19 XII 2002 - 21:46 - cavete omnes

Schreib dich nicht
zwischen die Welten,

komm auf gegen
der Bedeutungen Vielfalt,

vertrau der Tr�nenspur
und lerne leben.

Don't write yourself
between worlds,

rise up against
multiple meanings,

trust the trail of tears
and learn to live.

(Paul Celan, trans. essentially John Felstiner)

That one's for you, Flood; I found it in my collection and had a troubled sense that it should be shared with you but couldn't have a finding for my waiting. That's mostly my fault: for the nights of finals I have (more or less) gotten to bed before 9, my time, and so I've not been online... and so it is here.

It has been a relatively busy four (five?) days. Sunday I had a rehearsal for the concert I don't want to do, and then Monday through Wednesday concerned themselves with finals. Sweetly, on Wednesday afternoon I went to the art store with my sister and her friend, and although I came back with but a pencil in prussian blue (my favorite color), that wasn't as important as the time spent with the two of them. Sadly it was considerably easier and less exhausting than talking to most of my classmates ever is -- a sign that break is recharging me? Perhaps. Or perhaps I am odd enough that spirited discussions about the formation of the subjunctive in conversational German (which I did not manage to learn over the summer) recharge me of themselves.

The finals themselves were relatively uneventful. I'm not sure I said enough about poets who influenced Catullus in my essay written for the Latin final or that I set down anything more than minutiae on my history final (the test itself was not difficult -- I just didn't feel as if I'd been given enough time). Still, I can't do anything about it, and I feel good enough about my physics and math finals that I feel justified in wiping the entire affair from my mind until January. My English essay is done and I am free at least of the set of obligations associated with school. There are, however, other matters, such as my upcoming concert. Ack.

Five minutes before my Latin exam started, my Latin teacher gave me a letter from the translation contest I entered in October, which letter told me something like, "You weren't good enough for first or second place, but we liked you enough to make you one of fifteen finalists, and that's not bad, because we had about 230 entries, so drop us a line and we'll give you $25 sometime in January and by the way, your English wasn't too bad at capturing Vergil's Latin." I spent the rest of the day (with the exception of the math final) with a smile on my face. </brag>

I made pancakes for the sister who's home this morning. Does that mean I have to make pancakes for the rest of them when they come home, in the name of equity?

I know that I had wanted to write several entries over the past few days but was feeling too tired to actually post them -- of course, now I have forgotten almost all of them. I've got in my notebook a week-old Buzz that I'm not sure if I'll post, although after I waffle about it for a few more days I probably will. Certainly I've not been idle with finding cunning things to give the family -- oh wait. Yes, I have. I won't worry about it too much as I'm sure the rest of my family is in the same situation and that we shall as a consequence not be exchanging gifts until Epiphany.

But here's something I do remember from that fiveday that I seem to have lost: a growing sense of irritation with some of my classmates. Allow me for a moment to explain:

this year, a sense of my unworth (which is periodic) hit just around final-time. Someone asked how I was feeling. I saw no problem with telling her how I felt, because I've grown to like this person and to trust her. (The two in one -- see, they don't combine so easily for me.) She understood how I felt, after a little bit of explanation, and let me alone after trying a bit to cheer me up. (Sorry -- I think sometimes my moods are ornery little buggers, not to be budged until they will it.) A couple of people nearby were not nearly as understanding, and instead told me that I of all people had no right to be insecure, with my success and with my grades and with my knowledges.

I often complain on this page, but very rarely am I angry enough to feel that the anger should be set up here. And no, I'm not angry enough for that right now. I think it's part of the way I grew -- am growing -- up, where arguments were always hyperdramatic and carried out at loud volumes. I believe that contributes a great deal to my sometimes lack of volume, to my unwillingness to shout at other people, to my determination to repress my anger until it cannot be repressed.

With that as a preceding digression, I will say only that I find it amusing that others should feel themselves excellent arbiters of what is a proper emotion for me and therefore of what I have any right to feel. I suspect one of them may not have meant to use language in the way he did -- he may have been trying to comfort me -- but it didn't work, and I believe that to dictate to me what emotions I have a right to feel and for what reasons is a crossing of a line that I cannot forgive. (Because everyone knows that emotions are ruled by reason at all times!) Yes, I reserve the right to be headstrong, because I am young, and no doubt when I am older I will look back on this with regret. (In the meantime, watch me quietly seethe when I promised I wouldn't). So, to the dictators -- expect nothing more from me than what civility demands.

No right, indeed.