Lindsay Loves

I’ve said it before, but it needs repeating right now. When I was younger, I wanted so much to be older. Now that I’m older, I wish I could go back to being young for a while.

Most people only realize that’s true when they’re old and gray, but my life is so hectic and stressful lately that it’s hit me sooner. Right now, I should be working on my AP US History outline. It’s due Friday, but I haven’t done any research yet. I could use full credit, though, since my grade is already in that yucky barely-A area.

What have I been doing lately? Surviving. Ms. Sim was out for a while convalescing from knee surgery, so we had a string of subs and about seven worksheets for The Catcher in the Rye. I’d read it before, but I re-read it anyway. I’m non-confrontational. I believe in choosing my battles, and reading that book wasn’t a big enough battle. We had a bomb threat last Tuesday, on the anniversary of the Columbine High School shootings. We had to evacuate in the middle of seventh period, and were forced into the hot sun while we sat around the football field and waited for school to end. I think the heat wave was at its worst that afternoon.

It’s back to being gloomy and rainy now. Typical April weather. The promised May flowers are arriving though. (No sign of Pilgrims.) RP is winding down. We had to make posters for “symposium” this week. Most of the people had theirs returned to redo because they were “substandard”. The example of an “acceptable” poster was mine. Can I help it if I’m a perfectionist? I think spending all afternoon and most of the night Sunday working on that poster should count for something. My work is always like that. They didn’t ask me before they used mine as an example; I may not have let them. And some of those posters were just crap. I have shaky hands, too. I know how to use a ruler and concentrate.

AP tests are next week. Whoa. That came up fast. I got my practice History test back today. My composite score was one point too low for a 4. My essays killed me. I just don’t understand what he’s looking for in them. I have outside information and the documents in my DBQ’s, and they’re organized. My other essays were fine. (Except that last one. It sucked.) I’ve never gotten a perfect essay score, and he never really explains what would be “perfect”, so how am I supposed to work toward that. I should ask if he has sample essays like the English teachers do. What does a 9 look like? At this point, I’d go for a 6. I thought I did well.

That seems to be the problem lately. I overestimate myself. School is my life. If someone brought my name up in conversation to someone who didn’t know me, they’d probably say, “Oh, Lindsay. Yeah, she’s smart.” So, I started to finally believe that I was as smart as people seem to think I am. But if I am, why couldn’t I get a 4 on last year’s AP Language test? Why is the Promised Land almost always out of reach? Why did I get passed over for Banneker/ Key?

Oh. Yeah. I didn’t get the Banneker/Key Scholarship for UMD. That was the final blow. It forced me to make a decision about where to go next year. If I’d gotten it, the decision would have been made for me, and I’d have been deliriously happy. As it turns out, I wasn’t good enough. That hurts more than anything. Recovering from that, I had to weigh my options and finally just decided on Maryland. I confirmed Saturday.

To anyone except me, all of this probably sounds like The OC (which I don’t watch). On VH1’s Best Week Ever, one of the panelists commented, “Finally! A show about how truly hard it is to be young, rich, and white.” Anyone could feel that way about my ranting. “Oh, so being smart isn’t good enough for you?” Your having different and allegedly bigger problems doesn’t make my problems any less significant or difficult.

I think Jessica Darling of Sloppy Firsts put it best: “Put into perspective, I have no problems. But then again, put into perspective, no one does.”

So far, I have spent spring break sleeping, watching reruns, and reviewing for the AP US History exam.

I feel it has been time well spent.

Contrary to anyone’s expectations, the rugrats have not driven me crazy. Yet. It’s weird to substitute for my parents. I put the dishes in the dishwasher and ran it. I still have to unload it, though. I hate unloading the dishwasher. It’s not that I never run it, I just don’t usually. One of my parents cooks dinner, and then they run it with the dinner dishes inside. Since they’re not here, it’s up to me. I also got a phone call from some man. I think it’s the man who’s remodeling our kitchen, but I’m not sure. If it’s important, he’ll leave a message. Voicemail rocks.

My history review is coming along. As predicted, all the stuff from the beginning of the year has started to slip away. Reading and doing practice questions from the Barron’s book I borrowed has made me realize that. Tell me, test veterans, did that book actually help any of you? I was trying to decide via Amazon reviews whether or not to invest in another test prep book, and all the ones I read said the Barron’s book didn’t help at all. That makes me glad I didn’t actually buy it. Truth be told, I would have bought it from Jarred, but when I asked, he said he’d loan it. Works for me. I don’t understand why he wants it back — it’s not like he can use it again — but it’s his decision.

It’s nice to have a break. I can wake up on my own, more or less. (Though I did get up at almost 11am yesterday — not cool.) I don’t have to plan my time around daily homework, long-term work and projects (which reminds me, I have an essay to write for AP Lit, but I don’t have my books), my tv shows, Greg, the Internet, and myself. That is why late school sucks. When I have It’s Academic, I can be out until 6:30, almost 7pm. I have to get all my work done, eat, and get ready for the next day. When I think about it like that, it’s no wonder I rarely hit the sack before there are only three digits on the clock. The constant lack of sleep catches up to me, though. I sleep in most weekends, but it’s not enough. All this week, when I woke up, there was something missing: that fierce compulsion to go back to sleep. Sometimes I succumb, which means I have to rush, which puts me in a bad mood right away. It’s a wonder I haven’t crashed driving to school.

I just wish there wasn’t so much, you know? I’m only seventeen. It’s only April. There’s so much more. AP exams in a month. Prom. Graduation. I plan to work this summer, though I don’t know where. Then college. Surviving that crucial fist year, academically and socially. Adjusting to living on my own (more or less). Creating arguably my longest-lasting friendships.

I don’t know if I can handle all that.

I visited Iris’s site today. She’s Mykella’s second hostee. I don’t see Iris much in school. If she hadn’t been in my AP Language class last year, I probably wouldn’t know her at all, which is a shame. Her writing style is similar to my own. I write what I feel, what I think. That means she does something along those lines. That means we think alike. I like people who think like me. I find them much more receptive when I’m at my craziest.

Back to studying. And resting. And waiting for my parents (and Greg!) to come home. And some more reruns. I love reruns.

This is my longest non-blogging streak yet. I am usually the freakish organization type, so I like to go back and catch up on everything, but that would take too long and wouldn’t be really interesting, so I’m just going to write as it comes to me.

It’s spring break now. Finally. All the stress and hassle of school were too much for me to handle. I love being with my friends and acquaintances. I even like the atmosphere of school. (A notable exception: the people that sprayed pepper spray in the halls, so that I had to walk through the residual cloud, choking and coughing and getting red-eyed? Yeah, they can be expelled. If they don’t want to be in school, let them go.) I never felt as at home at Flowers as I do at Oxon Hill. The facilities were incredible and fabulous. The people were just cold. As Papa put it, I’ve “assimilated”. (He and my dad were installing a ceiling fan in the kitchen. It took hours. I went in, got food, and got out as quickly as possible.)

So, I welcome this ten-day break with open arms. Just knowing that there’s no work that has to be done tonight, that I don’t have to squeeze my life into my many waking hours, is such a relaxing feeling. You know that muscle right between your shoulders and your neck? Well, for me, that muscle is always tense. Always. I think it’s loosening a bit.

On Saturday, I had to get up early. Ryan’s making his First Communion this year, but he was never baptized, so we had to go out and do that. The deacon was really nice. I am now officially a godmother. That sounds a little deep-south to me, sister-godmother, but I’m good. After I changed and got lunch, I went to pick up Greg in Waldorf. He isn’t the best direction-giver, but we were both a little distracted. We went to Andrew’s house; it was his birthday, and he had one of those strange parties they throw. Granted, I don’t go to many parties. And granted, they all play video games and I don’t. Still. I always feel like the result of the open-girlfriend policy. The sole estrogen-bearer. I watched some Futurama and ate some peanut butter M&M’s (hadn’t had those in years — yummy!) before we left.

We had to leave early because I got tickets for… Jeopardy! They came to town, and the tickets were free, so I was giddy. There were a lot of people there, at Constitution Hall. Alex (Trebek) was there, and they were filming Power Players week. Ari Fleischer (the former White House Press Secretary) was there playing for the March of Dimes, and he won. And the Final Jeopardy question was fun and easy — thanks, Rajni. We came back and got a late dinner at Friendly’s. Our waitress was very efficient. She moved fast and checked on us, but she wasn’t intrusive and she didn’t get anything wrong. I liked that.

This morning, I had to get up at the crack of dawn. Seriously. I know daylight savings time just started, but it was dark when I got up! I was tired all morning, but we had to go get new ID cards, so I just went along. In exchange, I got a picture of my not-grown-out bangs and a McGriddle. The former sucks. The latter was really good. Like an entire breakfast in sandwich form, but I guess that’s the point.

I spent the rest of today on my terms. I was up really early for my usual schedule, so I had a lot of time to lay around, which is what I did. I read, I watched lots of reruns, I did my discussion points (my only real homework over the break), and then I finally came online.

Last week in school wasn’t great. I was so tired from weeks and weeks of working so hard. Mr. T finally came back, which is wonderful. Mrs. Anderson, on the other hand, is cancelling Thursday It’s Ac practices this month. I guess that won’t hurt much. I hope Monday/Wednesday practices will lure people back. Almost all of our strongest players are graduating. We need to attract new people and encourage the ones we have. I’ll be busy during and after school with Adkins preparing for the AP US History exam, and studying for the AP Lit exam at the same time, while still balancing all my regular class assignments, my relationship, my sanity, my friendships, and my family life.

I skipped Ms. Sim’s class on Friday and went to Mr. Bley’s room. Greg and some other people planned to be there, so I went along. I mostly sat and read my book and Seventeen. It was a little lonely, but bearable. Greg is in Virginia all week with Ian, David, and Andrew, so I’ll be at home. And my parents are going to Atlanta on my mom’s business trip starting Wednesday, so I have rugrat duty on top of everything else.

Like I told Greg last week, my life exhausts me. It takes every ounce of energy and strength I have — emotional and physical — to maintain the delicate balance I have even now. The problem with that is that I try as hard as I can. I give everything I have. It’s not enough. I break down because I can’t handle everything weighing on me. I’m so busy that I don’t have time to calm down. I just have to keep going until it all comes crashing back onto me. Greg’s great like that; he’s always there for me. I don’t see how I’d still be functioning without his support. It’s just so much sometimes, and I’m only seventeen. I have a lot of life to deal with yet.