Section I, Next Section
Well, today is the first day of my life. Uhm, no, not life - chapter. Yes, sounds better. I am starting a new chapter. And so, to celebrate, I will start writing a diary. Apparently every young and self-conscious teenage-girl writes a diary nowadays.
Today was my first exam to high school. After 8 years of primary school I will enter the realm of the elder. Great. Only that it starts with an exam.
Tomorrow.
Polish. More parents than kids. I didn't know statistically, every boy and girl had at least 4 parents. That's what it looked like today. Really, we are, after all, grown ups, ready to take exams by ourselves. How humiliating to be escorted by mother, father, little brother, big sister, auntie, uncle, two dogs plus their missus, apparently cousins...... Oh, why did nobody come with me??
But it should be forbidden. The teacher, who had an eye on us, had to call out twice to tell the parents that their incessant talking about the intelligence, genius, wit etc. of their respective offspring, actually hindered them in concentrating, and in the end, passing the exams and thus being able to attend this particular school in the nearest future.
Gah, as if this school were so brilliant. Now why did I choose it? Right, I remember, dad said we were going on vacation in July and on no account will they postpone it because of my exams. This one had exams in April. Not in July. That's why.
I had my revenge on those doting parents. Ha, that was a good one. I finished my essay 20 minutes earlier and walked out, since there was no point in sitting. When I walked outside, it was truly magnificent. I felt like queen. (I hope I looked like one.) A few steps higher the those commoners, (parents) and all looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to answer:
"How was it? Was it difficult?" Blah! Blah! Blah! I looked regally around, waited a few seconds and sighed with dramatic anguish: "Oh it was terrible! I know I failed. It was so hard, so difficult." I wailed some more and went home. I noticed at least one heart attack, one palpitation and a few swoonings.
Parents at exams. Really.
Hurrah, Auntie came, said she will come tomorrow after math! And then we can go have some ice cream and such. Hurrah, will have escort, will be like exam with real parent.
Oh &^%$, math tomorrow. I know I'll fail. I just know it. And then we won't go on vacation, 'cause I'll have to try at a another school.
Gah, them elders. Auntie was LATE! Not just late, but really, really LATE! Just when I was nice to those loving, caring and doting parents. Yes, the exams was not so difficult, yes, I am sure your son/daughter will pass it. I am now an expert in soothing anguished parents. After all, I had 30 minutes of practice! Just get lost, your offspring is competition.
Hooray, I passed. Better not remember physics exam. Although the teacher was nice.
Who invented orals? And who invented exams? I am in a French class and will learn Russian. Again. Third attempt to master this language. I mean, it is a nice language. But why learn it? I understand them anyway. If they speak slowly.
That girl from prime school did not make it. Even though her grandma assured me she was talented, just as her father, who stood nearby talking to his wife, his second child, his father, her mother, her mother's sister, her mother's sister's brat and some other family. I know, I know. It's not nice to be mean. But it does a lot of good to one's ego! And it was fully justified!
Oh my, I need a vacation.
Italy sounds really nice. Very good of my father to force me to take my exams earlier. Hmmm, one month in Torino, Capitale di Piemonte! Land of da Vinci and all those tortellinis, tagliatellis, spaghettis, spaghettinis and raviolis, here I come!
Of all the resolutions! Of course I had to forget my diary. Not only to Italy, but to every other trip as well. So now, we're at the end of August, soon I will have to start going to a new school, and scarcely 5 pages in my diary. Shocking!
Turin was great. Except that it was hot and noisy. Really? Where do they learn how to drive? But it was great. We did some hiking in the mountains. A friend of Dad's took us on a trip. We had to get up at 4 a.m., which wasn't at all that easy, considering that some of us (Elizabeth) went to bed at 12, because she couldn't decide which blouse would better match her shoes. Just because Dad's friend happens to have a son at our age. And a swimmer, too. Really very athletic. And good looking like every Italian. Definitely a cookie. No, better, a Tiramisu.
Btw, how do they do it? Even elder men look sexy, or at least, they are handsome. Maybe it's because they eat a lot of olives. If I eat them, will they make me sexy?
But what for? I'm 15. Boys at my age don't know we women exist. They only know how many goals has that Whatisname scored yesterday. Besides, I infinitely prefer a book. It doesn't swear, smell and make stupid jokes. And it doesn't pull one's hair.
If anyone asked me, I'd tell them school sucks. But no one has asked. First day started with academy. Everybody dressed in black and white, the school-holiday-uniform, looking lost. Well, at least the first grade. My class seems OK. Except for our class teacher. No comment.
I am too tired to write in my diary. Going to bed at 4 am to wake up at quarter past 6 is definitely NOT enough sleep. And no, it is not because of schoolwork. I have just discovered Agatha Christie. We have quite a lot of her books at home, and, of course, when I start one, I have to finish it, just to know who killed whom and how will Hercule Poirot/ Miss Marple discover the murderer.
I am so sleepy today, I will go to bed WITHOUT a book.
Didn't make it. Just as I was about to switch the lights off, my eyes fell on a book lying nearby. I swear I didn't put it there. It was a Poltergeist. I just know it. And, of course, it had to be an Agatha Christie book. I nearly fell asleep in class today.
I simply LOVE my school. No, that is not enough.
Adore, worship, cherish, revere, am passionately attached to it, glorify, et cetera, et cetera...
Let me see:
"Tell me why I don't like Mondays..."
Maybe because Monday starts with Physics class, followed by two French courses, followed by Math, then Chemistry then History then Geography then Biology.
Honestly, do they expect me to like Mondays??
September is over and October is nearly over too. One month and a half and we have X-mas break. I just can't wait.
Oh, nearly forgot to write down for future generations. My class teacher - she also teaches Physics. And she is not at all good. Sometimes I get the feeling she doesn't understand the things she's explaining. More's the pity. For her, I mean. Because my Dad is Physics prof. and I simply love to ask her strange questions. Must run in the family.
Today, she asked me a particular type of question. I hate such questions. She didn't know that.
Now she knows.
"So, today I would like to talk about your lives. Your future, I mean. Have you ever thought what you would like to do in the future? It is an important question, because you'll be choosing your universities sooner than you think."
Gah, nosy teacher. Amateur psychologist. Who, at the age of 15 knows what he/she wants to do?
"Now, I want you to think carefully and then tell me, what you want to be, when you grow up."
I want to live my life and never grow up. I want to love and be loved in return..
"... please find arguments to support your choices."
... but then, THAT is something you can't tell here, because they'll laugh at me. They always laugh. How is it that when you'd tell each person separately, they'd agree, but as soon as I'd say it in front of them all, they'll laugh.
"Anna, maybe you would like to begin. What is your decision?"
Right, I knew it. As soon as I've forgotten my Physics homework last week, I knew I'd pay, sooner or later. Right. Courage, my dear. Courage is the key word.
I slowly stood up, trying to think of an answer. Right, always say the truth, the absolute truth. Or was it: save yourself. That's what only really matters??
"Madam, I think I'll marry a ninety-odd-year old millionaire, with a weak heart and no ex-wives." And after a thoughtful pause, I added: "Though the last point can be negotiated, I think."
Silence filled the room, penetrated every corner, surrounded every grain of dust, every particle of air and touched me to the core, as I stood there alone, amidst startled classmates. The class was never so silent, I said to herself. Quite a deed.
Everyone stopped joking, gossiping, talking, they just sat there looking at me, as I stood there, grinning self-consciously. I must have looked like someone, who had just let her secrets fly and could not decide, whether this was good or bad.
The teacher stood mute with shock, mouth slightly opened, hands in front of her, eyes open wide, fixed on me. Like a fish.
Afterwards, no one could say when or how it started. Or who started it. But someone in the back rows started giggling. And then someone roared with laughter. And then the whole class was laughing. So now I'm the class clown?
They stopped, as the teacher found her voice back again. They, we were all curious of her comment.
When I think of it, she should have been more happy. She has never had such attention and such an audience during class before.
"W-w-what... Can you be more explicit?"
"Why, certainly. Though I doubt the part about the millionaire needs explaining. Ninety years old, with a weak heart - so I may become a widow soon."
I could hear the stifled giggles. The angry look from the teacher told me that she could hear them too. I continued with an assurance I didn't feel: "Possibly no ex-wives to fight with over the inheritance. Not to mention possible children of possible ex-wives. However, as I have mentioned before, we could negotiate that point."
"You can't be serious. You can't marry a millionaire!"
"Well, right now, I can't." I calmly agreed. "I would have to wait till I'm of age, as my father won't give me away." He wants me to marry Science, I mused inwardly. "There is another obstacle, however."
"And that would be?" Someone from behind asked. This was turning into jolly good fun. Better keep me talking or else the teacher would start asking other people. Or worse, start repeating Physics.
"Well, aged millionaires without ex-wives are a rather extinct species, I should say."
"And what if the heart is not so weak after all?" Asked another person. I dully noted the fact that it was Diane, who asked. Diane, with whom I did not exchange above 10 sentences in my life.
Right, scapegoats were always generally liked.
"Uhm, there is always the young, charming, handsome and sexy... gardener." It was really strange that Mrs. Black had not interrupted me by now. No doubt she herself was immensely curious, but as a teacher she couldn't show that.
"Anna, have you found a proper candidate?" asked another student.
"No, I am on the lookout, though."
"If you find one, can you introduce me to his friends?" People laughed at Maria's remark.
"Or maybe introduce me to his ex-wife?" Asked Paul hopefully.
"Yes, Maria, definitely NO, Paul." He looked offended, but laughed as I continued: "Because then we would be fighting over the inheritance. And you wouldn't want that, would you?"
"Enough of this!" The teacher suddenly found her voice. "Anna, I know you were joking. And, indeed, your joke was a good one. Indeed, it could have been mine. But that is of no importance. Now, I would like to you to answer seriously..."
Over my dead body, you prying meddlesome woman.
"...for it is VERY important that you think about your future. Anna, you have to open up. Fight away your Angst, let your ideas flow freely inside your body..."
You never give up, do you?
I thought about the answer I should/could/would give. I did not feel like revealing my inner thoughts, besides, I really had no clue about what I would like to do when I grew up. And somehow I doubted she'd let me go that easily. I could always lie, say something. But no, THAT would have been to easy. Anna Elliot never lied.
Besides, why make it easy you can complicate things.
"Indeed, Madam, I am sorry for my joke." I paused, made a show of "letting her ideas flowing freely inside her body" and continued: "I think I would like to become a key manager in some grand international company, like Coca-Cola, or Mars Incorporated or Siemens. "
Mrs. Black looked pleased with my answer. In fact, the grin on her face reminded me of my neighbour's cat when given some cream.
Now she thinks she finally has food for psychological digestion. All she needs are my sleeping habits and the analysis will be complete. Then she can put me into a drawer. No way, Madam, you're in for a surprise, Madam.
"Now that is a very good idea, Anna." The teacher said this slowly, carefully pronouncing every word, undoubtedly enjoying and savouring every moment of her undoubtedly wise and great remark. "You will be a very good manager, I am certain. And what kind of manager? CEO? CFO?"
"No, a Key Manager."
"Yes, yes," interrupted the teacher, eager to continue with her character analysis, "but what kind of manager?"
"Just a Key Manager. I think it is a very important job. To give out people's keys and to make sure no one takes the wrong key and make everyone sign the presence list and look after everything and everyone..."
I had finally won. The teacher looked dejected, but asked no more questions of this nature and finished class earlier.
Satisfaction! Yyyyyessssssss!. Although, it wasn't nice of me to make fun of her in front of the whole class (Would it be justified wee during a private interview?) Anyway, she will take it out on me next time I'm asked in Physics. After all, all's fair in love and war....
Posted on Sunday, 23 December 2001
Today is the 1st of November. The greatest and at the same time, the worst day of the year. All Saints Day. This is when people visit the churchyard and light a candle in remembrance of people gone. Truly a magnificent tradition.
Except when one's ancestors are scattered around the country. This day, and the following prolonged weekend, are the worst days in police reports, considering the numbers of traffic accidents.
Don't feel like writing. No fun writing a diary when one has nothing to write about. Except about school. And even that becomes boring after a while. Boring November as usual. And no point writing about books I've read. Books are for reading, not writing about!
Christmas time has come. I like Christmas.
I'm dreammmmmmmming offfffffffff a white Christmmmmmmasss!
With every Christmas Card I write.
Uhhm, wrong line, I think. Besides, I don't write cards. I phone.
So, once more:
I'm dreammmmmmmming offfffffffff a white Christmmmmmmasss!
Jussssssst like the onnnnnnnesssssss I used to knowwwwwww!Where the tree tops glisten and children listen
To hear sleighbellllllls in ....
"Anna! Stop that howling now!"
Grr. Hah! No understanding for undiscovered musical talents. I'll have Revenge! "Be careful Ellie, or Santa may not give you a present this year, if you're not nice!"
He knows if you've been bad or good so be good for goodness sake
Santa Claus is cooooooming toooooooo tooooooooooown!"
" I'm sure he will forgive me once he hears you sing! And don't sing on Christmas Eve, or he might fall off the roof in shock."
Evil sister with evil, smug smirk on evil (yet beautiful) face has certainly no understanding of modern music. *brilliant idea* I wonder how she would react to some classics. Now, where was that CDEllie didn't take it again, did she? She wouldn't dare... Ouch! Who put this chest here? Oh, I remember, it was me. Ah-ha ! Found it!"
Let the games begin! *[I can picture myself] giggling inanely in the middle of the room, waiting for the music to come..* Come to think of it, I am giggling inanely in the middle of the room...
"Madamina, il catalogo e questo
Delle belle che amo il pardon mio;
Un catalog egli e che ho fatt'io:
Osservate, leggete co me.In Italia seicento e quaranta,
In Lamagana duecento a trentuna,
Cento in Francia, in Turchia novantuna,
Ma in Ispagna son gia mille e tre." *
Hmm, Mozart. Very good. Sorry, Herr Mozart, I know you might think differently, but my singing/playing your fabulous music is only a sign of my admiration. I know I cannot sing, but it's the will that counts. Or so I'm told.
Now for the show. Will just make it a bit louder.
"Anna, are you nuts???"
No, not yet. And now, for the final part. Three two one...
Iiiiinnnn Italia, seicento e quaranta!
Iiiiiinnn Lalmagnnnnna, duecento a trentuna!
Ceeeento in Franciiiiia, in Tuuuuuu...
"May I ask what are you doing?"
"Oh, hi Dad. Didn't know you were home."
"So, I've noticed." He smirked. "Don't torture us, you'll get your presents soon enough. And no, don't do it. Whatever it was." He looked at me with narrowed eyes, contemplated a little and added, "And there is no need for a repetition of your shriek.. ahem, singing. Even with Confutatis Maledictis."
Infuriating man, even if he is my father. How did he know I wanted to play Requiem? And of all parts, Confutatis?? Maybe because I enjoy the trumpets so much? And the choir singing softly, after the wild beating noise of the cellos. It's like peace after a terrible storm, quiet after anxiousness, calm after terror...
Back to Christmas. Before I started my serenades, which were so mercilessly stopped by ignorants, I wanted to ponder why I like Christmas. I like Christmas because:
Everyone is so nice to everyone.
Dad manages to forget his particles for 3 days in a row.
Elisabeth stops sulking for 3 days. (Actually, no one really knows WHY she is constantly sulking, but that is beside the point)
We have plenty of goodies to eat. (Most of them we eat only once a year)
We have to make those goodies in the first place.
We get presents.
We give presents to others.
We smile.
We make others smile.
Family from near and far gather once a year and in general everyone is in good mood and we have jolly good fun.
We don't have to go to school.
We are together for a few days and we do things together. (Even if it is watching TV or eating)
New Year's Eve isn't that far away and there is a great party and I am allowed to drink a flute of sparkling wine and stay up all night.
We usually gain a few kilos from eating all those goodies. (although I am inclined to think it rather a negative side effect of all reasons mentioned above and below)
There are good movies on TV.
Hmm, I wonder..., yes, I think I will. Someday I'll describe Ellie properly in here, and Dad. But not today. Tomorrow is Christmas" Eve. And I'm nice to everyone and agree with everyone, even with my Evil Sis. Besides, I have to run off to bake my special Carrot Cake.
Had a row with Ellie recently. Christmas or not, gah, sisters. It's really not my fault that they cannot HIDE Christmas gifts properly. I certainly don't SEARCH for them. I was just looking in our closet for a blouse I've lost some time ago and what do I find? A gift. For me! I know it's for me because it was listed fourth in my letter I've sent to Santa Claus. Very clever of me to give it to Daddy when he was going to the Post Office. I'm sure he took good care of it and saw that it reached Mr. Claus all right the thoughtful father that he is. Anyway, I don't look for the gifts. I just find them. It's not funny. And of course no one believes me! Unfair.
I wonder if my pout is adorable.
...
Judging by the way the pages of my diary are crimpling right now... rather not. Note to self: Stop pouting; diaries don't like pouting.
They're still asleep. Uhh, so many gifts appeared under the tree since yesterday. Maybe I can take a peek at those that are destined for me? Just a quick look, before they wake-up. It's not spying, really, just allowing one's curiosity to get the better of oneself.
"Anna Elisabeth Elliot! What are you doing under that tree?"
"Good morning Dad! It's Christmas Eve. We have a lot to do." Elisabeth greeted dad, then noticed me. I winced in anticipation. Adding that to my beet red cheeks and blue pajamas with red teddies, yellow socks, crawling with my bottom up under a very stinging tree, I must have looked remarkably... attractive.
"Anna, get out from under that tree! Look at your self. You've got Angel's Hair all over yourself." So I wasn't that attractive.
"Uhm, mornin' dad, sis. Lovely day, isn't it?" Dad just laughed and went to the bathroom. Ellie stood there for a while, tssing and fussing a bit and then went to the kitchen. And so, I was left standing alone in the center of the drawing room, with silver threads and green needles all over me, looking extremely ridiculous and I still didn't get a look at my gifts! Except the one from Ellie, the one which I found yesterday. The one she didn't even bother wrapping. I love unwrapping presents, even if I know what's inside. Just like Ellie to kill all the anticipation. Gah!
It's been a few hours and Dad still won't forgive me for my curiosity. He just started to laugh every time he looked at me which would be every 20 seconds, since we both were working in the kitchen. He was making a vegetable salad while I was making another vegetable salad. So we stood/sat in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, with Dad being red from laughing and me being red from embarrassment. It was wonderful, though, I can't remember the last time when I had so much fun with my dad. I think those particles sometimes crash on him. He works too hard. I should do something about it. Then again, rather not. Try tearing a devoted scientist away from his work.... Suicide is easier.
Oh, the door bell. Auntie Clara's come to spend Christmas Eve with us. Oh, goodie goodie, I like Aunt Clara and her presents.
Too stuffed to eat anymore. Too stuffed to think. Too stuffed to write. Will go to bed. On second thought... too stuffed to sleep.
We wish you a merry Christmas
We wish you a merry Christmas
We wish you a merry Christmas
And a haaaaaappy New Yyyyyyyyyearrrrrrrrrr!
"Good Morning Everyone! Happy Christmas Everyone! It's eight a.m. and what a loooooovely Christmas this is!"
Let's start counting.. one.. two.. three... What? Only three pillows? Will have to get up earlier tomorrow, to enlarge my pillow collection.
Yesssss, I definitely like Christmas.
*"Madamina, il catalogo e questo" from Mozart's Don Giovanni, my favourite opera
Posted on Tuesday, 19 March 2002
I believe I've forgotten some footnotes in my last posts - the parts Anna was singing were:
"Santa Claus is coming to town" sung by every possible singer, Elvis Presley for example.
"White Christmas" ahem, don't remember his name, but he starred in "Holiday Inn" with Fred Astaire.
I would also like to voice my special thanks to my own personal English-speaking and editor goddess - Jennifer Lynn.
It's New Year's Eve today.
Agnes and I are invited to a party at Peter's. And Dad said I could go and stay all night. Agnes' mom will pick us up afterwards and we're going to spend the night (or the morning) at her place.
Peter's friends are also invited to the party. Actually, he's the one throwing it. He's one year older then Agnes and me, in class 2b. Now that's a very good thing because we always go play volleyball during the long break and we have made some friends and they're from class 2b. And HOW do they play volleyball? Marvelous.
I wonder whether they can dance as good as they play volleyball. Nah, probably not, would be too good to be true. But still, I think the party might be lovely.
On second thought... I have no idea how the party will turn out.
Party was great. I was wearing a nice black dress and looked pretty good, I guess. Except that I forgot to bring evening shoes with me and had to be barefooted.
Wonderful, one point for you, Anna.
Oh, and it was so hilarious! There were about 20 people, around 16-17 years old. And then someone suddenly played a slow song. Instead of dancing, every girl started to gossip about which boy would ask which girl and why.
No one asked a girl to dance.
Then suddenly, all 11 of them went to the kitchen, to see if the champagne bottles were properly placed in the fridge.
So we played the Rock&Roll CD. After midnight and after a few flutes of champagne, the boys grew a bit more courageous and slow dancing begun.
All in all, the party was fun.
School started again.
New Year's Resolutions
Well, actually New Year's was 2 days ago. I hate it when New Year's Eve is on Friday. It means that school begins on Monday.
And it did. Today.
What did I want to write about? Oh yes, New Year's Resolutions. I always make them and never keep them. But there is something exciting about making those lists.
Perhaps I should summarize my life first. I'm 15. Nearly 16. 15 years and 3 months to be precise. But it still counts as nearly 16.
I have brown hair that turns red during summer. Straight as American Highways. Or so I'm told. I want black, curly hair! Black dying is out of the question because it looks weird. And curls? I've tried curling my hair once. Spent all day in the bathroom, using sprays, gels, mousse and I know not what else. Then I combed it once and voila! All the curls were gone like the wind. Ellie has lovely curly hair and a lovely auburn colour. And SHE always complains about curls.
We could switch...
I see I'm in a complaining mood. What else can I ramble about?
Hmm, I've got it! My voice. I can't sing although I love to. Funny thing, everybody quits the room when I start singing. If they can't move far enough, they start shouting. And I have a loud voice, nothing like the soft musical-erotic-melodious- sexy-charming-whispering-rich-sensual voice of a heroine. Hence, I am not a heroine. Definitely not good material for a novel to be found in me.
Shall I continue with my, ahem, appraisal? Or better dissolve in tears here and now? Or better still, wait till the end. Crying should be more effective then.
My figure? I've been training once - swimming in a sports school. Used to have a bigger appetite than the teenage guy next door. And I could eat any amount I wanted to. I'd swim it off the next morning.
It was long ago. The only thing left is my appetite.
Oh, enough about your looks Anna! Don't be so egoistic, don't always be so self centred. Don't always write about yourself.
Right.
Right.
...
...
My accomplishments?
I can't sing.
I can't paint.
I can't draw.
Not very optimistic. I know! I know! I can write! I should be grateful to whomever I have learned to read and write from. Not everyone is that fortunate.
I can sew a bit and never finish a thing I've started.
I can stitch a bit and never finish a thing I've started.
Hey, I can cook! Mostly desserts. And where will THAT lead me? To being overweight.
I do have a gift for languages, I think.
I've learned German, English, Spanish for a short while. Even Russian and French, although I can read the first, speak the latter and understand none.
I've even tried Japanese.
Hajimemashite. Watashi wa Anna desu. Dozo yoroshiku. Which would mean: "Hello, I'm Anna. Nice to meet you." Or something of the kind.
Conclusion: I can count to ten in seven, no, eight (including Italian) languages.
Make it seven again. I forgot Japanese already.
Uh-oh. I've read my today's entry and have come to the following conclusion:
1. I am good at coming to conclusions, but never when asked for it.
2. I am very self centred and very good at scolding myself for it.
3. I've strayed from my original topic, which was New Year's Resolutions.
Resolution 1.
...
...
...
hmm
gah, what a lovely ceiling we have here.
Maybe resolution 2 will be easier.
Resolution 2.
...
...
...
...
Why bother writing down resolutions when I won't keep them anyway?
Grr, grrr, who invented snow? It is lovely and white and pristine except when it's black, wet and soaking through your shoes, which, in the city, is always the case.
Here's an interesting fact. Half of the school year is coming to an end and all the teachers suddenly realise they have to grade us. It's always the same in the end of January and the beginning of February.
RESULT:
Tomorrow is Wednesday. So:
Polish double class = essay
Math = possibly teacher will ask a few people questions
Russian = no doubt a grammar test
Sports = at least one class without grading
Biology = free for me, asked me last time
History = big class test.
...
BIG mistake. They did grade us in Sports. How we play volleyball. It's not that I don't like playing volleyball. I just don't like being graded on it.
We are going to move. This will be fun. Dad said he would like to live outside Warsaw. He would like to have a garden. And he said Auntie Clara will live with us. Apparently her financial situation is not that good. I'm glad, I think. It will be like living with a mother, since she was always like a mother to me. And Dad always liked his sister. Yes, this is a good scheme.
Approved.
Elisabeth disapproves. She probably thinks she'll have to help with the garden.
Well, she's right. We will have to help. But that will be fun, I'm sure. Tending the flowers, weeding them, cutting the wedges, mowing the lawn, perhaps we will have some fruit trees? Hmm, at least one apple, one plum and one pear tree.
And then, maybe we can have a dog?
...
"DAAAAD?"
"Yes, what is it?"
"Can we please have a dog when we move?? Puhlease"
"Well, I'll think about it. Actually, why not? But, please, not now dearie, I have to finish this abstract for tomorrow. And it's very important, because we have just recently found out that the LEP excess is interpreted as the production of the lightest CP-even Higgs boson of the MSSM. In order to allow this interpretation, h has to have SM-like couplings to the Z, and the hbb- coupling is mainly altered..."*
"Yes, dad, I am sure you'll have no trouble chasing your particles."
"What? Oh, yes, yes. But this is very important. Erh, what did you ask?"
"The dog."
"Oh yes, yes. I'm sorry, I get lost at times. And I'll think about the dog after we have found a house."
We found a house! And it's great. About 25 kilometres east from Warsaw and in the woods!
Dad fell in love with it. He wants to buy it immediately. The only problem is what to do with our flat. Apparently we don't have enough liquid money at present and dad doesn't want to cancel our other investments.
The house is lovely. And with a big garden, too. The train connection is not far away, only two kilometres through the woods. It will be a lovely walk to and fro.
Or we'll commute together every morning in the car. Only half an hour.
Oh, by the by, they graded us in school - half grades for half school year. Very funny joke. Half grades to half dimwits as they call us in the teachers' room. Very funny. Ha ha.
I got good grades. So did Agnes. We're out of trouble for the next half year. What ever happens, we'll get through it.
We took Agnes to see the house today. I've been telling her so much about the house that she wanted to see it. Auntie came with us too.
Every time we see the house, we fall in love with it again. And each time with another aspect of it. Now all we want is to live there. Even Elisabeth reconciled herself to the garden.
Agnes is envious.
February. Two weeks school break and then the second half of the year starts again. At lest the grading mania won't start until May, and then only one month, and then! Hey Presto - vacation! Eight weeks of doing nothing!! Well, not really nothing, but I can't say of not learning, since I don't learn anyway.
I've got it! One accomplishment. I am rather a good student, considering the good grades I get and the little amount of time I put into learning.
Will I get a Valentine?
Oh, forgot. This is an imported holiday from those morally depraved and rotten Western countries. They all want to destroy our national culture and solidarity, not to mention moral values by binding us, real pure people, to the cult of the Golden Coin and are trying to turn us, real pure people into machines buying imported products, therefore destroying, not only our national culture and identity, but our national business and are also destroying us, real pure people.
???
What's wrong with giving someone dear a flower or a card with sweet words and a heart? Really, I wonder what's inside some folks' heads when I hear such stuff. I know! Sweet nothings.
Besides, I think Valentine's a useful day. Agnes has an admirer. A secret one. Well, not so very secret, because I know who's Agnes' admirer. And a very shy one too. So maybe he will give her a Valentine? I consider giving a Valentine an easy way to admit one's feelings. If the receiver is interested and shows some ahem, *cough* positive reaction then all goes well. If the receiver is not very pleased with such a declaration, one can always laugh it off saying it's just a card for a very good friend. And one does not make a fool of oneself.
Nope, no Valentine. Except the one from the boy next door. But that doesn't count.
He is four.
But it was very sweet of him, even if there was honey on the card. Yes, very sweet (and sticky!).
The holiday break is over. Why do the things we like pass away so quickly, and others, school for instance, continue and continue and never seem to stop?
I had a nice time during the break. Agnes and I, we skated, built a snowman, went swimming, to the cinema...
And then I read a few books, slept in, walked in pyjamas all day, watched TV and relaxed.
We've seen the house a few times. It looks lovely in the snow. The garden covered with white snow, not like that brown-black-greyish something one usually sees in the city. The trees had white caps and white shawls and white mittens. There was an untouched snow blanket covering the sleeping flowers and snow was falling from the sky in thick, big flakes. It even snows differently there. We went there during the afternoon and stayed till it grew dark, either talking business (Dad and the owner) or walking in the woods (Elisabeth and I). And when we were leaving, the owner turned the garden lights on, and everything looked even lovelier with the lantern throwing gold and yellow shadows making the snow sparkle like thousands of diamonds.
...
Today, we had a discussion. A very important one. And it started all innocently. No one knew it was going to change our lives for ever. Well, we did have some suppositions.
„Anna, Ellie, can you come to the kitchen?"
„Yes, what is it?"
"Well, your aunt and I have to come to a decision concerning the house." Dad looked at us, as if trying to read our thoughts." But before we tell you, we would like to know what you think about the house."
"Oh please!! Puuuuhhlease, Dad, tell me you want to buy it, you want to you want! you must please!"
My diplomatic and persuading skills have been at their best at that moment, no doubt. Still, Auntie was smiling and looking very pleased.
'We surely know your opinion now, just please, stop jumping around, you're nearly grown up. You shouldn't do that."
She then looked at Elisabeth, who had said nothing and was just sitting and pondering. I know, it's strange to see Ellie thinking, but, given circumstances, I might get used to it.
"And what do you think about it, Elisabeth?"
"I'm not sure. I like the house and the garden and I'm sure it would be lovely to live there, but..."
"But?" Dad sure seemed nervous. I think he wanted to buy this house very much.
"But it's so awfully far away. I mean not that far, but there is no direct bus connection and the train station is 2 km away through the woods. And what if Anna or I would like to go away in the evening? Neither of us has a driving license yet, and going by train alone might be dangerous."
"Now don't panic, dearie, we have thought about it too. You see, Clara and I would like to buy the house. Anna, stop, you will spill the tea. Anna, stop! Clara, you are her aunt, tell her to stop! Take her away or she will strangle me!"
"We went to a lawyer today, to have the papers readied. We have decided to exchange this flat for the house and pay the difference. Anna, no, I know you are happy, and so am I, but just don't hug me anymore!"
"Elisabeth..."
"Yes Aunt?"
"Wait till Anna behaves normally. . . Yes, good girl. So, Ellie, what I wanted to say is that we have given some thought about your going out in the evening. Either one of us will pick you up, or you'll stay the night with your friends, if their parents agree. We don't want to isolate you from your friends, although the distance might be problematic. We'll find a solution of that I'm certain. At the beginning, I know, it'll be troublesome, but we'll work it out in the long run."
She looked at her brother and his family, made a short pause and then, as the true economist she was, she finished:
"Ceteris paribus."
I am sooooo happy! We will have a lovely house and a lovely garden and everything will be lovely.
I have decided to improve my mind. Therefore I shall write a sentence, a quotation at the beginning of every entry in my Diary.
Quotations maybe stupid, silly, pensive, thoughtful, lovely, serious, real, imaginary, everything. And preferably said by a famous person.
Let's start. Hmm, oh, yes, I've got one:
"In the long run, we are all dead" -John Maynard Keynes
I've got to ask Aunt what the long run means. I mean, after a very long long run everyone might die. Running is exhausting, after all.
...
No, it wasn't about running, Aunt told me. It's to do with economics. Apparently Keynes was a great economist, who started a new economic philosophy.
About the long run: it seems that the company's production processes can be viewed in two time periods: over a very short time and over a long time. Hence the long run. In the short time, inputs (such as costs) are fixed, i.e. they cannot be changed, due to certain aspects (such as worker's contracts). In the long run, however, all this can be negotiated, so that there are no fixed costs in the long run. Actually, this is making sense to me.
Hah! My improvement of the mind is working. I have just learned something new. Now back to today's entry.
..
..
..
Gah, forgot what I wanted to write. Right. Anyway.
Oh, I'm giddy and bursting with news! We started packing! We're moving, lalala, I'm so happy. Dad bought the house! We are moving as soon as we finish packing our belongings. Oh, can't waste time writing, gotta go pack.
Hooray! I've found my diary again! Sweet sweet diary of mine. My treasure chest of thoughts, ideas and hopes. I've misplaced it somewhere during the move. And finally I have found it.
So many things have happened.
We moved. We are now officially proud owners of a house and garden. And a mower, two rakes, shovels, pitchforks and weeds that grow faster than you can blink. And two apple trees, two plum trees, three pear trees and ten black currant bushes. And I forgot the one red currant bush, the strawberry plot and two gooseberry bushes.
I HATE FRUITS. And everything that has to do with them. Especially picking, cleaning, cooking, making jams, preserves and juices. And everything else. I NEVER wanted fruit trees! I was perfectly happy buying fruits at the market from time to time, in acceptable quantities, like one kilo, but not having them suddenly at home in boxes and bags and baskets!!!! And I have to do something with them! Unfortunately our fridge is not that big and not everything can be frozen.
And maybe I should be grateful to Mother Nature that those fruits don't ripe at the same time. I'm constantly busy. Once I've finished with strawberries, the black currants were ripe. Then the apples then.. . the list continues.
This fruit business has upset me once more.
Now this house is full with jars filled with preserves and jams no one will eat...
To finish it off - mushroom season is starting. And Dad is just wild for picking mushrooms. Oh dear. And someone has to clean them, cut them, cook them and preserve them. It's a family business, really. Dad's the Supplier, I'm the Cleaner, Auntie's the Cook and Ellie's the Stowing-away-dude.
The SCCS Fruit&Vegetable Comp. Unlimited Ltd.
And yey! We have not one but two dogs! We went to the animal shelter.
Now we have two black lovely puppies!
And so, here we go back to school again. Summer vacation was all peace and quiet. I feel relaxed and strengthened. But still not ready to face school & teachers again.
I am in second form now. 2d. How well that sounds.
I have read a book recently. Auntie recommended it to me, since I had some free time. (When the jams were cooking, that is) It's called Northhanger Abbey, written by somebody named Jane Austen. I confess I didn't understand every particular tidbit, but I enjoyed every moment. I didn't understand all the particulars and nuances to do with the historic and social background. Well, JA lived nearly 200 years ago, from what I can read on the book cover. And a lot has changed since then. But I liked her satire and irony. Very sharp and to the point. Maybe I could do some research into the social life of early 19th century Britain?
Auntie said we have some more books of hers. Mental note: FIND THEM!
I am glad, though, to see Agnes again. And Bert and Dave and all the rest.
I take it back! I take it back! Not even the joy of seeing one's pals after 2 months can overcome the gloomy melancholy settling in the bottom of my stomach at seeing all the teachers.
We had an academy (again) today. We were told (again) how lucky we're to be attending this school, because it's so great. Well, it fell in the ranking list from place 4 to 7 this year, of 50 classified public high schools in Warsaw.
Tsk-Tsk
We're going to have dance class! The school wants to educate us thoroughly. So all the 2nd forms have to attend an obligatory dance course, organized by the school. That will be fun. It starts early December. Only drawback is that it's on Saturday mornings.
Victory! I've dug up two more books by Jane Austen. Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice. Which one should I read first?
Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes will help me to decide.
Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry;
When the girls begin to play'
Georgie Porgie runs away.
Pride and Prejudice it is. Am starting now...
Why did I ever find this book? Why, oh why? I read it yesterday. Till 4 am, got up at 6.15 as usual and went to school. At approx. 12.20 I fell asleep in biology class. Luckily the teacher didn't notice, as Agnes elbowed me. My head is still heavy. Weighs at least a tone, I'm sure. I can scarcely keep it upright. I'm starting Sense and Sensibility as soon as I've had a good night's sleep.
Tra la-la-la-la la-la-la-la
Happy birthday sweet sixteen
I am now officially allowed to...
Eh, do what?
... Behave like a sixteen year old girl.
Tra la-la-la-la la-la-la-la
Happy birthday sweet sixteen
Dad was gone, as usual. He's always gone on my birthdays. Conference or some such thing. But he makes up for it afterwards.
If I should smile with sweet surprise
It's just that you've grown up before my very eyes
You've turned into the prettiest girl I've ever seen
Happy birthday sweet sixteen
School continues to be excitingly boring, I continue to be terrifically relaxed and
life continues to be interestingly monotonous.
Tra la-la-la-la la-la-la-la
Happy birthday sweet sixteen
It seems I've forgotten about my idea with quotations and maxims. Oops. So here's one now:
"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former." -Albert Einstein (1879-1955)
Oh boy, how true that is...
Our 2 whelps are growing bigger day by day. It's fun to watch them stumble around their new home.
War. At home. AKA Trouble. Big trouble.
Dad brought a cat. Home. Pussy. Kitten. Lovely. Little. Sweet. Except that Aunt Clara hates cats.
She said her boyfriend's family had a cat. He always pissed in her shoes when she visited.
The cat, not the boyfriend.
She didn't marry him.
The boyfriend, not the cat.
The cat is still upset at Dad (and consequently at anyone remotely connected with him) for bringing her into a family with two whelps, so we barely see her. Sometimes we see a gray-brownish-red arrow racing towards the kitchen and back to her hiding place.
I guess even gray-brownish-red arrows get hungry time and again.
We have a pear flood. I eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Luckily we have a late autumn sort, so we can fully enjoy our pears without any disturbances in form of other fruits, like apples or plums.
Nope, we've enjoyed those earlier.
Our cousins don't invite us over anymore. Probably they fear our gifts, which mostly consist of, how original... pears.
After living for a few months now, we start to discover the house's secrets. Like, for example, it's going to be very cold in the winter. Dad considers building a fire place.
Maxim for the day:
"Before God we are all equally wise - and equally foolish." Albert Einstein
Who'd think that he was such a philosopher?
Trying to understand cats. Auntie hates it. The cat loves her. It's a 0-1 relation.
"Women and cats will do as they please. Men and dogs had better get used to it." -Robert Heinlein hehe...
Life at school continues to be very much un-differentiated. One day is like another.
The only thing that changes are Agnes' crushes. His surname is Cancer. Hers is Cat. The future Mrs. Agnes Cat Cancer?? Oops.
I wonder how she manages to have a different crush each week. There aren't enough guys at school! But then she's so sweet with this ahem.. hobby. And since I'm the go-between, I always get to know the guys, whilst she doesn't. She prefers admiration from afar. Now I have many male friends from the higher grades. ;-)
I wonder how my first crush will look like. "Will he be handsome, will he be rich?" Will I be heartbroken after a week of ignorance on his side? Agnes usually is and then moves onto another victim.
We have a new, young, gorgeous and sexy looking history teacher. Agnes is in love with him. Seriously though, I think I have better chances than her. I always had better grades in history...
Though, strangely enough, no one know his first name. Well, of course we call him by his surname - Mr. Wenthall. Mr. F. Wenthall. I wonder what does the "F" stand for? Maybe... Fitzwilliam? On second thought, he's too lovely for such an ugly name. I'd call him Frederick.
We have to learn all the rivers in Poland for geography, all the kings in Polish history (perhaps he is not that sexy after all??), some stupid things for Biology (I'll just assume a cool poise: "I'm sorry, Mr. Teacher, I just couldn't be bothered with all that..."), In Physics...
Oh yes, Physics. With Mrs. Black. Another War. Oh boy.
Why does she have to be my class teacher? That forces me to see her twice as often during the week, namely twice!
Tuesdays start with Physics, at 8 am. Fridays start with this general education class that we have with our class teacher, also at 8.
On other days we have Polish literature, at, yes again, 8 am.
The Polish teacher complained to Mrs. Black that I am often late for class. Both women compared notes and established that I am often late in all of my morning classes. They, of course, interpreted it as a dishonor towards them, personally. Because I'm not late in OTHER classes.
I tried to explain that I cannot be late for a 8.50 or 11.30 class when I AM already in school, but can be late for my 8 am class because of the morning traffic in the City. And since I have ALL my morning classes with those two ladies, it's not meant in a disrespectful way to them.
I could have spared my breath.
So this is the intro to the trench war that I am now having.
I mean, Warsaw traffic is really and unexplainable phenomena. I might consider writing my PhD on it. There never is a reason for it.
Well, back to the warfare.
It all started one gloomy, rainy, not-user-friendly November morning (Note: I was not late!), on a Friday. Mrs. Black insisted that we buy ourselves those damned little booklets (a relict of the old system), so she can communicate through them with our parents. In those booklets she would write notes to parents if she had a reason (mostly because of pranks and bad behavior, as she called it). The culprit would then have to show the booklet and during next class, present the autograph of parent, as evidence that parent had read the note.
Furthermore, all reasons for absence or lateness are to be recorded in this booklet, with parent's autograph as evidence, of course.
This was the most infuriating part. We are late, mostly because we oversleep or have traffic problems. To make such a fuss over such trivial matters, when the teacher actually concerned doesn't mind (much) can only be annoying, not educational.
I told everyone at home about the booklet idea. Dad got mad, really mad.
"What does she thing she's doing? Is she crazy? We had those darned things, yes, in the People's Republic! Times have changed. She can't go on like that. Ain't that woman got a nugget under her wig?" He then rambled on how people risked their lives to go against the authorities and that 1989 was the most important year in his life.
That's when Dad started calling Mrs. Black "that woman". I just hope they never meet. Oh by the way, did I mention Dad started to criticize her Physics teaching methods? I pray they never meet.
Dad, the lovely, peaceful and obliging person that he is, complied with the wishes of "that woman". She's apparently not even worthy being called "That Woman", only "that woman". Geez, Dad can be really peevish at times.
Page 20 in my booklet reads as follows:
Reasons for Anna's lateness:
18.09 Traffic on West Avenue. 7.45 a.m. Anna will be late. Signed W. Elliot
20.09 Accident on West Avenue. 7.53 a.m. Anna will be late. Signed W. Elliot
22.09 7.40 a.m. Signed. W. Elliot
30.09 7.30 a.m. Signed. W. Elliot
04.10 7.59 a.m. Signed. W. Elliot
10.10 8.10 a.m. Signed. W. Elliot
The list continues. No need to say that "that woman" turns a lovely shade of purple every time I show this.
"It is by the goodness of God that in our country we have those three unspeakably precious things: freedom of speech, freedom of conscience, and the prudence never to practice either of them." -Mark Twain
I've got a new entry in my booklet, page 20!
Train nr 44189 relation M. - Warsaw, arriving in Warsaw Central at 7.50 is delayed for 40 minutes due to technical problems. Miss Anna Elliot will be late for school.
30.10. Signed B. Branber, train guard.
The guard was a really nice guy, patient with all the passengers. I've asked him if he could write me an explanation for school and gave him my booklet. He read all the entries and started chuckling.
"Got a stern teacher, eh? Well, then I'd better make it all clear for ya."
That's why I've got the sentence "Miss Anna Elliot will be late for school."
Victory is sweet. Actually, where's that sponge? Gotta wipe a certain silly grin of my face.
*With big thanks to my Dad and his Physics papers...
Songs that appear throughout the story:
"Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen" -Neil Sedaka
"Que Sera Sera" -Doris Day
I think we have a Poltergeist in this house. Or maybe it was the cat. Yes, I'm now convinced it was our tabby. After all, if she can run in the house with a dead mouse in her mouth, why couldn't she run around with my diary? She stole it from me.
It's the middle of January now. My New Year's Celebration shall remain a secret for ever. No gossiping for future generations.
"If only God would give me some clear sign! Like making a large deposit in my name at a Swiss bank." -Woody Allen ;-)
I'm 16 and a half (3 months to be exact, but who cares?) and I still haven't fallen in love! I'll die an old maid!
I've found out the name of our history teacher. It's Frederick, just as I've guessed! Wow. Don't know why he should be hiding this fact. It's a lovely name. Hmm, he's gorgeous. I just wish he wouldn't ask so many questions...
I know I shouldn't be writing only about me. There are other topics: guys, cars, politics, religion, Save-the-insert-word-here-movements, latest trends and such. But then, what could be more intriguing, interesting and spell-bounding then my charming persona (very much grata, at least to me)?
So I'm egotistic.
So what? Sue me.
Therefore, after getting this out of my system, I shall proceed with the topic I love most: ME.
"A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend. A successful woman is one who can find such a man." /Lana Turner/
Did I already mention we have a lovely history teacher? I think I want to study history forever...
The much anticipated dance class has started. It takes place on Saturdays, from 9 till 12. We'll have classes till the end of February. There's not much time, only 8 gatherings or so, but then, 4 hours per meeting is a lot of time. I've been to the first class today. It was fun. Despite the fact that I had to go to school on a Saturday. We met in the gym. All the second years, around 90 people. A teacher came in, introduced himself and started rambling about the importance of dancing, especially during courtship and on social and family gatherings. Who is he kidding? No one needs to know how to dance nowadays. Imitating monkeys is enough.
And then, finally, we were allowed to stand up. He then told us to line up at the wall, ladies on one side, gentleman on the other, with himself in the middle.
It all looked quite funny, like a giant duel between the Bandits and the Sheriffs, at High Noon, across the Rio Bravo, with the Lonely Cowboy alone in the middle. I won't specify who was who.
We were then taught the first step of the Rock'n'Roll. Stand still. Right leg to the right, left leg to the right. Then back again. Right behind left, left up then down, then right back again. Or some such thing. With some tapping and keeping the rhythm. But the music came an hour later.
Snort. It was hilarious to watch the guys across the gym. Somehow I can't imagine us girls being that clumsy. At first the guys were laughing at us, because we started first. But then we had our revenge.
Somehow, somewhere in the evolution process the correlation factor of movements and rhythm sensor was lost in the male species. They looked like monkeys let loose, with some bananas to fight for.
"Boys will be boys. And even that wouldn't matter if only we could prevent girls from being girls." -Anonymous, at least to me
After we mastered the first step of Rock'n'Roll with the music, we then proceeded to the second, a little twist, and then to the waltz. That was easy. Even for the boys. Alas, a waltz step with music is a different story. At least for the aforementioned male species...
The teacher then showed us how to solicit a lady to a dance and how to "hold" her properly. That was all nice and funny until he told the guys to "go and find themselves a partner".
So they walked obediently across the gym. And we were standing there like geese at a shooting gallery, giggling stupidly, as geese and females are known to do. There were not enough boys, so the teacher told a few to make a second helping. I was luckily secured in the first batch and did not envy the girls left standing. My partner was Michael from my class - a nice, quite intelligent guy, but silent. But his best friend is a guy who can only be described as Mr. William Collins in the 20th century. Having now read Pride and Prejudice, I can describe him appropriately. Except that he's a bit taller and much thinner - only bones and skin. Gosh, am I lucky I was chosen by Michael and not by Collins, erh, Spikey. Oh, stupid, his name is Andrew. The stupid thing about this dance class is that if you don't agree with your partner before class, you can't refuse, because you'll end up in the second batch. Don't know what's worse.
So, back to Michael. Apart from his mistake in his best friend (Agnes got him, btw, poor thing) Michael actually had a good feeling for music and didn't trample on my feet during our dances. We even started to swirl around during the waltz. I can proudly record we were the only pair swirling!
All too soon the lesson was over. I left the gym with Agnes, both humming significantly: hmm hmmmhmm, hmmm hmmm hmm
You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the Dancing Queen
...
You are the Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen
Dancing Queen, feel the beat from the tambourine
I wonder, hmmm dancing with a certain history teacher? Why not, he's young and good looking....
Hehe, it's Saturday again. I can't help myself. I'm whistling and happy to be going to school.
You are the Dancing Queen...
It all started like last week. Boys to the left, girls to the right. Repetition of steps from last week. Then a higher degree of difficulty in the Rock'n'Roll step. A move with a swirl and a tap. Well, only the girls did the swirl, the boys just changed the direction by 90 degrees. It was quite difficult, mastering the swirl, the steps and the tap.
"All right, let's do it with some music!" And he played At the hop, one of the fastest Rock'n'Rolls that I know. Everyone started hopping and swirling around. It was the best movie for Candid Camera I've ever seen! Especially the guys. Girls will be girls and will manage somehow. Especially if it's dancing.
And then we switched to the cha-cha. One two three cha-cha one two three... The way the teacher showed it, it looked very... sexy. Our teacher's around 30, has gracious movements and slim hips and ... balding hair. And still, despite his baldness I could see the gals sighing at his cha-cha.
"Good, everybody's moving! That's right. One two three cha-cha one two three cha-cha. Swing your hips around, it's the cha-cha! Guys, don't jump! Move gracefully. Use 1/2 meters of space, not 5! That's good! Keep up the rhythm!"
Then he showed us the side movements with swinging of hands - the New Yorker and the other one. It looked very funny. Actually, dancing alone always looks funny. And then.. the teacher pulled me to the middle of the gym and started to explain how to do all this with a partner. I was gratified and happy to be so singled out, it meant that I didn't dance that badly, on the other hand I was embarrassed having to dance in front of all the others. So, beet red, I started the cha-cha. The teacher is a great dancer. I'm now spoiled. I now understand the true difference between a master and an amateur!
I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night
And still have danced some more
I could have spread my wings, and done a thousand things
I've never done before
I know it's not a cha-cha, but that's how I felt in his arms. Like a dancing queen. And the choosing ceremony begun. God how I hate this part!
I'll never know what made it so exciting
But all at once my heart took flight
I could have danced, danced, danced, all night
I was hoping for Michael, because dancing with him would surely be fun, but I saw him walking towards Agnes, and a very leering and disgusting Collins creeping and crawling towards me! Oh no! please no! Somebody help.
But then IT happened. Someone blocked my vision of Collins and I saw the merriest eyes ever - blue-gray and laughing. And I heard a voice: "May I have the honour of this dance, ma'am?" I'm not a ma'am, yet..
Stunned, lost in those blue eyes I said yes. I've said yes to a stranger! Well, anybody is better then Collins. But still, my mind was on Red Alert. This was no 2nd year student. I knew all by sight and I did not hear of a newcomer. So he was from a higher year. But still it puzzled me as I knew nearly everybody by sight. This school was not so big, after all. He could be from the first years, but why would he then be in this dancing class? I found myself gazing in those eyes again. Damn those eyes! Too blue for my comfort. I was supposed to be dancing, not staring. Everybody must be laughing at me right now, standing with my mouth wide open, staring at a guy asking me for a dance during dance class. So I finally managed to shut my mouth, tear myself from his gaze and looked around, but thankfully no one saw my calf-like stupour. I don't think a minute even passed.
But what shocked me most, was that he (Oh, those blue eyes... hmmmm, oh dammit, stoppit Anna! Don't look there, it's dangerous!) had led me to a spot in the gym and we were standing like the others, waiting for instructions and the music. He lead me across the gym and I didn't even notice????
The orders came: Rock'n'Roll practice. I kept staring at my feet.
"Hello." His voice was as lovely as his eyes (oh mmmmh). "My name is Frederick. And you are?" I could hear the smile in his voice (oh mmmmh). The same one I saw in his eyes (*sigh*).
"Anna." I discovered a black mud spot on my left shoe, near the toes.
"A very nice name for a very nice person." The mud had the shape of an eclipse...
"You do the steps very gracefully. Do you know how to dance?"
"No." Maybe a circle? A planet?
"Well, I don't know how to dance and I'm glad to be able to learn. Besides, with such a lovely partner it is much more pleasing." Maybe Mars? No, too small. Jupiter? But then, Jupiter hasn't the shape of an eclipse, or does it?
I couldn't explain my shyness. I kept answering in monosyllables. However, he was not deterred in anyway and kept on talking cheerful nonsense. After sometime the music changed to a waltz.
The music instructor came up to us and told me not to stare at my feet. He said I should take the steps without looking at my feet. Little did he know the real reason for my staring. I could waltz with closed eyes, as I have spent Thursday night waltzing to all the Strauss waltzes we had at home, with my Teddy for a partner. But, as I didn't feel like explaining this particular point to my instructor, I decided to brave the danger and looked Rick in the eyes. He smiled at me and said: "I doubt that you have to count the steps and check your feet. Now, how about a swirl? I think I could manage one, do you?" And before I even had the chance to answer, I swirled around. I must say I was surprised I didn't stumble. So a real partner is much better than a Teddy, one doesn't stumble during the swirl...
Did I actually mention it's midterms again? Must have slipped my mind. Well, I won't write down all my exams, essays and assignments. Not enough place.
It's Saturday again. Dancing class. Hmmm, I think I like Saturdays. Can't wait. Though I will probably have to dance with Colli... Andrew. He's been shooting daggers at me during the week. Angry, no doubt. How dare I dance with someone else when he was around. Oh well, I'll have to dance with him today. Last Sat. was too good to be true.
I've seen Rick a few times.
Ahem, *cough*, spying would be more accurate. Yes, I did spy on him. A little bit. I saw him on Monday, I saw him on Tuesday, I walked past him on Wednesday, I nearly collided with him on Thursday and I saw him three times on Friday. And he didn't even look once in my direction, not once did he acknowledge me, not once walked to me and not once said hello.
No, I'm not obsessed. Yet.
Why? Why is he ignoring me? On the other hand, I can understand. There are some good-looking girls in his class. Blond, voluptuous, long curly hair, and legs from the waist down to the floor.
He won't probably even dance with me. Oh, dammit, stop it! Why do I keep obsessing with him? I can't explain it.
Ok, I can. He is devilishly handsome, sexy, muscular, good looking, charming, witty and.. and. Just why should he want to dance with such a poor little country (yep, even that part's true!) bumpkin like me? And two years younger!
But, he has the loveliest eyes (oh mmmmmh)
I went to dancing class, despite my rapidly progressing insanity, like a good girl should. Although I didn't want to. And it is such a good thing that I went! I'm so happy. Elated, floating, just look what one silly dancing class can do to a silly dancing person.
I think I'm in love
Boy I think that I'm in love with you
I met Agnes outside school and we walked together to the gym. There we met other girls and we talked about the upcoming school disco. They were excited? I can't understand why. School disco. Snort. The stupidest way to organize a disco. It usually starts around 7 p.m., nothing happens until 10, then the party really starts rolling. And at 10.30, 11 p.m. it's over. Finito, we have to go home.
Ok, so maybe I'm exaggerating, some start dancing at 9. But still, it isn't pleasant, and actually impossible to enjoy oneself under the watchful eyes of various teachers. Take Rock'n'Roll for example: You see your Physics teacher, swing, turn around - chemistry teacher, two steps to the right - history teacher. Now, he's ok, quite cute. Oh Anna, stop drooling.
The second reason for a school disco (besides for giving girls the opportunity to dress up and appear in various states of undress) is to talk and gossip. But that's what we do everyday during breaks and classes! Oh, Anna, stop complaining. Repeat: I am happy there will be a school disco. Very happy.
I've strayed from original topic again. We were discussing the pleasures a school disco can give *snort*, until the teacher came and it was time for us to line up near the wall. Boys on the left, girls on the right.
Until then I didn't even have the time to scan the crowds for HIM. The teacher made us repeat steps from last week, then he introduced new steps - the tango. Slow, slow, fast, fast. Very easy, actually. Except that I mess up my feet. Should start with the right, not with the left. So, naturally, I was concentrating on either the teacher or on my feet. Only when the guys practiced was I able to look for him. And I didn't find him.
So I was right, and I felt depressed. I know it was stupid. I barely knew the guy. We practiced steps together once and that's enough for me to swoon at the thought of him. Silly me.
Just as the boys stopped their practice, the teacher was near despair as he saw their 'tango', HE walked in. And the sun shined again. And I felt happy again. Silly me. Only drawback - he was to far away from me.
The 'dance master' started then explaining how to dance the tango in pairs, more important, how to do it gracefully and not bump into others. And wow! He took me again to show it in front of other people. I felt my face burn, but was also pleased at the same time. When I came back to the 'line', flushed and excited, the girls started asking what kind of feeling it was to dance with an expert and saying my dancing looked good and so on. During this the teacher must have announced the 'choosing'. I overheard it, but saw the boys walking towards us. The ceremony repeated itself.
The guys were embarrassed at having to do such a stupid thing like singling out girls, the girls started to giggle nervously. No girl wanted to be left out. Me neither. So I studied my shoes, not daring to look up.
"May I have this dance?" I looked up to see Rick standing in front of me, smiling, with an out stretched hand, waiting form my answer. I said yes and he smiled even more. And that's when I fell for him: hook, line and sinker.
I'm writing this in the evening. I've had a whole day to think this over. Yep, I'm lost. I never imagined I'd fall for a guy in so short a period. I am/was always rational, practical, could talk myself out of many stupid feelings and notions, and yet, I fell in love with a guy I've talked only once to. I'm doomed.
Not much to feed love on. I know nearly nothing about him. What if he's a pervert? Or worse, one of those pedantic scholars? What if he doesn't like used-to-be-practical-now-over-emotional-teenagers? Plus, knowing I was falling for him made me more self-conscious today. I don't want to look ridiculous in front of him. And when a person tries not to let something happen, it usually happens. One of Murphy's laws.
"You're silent today."
"What? Oh, sorry." I mumbled, even more embarrassed. I was so caught up in my musings, I didn't hear him speak. So much for no ridiculousness.
"Don't be. My saying 'You're silent' was not a reproach, only a clear sign from me that I would like to chat, and a hope that you might want the same."
"Do you talk by rule then, while you're dancing?" Prayers to Jane Austen for a quick reply.
"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together." My jaw dropped. I looked at him astonished. Was he.. did he? OH MY G*D!
"You... you just... that was..." I could feel my mouth opening, but quickly shutting because I had lost my ability to put words together. "Excuse me. I have to find my jaw back.
He laughed out loud. "So, will you talk now?"
"All right. Just give a minute . . ." I rubbed my chin. "There. I think it's back in place." This guy's a keeper! "I normally like to talk, but, uhm, if you don't mind, I'd much rather concentrate on counting."
"Counting?" He asked incredulously. Wait a sec, did I just detect a bit of humor ?
"Yes, to avoid your feet." I offered, a bit disappointed he didn't get my joke. If a guy doesn't understand my weird and out-of-place humor, I had better stop falling in love with him.
"I understand all right. I was only surprised you need to count. You move very gracefully." I stared at my feet. "When I saw you dancing with the teacher I was wondering why you're take dancing lessons at all. You don't need them." I stumbled slightly and croaked, "Thank you, but I do. I need to learn the steps."
"That's good you think so. I've been regretting my words as soon as they left my mouth." He said in a light voice. My head jerked up and I stared in his eyes, speechless, at a loss how to understand his last words. Before I could say something, he continued:
"Because I've realized you might take my words seriously and stop attending classes. And then I wouldn't be able to dance with you anymore." I snapped my head down again. Me cheeks felt hot. Very hot. And were, undoubtedly, very red.
Just then I heard the teacher speak to me: "Head up. Don't look at your feet." Gah, does he always have to appear at the wrong moments? "No, no, you've got it all wrong. This is a tango! Not a quadrille. A hot, sexy, Brazilian tango. Don't be afraid of the guy. He won't bite." I wouldn't be so sure. He grabbed my hand and showed where it should lie on Rick's shoulder. He then showed Frederick were he should place his. After he was finished, I found myself 10 centimeters away from Frederick's body, my face close to his and feeling a burning hand pressing against my back. I stared into his eyes (oh mmmh).
Oh my, this is going to be embarrassing....
Actually, after a few minutes, I relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of dancing with Frederick. We certainly suited each other as dance partners.
That guy is a keeper! Everyone with a sense for music and rhythm is a keeper. And a dancing guy quoting Jane Austen, oh my, mmmmmmmh. Unspeakable.
Lovely.
We danced in silence for some time, watching others, then he spoke. I could fall in love with that voice. Erhm, I think I just did...
"Can I be your dance partner?"
"What?" I think I just misunderstood him. Surely he...
"Don't say what, say pardon. Can I be your dance partner? Or am I that terrible at dancing?" Oh, my, those dimples. I'm melting! I stared into his eyes, mmmmhh.
Only when I saw him getting uncomfortable and, should I say, nervous? Did my mind snap back to reality.
"Yes, I mean no, today?" Right. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. And stop gazing into his eyes!
"Well, for the whole course." Dimple alert! Dimple alert! He smiled his boyish smile. "You don't know how annoying it is too ask a girl to dance and know she might refuse you." Did he just say annoying??? Well, does HE know how humiliating the possibility of being a leftover is???
"Well, she couldn't." I explained, gesturing around. "Not enough boys."
"Point taken." He acknowledged, "but it still is unnerving. And besides, you wouldn't have to be nervous too, whether you'll be a first or a second choosing."
That was all too true. Well, what the heck. My mind had agreed long ago. But still, it didn't feel nice to know that this was his real reason.
"Oh, if you put it that way, I suppose you're right." I felt dejected. It was stupid, I know, I shouldn't wear my new found heart on my sleeve. Pull yourself together girl. After all, one cannot expect a guy to fall in love with a girl after just two conversations, even if she just did the aforementioned thing.
"Besides, I would get to know you better." Uhm, did I miss something? My heart surely missed a beat. Or two. Actually, hello, heart! Start beating again. This is vital! I looked up at him, astonished, racking my brain for an appropriate answer. But before I could come up with something, I had to go back to my 'wall'. I felt giddy and elated. The class ended soon afterwards and I darted towards the exit. Unfortunately, I had a train to catch. I hate those trains. Why did we move out of the city? Why, oh why? If we didn't, I could've taken one of 5 busses home, instead of one stupid train, that goes only once in an hour.
"Anna, Anna!"
I blinked several times, brought back to reality. "Yes?"
"Hey, look, our history teacher is coming towards us! Isn't he cute?" I looked where Agnes pointed.
"History teacher? What history teacher? We have a history teacher?" I gazed stupefied in the direction Agnes pointed, a bit disgruntled. A teacher coming our way is certainly NOT a good reason to wake me up from my day-dreaming!
Agnes looked at me strangely. "Anna, are you all right? This is OUR history teacher, you know, the space cookie! Anna!"
Mmmh, blue eyes, hmmm I could have danced all night... "You were saying?"
"Oh never mind." With that Agnes stormed away, angry. Why is she upset? Did I upset her?
Dancing Queen - Abba
I could have danced all night - Sylvia Syms/Frank Sinatra
I think I'm in love with you - Jessica Simpson