September 2, 2010

Thursday.

In the movies the popular girls are always described the same way. There are 5 of them or less. They have a leader, a pretty girl with good grades and great hair. Their are bossy and mean and 'perfect'. The rest of the school bows in fear, respect and admiration. Everyone wants to be these 5 girls. It never changes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V9yFyIYcdZs&feature=related

Maybe it's just me, maybe it's just my school but that just isn't right. There are two different types of popular girls at my school. The cliche cheerleader type and the punk girls.

The 'cheerleaders' travel in packs, like Velocirapotors. Their hair is always done, their nails always painted. They are nice, ferciely so. It's as though they can't go wrong.

The more punk girls, with colored hair and facial piercings, with skinny jeans and head phones, now these girls, these are the ones to be interested in. They are either horrid or sickly sweet under their heavy makeup. With them you can never tell.

But to be honest these girls aren't wearing pink plaid skirts and making you separate for them in the hallway. Because there are four types of people at my school, the popular ones, the unpopular ones, the followers, and then there's me, the oblivious and uncaring.

History Lesson #1- I used to have this friend in 3rd grade (the grade in which you finally get smart), Ariel, she was new to my school.

She wanted to go to Africa and help animals, she wanted to do everything. She had a family and dreams and long black hair she never wanted to cut. We became instant best friends. We would have fashion shows with clothes we had made from things around the house. She would give the best hand massages and I was the first person she told when her parents got divorced.

She cut her hair the summer before 6th grade.

I don't know what happened and quite frankly it doesn't even matter anymore. She sits in my group on geography but she doesn't talk to me and don't get me wrong she isn't mean to me, but I miss the times when we couldn't stop talking. She has this look now, this almost stupid, wide eyed look. She puckers her lips no matter what. I miss when she was herself.

Its a classic Disney story. I might as well call myself Lizzie McGuire and she can be Kate Sanders.

She's one of those punk girls. She walks linked arms with a girl with a nose piercing like a bull and girl who manages to have neon clothing even with an enforced uniform.

My 'pack' is made up of my best friend, Isadora, a petite dancer with huge feet. A straight-A student, Specs. The class president, Hilary and a snobby violinist named Lucy. Not exactly A list, but hey, what does it matter because according to the poster in the counselors office my hair, jeans and shoes wont matter in 30 years and that I should be myself.



I don't know when I got so tired or when I will finally get used to this routine. I slugged through the day and its a suprise that I made it to all of my classes with out passing out or just stopping in the middle of the hallway. The only great part of my day was at the very end.

It smells of sweat and plastic on the bus, and something uniquley middle school. Its to loud to think (didnt you hate it when teachers said that, geez, its never to loud to hear your inner thoughts.)

The bus is stopping and starting and its giving me a stomach ache. There are a group of drama and musical theater kids in the back. I never sit in the back, I don't understand the appeal. They are talking louder then necessary, because they're to important to keep an inside voice. They are swearing and you can hear it all the way in seat three left, that's me.

The bus driver is trying to calm them, shes a small women and her voice is to quite for a bus drivers,"Please watch your language."

She tries again, " Please watch your language,"

It's not working and all of us in seats 1 through 4 can tell this. That's when a boy diagonal to me screams,"Watch your f*cking language!"


And when the bus became silent I was the only one laughing, deserving a quick kick from my friend.

Best way I have ever ended my day.