cause repetition's just so safe...

a day in the summer of Caroline Barnett (any day. really):

*regain conciousness to the sound of my father pounding on the door. caroline, it's time, he says, and then retreats to the couch. I've always liked that about him. Mom would spend ten minutes in my doorway, squealing, making up little waking up songs, getting more and more persistant. Dad just leaves, trusting me to understand the need to

*crawl out of bed, shaking on next-morning-pain muscles; get dressed, make lunch, pack work-out clothes, eat breakfast (really, I'm doing that now, cereal with fruit and everything. weird), drink first cup of coffee, brush teeth, et cetera.

*get in the van, ride to McDonalds to meet Chloe and her Father. Take two dollars from Dad, wish Dad a good day, walk inside, get second cup of coffee, wait.

*enter the pick-up when Chloe and her Father arrive, muster polite laughter at corny father jokes, ride to GHS

*sit in the cafeteria, wait, ponder what torture lies ahead.

*large group rehearsal. Get yelled at for being a soprano and therefore also being a lazy, cowardly singer who believes in safety and numbers and doesn't try because there are so many of Us. Listen to tenors and basses recieve praise sometimes marred by gentle criticism ("but those girls were probably distracting you with their talking and that's why you missed the note, right?")

*solfege class. terrifying place where Hey Jude, don't make it bad becomes sol mi, mi fa re do. words do not exist in this hour. we live off of syllables and numbers, clapping snapping tapping beats.

*writing. ten minutes of whatever you are thinking right now, then the surprise- sharing time. Mandatory. The first day, I write something way too personal (thank god that I never use a name when a pronoun will suffice). Later, my thoughts are filtered, edited. I train myself to think about the time, the cold of the room, the unmade bed that I'd so like to re-enter.

*lunch. salad packed by Mrs. Spitzer (I've officially replaced Jess as almost daughter). Blake does not sit with us, ever. That kid and his false promises...

*dancing. cupid shuffle, booty call, charleston, shag. we review every step a million times. right right right, left left left, back step. Chloe and I are not allowed to dance together, says the teacher, because girls do not dance with girls; that's wrong. ("it's just wrong, jessica!!")

*ms. jones. the only class that is to some extent unpredictable. we sing blackbird and kila jambo na wakati wake and do theory, and she likes me so it's fun. She runs around and dances and does crazy things while she conducts, keeping us all entertained because she knows that we are tired, bored out of our minds.

*masterclass. we sing a TREBLE arrangement of Hey Jude, and the tenors and basses still somehow get the melody (which is supposed to be our part). We make train noises and sing folk songs and do more solfege. Sopranos get yelled at for the slightest error, even if we are not currently singing. we leave for the day angry, stomping out to the car.

*get in the truck, ride to chloes, change into sweatpants (not shorts, because we have to sweat off weight), do the workout video (another spot of variety- push ups and pull ups on monday, plyrometrics on tuesday, weightlifting wednesday, yoga thursday, et cetera et cetera), sometimes cry. Stumble up the stairs to Chloe's room, change into bathing suits. Stare at selves in mirror and determine that we are definitely not getting skinnier and are quite possibly bigger than before.

&get in the pool, marvel at how it could possibly be so cold, run clockwise, discuss how her dad is a psycho and how mrs.huggins is heinous and (more optimistically) how when these 90 days are over we will be gorgeous and beastly, the kind of pretty that makes every other area of life fall into place.

*go to bible camp, watch kids play/swim/do skits, help with certain activities, but mostly just stand around with cam and chat and talk to jack and max and have lots of conversations like this:

Child- Is that your boyfriend?

Me- *snort/hysterical laughter* Um, no.

Child- Are you sure?

Me- Yeah. I'm pretty sure.

Child(skeptically)- Maybe you should ask him.

Me- I don't think that's a good idea.

Child- okay, I'll ask him. HEY, ARE YOU HER BOYFRIEND?

and then eat dinner, and then stand around more, and then leave.

-go home, spend about ten minutes on the computer, get bored and/or depressed by facebook, get off the computer, shower, read until I am too exhausted to process anymore.

-rinse, repeat.

I realize that all of that was very boring and that you're probably not even reading anymore. But yeah, that's the last week, and that will also be next week and the week after. I miss school. And as much as I can't wait for all of this to be over, I don't really want it to be either because it is better than nothing which is what I'd be doing otherwise, because I'm not that cool person who gets invited to do stuff.

So, if you are reading, what have you been doing lately? Any of you, I mean, though I'm specifically talking to Heather. I guess it was kind of dumb of me to assume that everything would be exactly the same now that we aren't in school, because it isn't. It feels like you (and everyone who isn't in BEACH or at bible camp, really) are on a different continent. I have no idea what you've been doing all week. It's weird.

Anyway, looking forward to tomorrow. Whatever we do, it'll be a break in the monotony.

love,

Caroline

and repetition's just like prison.