October 31, 1999

Where have all the trick-or-treaters gone? Eight years ago in my old Chicago neighborhood, ghouls and goblins (and occasionally pirates, witches, cats, GI-Joe, or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) invested our streets. The doorbell rang non-stop, we had bags overflowing with candy. Groups upon groups, hundreds upon hundreds- you get the point. Now I sit in my living room with an increasingly absurd amount of candy, and eagerly await the buzz of my doorbell signaling the arrival of candy-seekers. On average, I say I got two groups an hour. Children- what has happened?!?!

Also- I knew that the only way to get candy from my neighbors was to call out "Trick or Treat!" at every doorstep. Tonight I was greeted with "Hi!" What!? I must admit, I demanded that a few of the older children, who really should know better, address me with the proper line. I mean, who are they to mess with tradition. And another thing- I gave out candy to a few poorly dressed children tonight. Children who obviously were just in it for the candy- a girl who put a small fairy cape and tiara over a T-shirt and jeans, and a boy clad in only a black sweatsuit. I gave them the candy anyway- like I said, I kind of had enough to go around. And although I will never yell at the older people for continuing this Halloween activity (cuz hey, if they're willing to walk around the neighborhoods and get it, then I'll give it to them)- I demand at least some kind of actual participation on their part. Those who show up at my doorstep in regular clothes, without a bag, with a look on their face like they're really fooling everybody, don't deserve candy. But they do say Trick or Treat- they're the ones who know better. So they still get the candy. Hm, this rant sounds touchy, but I just think it's sad to see such a beloved institution go bad.

Hey, didja notice I was gone? It was kind of weird, actually, because me and a few of my favorite websites all took the same few weeks off. Maybe it was just a general slump in production. I did try though, see?:

October 10, 1999

Whenever a new teeny-bopper movie comes out, it's a given that Erin and I will go to it and utterly fall in love with the male lead about an hour into it. Well, ya know that new movie "Drive Me Crazy"? And you know that guy in it, Adrian Grener? Oh, he's so kissable, I was almost not at all self-conscious about the fact that I was sitting in a theater with a bunch of 13 year olds.

And yesterday was homecoming. (Yes- I went. I again completely pulled a Ms. Hypocrisy on myself again, for the third year in a row, and went.) I've mentioned how much I dislike the whole idea of getting fancy for a school dance, right? Well, I actually enjoyed my dress this year, and my hair, though annoying, was pleasantly accented by this wonderful flower clips my flower-goddess mother made for me. It was the shoes. Seriously, amputating my pinky toes probably would have hurt less that whatever happened to them last night, and I'm kind of worried that I did something to my big toes because now putting any kind of pressure on them at all makes them hurt. So that's it- my heels will not be above two inches from now on, and flats are the new rule for dances.

Every homecoming, the senior women at our school get together and make up a dance to do at the pep rally, and just to make it seem like they're somewhat regulated, they get senior women t-shirts. Occasionally the senior men will band together and make their own t- shirts to rebel against the atrocious idea that the senior women have these t-shirts. This year, their t-shirts said "Senior Women- make me a samich! Senior Men, sending the Senior Women back to the kitchen!" (The Senior Women's shirts said "Senior Women, 2000") Thankfully, this horrible act finally got some girls pissed. I couldn't believe it- how asinine, you know?

To finish that story, eventually the women appeared in the halls with Pepto- Bismal-pink shirts that said "Senior Boys Make Your Own Samich! You're sleeping on the couch tonight!" Of course, the wonderfully cute argument that arose from these shirts was "If they're sleeping on the couch tonight, where were they sleeping last night? Hm?"

I've experienced quite the rush this week. Get this: I've finally figured out what I want to major in! Well, kind of. I'm going to major in either Political Science or Communications, and whichever one of those I don't major in, I'm minoring in, along with History. The way I know this is what I really want is that I've said it out loud a few times, and I haven't changed my mind. It's sounded right, and natural and just.... good. So now I can move on to looking for actual universities and applying for scholarships. My amount of giddiness is positively disturbing.

My mom got me a pair of wax lips for Halloween. Aw.

So do you want to know why I'm suddenly hating a teacher more than I've ever hated a teacher in my entire life? Yes? Wow, you are sooo nosy. Ah, well.

First of all, he's sexist. He puts down women on practically a daily basis, and is an open advocate of 'that kind of thing.' Gr.
Second of all, a story. At the end of each math period (oh! he's my math teacher!), he allows us about fifteen minutes to start on our assignment for that day. Now, occasionally a few people will do other homework, or quietly chat for a while. He kind scolds the chatting, but never says a word to the people doing their homework. So, one day I'm behind where I want to be in this history project, so instead of doing the easy math, I pull out my history book and start reading a bit. Suddenly, he's there threatening to go to my history teacher and tell him I'm taking up his math period to do history, and that perhaps the fair retaliation would be for him to take up some of my history teacher's period to do math. Now, you've got to understand how much I admire and respect my history teacher, and how much I want him to think well of me, and how much I don't know how he'd respond to a conversation like that. So I kind of freak and beg him not to. He doesn't. But that threat shows how favoritist (by not saying a word to the other guys, whom he likes) he is, and just makes me hate him all the more. Grr.
Third, a few days later he gets on my case to join his stupid little math team. I don't especially enjoy math, and from my freshman experience the math team is all about donuts, extra credit in math classes, and taking a day off school to get out butts kicked by other schools who actually know what they're doing. So I say no- never- no. He brings up the fact that he's on the NHS board at our school, and perhaps it'd be a good idea to join the math team and get on his good side. Inferring that he might be tempted to reject my membership. Now, I qualify for NHS in every way, shape, and form, and getting in the society is basically my main goal for my junior year. I realize that there is no way this man has any intention of actually denying me membership, or even if he did, that he lacks the power to do it. I know this. But the fact that he threatened me with it irks me. A lot. Grrr.
Fourth, he continues with his little quest to get me on the math team, which at this point I'm sworn against for the rest of my natural life. He says that if I'm not at the next math team meeting, he's going to my history teacher and telling him I was doing his homework in math class. Blackmail, I believe. Grrrr.
Fifth, somehow my older brother comes up in our continuing battle. He says he thinks I'm better than my brother cuz I'm more organized, dedicated, "blah blah blah fishcakes." I say no, my brother is tons smarter than me. He asks me where my brother is now going to school, I tell him, and he kinda waves it off, in a "see what i mean?" way. I mention that he's thinking of switching his major, from either computer science or engineering, not being sure of exactly what he's in now, to--- the teacher cuts me off here to ask "To what, underwater basket weaving?"---- Uh-oh. Looks like someone has taken a major leap across that line. I say "No, possibly architecture." and scowl. Grrrrr!

To take the power away from him, I go to my history teacher and explain to him the situation I'm in. He smiles knowingly, possibly amused by it all, and says "okay." No problem there, and I can't believe I actually worried. So now my math teacher has no upperhand to get me into his stupid little team. And to drive it all home, my parents went to see him at parent- teacher conferences. They knew everything, because for a while he had been getting my all worked up that when I got home I had to vent to someone, and Mom and Dad were conveniently around the house. They were mad that he was harassing me, but I was successfully convincing them to just listen to me and not act on anything. But when he attacked my brother, well, I couldn't stop them (as if I really tried, though). They introduced themselves as the parents of both me and my brother, and he immediately started apologizing, saying he was just joking. And it's okay that I don't want to be on the math team, of course. What really got me laughing demonically, though, was when he told them he wanted me to be in his AP Calculus class next year. Yeah, as if.

On the topic of driving- I passed my simulators course with a 64% average. It doesn't look good from here on in...

I'm not really working much anymore, so my next paychecks will be for 3 hours and 8.5 hours, and I'm going to get to see how much those will be when I report to work next on November 27. As my dad says, this is quite the part-time job.

I've been on a huge Dixie Chicks kick lately (I know, it surprised me as much as it might surprise you), so for the next few entries, that's all you'll be reading. Um, this is from their second album "Fly." It's "Let Him Fly" ...Things can move at such a pace. The second hand just waved good-bye. You know the light has left his face, but you can't recall just when or why. So there was really nothing to it. I just went and cut right through it. I said- I'm gonna let him fly... There's not mercy in a live wire, no rest at all in freedom. Choices we are given, it's no choice at all. The proof is in the fire, you touch before it moves away. But you must always know how long to stay, and when to go... And there ain't no talkin to this man. He's been tryin' to tell me so. It took a while to understand the beauty of just letting go. 'Cause it would take an acrobat n' I already tried all that... I'm gonna let him fly...