Piece Eight

My friends in middle school were a funny sort. You wouldn't think we all got along or laughed at the same jokes. Everyone was happy being themselves.

In retrospect, we were an even odder bunch than we knew then.

In retrospect, I just realized I barely remember any daily events when we were all together.

In retrospect, I have always been a loner--out of habit, presumably.

In retrospect, these people mean so little to the heart of my problems that they are this massive, integral part to the story.

I stopped hanging out with them much during eighth grade. We all had the same lunch (thanks to grade level lunches) and sat together, but we were so far apart.

I don't know where I'm going with this anymore.

Remember learning to ride a bike? And having your feet slip off the pedals? And the pedals spinning wildly, banging up your ankles? And the utter terror as you approached the crest of the hill, before the break-requiring slope?

That's how I'm feeling.

Today I began a new manuscript. (On top of two others and a screenplay. My attention span: NIL.) What I'm willing to say about it: What does a MPDG have to say? Is it as important as what you and I have to say? What happens when a MPDG finds out she isn't what she aspires to be? -- Partially inspired by my own fascination with the MPDGs and largely influenced by the wonderous John Green. It goes hand in hand with this project. I'm not quite sure what writing both at once will do to my stability.

Piece Seven

Let's move away from the library for a few days.

My first friend at the new school was a girl my mother nearly tackled because her locker was in the same bank as mine. Surely, she thought we were insane. Surely, her mother was having an inner panic attack at these two strange people asking about the school in the almost empty hallway.
Luckily, that didn't stop the girl from befriending me then and there. She compared our schedules (inside, I was marveling at how much of a pro she was) and declared we had second period social studies and eighth period literature together. On the first day of school--oh, how pale and stressed I must have looked! I was terrified!--she did not let me down. As soon as she saw me in our second period class room, she started a conversation. Explained where we would meet to go to lunch so we could sit together and so I could meet "T."
I never imagined someone could be so unconditionally nice. It was surreal.
Meeting her best friend "T" made me feel like I was part of something. Sure, it was just the three of us, basking in our awkwardness, laughing at silly things that were only funny because nothing else really was. But there was a connection. A bonding. A "we are in this together" kind of feeling.
One of my regrets is losing contact with her. "H" made my life by being such a great, outta nowhere friend. Without her hospitality, I have no idea what I would have, could have ever done. My mind cannot wrap around the idea of not having her help in my adjusting.
Losing touch with "T" is also a regret. I remember her as very real--very real for even overly honest 7th graders--and kind. She didn't hold any outward grudges against me for latching onto her friendship.
Both of these girls are alive in my memories. Hopefully I'll get the courage to find them again.

More on friendship--especially with honest, brash, lively folk--tomorrow.

Piece Six

In the library, nothing truely remarkable occurred. Yet, it was like the mirror. It was an honest place filled with upfront lies. I have memories of late fees--oh, the arguing to get them waived!--and incorrect change. Of people saying, "Hey, yeah, I don't want this book, but she needs it and can't pay her fine now, so can I check it out?"

The answer: "Umm...no."

Not every day had a unique occurrence. It was even, daresay, mundane. The same friends gathered on the opposite side of the counter to chat through our Advisory period. The same people came to check out comic books and whatnot. The same schedule was looked at through the bored eyes of young people craving adventure or, at least, a diversion from the norm.

Strangely, the more I think about it, the less I remember in general. I guess it was just that same day after day.

Note: We'll see where this goes. I'm an awful kind of tired right now, but I want to do BEDA. Hopefully I will get a post in every day and this remain an exercise and not a chore.