let lemons be angry

Sherman: (dreamily) if only i could go to prom. ah, if only. I would wear jeans...loafers.. shirt.. brown jacket.. big bling bling on my ear.. and stef hair"

It's things like that about my afternoon which take up memory space, rather than facts about military regimes in Southeast Asia.

Teachers' day was fun. Teachers are almost cute when they're all dressed up in their casual best, sitting expectantly in the hall watching shoddy and well-meaning stage performances. And they actually light up when they receive presents, like they'd prepared themselves mentally to not receive any. I guess a present is a sign that despite the PMSes and unjust scoldings and demands, they're still not hated. I wish i had given a teachers' day present to qian ping in sec four, or at least a card. She didn't know that we grew to like her.

There are some things i thought would be difficult to think about forever. Like wings. But i didn't realize that writing about it so many times, in different slants and with different conclusions, would reduce the story to a few simple lines. And telling it to various people, and to myself in the quiet alone moments, would tear it free from the metaphors and serendipities that caught me. That's all it is, really, a few sentences that tell a story that i can now be fond of.

Another thing. I want to keep wings cemented for all time in my memory like a digital video game character in my pocket. A slideshow that i can replay and remember just as it was. I would rather see wings in the same scenes over and over again than see the present reality that would make my memories meaningless and suddenly irrelevant. For people change, and i'd rather not know just how much.