Status by Date

05/11 Jenny lives the mundane life. News at 11.
05/22 Jenny runs like a headless chicken. More to follow.
05/23 Jenny lives night in a spritely manner.
05/27 Jenny experiences difficulties regarding prom. More after these messages.
05/30 Jenny goes dress shopping, makes painful realization. 06/02 Jenny finds girl crying in bathroom, comes to her aid. o6/03 Jenny sleepwalks through life, but doesn't seek help from her healthcare professional.
06/04 Jenny joins the red cup rebellion.
o6/o5 Jenny sits at Tucker's Round Table.
06/11 Jenny attends prom. chaos ensues.
06/12 [early hours] Luna gets stomach pumped. aftermath unconfirmed, but sources indicate that it will be "epic."

Jenny in Suburbia

Ahoy. I'm Jenny. I'm edgy, but not in the way you think. I'm the girl on the edge...the one you see in your peripherals, but never focus both eyes on. Somehow, the eye and the conversation just slide right over me. You know me. With the brown hair and dark eyes...and pale...um, kinda small and quiet? Yeah, her.

Well, I'm boring. But what's going on around me? Not so much.

Follow me for the scary skinny of high school and coming in from the fringes. Spread the word and, if you're so inclined, leave some words.
Showing posts with label lies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lies. Show all posts

Sunday, June 13, 2010

omission or obligation

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I thought I wasn’t going to put this up. I told myself that I had no obligation, that I kept this blog for myself. But I’ve committed to it now. I told myself, to avoid losing myself in all this mess, I should make my private thoughts public, so that my thoughts and actions and little hypocrisies are subject to the public, to the jury of my peers. Or at least available to them. It would obligate me to staying true to myself.

And to omit this would be a lie by omission. So, the ugly parts of prom will follow:

part I

part II

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Thursday, June 3, 2010

Swans Mate for Life [it's all a lie!!]

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Today I walked in during a free and a junior I know by sight was sobbing her poor little eyes out in the bathroom. She was one of those girls that wore so much mascara it looked ridiculous with her blonde hair. I’ve never seen the point in makeup that heavy for a day-to-day basis. What better way to prove you’re insecure than advertise that you cake on make up?

Now, she had raccoon eyes and black streaks down her cheeks. She heard me come in and defiantly wiped her cheeks and met my eyes. I hesitated, thinking about Luna. But I decided to be like Tucker and do what I wanted, despite what she’d say.

“Ashley…you alright? You want me to take you to the nurse?”

She glared at me and wet a paper towel. “Get out, Jane. I don’t need your pity or whatever.”

“It’s Jenny.” Woah. I’m never that assertive. I guess it helped that she was the vulnerable one here. And I knew she knew my name.

“Whatever.” She dabbed under her eyes. It wasn’t helping much.

“Seriously,” I said. “I won’t tell anyone.” I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a little tin of Vaseline lip therapy. “Here. If you rub it in than wipe it off, it’ll remove the makeup.”

She looked at it for a minute then snatched it out of my hand. Guess she cared about appearances, too. She rubbed it in and then wiped with the towel. She inspected her cheek and looked at me, surprised. “Woah,” she said.

“Yeah,” I replied, smiling. “It’s a good trick.”

“I should’ve known this would happen,” she muttered.

“What?” I asked, startled.

“My boyfriend. He…last weekend…ick. He hooked up with one of my friends.”

“James,” I said. “You’re dating James, right?”

“Yeah. Huge mistake.” She smiled bitterly. “Apparently, it’s been going on for a while. That’s what I get for trusting that jerk.”

“Um, if it’s any comfort, you’re prettier than he deserves.”

She blinked. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve heard another girl my age say that and mean it. Thanks.”

I shrugged.

“Why can’t people be like swans?” she asked.

“What?” I said. For once, I wasn’t the one leading with the non-sequiturs.

“Swans,” she said. “They bond for life.”

“Actually, they don’t. They’re unfaithful like every other species ever, basically.”

She looked at the ground again. “How do you know?”

“Some scientists gave paternity tests to the children of a bunch of animals. Something crazy like 50% of fathers were raising kids that weren’t theirs. I’ll message you the Times article.”

“Well, shit. I guess I’ll never find a good guy.” She smiled sadly. She was smiling a lot, even though she was clearly upset. And she was being pretty cool about my nerdy word vomit. I liked her.

“There’s still hope. There’s some kind of worm that like fuses their body together. They never cheat.”

“So…what? I find a guy and become a level 5 clinger? Or put him on a leash?”

“Screw that. Find one that wants you so bad he wouldn’t mind fusing to your hip.”

“Then he’s clingy! I don’t want that.” She giggled. “I have a friend whose bf gave her his Facebook password the first week they were together. They’re disgustingly cute. But it’s not my style.”

I shrugged and smiled again. “Then find one from like the 50% who don’t cheat. Not one like James, a nice one.”

“Like your boy Tucker?” she said, smiling slyly.

I blushed and looked at the ground and couldn’t get the words out to say we were just friends.

She laughed. “Nah, it’s cool. Congrats on prom, though. Luna must be pissed.”

We walked out together.

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Monday, May 24, 2010

Lying Shirts

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There was this girl, who used to sit in front of me in History. She was...perfection in the eyes of her peers, though not in my eyes. I didn't understand it. Her hair was neat and clean and shiny, but it always had wisps over it, as though a subtle wind had blown precisely over her tightly bound hair, some tangent to the perfect circle of her skull.

I spent the long minutes of John Adams's presidency--the lonely parts of it--wondering what her luster was. I looked at the lint and the little piece of paper, torn from the edge of some looseleaf, stuck to the back of her light lavender unbuttoned button-up cardigan. I could see the black and white stripes of the shirt she wore underneath, to shyly peek between the somber brown buttons; that is to say, I could see through her back.

How strange that she had a black and white striped shirt, with the opposites lined up with perfectly straight, even borders. Did she know how wrong she was? The borders should be jagged, blurred, gray. They were all wrong. It was awful, disturbing. Why would she wear a shirt that would lie like that?

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