Love. LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!
Even though we have been going out for more than four months, I still get a thrill when he says - or writes - that word. In reference to me, I mean. Love. LOVE!!!!! He LOVES me!!!!!
So what's taking him so long about the prom thing, I'd like to know?
Now that I am fifteen, it is time that I put away childish things, like the guy in the poem, and begin to live my life as the adult
that I am striving to become. According to Carl Jung, the famous psychoanalyst, in order to achieve self-actualization — acceptance, peace, contentment, purposefulness, fulfilment, health, happiness and joy - one must practise compassion, love, charity, warmth, forgiveness, friendship, kindness, gratitude and trust. Therefore, from now on, I pledge to:
1. Stop biting my nails. I really mean it this time.
2. Make decent grades.
3. Be nicer to people, even Lana Weinberger.
4. Write faithfully in my journal every day.
5. Start - and finish - a novel. Write one, I mean, not read one.
6. Get it published before I turn 20.
7. Be more understanding of Mom and what she is going through now that she is in the last trimester of her pregnancy.
8. Stop using Mr. G's face-razor on my legs. Buy my own razors.
9. Try to be more sympathetic to Dad's abandonment issues while also getting out of having to spend July and August in Genovia.
10. Figure out way to get Michael Moscovitz to take me to the prom without stooping to trickery and/or grovelling.
Once I've done all this, I should become fully self-actualized and ready to experience some well-deserved joy. And really, everything on that list is fairly doable. I mean, yes, it took Margaret Mitchell ten years to write Gone With the Wind, but I am only fifteen, so even if it takes me ten years to finish my own novel, I will still only be twenty-five by the time I get it published, which is only five years behind schedule.
The only problem is I don't really know what I'm going to write a novel about. But I'm sure I'll think of something soon.
Maybe I should start practising with some short stories or haikus or something.
The prom thing, though. THAT is going to be hard. Because I truly do not want Michael to feel pressured about this. But I
have GOT TO GO TO THE PROM!!! IT IS MY LAST CHANCE!!!!!!!
I hope Tina is right, and that Michael intends to ask me tonight at dinner.
OH PLEASE GOD LET TINA BE RIGHT!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, May I MY BIRTHDAY, Algebra
Josh asked Lana to the prom.
He asked her last night, after the varsity lacrosse game. The Lions won. According to Shameeka, who hung around after the junior varsity game, at which she'd cheered, Josh scored the winning goal. Then, as all the Albert Einstein fans poured out on
to the field, Josh whipped off his shirt and swung it around in the air a few times, a la Mia Hamm, only of course Josh wasn't wearing a sports bra underneath. Shameeka says she was astounded by the lack of hair on Josh's chest. She said he was in
no way Hugh Jackman-like in the goody trail department.
This, like the trouble my mother is currently having with her bladder, is really more than I want to know.
Anyway, Lana was on the sidelines, in her little sleeveless blue-and-gold AEHS cheerleading micro-mini. When Josh whipped his shirt off, she went running out on to the field, whooping. Then she leaped into his arms - which, considering that he was probably all sweaty, was a pretty risky endeavour, if you ask me - and they Frenched until Principal Gupta came over and whacked Josh on the back of the head with her clipboard. Then Shameeka says that Josh put Lana down and said, 'Go to
the prom with me, babe?' And Lana said yes, and then ran squealing over to all her fellow cheerleaders to tell them.
And I know that one of my resolutions now that I am fifteen is that I am going to be nicer to people, including Lana, but really,
I am having a hard time right now keeping myself from stabbing my pencil into the back of her head. Well, not really, because
I don't believe violence ever solves anything. Well, except for when it comes to getting rid of Nazis and terrorists and all. But really, Lana is practically GLOATING. Before class started, she was fully on her mobile, telling everyone. Her mother is
taking her to the Nicole Miller store in SoHo on Saturday to buy her a dress.
A black, off-one-shoulder dress, with a butterfly hem and a slit up one side. She's getting high heels that lace up the ankles,
too, at Saks.
No doubt body glitter as well.
And I know I have a lot to feel grateful for. I mean, I have:
1. A super, loving boyfriend who, when the royal limo pulled over to pick him and Lilly up on the way to school today, presented me with a box of cinnamon mini-muffins, my favourites, from the Manhattan Muffin Company, which he'd gone
all the way down to Tribeca really early in the morning to get me, in honour of my birthday.
2. An excellent best friend, who gave me a bright-pink cat collar for Fat Louie with the words I Belong to Princess Mia written on it in rhinestones that she'd hot-glue gunned on herself while watching old Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns.
3. A great mom who, even if she does talk a little too much lately about her bodily functions, nevertheless dragged herself
out of bed this morning to wish me a happy birthday.
4. A great stepdad who swore he wouldn't say anything in class about my birthday and embarrass me in front of everyone.
5. A dad who will probably give me something good for my birthday when I see him at dinner tonight, and a grandmother
who, if she won't actually give me something I like, will at least WANT me to like it, whatever heinous thing it ends up being.