Saturday, February 14, 2004
Finally, the moment you have all been waiting for...JENNY'S VALENTINE SPECIAL
In elementary school, the most frequent topic of discussion among girls was boys. Girl A liked Boy B but Boy B liked Girl D but Girl D was a slut said Girl A but it doesn't matter because Girl A likes Boy E instead. Boy E, however, has a sister who is really hot and Girl A is afraid that she will never match up to Boy E's standards, which must be high because his sister is so hot. And then everything gets ruined when this boy said that to this girl and she tells her best friend and the best friend was like, oh-my-flippy-pink-shoes what a jerkface! That's like, the most immature thing, ever. I'm only 12 but I'm, like, so much maturer than him.
And then Girl N leaves her jeans in Boy G's house! A pair of jeans! As the news spread it turns out she left her socks there too! And her calculator! Oh my, and her bra!
"Who do you like, Jenny?" asks the ever annoying girl with badly applied blue eyeshadow
"You mean, like like?"
"Like, duh." said the eloquent girl while rolling her eyes.
"Um, nobody."
"Yea whatever." With a flip of her hair that barely misses my eye, she walks off.
Things changed slightly in grade seven. In my elementary there were two grade seven divisions. I was in Division Two. Division Two only had seven girls, and because I didn't want to watch the boys play basketball every, single, day, I hung out with the non-basketball playing boys in my class. Those boys did not pester me with useless questions and did not ask me where I bought my shoes. Hardly anybody asked me who I liked that year; the topic inevitably came up once in a while, but that's expected among a group of adolescents.
When I entered highschool, I expected things to be different. Different in the sense that the 'who do you like' question would be nonexistent. Needless to say, I was disappointed. It wasn't that I was prudish or mature for my age, I wasn't. I hated the question because at that age, nobody believes you if you answer 'nobody', because everybody liked somebody.
Out of all the boys I've liked the one I remember most vividly was M. We attended the same grade four class in Swansea, Wales. He had thick and slightly tousled black hair and dark skin. He was dark and tall and I think he was half English half Middle Eastern. Every recess and lunch he would walk around the playground in quick long strides with his backpack and violin case. My best friend L and I were in love with him. Besides being a violin player and cute in a special way, he was totally mysterious. What also fascinated us was the way he holds his pens and pencils. Instead of writing like the average person, with the pen between the thumb and index finger with the side of the middle finger lightly supporting it, he held his pen like you would hold a chinese calligraphy brush. I remember staring at him whenever he would write.
Unlike most girls our age, we didn't write his name in our journals, draw pink hearts around his name, or predict the number of children we'd have with him. (My predictions were usually around 12 anyway) Instead, we linked arms and can-caned around the school yard behind him, or we'd run like mad and chase after him. He didn't do anything about it. He either ignored us or joined his brother and his friends in a game of soccer. L and I continued to like him, and we continued to express what we felt in unconventional ways until I left Swansea and moved to Toronto.
I still remember L. She had blond, wavy hair and big blue eyes. She was the prettiest girl in our school, and also the nicest. And she was my best friend.
The End.
I made two videos for Valentine's Day: Video 1 and Video 2. I can't decide which one is more realistic.
In elementary school, the most frequent topic of discussion among girls was boys. Girl A liked Boy B but Boy B liked Girl D but Girl D was a slut said Girl A but it doesn't matter because Girl A likes Boy E instead. Boy E, however, has a sister who is really hot and Girl A is afraid that she will never match up to Boy E's standards, which must be high because his sister is so hot. And then everything gets ruined when this boy said that to this girl and she tells her best friend and the best friend was like, oh-my-flippy-pink-shoes what a jerkface! That's like, the most immature thing, ever. I'm only 12 but I'm, like, so much maturer than him.
And then Girl N leaves her jeans in Boy G's house! A pair of jeans! As the news spread it turns out she left her socks there too! And her calculator! Oh my, and her bra!
"Who do you like, Jenny?" asks the ever annoying girl with badly applied blue eyeshadow
"You mean, like like?"
"Like, duh." said the eloquent girl while rolling her eyes.
"Um, nobody."
"Yea whatever." With a flip of her hair that barely misses my eye, she walks off.
Things changed slightly in grade seven. In my elementary there were two grade seven divisions. I was in Division Two. Division Two only had seven girls, and because I didn't want to watch the boys play basketball every, single, day, I hung out with the non-basketball playing boys in my class. Those boys did not pester me with useless questions and did not ask me where I bought my shoes. Hardly anybody asked me who I liked that year; the topic inevitably came up once in a while, but that's expected among a group of adolescents.
When I entered highschool, I expected things to be different. Different in the sense that the 'who do you like' question would be nonexistent. Needless to say, I was disappointed. It wasn't that I was prudish or mature for my age, I wasn't. I hated the question because at that age, nobody believes you if you answer 'nobody', because everybody liked somebody.
Out of all the boys I've liked the one I remember most vividly was M. We attended the same grade four class in Swansea, Wales. He had thick and slightly tousled black hair and dark skin. He was dark and tall and I think he was half English half Middle Eastern. Every recess and lunch he would walk around the playground in quick long strides with his backpack and violin case. My best friend L and I were in love with him. Besides being a violin player and cute in a special way, he was totally mysterious. What also fascinated us was the way he holds his pens and pencils. Instead of writing like the average person, with the pen between the thumb and index finger with the side of the middle finger lightly supporting it, he held his pen like you would hold a chinese calligraphy brush. I remember staring at him whenever he would write.
Unlike most girls our age, we didn't write his name in our journals, draw pink hearts around his name, or predict the number of children we'd have with him. (My predictions were usually around 12 anyway) Instead, we linked arms and can-caned around the school yard behind him, or we'd run like mad and chase after him. He didn't do anything about it. He either ignored us or joined his brother and his friends in a game of soccer. L and I continued to like him, and we continued to express what we felt in unconventional ways until I left Swansea and moved to Toronto.
I still remember L. She had blond, wavy hair and big blue eyes. She was the prettiest girl in our school, and also the nicest. And she was my best friend.
The End.
I made two videos for Valentine's Day: Video 1 and Video 2. I can't decide which one is more realistic.
