I Don't Have Gradual Toes

For the APUSH test, I sat with the rest of the H's and the I's in the media center classroom with Mr. Hanson's annoying little "It's only a five" comments in my ear. Two things really get me about these tests. The first thing is that the sticker with your AP student number doesn't fit in one of the boxes on the StudentPack. The second is that irritating half hour period when you're waiting to begin the marathon. My hands get sweaty, I can literally hear my heart beating all over and I feel like the shrink-wrapped packet of colorful paper is going to morph into a hideous, bubble-sheet patterned monster with pencil shavings in its teeth.

I sat behind Ms. Hawthorne and she was wearing her Euro T-shirt from last year, which meant, if I ever looked up from my test to think of what the big deal was about James K. Polk or Ida B. Wells, the word "TERROR" was staring back at me. That was fun.

But the test finished with some solid FRQs. The proctor dismissed us, the chorus of angels sang, and the lunch lines beckoned us with some well-earned noms. The best part of AP tests in the morning is the full two periods of lunch that you get afterwards where one can enjoy the sun after being locked in a quiet room, and be surrounded by fellow victims - er, friends.

And then I had to stomp off to calculus. Where we watched one of these videos [embedding disabled] except the one we saw was completely on fractals, and the guy kept repeating himself. What I've learned is that collages are attractive. And if you put an MC Escher'ed tie on a really dorky man, it doesn't make him cooler. Mr. W didn't want anybody to talk during this moving video. But then we watched this, which made everything better:

In this, I learned that pentagrams are awesome, especially when they are hopping up and down to bouncy music. Much more educational. And who doesn't love Donald Duck?

Then week 1 of AP testing was over, and I clicked my heels together in the air, hooked my arm around B's elbow and made a beeline for the athletic entrance - after a quick stop in Mrs. C's room to see what we missed, aka, say hi and complain a little about my quiz. I'll skim over the contents of my afternoon, just know it involved a too-friendly garter snake, me dissolving into tears for no reason in front of his parents (so. embarassing.) and lemon bars.

Then I went "fishing" for the first time with B. I put it in quotations because I never actually picked up a pole and because the bird-watching yielded better results anyway.

It was so - hold on, let me think of an adjective. It may take a while. I think before I was just entranced by the idea of it all: water, sky, and you in that little section in between, trying to connect the two.

It was just him and his dad, normal. Poking fun at each other, reminiscing in the past. And the three of us dropped out of routine for a chance to breathe. B's new fly rod flicking through the sky, back and forth right above me, moving like a slender willow branch does in the wind. Leaning over the side of the boat to watch the water change. Seeing an eagle dive out of tree to magically reach in the lake once and pull out dinner, ospreys slice the sky overhead, herons take flight, and a pelican meander around islands of marsh. Hearing everything and worrying about nothing. Falling more in love with him as the falling sun makes his silhouette, as he changes from one lure to the next and explains each to me, as he sees me smiling and can't help but smile back.

Such beauty that I do not need grammatically correct sentences! I caught myself playing "Cristofori's dream" on my kneecaps, hearing the notes in my head. The song has always reminded me of water.

He said I was quiet. And I was. But why wouldn't I be? I had nothing to complain about, and I was happy. I didn't need to puncture that with all the noise I make. I wasn't bored, and at one point I was a little concerned they'd think I was. It was a good scene, and I didn't want to be a part of it, living in it. I wanted to be surrounded by it, in a glass column, immersed but not intruding. I didn't want to disturb its perfection, set off a ripple that could become a tsunami. I wanted to revel in it, ruminate in it, remember it.

I've got it. It was pensive. Therapeutic. It was nice.

Then we went back to B's house and me, with my five year old sense of humor, picked out the movie "Despicable me," which is hilarious. I'm an awful judge of good movies but there's some that just make me giggle. This one gets me because the villain is a math joke (Vector! Committing crime with direction and magnitude! Oh yeah!! *pelvic thrusts), Agnes is adorable, and the semi-violent minions look like tiny cheetoh-puffs with glasses.

I still fell asleep watching it, though. (Thanks for letting me sleep, B.) Studying for tests make me drowsy and being on the lake is like being rocked to sleep by a lullaby. When I woke up though, I was delirious. He said I probably wouldn't remember it but I distinctly recall finding the words "bus stop" hilarious and creating the word "abducticated". All in all, I woke up this morning happy and well-rested - to my willow trees waving hello with their long arms. There was also a shirtless man standing on the roof outside my window, but we won't get into that.