January 22, 1999
3:42 PM CST

I leave for three weeks, and now I can't wait to update this site. I've been thinking about this entry all week. At this point, I'm still not sure what I want to talk about. I've suddenly become aware that the things I write here are read and interpreted by others. Before I guess I just assumed some people would kind of skim over this journal, but certainly not take the words at anything more than face-value. Maybe agree (or disagree, but we like to pretend those people don't exist) on some points, but not analyze the entries and have them apply to situations in their lives. Like I said, I just realized this might happen. Instead caring about it, though, I've been wondering if I should pretend to have something really huge and tragic happen to me, and then exaggerate about it here. I'm thinking it might turn a few heads in my on-line friend world, which would actually be the point. But, I won't. Maybe next year, when my goal isn't to be nice to everyone.

I know I touched on finals last week, but I'm going to dig into them right now. See, the thing is, I loved this week. My school's three days of finals is the only time of the year with no homework, early releases, and a basic no-care attitude among my friends and I. It might sound arrogant, because it is, but we figure that we have the grades, so A-'s or B's on some of our tests really isn't that detrimental to our high school careers. Of course, A-'s or B's on finals couldn't be detrimental to anyone's high school career, but we are talking about the people who actually do all their homework every night to the best of their ability. Sometimes. And I personally love the tests. Why? Because I like the fact that I can remember things that I 'learned' all the way back in September. Because I like passing things, and proving I'm not just some ape who sits in a seat and takes notes all day long. Because everyone is taking them at the exact time, because there is a nice equality among students (all the teachers are evil, we all feel each others' pain). Because half the year is over, and because the next time we do this, two whole quarters from now, we don't have to wake up early for two months afterwards. I also like the twenty-minute passing periods. Being able to take a break and recollect your thoughts after every period is astoundingly refreshing, and makes for some interesting hallway conversation.

I'm such a cynical beast. It seems like a ton of people (mainly guys) have been concentrating on relationships with people of the other gender lately. Now, when you read my little parenthesis remark, you might be like "Well, Rosie, of course they are!" and I admit it, that's true. Of course they are (but then again, this does apply to a large amount of high school students as a whole), but now more than ever. And I'm cynical about it. Personally, I think the whole thing is a load of bull. I just don't buy the whole 'he-likes-she-likes' scene. It's usually two people whose relationship is semi-dependent on their group of friends, and who talk more about each other than to each other. It's about fuzzy stuffed animals and walking on nervous tip-toes just so you won't accidentally hurt your significant other's feelings. Or, it's about sex and vulgar physical attraction. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not anti-love. "Like" is not love. Love is textured, with many different layers and all sorts of wonderful complexities that make it fun. "Like" can be summed up in two to six months, at which time the two parties go their separate ways. It's possible that love can occur in high school, but I have a feeling I haven't seen it yet.

I was talking to strangers this week. I loved it. I was on IM Messenger (I'm dortdruben, for all you AOL'ers or IM users), and suddenly four people who I don't know were IM'ing me. I suppose I buy stranger danger in a way, but I can't deny the fact that I have this uncanny trust and interest in these unknown souls. I'm not going to make it so all possible rapists will know where to reach me and at what time, but I will tell the seemingly harmless persons (although my mom and my ex-math teacher's voice jump in my head as I write that phrase "there are a lot of psychos out there. you have to be careful.") some miscellaneous, insignificant facts about myself and encourage them to share some information about themselves. After all, they've never given me any reason to dislike them, and not everyone is out to murder you. I've talked to too many nice, law-abiding citizens to believe that. Yes, this semi-optimistic view is a rather naive way to surf the world wide web, but it's making for one hell of a ride.

I've been walking away from this thing way too much. It's now 5:00, and this has gone on long enough. Time to wrap it up. To recognize the fact that it's been roughly six months (!!!!!) since I moved to Wellesley and set up house, we'll quote from the rosie-est songs I have in my collection. First, Lisa Loeb, with "Furious Rose" from Firecracker (which happens to be the song that inspired this outburst of expression). "Furious Rose, with your opiate eyes, your languorous hum, that tone of surprise. I've heard energy in adversity, your smile the soul of witchery. You're not running away, you're not running- are you?" And now, "Canadian Rose" from the Blues Traveler's album, "Straight On Till Morning": "And every hope and dream I could ever conjure up, Passionately springs in me and all things are possible, Plausible and perfectly both of ours forever after and every day. At least it seemed that way. Once for such a beautiful while that still makes me smile....And she called me her ugly American, and I'll remember my Canadian Rose.." Perfectly perfect, simply wonderful- I love those songs.

This cracked me up very early this morning, so I'm sharing: "The truth is out there? Does anyone know its URL?"