Post by lysander on Dec 16, 2009 14:14:18 GMT -5
“Hhhuuuuh is the noise of a breathy exhalation.” Her brow furrows as she inhales, lifting like a balloon blowing up before she proves her point.
“No. You’re wrong. You bob more when you breathe. Uhhhuhhhuhh, for inhale, and backwards for exhale. Hhhuuuhhhuuuhhhuu.” He retorts quickly, and with the decisive confidence that has allowed him to win many an argument. Sheer pathos. In a light you can admire it. Not I, said the dog.
“Wutt kynde uv res’pratory infekktion gawt a holed uv yoo too goonz. All that quire is meh’sing with yer hedz.” I chide gently, pausing to laugh slightly before smiling at each of them. Am I a Texan Instrument? Briefly I picture myself as a Mona Lisa Postcard.
“Uhhh, who are you?” The girl asks? Yes, that she does, but I don’t understand… Why? In a way she seems threatened by my appearance.
“Yeah, can we help you?” The guy stands up immediately, seeming to take offense, protective of the girl almost, despite their previous disagreements.
A boy similar in age to all of us walks up, a juice box in hand, and little bendy straw clamped between his lips thoughtfully. “Hey guys.” He introduces with a smirk, glad that he’s surprised them, and also curious of something. “Who’s this?” I realize that the new boy is me, and I am slightly unsettled. Maybe unsettled is not the most correct word.
“Uhh, nu’thing.” I say. “Sawrry to bawther. Laytur.” And I walk away quickly.
-
“Dear Notebook,
People have been giving me strange looks, and when I saw myself in the mirror it was all I could do not to be surprised. Partially because the face ‘myself’ I saw was unfamiliar to me, and certainly not the one I’m used to. But mostly I think because it spared me a time of asking questions. I guess you would call it a. . . revelation? (As an aside, I wonder why I was so compelled to use ellipses. It is not as if a piece of paper would mind if I just skipped them. One needs not to mark silent language and moments of thought for a sheet of paper, I think.)
The mirror was in the bathroom, you should know.
But yes, upon my revelation. I am not me, and my teachers have introduced me as “Lonzo” all day, a new student, even though I insist on my name being Jerry. It is strange. Even so, several have adopted to calling my MY name and not THEIRS. I think, they view it as some sort of strange foreign nickname thing. But it really is my name. (Another aside, why the caps for emphasis? You don’t care. And for that matter, why the asides? It is all silliness.)
I suppose the newness and strangeness of being a new student that gets me all the stares. Or something else, maybe. I don’t know. I feel relatively normal in the grand scale, but there is something strange that is alienating me. This does not bother me. However I am bothered, simply because I don’t know what it is that is doing all of this? For example, why am I Lonzo? That is a question I return to over and again. And why do people distance from me? When I speak, it tastes normal, but apparently they find it foul. No one seemed nearly concerned in the few times I had to write upon the chalk boards. Yes, very stange things are taking place, Notebook. Although I know you don’t care.
Not because you are a notebook, but because you are not mine. It is my supposition that you would much rather talk to Lonzo, or at least do math problems with him. You’ll have to be satisfied with me for now though. Until I better understand what is taking place.
*Jerry
PS. I am very aware of the enamel of my teeth.”
“No. You’re wrong. You bob more when you breathe. Uhhhuhhhuhh, for inhale, and backwards for exhale. Hhhuuuhhhuuuhhhuu.” He retorts quickly, and with the decisive confidence that has allowed him to win many an argument. Sheer pathos. In a light you can admire it. Not I, said the dog.
“Wutt kynde uv res’pratory infekktion gawt a holed uv yoo too goonz. All that quire is meh’sing with yer hedz.” I chide gently, pausing to laugh slightly before smiling at each of them. Am I a Texan Instrument? Briefly I picture myself as a Mona Lisa Postcard.
“Uhhh, who are you?” The girl asks? Yes, that she does, but I don’t understand… Why? In a way she seems threatened by my appearance.
“Yeah, can we help you?” The guy stands up immediately, seeming to take offense, protective of the girl almost, despite their previous disagreements.
A boy similar in age to all of us walks up, a juice box in hand, and little bendy straw clamped between his lips thoughtfully. “Hey guys.” He introduces with a smirk, glad that he’s surprised them, and also curious of something. “Who’s this?” I realize that the new boy is me, and I am slightly unsettled. Maybe unsettled is not the most correct word.
“Uhh, nu’thing.” I say. “Sawrry to bawther. Laytur.” And I walk away quickly.
-
“Dear Notebook,
People have been giving me strange looks, and when I saw myself in the mirror it was all I could do not to be surprised. Partially because the face ‘myself’ I saw was unfamiliar to me, and certainly not the one I’m used to. But mostly I think because it spared me a time of asking questions. I guess you would call it a. . . revelation? (As an aside, I wonder why I was so compelled to use ellipses. It is not as if a piece of paper would mind if I just skipped them. One needs not to mark silent language and moments of thought for a sheet of paper, I think.)
The mirror was in the bathroom, you should know.
But yes, upon my revelation. I am not me, and my teachers have introduced me as “Lonzo” all day, a new student, even though I insist on my name being Jerry. It is strange. Even so, several have adopted to calling my MY name and not THEIRS. I think, they view it as some sort of strange foreign nickname thing. But it really is my name. (Another aside, why the caps for emphasis? You don’t care. And for that matter, why the asides? It is all silliness.)
I suppose the newness and strangeness of being a new student that gets me all the stares. Or something else, maybe. I don’t know. I feel relatively normal in the grand scale, but there is something strange that is alienating me. This does not bother me. However I am bothered, simply because I don’t know what it is that is doing all of this? For example, why am I Lonzo? That is a question I return to over and again. And why do people distance from me? When I speak, it tastes normal, but apparently they find it foul. No one seemed nearly concerned in the few times I had to write upon the chalk boards. Yes, very stange things are taking place, Notebook. Although I know you don’t care.
Not because you are a notebook, but because you are not mine. It is my supposition that you would much rather talk to Lonzo, or at least do math problems with him. You’ll have to be satisfied with me for now though. Until I better understand what is taking place.
*Jerry
PS. I am very aware of the enamel of my teeth.”
I did post in shades of grey if anyone even remembers that lmao