Le Weekend

Monday watched in amazment as I actually got out of bed. By 11:59 PM, Tuesday was so impressed by my still being alive that it gave up and turned into Wednesday. Wednesday saw a miraculously speedy 9:40 mile; Thursday hosted another amazing jogging performance. Friday, despite the ensuing three-day weekend, was overall a gloomy, distracted, and lonely day. Enriched Patterns was characteristically dumb; I could have taught my chem class better myself; I'd seen the movie shown in history before; I did probably not too well on a real algebra test, and learned I'd gotten a 59% on the homework quiz. (If not for one 2x=20 that should have been a 2x=40, I'd've had a B+.)

Friday, really, peaked around 9 AM, in my second-hour French class. After doing a most lovingly easy quiz, I got a chance to talk to the sulky, minorly cute punk sort. He entered the class a day late; I think he's a sophmore. He'd be more striking if he dropped the shrunken jean jacket with the Ramones pin-on label, but nevertheless I will take what I can see. Ventredi, he apparently couldn't decide to strike up une dialogue with me or the bleached-blonde guy standing beside me.

After an uncomfortably drawn-out session of wondering if I should make presumptions and turn towards him or whether he was going to turn to me, he finally did: "Ehh... uh... I... je... I have no idea what to... Est'ce que tu... eh, veux... parler avec moi?"

"Je veux bien" escaping me, I said, "Ah... bien sûr!" His shirt was gray, featuring the Beatles. Maybe he's more classic and fun than I would have thought. "J'aime ta chemise." And dialogue time was up, and Friday went on being awful.

But today - yesterday now, really - has been swell. I slept until noon, then ate cereal and barbecue chips while reading the Wall Street Journal. An hours-long shopping trip with my father proved to be much more enjoyable than it would have been with my mother. Shopping for clothes, he stands and holds the jeans I've picked out while I try on more. At Target, he leaves me by the cosmetics and looks at garden hoses.

We did have to buy beef jerkey and a hammer handle at Menards inbetween, but I was spared anyone laughing about my choice of garments until my mother caught me after dinner: