Lockey, the Love of My Life

Summer goes by much too quickly. I mean, I still have quite a while till I have to go back to school, but it still feels like the days are too short, and I'm not doing anything fun enough. In movies, kids have a blast during summer vacation. In The Goonies, they go on a treasure hunt. In The Parent Trap, two girls find out they're TWINS! In North, Elijah Wood (who I adore, by the way) sets out to find new parents. In The War, the kids build a huge tree house and fight over it. Nothing like that EVER happens to me over the summer. I sit around, read whatever I'm supposed to read, watch TV for hours, eat junk, maybe see a movie, then go to sleep and do the same thing the next day.

And the next thing I know, school's back in session, and I have to drag myself to The Prison to memorize the route to all my classes so that on the first day of school I'm not wandering around bumping into people as I try to find the room number on the map. Then I go home, load up my bag (which by now has gathered a fair amount of dust since I've hidden it away so I'm not reminded of what it represents) with all the heavy supplies I need and wait the few days before the torture begins. Then I almost break my neck getting the bag on my back, walk awkwardly out the door, and hop on the bus where everybody's just carrying a binder or a notebook and looking completely innocent, like, "I don't need any supplies. Why would you? Do people actually do work in school? I thought it was just to socialize." Then I go through the thousand-hour first day and meet the people to whom I'll be complaining for the rest of the year. "You forgot to grade this" or "You added the points up wrong." Then I get home, finish whatever ridiculous homework I have, go to bed, and do it all over again the next day.

I need to do something fantastic over the summer, like write a novel or win a pie-eating contest or something. Maybe if it was apple or cherry, but not a meat pie or anything like that. I could design an evening gown. But then I'd have no place to wear it. It's not like I go out to a movie premiere or a dinner party at Oprah's house every night (Her lawn looks like a football field. That's some walk to the front door. She probably has to provide a shuttle for her guests.). I was thinking of learning to knit. Someone one told me I looked like a girl who knits. I do want to live up to my image, you know. I saw a knitting book that I thought I'd get. I could knit socks that don't fit and a hat for my cat (I'm a poet and I didn't even know it.) and scarves and useless pot holders (since I can't cook to save my life, unless popcorn and toast and peanut butter sandwiches and dip count) and pillow cases. Oh, that would be fun! I'm gonna start as soon as possible. People who knit are cool. I'll have stuff to wear in the winter.

So today I went to an antique (my FAVORITE word, ever since I knew how to spell it) shop to look for a shelf to put in my room since I don't have any more room for my countless books (I should really just sell some of them, but I don't want to. Any excuse to get a fun new addition to my room is great!). I saw a fantastic vintage gym locker with a couple of added shelves inside. I LOVED it! The two of us had a connection right away. Lockey (Yes, I've named it. I name everything I feel especially close to.) looked at me, and I looked at him, and we just clicked. But, alas, I couldn't have him, since he was too tall to fit in the car. I sulked and sighed (That's an understatement. Just ask my mom.), but my spirits were lifted when I found a fabulous rack to put my clothes on for the next day, with a cute little seat at the bottom (so I don't have to almost fall over to put on my shoes every morning). I could have it and I'm going to reupholster the seat and paint it. Lockey, however, will always be in my heart, and I hope he finds someone special to take him home and fill him with lovely things. I just don't think he'll be as happy as he would with me, holding my books and smiling at me with that rusty metal smile of his. I just didn't understand the graffiti on the inside of his door: "He You are fool." What strange person would write that?

Well, I am reading Brave New World by Aldous Huxley for The Prison right now, and I am unsure about whether I like it. I mean, some things are obviously very clever, but other things are a bit boring. Maybe I'm only unsure because The Prison recommended it.

I've written a novel already here, so I suppose I'll stop for now and save some of my thoughts for another post. I'll dream of Lockey tonight, I'm sure of it.