Athena's Diary
April 15
Hi, my name is Athena. You would think that with such a powerful, unique name my life would be filled with exotic adventures and wonderment. I should be one of the popular kids who have no worries except for trying to decide which sports captain I should let take me to the prom. Football or basketball, such a magnificent dilemma.
Sadly, my life is quite the opposite. I do not carry my name as proudly as I wish that I could. It is not that I am ugly or unpopular. I am sort of like one of the many people that you overlook when you are searching for Waldo. My looks could be described as plain Jane. I am only 5 foot 4 inches tall. Not short enough to be made fun of, but not tall enough to consider a career in modeling either. My hair is a bland, dull brown. It tends to be a little stringy and never does anything that I want it to do. My eyes are probably my favorite feature. They are a pretty bright blue. Although, my mysterious eyes often hide behind my trendy cat eye glasses.
One of my least favorite body parts are a pair as well. I'll give you three guesses but you will only need one I bet. Could it be my 34A sorry excuse for boobs? I am a true believer in self-love, but I wish God or Allah or whoever would have been a little bit more considerate when I was dealt these tiny mosquito bites.
Enough about my physical persona, you're probably getting tired of listening to me complain about my short comings. As a 17 year old girl, my rants could go on pretty near indefinitely if I did not show any self-control. Now on to my emotional and social states.
For a person my age, I feel that I am pretty stable. I have friends and a date to the prom. Although, he is far from the captain of any team. Jaime was one of my first friends here, but you would be more likely to catch him playing World of Warcraft or Halo instead of football or basketball. His skin is not as clear as mine, but he is nice. I almost feel bad for feeling like I have to say positive things about him because he truly is a wonderful person. But no matter how hard he tries, he is not ever going to be my prince Charming.
What am I saying? He is one of my only friends. I am not what you would call great at forging lifelong relationships. I may have left out an important detail about myself. I grew up an Army brat. I went to 5 elementary schools, 3 middle schools and 2 high schools. I moved here half way through my sophomore year. When you have to say "good-bye" and "hello" to friends so often and nonchalantly, you begin to put up a wall. The sad part is that you don't even realize it until it is too late and all that you have are acquaintances who you don't even feel close enough to to feel comfortable calling just for the hell of it.
My life is not bad. I have two parents who love me with every bit of their beings. They would lay down their own lives for me if need be. It is sort of sad because on more than one occasion, I have been embarrassed by my sitcom like home life. Ironic huh? The kids from screwed up abusive households only want stable loving families. The kids with loving functional families long for the diversity that would allow them to make a connection with the popular kids from broken homes whose love is bought with cars, clothes and no curfews allowing them to go to all of the "cool" parties no questions asked. I guess that the grass is truly greener on the other side.
Why is it that the human species has this innate ability to take a textbook situation of happiness and turn it into an unbearable torturous scenario? Why does the man who has been "happily" married for 15 years with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence have an affair with his secretary who he can barely stand? How can a parent be upset with their only child for finding the one person who truly understands and supports them due to the fact that his/her significant other is of the same sex, a different race, too old or too young? Who are they to bring their preconceived ideas of that person based on unimportant facts to light pushing away the one person in life that they should cherish more than life itself? It almost seems as though we as humans are predisposed to a sad and disastrous fate of suffering and despair.
We look at ourselves as evolved intellectual beings. In reality though, aren't our dogs and cats happier than us? What is their secret? Why can't we have that sense of safety and joy? What is the secret that they so selfishly hide from us? Why can't we be that evolved?
I digress. So my home life is good and I make good grades. All A's with the occasional B. I am not picked on at school. Other kids do not go out of their way to point out my flaws. Most of the time, I just sort of feel like an insignificant prop in a really magnificent play that I don't really understand how to become an active part of. When I come back for my 10 year reunion will anybody remember me? Will the inspiring English teacher who is making me wish that I was part of the drama club remember me? He is one of the few teachers who truly challenge me to actively think. Will any of my other teachers remember my A work? Will more than five people from my graduating class care enough about me to enquire what I had done with my life without asking to just be polite? I don't even know if I will come back.
I am not even that excited about my quickly approaching graduation date. Everybody else seems to be chattering about stories from their childhoods that bind them together with this invisible string that will keep them connected for life. They discuss their first day of school, their first kiss and the first person that they went all the way with. They are already beginning to plan their extravagant end of school bashes. I just sit back and observe like a child at the zoo. I have stories to share. But nobody else seems to know any of the characters in my stories. So, I don't have the invisible cord attached to me. This probably helps to explain why they don't include me in the festivities by inviting me to their parties.
When you are little you are told stories of inspiration like the story of the Ugly Duckling. We are given false hope of transformation that we eagerly believe in as children. If I am a caterpillar, when will I hatch from my cocoon? I am almost a legal adult, but I am still waiting. If you really think about it, stories like the Ugly Duckling are condemning our youth to a life of let down and self-loathing. Adults tell us that our ugly or awkward physical characteristics will go away. Your boobs will come in eventually. You will grow into your nose. Your ugliness will fade. Is that really the message we should be sending?
When we start kindergarten, we have a clean slate. We all are happy and have fun playing with everyone else. There are no jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, Goth kids or outcasts. When are we programmed to hate? Who teaches us to analyze and pick apart everybody, including ourselves, until we classify everybody into these little unimportant bubbles that will help to predetermine who they are without really getting to know any of them?
I'm getting tired and my head is beginning to hurt so I will sign off for now. It does feel good to get some of this stuff off of my chest even if it is just in this diary where no one else will see my thoughts. Until next time.
