cassandra

she is called cassandra. not sandra, not cassie, but cassandra. somehow, nicknames for her don't ring quite right. the only reason why i've never yanked her by the hair and flung her out of my life is that she never meant harm. that, and the fact that i have to see her face every day because of the three class periods we share.

~*~

cassandra worries about homework and tests and auditions and her parents being unhappy with her grades. she says that when she comes home with a c on the chemistry lab report, her parents get angry and might hit her, but that doesn't happen most of the time. she comes to school the next day with unbruised skin and insecurities about the next history test. 

i will never understand why she is so stressed out about academics in every waking moment. achievement comes from passion, hard work, and a reliable head. it isn't born out of being a worrywart. besides, who wants to be perpetually thinking about grades and consequences?

~*~

she thinks that i am her friend and asks me when the next math quiz is, which is aggravating because i happen to not give a damn about test dates. friends don't come to each other just to glean extra information about those kinds of senseless logistics; that's what classmates do. friends find somewhere quiet to eat brown-bag lunches, talk about life, and make tasteless viola jokes. they take the train downtown together to take in riccardo muti and the city lights.

maybe one day she'll gather her scattered brains and learn to work hard, play hard, live hard. or maybe her day-to-day concerns about schoolwork will directly translate into a week-to-week hassle about what sales and promotions are going on in which grocery stores.

[rule number six: stop taking yourself so goddamn seriously :D]

--christie