ASSIGNMENTS:
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K G
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania USA
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REPORTS:
PREVIOUS NEXT
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Me: Hello?
Sarah: K? This is Sarah.
Me: Sarah? I can't believe you're calling me. I honestly thought we'd never talk again. This is so out of the blue.
Sarah: Does it bother you?
Me: No, no at all, I'm really happy that you called me. Are you mad at me? Or were you?
Sarah: I was never mad at you exactly -
Me: But you ignored me. Your mom told me you got my calls and my messages on your house's machine, and you didn't reply.
Sarah: I was just...it's hard for me to say.
Me: In a rut.
Sarah: Yeah, but worse.
Me: I know. I saw you.
Sarah: I know you knew. That's why I've been scared to approach you.
Me: Scared? But I was trying so hard to help you all of last year, when we sat at computers next to each other in World Wide Web class and I told you how I was feeling and what I'd do about it. Was I condescending? I tried really hard not to be. I meant to be helpful. I tried not to tell you what to do, to just point to my own experiences.
Sarah: You were...pointed. I just didn't understand how you knew what I was feeling. I've been jealous of you. I don't see how you can understand what I go through when you have so much more than me.
Me: Do I?
Sarah: You have the nicest parents in the world, you have no siblings your parents might prefer, you had a built-in math tutor -
Me: I still got a C in pre-calc.
Sarah: I got a D in stats. You might have flunked without your dad.
Me: Maybe, I try not to think about it. I'm managing OK in this easy physics course at college but I do call him up and check all my homework answers!
Sarah: I couldn't bear seeing your family and your house.
Me: So that's why you wouldn't come over, even when I cried in front of you. I could tell you felt bad when I cried.
Sarah: I really did. You're very sensitive.
Me: Like you.
Sarah: Like me.
Me: Do you feel I was harsh on you.
Sarah: Yes.
Me: I'm sorry, I care about you, but I don't regret it. I really did it out of caring. You have no idea how hard it was for me to stop thinking about you, and I never really did. But why did you call all of a sudden?
Sarah: I'm trying to fix my life. I've messed it up. And I've known that since high school.
Me: You can fix it, you're 18, nothing is really behind you.
Sarah: I've missed opportunities.
Me: Like Europe. I hear you came home from Europe.
Sarah: How did you know?
Me: I asked Ariel. I've been reading Betsy's blog and I read your comments about going to see her, and I thought, "but how could she see Betsy, she's in Europe" and Ariel told me what was up. Did you ever get that job at Strawberry Fields?
Sarah: I never applied.
Me: Sarah. What are you doing with yourself?
Sarah: I'm trying to figure that out. I've been so racked with guilt about the past years, and doing nothing is so easy. I've realized that I've been doing nothing because I'm holding out for something, and it's just not going to come. I just feel frozen in a home with my parents.
Me: Which is why you should get away from them and be in Europe.
Sarah: But when I got there I realized how much there was and how little I had done.
Me: You didn't feel excited at all the monuments? The places to go, the things to do? Everything we don't have in our little town?
Sarah: I did, I felt so many things so strongly it was scary.
Me: Feelings go away, Sarah, there's sleep, there's adjusting to a small German neighborhood. You have to start small. Take those two language classes, go to the grocery store, go to a public park, then maybe start drawing there, get a German book, your German is so good, just take little steps. Whatever advantages I've had in the past, I do know how hard things are. I never pretended I've had some of the same misfortunes. Things have been harder for you, let's face it. I feel bad for you, if that's OK to say. But you know, my mother's insane. I've had huge problems with her.
Sarah: She seems so nice. She dotes on you. She buys you clothes all the time, she kisses you all the time just randomly.
Me: That's all true. But there's so much you just don't know. You had no way of knowing. I'm really close to my dad, but he's getting more and more angry and bitter. He's still nice usually but I have more trouble relating to him. I'm the last person to pretend I don't have problems. I'm sure your stuff is worse, frankly I think your dad treats you in an unfair way and my dad was appalled when he came over that time, but that doesn't mean I can't be here for you. We have plenty of things in common.
Sarah: I've just been...jealous. And I feel so petty about that jealousy that I don't want to face myself.
Me: I know what it's like being jealous, too. Everyone has their problems, and if they don't, they're not sensitive enough. I'm sure you've met those complacent families where everyone loves each other and they're all so fucking happy and the kids go to Ivy League colleges and the parents run big businesses and they love going to church together and all is well. Well, however smart those people are, they're idiots. I'm not saying suffering is wiser than anything, but if you go around in a happy haze, there's something wrong. You don't want to be that; you don't want to deprive yourself of your experiences.
Sarah: I always thought I did, but I'm questioning that now.
Me: To be honest, I could use a lot of my own advice. I'm really jealous of some people right now, and I need to understand that there's no point comparing. I'm competitive so it's really hard. I've had a lot less privilege in life than these people, and I feel pathetic for having had such a worthless life or something.
Sarah: Who are these people?
Me: *laughs* Well, they live in a rich Maryland suburb, near DC.
Sarah: You're living in DC now, right?
Me: No, a different Maryland suburb. I'm about twenty minutes out. I take the Metro. So, this family is super rich because their parents work for Bush, essentially, and they can afford to send all the children to French school. So they all speak French. And that's something I've always wanted.
Sarah: You'll learn French.
Me: But they're fluent now. I don't know if I'll ever be completely fluent. They've been going to this school since they were three. And their parents can shell out the cash because they support causes that I hate. They can easily afford it for all these kids, and I'm not convinced my parents, in academia (or used to be) could afford it for just me. My mom said she would find a way because this would be such a great experience, but that makes me feel worse, because that means that where I grew up really hindered me. I always thought, "well, I'm in a cool place now and I'm a very educated person doing well at a great school, so whatever" but I've missed this entire language that these kids have. I'm studying French literature from the department head this semester and she's amazing, but I can detect a few traces of an American accent, and these kids don't have that. I don't know what to do about it all. I just pout. It's pathetic. It doesn't even matter. But it does, to me.
Sarah: Well, I doubt most Washington DC people go to this school.
Me: That's true. I have a friend who went to a girl's prep school. I always worry we got the worst education ever, even though our school was competitive. Most people are so happy with their high schools.
Sarah: They probably just aren't sensitive to it. I don't think we had such a bad education overall. I mean, you got into the school you did. We have distinguished alums and shit.
Me: Yeah, I see their books in bookstores in DC and I go up to people and say, ÔI went to the same high school as that person.' I feel really proud. And the people I meet are impressed.
Sarah: That's nice.
Me: I didn't have those bookstores, I didn't have museums. I couldn't take the Metro and meet random people on the street like now. And our little Midwestern town is not exactly international.
Sarah: *laughs*
Me: It's just another reason for me to feel embarrassed that I grew up there. And no one else who still lives there gives a shit. And the people I meet here from little Midwestern towns, there are a few, just say, "oh, I had really good friends" and that's it for them. It's so weird. I'm so angry no one knows how this feels.
Sarah: I do. You can trust me on that.
Me: That's why I wish we could have been better friends. Remember when we went with Michelle to see "Team America: World Police" October before last? We had such a good time. I look at that as my cherished last moment with you guys. I remember how much we joked in Dairy Queen afterwards, looking at pictures of Elvis and stuff.
Sarah: Yeah that was fun. I really liked that too. I'm glad you remembered that. I've wanted to have that night again.
Me: Just you saying that means a lot to me.
Sarah: You're a lot more human than I gave you credit for. I also wish we could have been better friends, now that we're talking again. This conversation means a lot to me. I'm learning a lot, I'm seeing the past differently.
Me: Yeah, I've really changed my views on things since college. I guess that's not a surprise.
Sarah: Well when you're boxed in, there's a limit to what you can do.
Me: Exactly.
Sarah: I think I have the courage now to say that I called to say: I want to know what to do next. I want you to help me find a way to have a...the kind of life that means a lot, that isn't boxed in. The therapists I had last year were shitty, and Claudine watched me get more and more depressed.
Me: Claudine is so great. She was more than a French lit tutor to me. She always told me she worried about how shy you were. We'd sometimes see you across the street, going into your house.
Sarah: At some point, she got so worried about me she quit worrying about if my parents would be offended at the suggestion, and she came to my house and told them a good therapist for me that she and her husband had. My mom was pissed, but I heard the name, and I decided to go because my therapists were just depressing me. I could tell they weren't being serious with me. They would just let me say whatever the way my parents would let me do whatever. My mom would complain behind my back, my dad would criticize me to my face. My new therapist has been really helpful and you came up a lot in conversation, the way you were trying to help me in World Wide Web, trying to invite me over, the things you've said about me on your livejournal.
Me: How do you know about my livejournal?
Sarah: I searched. It wasn't hard. I was really upset when you wrote that post calling me a "blob of nothingness" and my therapist said you were probably just hurt by my ignoring you and I should confront you about it.
Me: Yeah, you've hurt my feelings a lot. As I said in that post, I thought it was really inappropriate that you were criticizing me on Max's blog after you purposely quit answering my phone calls over the summer. I was just responding to that.
Sarah: I think that's immature.
Me: I don't. I think you deserved it. But I'm not angry at you anymore because you've called me, and I hope you're not angry either. Your therapist was totally right. I lashed out because I was upset that you've intentionally ignored me when I've reached out to you. I don't mean to be mean.
Sarah: I understand. It's OK. I really didn't know how caring you are until this talk.
Me: I wish you knew. I thought I made it clear. I certainly tried. Do you have plans for next year? For this year?
Sarah: I'm thinking about trying Europe again, and deferring college another year. Do you think that's OK? I just feel bad I need a second try, and my dad'll get on my case. But he's always on my case.
Me: I think that's a great idea. And what I was planning on is that when you're in Europe, we'll talk and you'll apply to an arts and design college, something small and intimate and urban and artsy, that would suit you. And you can go from there. And you even told me that you were using U of I as a backup school and wanted to apply to more colleges in Europe.
Sarah: Yeah, that was my plan. I've been pretty set on going to U of I though. Sometimes I think it won't be so bad.
Me: You could get lucky with some cool teacher, but I think you should try something better. It's big and impersonal, and certainly doesn't stress the arts. Your mom will certainly allow you to do all this. She seems very supportive.
Sarah: She is, she lets me do what I want, but as you were saying before, there's a lot you don't know about my mom.
Me: She seems very cold to me.
Sarah: Among other things.
Me: Oh, OK. What do you want to do this year? Get some sort of job to save up some money. Are you still interested in Strawberry Fields?
Sarah: Maybe, but maybe a bookstore or something.
Me: You should look into it. Maybe you should have two jobs. You really have nothing to do this year, and if you're busier, you'll be happier, and you'll have more money for Europe, which is great. You should just drive into Chicago more. Or drive more. And read more. I remember from last year, there are so many things you can do to pass the time. Try not to be at home. Go to Espresso Royale or the Library (are they done renovating yet?) so you don't feel frozen. And go home to sleep. With a car, there's nothing your parents can do. And there's no high school to keep you down and give you work you don't want. So the rest of this year might be a good opportunity. And it's mid March now, there really isn't so much time. This isn't such a bad thing. You'll get really inspired in Europe, you'll speak fluent German and a lot of Italian, and then you'll get a degree from some cool arts school, and go off and have a fun career. I mean, it won't be that easy, but you can enter a good path. And if you're on a good path, it's easy to change what you're doing because you'll have options. The more time you spend this way, the less you'll be able to do about it, the more guilt you'll feel. You're lucky you're just 18. You'll graduate college at 23. That's perfectly fine. Plenty of people do it later.
Sarah: You really make me feel hopeful. This is so different for me. I assumed you just felt superior to me and that's why you were giving me advice.
Me: Oh, so that's what it is.
Sarah: I think I listened to everybody else in the class, who just kept saying "oh she's pompous, she thinks she's better than everyone else" and I didn't see what you were doing. I really appreciate this.
Me: I'm just really extreme with people. If I like you, I love you forever, but if I hate you, watch out. I hated most of those people. I acted arrogant on purpose, because they wouldn't respect me otherwise. They don't care about literature and language and art. You know how inept the English teachers were; it was an insult to our intelligence. The only way I could get people to know that I have special talents was by saying "I am so great" and that's what I did. I don't regret it. I couldn't have been appreciated in that environment, and I did what I could about it. I read in the library a lot. I still feel the same anger. I think we went to school with a bunch of idiots. I mean, I like your friends because I was friends with them too. But that's only a few people. My friend Donna went to my graduation and she said she could tell what I've been complaining about and felt bad I had to endure kids like that. It often just made me cranky. I didn't mean to take it out on you.
Sarah: I'm glad we talked about this. I'm glad you'll be my friend still. Can I call you and email you to tell you how I'm feeling?
Me: That's what I wanted. I've been thinking about you so much this year.
Sarah: But you must have so many friends out there.
Me: I do. But none of them is you.
Sarah: There's your perfect grammar! No one says "none is" except K.
Me: Yup!
Sarah: You won't mind all my strange psychotic rants?
Me: Not at all. I want them. I would never make fun of you for expressing yourself.
Sarah: Thanks. I'm gonna go to bed. Did you know it's 3 AM?
Me: I was wondering why I was yawning! My college bedtime has become really strange, though, so this isn't that late for me.
Sarah: Bye, K. I'll email you in the next few days.
Me: I'll start looking into art schools.
Sarah: Are you serious? You don't have to.
Me: I want to. I'll give it a try; I don't know what I'm doing. It'll be a fun project. I'll call you over the weekend?
Sarah: Sure. We'll definitely talk soon.
Me: That's great. Thanks for being my friend again. I want to see you do well.
Sarah: Thanks for just caring. Talk to you soon.
Me: OK, bye.
Sarah: Bye.
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