Can’t find me anywhere,
And I’m trying to perceive
My superhero’s innate joie de vivre.
So defend your world until its bitter end
And let all things that pass be born again.
You see, my friend, it’s not like God not to mend.
We do not die, we cannot stop
The bittersweet teardrop.
Evidence of confidence in this
Is easy to miss, so easy to miss,
And I know I must believe
Like a child who’s half asleep on Christmas Eve.
*ME-MOIR JOURNAL* 6/5
Candle Lighting
Meadow Oaks has a ceremony every year that I’ve always been both nervous and excited to be a part of during my senior year. Candle Lighting is where the torch of leadership is passed from the senior class to the junior class. (I don’t know how this senior class has demonstrated any leadership whatsoever, but we still got to have the ceremony.) Each senior pairs up with a junior and walks down the aisle together in the auditorium that is tastefully decorated with dim lights and flower arrangements. The senior lights a candle and then lights a junior’s candle. It’s pretty cool. But the coolest part is what happens before that. Ms. Harrison, who is the senior adviser, roasts every senior. She writes funny, but somehow loving, tribute roasts for each one of us. She reads it to the crowd while the roastee stands front and center to be “mocked.”
I was sure I’d be an easy target for any roast. I didn’t imagine Ms. Harrison could find any loving words to describe me, but I was wrong. We each got a copy of our roasts so I can write mine here in this journal. This is what Ms. Harrison said about me:
“Danielle Levine stands out whether she knows it or not, whether she wants to or not. She italicizes all the vocabulary words in her essays as if I am too dense to know I taught her those words. Danielle stands out as a writer despite her stubborn stance against my guidelines, against a formal voice, against standard sentence structure in essay writing. But, from Danielle, I’ve learned that minds that learn differently teach others to see things differently. Also, I’ve learned the importance of reading an even number of pages in class to feed the beast that is OCD. Danielle is a liberator of sorts, as well. Thank you for bravely releasing my bandaged tattoo through civil disobedience. Mr. Resurrection can be proud that you incorporated his history lessons so well. May you, too, find liberation by similar methods throughout your life.”
Ms. Harrison is so smart and nice. She made me feel special not in a special-ed way but in a human way.
I made a point of remembering Jacob’s roast which began, “Jacob Kingston prowls around campus like the king of the jungle. His beastly persona breaks hearts and windows. We know you were the one who lobbed a rock through Mr. Chin’s chemistry lab window, but were too prideful to own your mistake. However, your parents already have because the school sent them a bill!”
Nice work, Ms. Harrison. I didn’t realize she knew what a heartbreaker Jacob is. She made other references to classmate’s behavior that I thought was deeply hidden amid teenage subterfuge, but no, Ms. Harrison was aware. She was hip to much more than I knew. Will wonders never cease?
Daniel came to Candle Lighting with my parents and Aunt Joyce. They loved it and all said they were proud of me for “my showing in the event.” My parents and Aunt Joyce drove together and, after giving me bigs hugs, said they’d see Daniel and me back at the house where we could try on our Lebowski Fest outfits that Joyce had with her. After they left and the crowd was thinning, Daniel and I were still talking at the back of the auditorium when Jacob came up to us. He said to me, “Danielle, you really are a great writer. I always like listening to the essays you read in class. That last one, the one about your friend, was that true?”
Daniel kissed my cheek and excused himself by saying, “Hey, babe, I’ll drive the car around and meet you in the parking lot.” (OMG but Daniel is the best pretend boyfriend ever.)
I didn’t know how to answer Jacob’s question. Of course that essay was true. It didn’t dawn on me that anyone would think it wasn’t. It was so difficult for me to read that essay out loud, but when I did, it was such a relief to get it out of me. I felt myself move into myself further, literally, as if I had been, for years, a cartoon drawn by a drunk, cross-eyed artist who couldn’t keep me in the lines. I lived outside myself, just barely overlapping my skin and bones until that moment when I just told the truth about who I was as simply as I could manage. I assumed everyone could see the relief and the truth of it and now know the main reason that I was such a freak. I assumed that was why nobody said much to me about it; they wanted to leave me alone while I took time to fully process my freakdom.
I stared at Jacob and he continued, “Well, because if it isn’t true, you really are an amazing storyteller. That whole situation was just wack. A bunch of us have been talking about it. You should study writing or something.”
“Okay. Thanks, Jacob,” was all I could say. Jacob Kingston couldn’t see me at all.
When I got in the car, I talked to Daniel about the whole thing. Daniel said Jacob couldn’t see me because he is a native.
I didn’t know what Daniel meant. He said he heard this story that he wasn’t sure was actually true, but he liked it anyway because it has a good lesson. He said that a long time ago Spanish ships carrying conquistadors were coming over the horizon on their way to overtake indigenous people, and the natives onshore did nothing to prepare for the attack because they literally couldn’t see the ships.
“So, I’m a conquistador in this analogy?” I asked.
“Just be quiet and listen to me,” he said.
Daniel went on to say the natives had no point of reference to even be able to process what a ship was, so they couldn’t see it. We can’t see what we don’t know was Daniel’s point.
“But why does Jacob get to be an innocent native, and I have to be a vicious conquistador?”
“Would you stop being so rigid in your thinking! I’m just saying that he doesn’t have the proper frame of reference to see the truth of who you are. No one is a conquistador in this scenario!”
“Oh, good. But, I do like the natives, though.”
“Sheesh, Danielle. I’m trying to teach you something. Also, you are not a freak because of that event in your life. That’s not the only thing that defines you. You’re a freak for a whole lot of other reasons.”
“Good one.”
“Hey, by the way, what did Jacob write about for that essay?”
“Exactly what you’d think,” I told him.
“Did he write about football?”
“Damn right. He wrote about being the quarterback.”
“Of course he did. I hate those fuckers.”
When we got home, we tried on our costumes for Lebowski Fest. We loved them. Also, as a huge surprise, Aunt Joyce bought our prom outfits from a designer friend of hers. My dress was a gorgeous emerald green off the shoulder (which made me nervous, but Joyce, just like Daniel, told me to shut up). Daniel’s suit had a emerald green shirt and tie, which was way cooler than a cummerbund match, according to my aunt. She also bought us matching diamond earrings. (Well, just one for Daniel. Joyce said he was completely sexy enough to pull off the one earring and still appear straight if that was his wish . . . although, he would definitely turn the heads of the gay boys, too. I agreed!) This is a miracle to report but: I can’t wait for the prom.
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter from Marv to me
Danielle,
I won’t lie to you. I’ve been speaking with your mother and your social skills leader, Lisa. Both report that you seem happy, which is all any of us ever wanted for you. Is it true?
Marv
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter from me to Marv
Marv,
It really pisses me off that you would talk to Lisa and believe anything she says. Her behavior caused me to kiss my gay friend in public. Don’t ask. Just
know she’s a mess. Besides that, yes, it’s true, I am learning “to firm my inner smile,” which is something my yoga teacher says. But I’m no fool. I know these feelings aren’t lasting.
Danielle
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter from Marv to me
Danielle,
I didn’t ask if you found lasting happiness, just happiness. Nothing is lasting, but I know you are aware of that as you prepare to graduate from high school. I am very proud of you. Also, your mother told me you are going to prom—bravo for you. Lisa is not as bad or as stupid as you think.
Marv
*MISSED MARV MISSIVE*
Letter I think to write to Marv but never actually give to him
Marv,
You have been a good help to me this year; although, I’m shocked to find myself thinking that. Sometimes your little notes kept me afloat on days I thought I’d drown. Still, I think you’re wrong about Lisa.
Danielle
*ME-MOIR JOURNAL* 6/11
Lebowski Fest
The month of June has several exciting events for me, and Lebowski Fest was the one I was looking forward to the most. We arrived an hour early after finding an In-N-Out Burger where I ordered the grilled cheese. We ate in the car and listened to the movie sound track to prep for the night. The Fest was in Carson at a bowling alley, and when we arrived, there were hundreds of costumed fanatics waiting in line to get in.
Joyce and Karen were big hits as White Russians because they are gorgeous and draw a crowd for that reason. One guy in line behind us was dressed as Bunny in nothing but a green bikini, blond wig, and green toenail polish, but he did not make a necessary waxing appointment before the event. He was a very hairy Bunny.
Daniel and I were wearing all black. I wore a dress with “Bereaved but not a Sap” embroidered on the pocket in white lettering. A wide-rimmed black hat with a veil covered my face (loved that). Daniel looked awesome in a black pinstriped suit with a cool gangster-style hat. He had the same embroidered words that I did on his lapel. We both had holsters and fake guns—we’re not saps! There were Dudes everywhere representing the character at various points in the film. My favorites were the robe-wearing Dudes who managed to get those clear jelly sandals that are just hideous but look right on The Dude.
Daniel had a conversation with a guy dressed as Jackie Treehorn, the known pornographer in the film. In real life he was a surfing rabbi who was also a league bowler. He knew the owners of the Carson bowling alley and was scheduled to have a lane once we got in the place. We didn’t think we’d actually be able to bowl because there were so many people, and it was difficult to get a lane. We were planning to just watch everything from the sidelines. But “Jackie” liked Aunt Joyce (no surprise), and so she flirted her way into an invitation to play on his lane. (Pun not intended. I am talking about literally bowling.) She didn’t go out with him or anything, but he was normal enough, as normal as you can be while dressed as a known pornographer. When he invited us to play on his lane she said, “I like the way you do business, man,” and Daniel and I were so happy that Aunt Joyce knew the movie enough to quote it like everyone else was doing all night.
To really enjoy this night, you had to be completely obsessed with the world of this movie so you could keep up and play your part. Daniel and I did just fine. We watched the movie about ten times so when The Eagles started playing over the loudspeaker we yelled right on cue with everyone else, “I hate the fuckin’ Eagles, man!” just like The Dude.
In a weird alternative universe like Lebowski Fest, it’s appropriate that bizarre things happen. Two bizarre things did happen (a good even number). One: I found out I was super good at bowling, even in an evening dress, and two: Iggie from social skills class was there with his two brothers who were dressed as nihilists and who were card-carrying, ordained Dudeist priests. I have to say that I learned so much about Dudeism from these two because they talked about it all night as they bowled in the lane next to us.
To summarize, Dudeism is about “takin’ ’er easy,” which is what we were all doing at the bowling alley, so I guess we were in Dudeist church in the truest sense. These two listed a bunch of reasons for the benefits of just chillin’, and while they probably didn’t do very well in school, they seemed really happy. They recommended we check out the Church of the Latter-Day Dude online. I guess they liked to proselytize, which is something I learned about years ago when I let these seemingly nice men in black suits, white shirts, and black ties into our house, and we couldn’t get rid of them. My father was furious with me. I think he wouldn’t mind the way Iggie’s brothers proselytized while they bowled and drank “oat sodas.”
It was so weird that Iggie ended up at Lebowski Fest, bowling in a lane right next to us. He personified the movie line “I can get you a toe by three o’clock, with nail polish” and was wearing a huge papier-mâché clock set at three o’clock and carried a giant sack filled with papier-mâché baby toes, nails painted green. The toes looked great and the clock had so much detail, and I realized that all those paper things he folds in social skills class do reveal a very unique talent, and Iggie should probably just be left alone to do his art and find his place in the world that way and not be forced into becoming a more social creature. What if his talent gets lost in the socialization process? Maybe he’s fine being a paper-art-genius hermit. Also, if he’s at Lebowski Fest, how off could he really be? I had a new lease on Iggie!
And now, about my bowling: either I’m a closet bowling savant, or I just had a very lucky night. Maybe due to the blessings of the Dudeist priests present or the super-chill vibe of the night, but I bowled a ton of strikes, one right after another. I had to hike up my bereaved-but-not-a-sap dress a little in very unladylike fashion, but it made everyone laugh, and then I would just stare at the pins and roll the ball and watch all the pins smash to the ground. Maybe my extra weight was a plus in this sport. Is it a sport?
While the lane spirits smiled on me, they also smiled on Daniel. One of the Dudeist priests, Jonas, hit it off with Daniel. Between rolls they poured over Big Lebowski essays that Jonas had with him in a briefcase. He was very interested in the essay that Daniel helped me write relating to King Lear. Jonas said Daniel had to get The Year’s Work in Lebowski Studies so the two of them could discuss it. Jonas would have loaned it to Daniel, but it made him nervous when the book was out of his care for too long. He said this book was one of the few things on the planet that was actually worth spending money for.
Toward the end of the night when it was Daniel’s turn to bowl, Jonas went to the bathroom, and Daniel asked Iggie if Jonas had a girlfriend. Iggie didn’t look up from adjusting some of the toes that had been tweaked in his bag when he said, “No, he’s gay. He’s totally into you.”
Daniel dropped his bowling ball on his shoe.
I was going to tell him he could get a new toe from Iggie, but instead I told him that I thought he finally found a way to be legitimately molested by a priest. And I was really happy for him.
Daniel got Jonas’s phone number before we all left. It was a really chill time.
*CLASS ASSIGNMENT* 6/12
Lessons from High School Friendships
(A-)
Danielle Levine
Ms. Harrison
English 12
Period 4
First off, Ms. Harrison, I want to tell you that I am off my Adderall tonight. I did not do this intentionally. My housekeeper accidentally knocked over the bottle containing my last three Adderall for this week and the pills went down the disposal and are gone forever and will take a day to replace. She felt really bad. I hope I managed to pay attention in class today but it was really hard, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I was not what you expected. It is very hard for me to finish anything I start when I’m off my Adderall, so the completion of this essay will be a sheer act of will done in your honor.
Secondly, I know we have to make an allusion to another work of art in this essay (which is a rhetoric
al device you love and that I’ve come to appreciate because good art reflects life and a good life reflects art) and I hope you can soften something inside yourself and embrace the fact that I’m going to use a YouTube video as my selected art piece. (Softening something is what David, my yoga teacher, always asks us to do when we are in a hard pose for a long time, and I always think that this is a ridiculous request to make of me since my whole body is soft, but now that I am writing this to you I understand a different meaning for “soften something.”)
If you had asked me to write an essay about high school friendships at the beginning of the year, I would have turned in something dismal that would have earned me a meeting with Marv, but now at the end of the year, I have a new perspective on the idea of high school friendships. And I’m going to tell you about it.
There is a YouTube video that you can find and should be called “Sassy Gay Friend: Hamlet.” In it, Ophelia is poised to drown herself when her sassy gay friend leaps on the scene and says to her in a very funny way, “What, what, what are you doing?!” (That makes me really laugh.) Then he says, “O-feel-ya-so bad for yourself, move away from the water!” (That makes me laugh, too.) He continues, “Instead of drowning yourself you’re gonna write a sad poem in your journal and MOVE ON!” (He says other funny things like “There IS something rotten in Denmark and it’s [Hamlet’s] piss-poor attitude!” (That is so true.) Anyway, by the end of the video, Ophelia is not going to kill herself and her sassy gay friend even tells her that her hair never looked better, and he couldn’t believe she was going to get it wet.
I have been where Ophelia was. I’ve wanted to just drown! (Also, I had a friend leap onto the scene [metaphorically] and save me [literally], and although my friend is gay, he is not sassy, but this is not the salient point of my essay.) I wish Ophelia really did have someone to tell her all the things that the Ophelia in the YouTube video is told so that Hamlet could have ended differently. Sometimes you need another person to help you shift your perspective. (Also, the point about writing in her journal was excellent. I’ve written a sad poem before and that might have helped Ophelia, but she would have needed to be patient because healing takes time.) I am glad I hung in there until a genuine friend appeared for me. My life may not be a full-out tragedy from this point, and my friend Daniel is a big reason why.
OCD, The Dude, and Me Page 15