I might have chosen to end my speech career differently, but it had to end at that State Championship anyway.  I love to have an audience, but I was never a big star in high school forensics, and I'm okay with that.  Joe and I had our own little rookie success story, and we had a lot of fun doing it.  Now that it was over, I was finally able to escape from this world of obligations that I never auditioned for.  I found a nice bench and wrote a few pages in my novel with my laptop, because that's where I'm most comfortable.  No more waiting for scores and results.  No more trips to other high schools.  No more judges telling me what to do and always being wrong about it.  And I saw that it was good.

End Post.