(no subject)
Jan. 29th, 2011 03:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sorcyressSo, we had a house meeting today, and full of chipper joy, our CA suggests an icebreaker --everyone share an awful embarrassing story from high school. This was a fine idea, and much laughing commenced, of the girl who ran into a tree, and the one who thought a dildo was a type of shoe. Very bond-worthy, and I didn't notice until halfway through the peculiar way I view the idea of embarrassing stories from high school.
See, I have an embarrassing story from high school. It's from junior year, and I trot it out in my usual dramatic fashion. It was absolutely mortifying at the time, and it has little details that can be used to high comedic effect in the retelling.
But it's not THE embarrassing story from that era, not the one that my friends remind me of at every opportunity, the one that is just as good a story, and the telling has me singing, and dramatic timing, and ends with a fun fact. The story that I haven't been able to get away from in eight years, long after anyone reasonable would've forgotten. The one that, you know. Made it into senior memories. Of more than one person.
And really, that second story isn't any more awful than the first. There's no particular reason that I would not think of it when prompted for "embarrassing high school memory", and indeed, I think I've probably told the second story much more often. So I wonder why it never comes to mind.
Perhaps the issue is one of intimacy? Because my group of friends from high school have so immortalized the second story into one cheerful exclamation, it has become an in-joke between me and them, something to tease me with, something to reminisce over. The first story never had that status, it's never had the chance to become a Story, something told over and over and refined in the telling. Because the second story is so close and so familiar, it doesn't spring to mind when I look for embarrassing --an often foreign concept to me who wore pirate garb to school and would lie in the middle of the atrium to stare at the ceiling.
And because I know you'll call this entry incomplete without them...
Story the first: Anything Falls:
So, it's Friday night of the play. The BIG play, the one that was not just us piddling little high schoolers, but real adults and actors from all across our community, all working together. It's about as professional as you get on a high school stage, and everyone is excited for it.
I myself am working as a spot-op, up in the catwalks. It's an excellent place to be, great view of the show, and Anything Goes is a good show. Friday, I was running perhaps a little ragged, and in between this that and everything, I wind up eating my dinner during act one, perched high above the crowd. When I'm done, I carelessly set my dishes down next to me.
We get into act two, and there's a sweet little love song between two of our actors. One of the lights is working improperly --which happens when everything in the building is a decade old and poorly maintained-- and so Matt, my fellow spot-op, must scurry to the back catwalk to fix it. He jumps over me so I can keep doing my job...
...and his foot hits my plate, sending it skittering across the catwalk with all the subtlety of a house ablaze. Down tumbles my fork, just missing the tuba (and indeed, the whole orchestra --it was found not six inches outside their boundary), and every tech in the theatre freezes in fear.
I was right properly chewed out after the show. And I suppose this could count for "three months", though really, it just confirms that my livejournal has little time sense.
(Please don't mind the fact that in 2005, I could not spell embarrassing. Please do not mind _anything else that makes me look awful_ from that entry either.)
Story the second: Coffee, actually
So, it's freshman year social studies. I can't remember the exact course, but for some reason, we are talking about various African countries and what they trade.
It's also a few weeks after the cartoon Kenya has been brought to my attention. If you haven't seen it, it's a short looping flash animation with a chipper song about how you can find lions in Kenya, and also some other things. (It's also where I found one of my more obscure phrases --I use "holy crap, lions tours" all the time, especially when talking to myself in stores.)
I was properly obsessed with the cartoon. You must understand, ninth grade was really when my group was starting to find joy in the internet. It was 2004, and memetic flash cartoons were _god_. We used to sing them at the lunch table --taking turns acting out the Potter Puppet Pals, or reciting the Star Wars Rap. I don't apologize for this.
But I'm in class, and the teacher asks a very simple question: What is Kenya's main export?
I don't think. I don't even raise my hand. The association has been made, and I am excited to have what must be exactly the correct answer.
"LIONS!" I exclaim.
My group of friends has never let me forget this. Ever.
And for reference? It's coffee. Kenya's major export is coffee.
Kenya believe it?
~Sor
MOOP!
See, I have an embarrassing story from high school. It's from junior year, and I trot it out in my usual dramatic fashion. It was absolutely mortifying at the time, and it has little details that can be used to high comedic effect in the retelling.
But it's not THE embarrassing story from that era, not the one that my friends remind me of at every opportunity, the one that is just as good a story, and the telling has me singing, and dramatic timing, and ends with a fun fact. The story that I haven't been able to get away from in eight years, long after anyone reasonable would've forgotten. The one that, you know. Made it into senior memories. Of more than one person.
And really, that second story isn't any more awful than the first. There's no particular reason that I would not think of it when prompted for "embarrassing high school memory", and indeed, I think I've probably told the second story much more often. So I wonder why it never comes to mind.
Perhaps the issue is one of intimacy? Because my group of friends from high school have so immortalized the second story into one cheerful exclamation, it has become an in-joke between me and them, something to tease me with, something to reminisce over. The first story never had that status, it's never had the chance to become a Story, something told over and over and refined in the telling. Because the second story is so close and so familiar, it doesn't spring to mind when I look for embarrassing --an often foreign concept to me who wore pirate garb to school and would lie in the middle of the atrium to stare at the ceiling.
And because I know you'll call this entry incomplete without them...
Story the first: Anything Falls:
So, it's Friday night of the play. The BIG play, the one that was not just us piddling little high schoolers, but real adults and actors from all across our community, all working together. It's about as professional as you get on a high school stage, and everyone is excited for it.
I myself am working as a spot-op, up in the catwalks. It's an excellent place to be, great view of the show, and Anything Goes is a good show. Friday, I was running perhaps a little ragged, and in between this that and everything, I wind up eating my dinner during act one, perched high above the crowd. When I'm done, I carelessly set my dishes down next to me.
We get into act two, and there's a sweet little love song between two of our actors. One of the lights is working improperly --which happens when everything in the building is a decade old and poorly maintained-- and so Matt, my fellow spot-op, must scurry to the back catwalk to fix it. He jumps over me so I can keep doing my job...
...and his foot hits my plate, sending it skittering across the catwalk with all the subtlety of a house ablaze. Down tumbles my fork, just missing the tuba (and indeed, the whole orchestra --it was found not six inches outside their boundary), and every tech in the theatre freezes in fear.
I was right properly chewed out after the show. And I suppose this could count for "three months", though really, it just confirms that my livejournal has little time sense.
(Please don't mind the fact that in 2005, I could not spell embarrassing. Please do not mind _anything else that makes me look awful_ from that entry either.)
Story the second: Coffee, actually
So, it's freshman year social studies. I can't remember the exact course, but for some reason, we are talking about various African countries and what they trade.
It's also a few weeks after the cartoon Kenya has been brought to my attention. If you haven't seen it, it's a short looping flash animation with a chipper song about how you can find lions in Kenya, and also some other things. (It's also where I found one of my more obscure phrases --I use "holy crap, lions tours" all the time, especially when talking to myself in stores.)
I was properly obsessed with the cartoon. You must understand, ninth grade was really when my group was starting to find joy in the internet. It was 2004, and memetic flash cartoons were _god_. We used to sing them at the lunch table --taking turns acting out the Potter Puppet Pals, or reciting the Star Wars Rap. I don't apologize for this.
But I'm in class, and the teacher asks a very simple question: What is Kenya's main export?
I don't think. I don't even raise my hand. The association has been made, and I am excited to have what must be exactly the correct answer.
"LIONS!" I exclaim.
My group of friends has never let me forget this. Ever.
And for reference? It's coffee. Kenya's major export is coffee.
Kenya believe it?
~Sor
MOOP!
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no subject
on 2011-01-29 12:50 pm (UTC)Lions can be found only in Kenya.
The answer is obvious.
no subject
on 2011-01-29 10:17 pm (UTC)~Sor
no subject
on 2011-01-29 02:38 pm (UTC)I personally would have guessed marathon runners, but hey, got lions and tigers only in Kenya.
no subject
on 2011-01-29 03:17 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2011-01-29 04:53 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2011-01-29 08:51 pm (UTC)From my 90s-style web site, from the 90s :) Film camera, no social networking photo hosting sites - I have stacks of photos and can only show you these few that I scanned in.
no subject
on 2011-01-29 10:18 pm (UTC)Nor coffee.
This doesn't make the conundrum less confusing, alas...
~Sor
no subject
on 2011-01-31 01:02 am (UTC)