A rhapsodic (and insane) entry from my junior year in high school. I was madly in love with a saxophone player. (It was completely unrequited.) So this post is dedicated to every self-described “band geek” out there – who thought that maybe every girl in the high school preferred the jocks or the stoners or the heavy metal dudes who hung out by their cars in the parking lot! Here is a diary entry from one girl who looooooooooooved a band geek.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I was in such a good mood today. I felt weirdly apprehensive at the same time. [Now that is an odd mix of emotions.<\/i>] I felt relieved, like: ‘This week has been awful’ and also ‘Everything’s so great. Tomorrow’s gonna be a bummer.’ Why do I feel the need to do that?<\/p>\n
Anyway<\/u> let me finish off yesterday’s news as a lot of nice things happened.<\/p>\n
Fourth period. The whole school piled into the gym where the band was set up. I waved to J. and April and they motioned crazily for me to come over. So I did. April took hold of my arm and held it saying, “Sheila, don’t<\/u> sit alone while watching this concert. It will be too much.” J. chimed in. “You’re gonna die, Sheila.” [hahahaha Good friends<\/i>] I glanced over at the sax section and there he was, leaning over to talk to Erica.<\/p>\n
You know, I remember last year in Biology when we were discussing the heart<\/u> and how all the valves work and the aorta and the veins and the chambers – but I really wonder – what makes you feel<\/u> things? Because sometimes when I glance at him for a second – I feel a physical thing inside me. My whole heart feels like it’s being squeezed, my upper arms feel all tingly – what makes that<\/u> happen? I mean – like when I was crying – I felt a real horrible awful pain<\/u> in my heart. Like – a real pain. Not just sadness or an emotion. My heart<\/u> actually hurt<\/u>. What is that? It can’t be something technical like a valve or aorta or something.<\/p>\n
Anyway, that’s what happened to me when I looked at him just then. I felt excited (sort of – not really the word) inside – I had to turn around and head for the bleachers. I really don’t like people to see — well — I think all my friends know<\/u> how much I like him. I haven’t told any of them that I think I love him, but I think they guess. But still<\/u>. Unless it’s someplace like at the dance or something, it doesn’t feel right to show that<\/u> part of me. I used to – you know – swoon and roll my eyes and put my hand over my heart – but that feels very childish – not at all enough<\/u>. I used to write John John John John John in hearts all over the margins of my notebook but I wouldn’t do that with DW. It’s so stupid<\/u> – so teenager-ish – I don’t feel towards him that way – not at all<\/u>.<\/p>\n
The concert. First of all, I really love SK. [I am shocked, looking through these journals, how much school spirit I had. I don’t remember it that way at all.<\/i>] We’ve got some of the nicest kids in the whole world here. Really<\/u>! Our band is so big – a lot of the other schools in the state have bands of about 10 people – we have a huge band and most kids really respected them during the assembly – keeping quiet while they played and stuff.<\/p>\n
Sometimes I wish everyone didn’t know about DW because I feel so dumb. Like I’m on stage all the time. While they were playing, everyone knew I was watching only him, so everyone watched me. Slight exagerration. I’m being a jerk. Scratch all that<\/u>. It’s just that it’s nice to have secret private thoughts about him without everyone observing me having those secret private thoughts. [I still feel that way, my blog notwithstanding.<\/i>]<\/p>\n
Then<\/u> came the Stage Band. DW’s in that. It’s a smaller group. They play jazz mostly, and standards. I love how DW sits when he’s playing. He leans his shoulders forward, his knees are bent, feet on either side of his chair. [Man. I just got a mental picture of this boy. He has just come back to life in my mind!<\/i>] He sounds professional. When he stood up for his solo – Oh, I almost died inside. I felt this sharp poke in my back. (Mere.) I turned around and smiled weakly. I love her. I LOVE EVERYBODY. When he sat down after his little solo in the middle of the song and everyone was calapping, I noticed April and J. staring across the gym at me. I mouthed, “Help!” At the end of the song, Mr. Brown said, “And our soloists were DW on alto sax –” Everyone clapped and cheered and he — he didn’t totally stand up and bow<\/u> — he just slightly rose — not all the way up, and nodded, looking serious – calm, humble.<\/p>\n
Then that night was the real<\/u> concert. Oh, I had so much fun getting ready! I haven’t primped in a while. I put on my favorite turquoise sweater and my pearls that Mere gave me. [I just love it when I list my outfits in these old entries.<\/i>] I put on makeup. I know this all sounds so boring, but I haven’t worn makeup in so long – so it was fun<\/u> – and Diary, I swear, when I was done, I didn’t look bad. [These little moments of casual self-loathing in these old journals kill me to this day.<\/i>] I tried on grey and pink eyeshadow at Macy’s and liked it on me so I put some on, and mascara and lipstick. Then I put on my new coat. Have I told you about it? [No. But I imagine you are about to now!<\/i>] It’s beautiful<\/u>. It’s a black wool coat<\/u> – it’s more beautiful than you would believe – I put it on and buttoned the very top button so all I could see in the mirror was my face with the black stand-up collar framing my cheeks. Very<\/u> rarely do I look in a stupid mirror and like<\/u> my stupid reflection – but last night – oh, it’s awful I know – but I suddenly thought with surprise, “You’re beautiful!” And I was! I looked beautiful. Of course I was in the dim light of my room – but I indulged myself in a short rapture about it. I couldn’t believe it. It didn’t even look like me in that mirror.<\/p>\n
The concert was incredible<\/u>. He<\/u> is absolutely incredible<\/u>. This is not an infatuation<\/u>. [Alert the masses! THIS IS NOT AN INFATUATION!<\/i>] He is so special. He just is a special<\/u> person. He has so much to give. He’s not afraid of sensitivity and he is wonderful. He’s the President of the Band (of course) so – Mr. Brown said to the crowd, “Welcome … blah blah blah …” [He started off his speech with “blah blah blah”?<\/i>] Then – “Now – to say a few words – the President of the Band – DW.” Everyone clapped. Kate, J. and April all looked at me but I kept my face and gaze steady. I will not be a silly girl. I was not in a swooning mood. Besides – he looked so handsome in his blue band uniform and tie<\/u> – He stood up and came around out front – He sort of slowly walked up and down as he spoke. I remember what he said. I love him. [And you know what? In that moment, I did.<\/i>]<\/p>\n
DW speaks in a very low wonderful voice, with a lot of “uh”s. He said, “This concert is dedicated to the memory of Peter Findley who died recently after his long battle with leukemia. As many of you know, Peter was an outstanding member of the band – he always instilled a certain spirit<\/u>… I remember my first year of band – my first day<\/u> of band – I was a little lowly freshman – uh – I was cowering in the corner with my saxophone … I was afraid of having to play my first note and I felt this tap on my shoulder. I looked up and it was Peter smiling down at me. And … he said, “Nice sax. Who knows. Maybe you’ll be good someday.” DW looked down at the floor for a minute – then looked up again. I was holding my hands tightly in my lap. He went on, “Peter always kept everyone’s spirit up. He always managed to maintain a strong feeling of community among the band. Now that I’m a senior, I’ve tried to keep that spirit going – and judging from our concert I think you’ll see that we have. It is this spirit that Peter kept going – and that I hope the SK band can keep for many years to come.” [Uhm, no wonder I loved this boy. He was 17 years old. Nice speech, there.<\/i>] His voice died away at the end and he turned around and went back to his seat. I felt so — warm and full<\/u> inside – very happy – because DW is wonderful. He is different, and he is himself, and he is wonderful. He was not afraid to make a speech like that. [See? Even then – I mostly loved men who were unafraid to be themselves, who were unselfconsciously themselves. That is always the main attraction. Of course if “unafraid to be themselves” means they are a drunken slob on a nightly basis or enjoy abusing animals or harbor a generalized hostility to women – then buh-bye. But someone like DW? Yup. I can see why I was so attracted to him. In that world of high school, he was just who he was. Kinda like Keith M,<\/a> come to think of it.<\/i>]<\/p>\n There was a really slow beautiful song – When Mr. Brown introduced it he said, “Featuring our lead saxophone.” I felt prickles of excitement. I can’t stand how much I care for him! He stood up – he really got into it – eyes closed – leaning forward – You should see him play! Of course the only thing racing through my mind at the time was not: Wow, what a good sax player. I felt very shivery inside, sort of awe-struck of him<\/u>. I was thinking all sorts of weird stupid things — What kind of pajamas does he wear? Is he into the flannel kind that are cute and baggy or does he just wear sweats? As I just wrote that, I got a ‘vision’ of him sleeping. There’s something really fascinating about a sleeping person. There’s nothing they’re hiding. Everyone’s a child when they’re sleeping. I would love<\/u> to see DW when he’s asleep – totally unaware – and oblivious. Anyway, all of this was going on in my mind as I watched him play. [I love that. Watching him play and thinking to myself: “What kind of pajamas does he wear?” He had NO IDEA. NO IDEA.<\/i>]<\/p>\n He’s a beautiful person.<\/p>\n There was a break then and Kate and I went up on the bleechers to sit with Anne and Laura. I think it’s weird how there are so many<\/u> beautiful loving people in the world that I don’t even know! Anne and Laura are such wonderful<\/u> people. Anne somehow miraculously knew that I liked DW (she had gone to the Prom with him last year). So I asked her, “Anne, how did you guess?” And she said, “Well, I roomed with April at Model UN and we were talking about you and I said ‘Who does she like’ and April said, ‘Oh … I really can’t tell you … really I can’t …’ But then later she was talking and she said, ‘And Sheila was so excited because DW talked to her —‘ Then she went, ‘OHHH!’ and slapped her hand over her mouth.” [hahahaha April!!<\/i>] Laura leaned over Anne. “Who do you like, Sheila?” I said, “Don’t tell anybody<\/u>.” I mouthed his name. “Who<\/u>?” I mouthed his name again. “Who<\/u>?” Anne shouted out his first name. Laura looked confused. I said his last name. “Really?” I felt sort of self-conscious but she hurriedly said, “No no, I mean – I never would have put you two together.” True true<\/u>.<\/p>\n Then Anne said, “So Sheila – has anyone been bothering you in History anymore?” I looked at her. “What<\/u>?” Suddenly it seemed like she knew so much about me. Anne said, “Someone – Beth, I think – told me about *** passing a note or something.” Okay. That was a terrible day. I honestly thought *** was my friend. I really did. One day, I instinctively knew he and ***. were laughing at me – a note was being passed between them and they were laughing and looking over at me. It wasn’t<\/u> my imagination. I totally mutilated my history notebook with pencil holes. I hated them. What jerks. Anyway, I told Beth about it – and then I told Anne and Laura about it. They were so<\/u> wicked nice! Anne put her arm around me and said, “Don’t<\/u> give it a second thought. You<\/u> are going somewhere. You won’t be stuck in this hick town forever. [I love that we talked like we were in “Footloose” or something. “Hick” town??<\/i>] But ***? She’s gonna end up married with 3 kids on Saugatucket Road.” [Only people who live in my town will know how funny and MEAN that is. Also – the person I’m bitching about is actually a sweet sweet girl. This is all adolescent anxiety talking here.<\/i>] *** is<\/u> a tree stump. Anne kept talking. “Sheila, Laura and I were just talking about how great you look tonight. You’ve lost weight. In college, you’ll have to beat guys off with a stick.” For some reason, I didn’t resent it when she said it. Laura jumped in – she’s also a very good friend to have – She said, “I went up to visit my sister at college – the atmosphere is just – you woludn’t believe it – it’s so different – and the guys – you can’t even talk about high school guys next to them.” I guess she’s right. I mean, do you know the difference between a 19 year old and a 15 year old guy? It’s amazing the difference. DW’s almost 18. He seems mature. More so than all the others – especially ***. I really thought he was my friend.<\/p>\n After the concert I didn’t talk to DW but I went home and fell asleep quite the happily.<\/p>\n Whenever I try to explain in words my feelings for DW it ends up sounding so stupid – just like an infatuated teenager which I’m not<\/u>. [Yes you are! And it’s okay that you are! Because – duh – you’re a teenager! I just wanted to be taken seriously. MY feelings were strong and real to me.<\/i>] For some reason, I just can’t write down well<\/u> what really<\/u> matters to me – and this really<\/u> matters.<\/p>\n Anyway, I got this book out of the library – 17th Summer<\/u> – I love how it’s written – but there’s a paragraph in it that perfectly<\/u> says what I want! I couldn’t believe it when I read it. It was like I was reading my own feelings – the ones I could never write down or convey – the real<\/u> truth about this:<\/p>\n “It wasn’t as it’s written in magazine stories or as in morning radio serials where the boy’s family tease him about liking a girl and he gets embarrassed and stutters. And it wasn’t silly, like sometimes, when girls sit in school and write a fellow’s name all over the margin of their papers. And it wasn’t infatuation or puppy love or love at first sight or antying that people always talk about and laugh. It was something I’d never felt before. Something I’d never known. People can’t tell you about things like that. You have to find them out for yourself. That’s why it’s so important.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A rhapsodic (and insane) entry from my junior year in high school. I was madly in love with a saxophone player. (It was completely unrequited.) So this post is dedicated to every self-described “band geek” out there – who thought … Continue reading