Saturday, 05/11/02 - 6:05 pm.
This morning at 9:00 a.m., it was Mother's Day mass at school. When I arrived at about 8:30 a.m., I discovered that mass was started to be organized just one hour ago. It was practically improvised along the way.
It seems the Pastoral Department consists of Karla and Julio. And they only have seven assistants: Norman, Fo, Phil, Carmen, Denver, Roberto and yours truly. We're the only ones when it comes to organize (and do) events and such, despite helping with the PD is duty of at least 45 people, seniors who are supposed to be working on their Social Service. But somehow, the 7 of us always pull it off.
Not many people showed up, but it's ok. Not many people noticed how improvised it was.
(no, mommy didn't go either. The adoption paperwork is slow -in a parallel universe-).
After that, off to work on the next weekend celebration. "Work". We only had a five minutes meeting and supposedly we were going to work after Karla had eaten something, but she never came back. We went down to look for her and we found her at the cafeteria, so everybody chose to stay down there. And the last thing I knew of the other six kids is that they were in the Video room, watching a Samurai X tape.
I decided to stay with Fidel. I really, really don't belong to that gang. Many times I felt left out. Not because they mean to make me feel that way, I'm sure they don't even notice, but it's just....some kind of incompatibility. They live in a world I don't walk in. They were hipnotized watching that fight (or "that endless dialogue filled with boredom, with so-called fights in between") and I was just...staring at the screen. That, just to mention one little, tiny, small detail that believe it or not, it's very meaningful, for one or two reasons.
The guy was there, by the way. He's in the choir so he obviously had to be there. You know what? I'll skip all of the way-too-sweet comments of today, and I'll just say that a boy that sits all by himself at a cafeteria table composing a song with his guitar is just beautiful.
Fidel was reading a book with short stories. He told me a few. I love short stories like those ones.
(*both chanting*) Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith! Aerosmith!
Oh, the glorious copy-&-paste. Have I ever told how much I love Aerosmith?
Yeah, well, it's never enough. Something just hit me, like when you out of nothing have...some impulsive feeling of doing something, or telling someone something...just a very spontaneous proof of love.
I love Aerosmith.
And that'll do it for today. The feelings are pretty much what I've been saying the last days, aren't you sick of that? I am sick of that...I think it's time to put on a new CD *Simeon rushes to sort the Aerosmith collection*.
Here's one of the short tales Fidel read for me, brought to you by Simeon's memory lane. It rocks our ass off.
When the dinosaur woke up, he realized he was still there...