Ah... my deepest apologies in not writing in awhile. The school work has been an over load.
But alas! this weekend I found time to not only watch The Dead Poets Society but also to go to a birthday party.
In my family, we have never truly celebrated birthdays. I suppose we are just introverted people (which may be the cause of our long silences online). But last Friday, I visited a friend's house.
This certain friend, who is absolutely insane (and it's adorable), celebrates not only her birthday but her birthday month. For the past two months she has been counting down in algebra class until this iconic day. When the long awaited moment arrived, she left school in order to get her license. This may not seem odd to some, but to me, 16th birthdays don't inspire much interest. Yes, I am 16 (and have been for awhile) and no, I do not have any interest in driving (besides getting rid of a carpool).
Strangely enough, I do not find her enthusiasm annoying, I find it rather interesting and charming. Her insanity was echoed throughout her house. The outside was very dainty, taller than it was wide, and still displayed two Christmas wreaths. She told me not to enter the front door, because they never answer it. On the way to the attic, I walked up 3 stair cases, none much wider than me, and one painted bright red. As I expected, the entire house was covered in piles of stuff, crap, and dirt. I had more fun walking up the stairs than I did socializing.
Moving on to the next night: I watched The Dead Poets Society, featuring Robin Williams as an inspiring and unorthodox English teacher and controlling parents of teenage boys. After watching each boy break the rules, "seize the day," and follow his every whim (including one suicide), I felt like rebelling myself. Thus, I took hold of the orange juice bottle and took a swig. It felt very nice to break the rules (even if it was never really a rule) so I took a second drink. Then I made myself some chocolate milk and played Iron and Wine on the guitar until my right arm hurt.
That was my rebellious and out of control weekend: a birthday party with tiny stairs and a swig of orange juice from the jug.
Carpe Diem
(which Latin students know is actually suggesting young men seize something else)
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