The Golden Age

Yesterday, I was at school early. Everyone was tired and unwilling to sing, but there none-the-less. There was camaraderie in that. We were united in our weariness. We were about half way through our rehearsal when a tall, pretty, athletic girl came in the room. My stomach clenched a little bit when I recognized her voice. We've never been on very good terms. But I'm not going to go into that. It is ugly and messy and silly.
My initial reaction to her was anger. And annoyance. But as the rehearsal wrapped up, it was replaced by a sort of pity. She looked so small, hanging out in the room where she had once been queen bee. She had come back, probably expecting warm welcome. Which she got. But there was no fussing. She said things, while she watched us practice, but they were lost in our fluttering conversation. Things at my school had clearly moved on from last year. She was reduced to a memory. And memories don't have nearly as much power as the present.

She is probably enjoying her high school. In fact, she is probably having the time of her life. This is her golden age. I think that her high school years are going to be the best of her life. But when she graduates, everything will dim in comparison. At least, I think that's what I saw in the rehearsal room.

This is not my time.

I should say, I hope it isn't. My time is in the future somewhere, I think. In that time I will hit my stride, and be confident in everything. I'm confident now, God knows. But it's a shaky confidence. I still get that look, when I've been too loud, or too excited, or too- out there. In those moments after the look, which are filled with regret and slight panic, I am paying my dues. It is those moments that make it clear to me, that this is not my time.


But it will come. As most are leaving their glory days behind, I will be beginning mine. Where they fade, I will finally flourish. I'm glad I have something to look forward to.


And I'm excited.

Frustrating

I'd just like to start out by saying that I really, really enjoy Shakespeare. We're reading Romeo and Juliet in English right now. I feel like I'm accomplishing something when I know what the characters are talking about, without having to read the footnotes. There is something deeply beautiful about the language. I think my favorite character is either Mercutio or Juliet. I kind of dislike Romeo, though. He's got the nice, yet dishonest boy thing going on, and I as I've said before (Sorry) that does not gel with me very well. Juliet, who I really like, deserves better, in my opinion. I love reading about her. I like that my English class isn't entirely against Shakespeare either. Most of them seem to like it. I'm excited to keep reading. The project that accompanies the Romeo and Juliet unit, however, might lead to some late nights and dashed hopes.

I always do this. Always. And it's really disappointing. I'm sure you've felt it before too.

I started on my project today. One of the things I am doing for the project is designing the costumes for Juliet in the play. One of the requirements is that I make a doll-sized version of one of my designs. So I got out my sewing kit (Still in the basement with the moving boxes) and started to brainstorm. I eventually decided that I wanted to do Juliet's Party Dress (The dress she is wearing when she first sees Romeo). I had some red linen and some iridescent Burgundy shot silk and some gold organza-looking stuff. The colors were good with each other. They were appropriate for the period I think. I held the fabrics and got excited.
I laid out my needle and pins and ironed my fabric and got to work. I stitched and stitched. My back started to ache from leaning down so long. North finished Bioshock (Best video game in the world, by the way.) while I worked. In the back of my head there was this nagging doubt;
"That thread is going to make everything look sloppy"
"Those sleeves are too big. They look clumsy"
"You're going to run out of fabric"
But I kept on going, thinking that if I just persevered, everything would just fall into place. But of course, it didn't work out that way.
The dress did fit the doll, but it was baggy and it just did not look like something that had been slaved over for hours. The colors were nice, but the exposed thread just ruined the effect. It was really frustrating. And my back hurts. I always do this. But do you know what I'm going to do tomorrow?

I'm going to make another one.