For a little while be beloved. The loving can wait. Let your father, your mother, and me love you. Know you are beloved. And, oh, how you are. I love every little hair on your gorgeous self. You’re perfect.
Because I love you and know what you can withstand, I will not call Jacob’s parents and tell them that we are coming over so he can apologize to you. That is what I want to do, however. You deserve an apology from him. Actually, Danielle, you deserve much, much more than you have decided you do.
Jacob doesn’t serve you. Don’t take the cup from him any longer. Put it down. There is another you can drink from. Inside you is a two-million-year-old soul that knows what you deserve, that’s making martinis as we speak. Start talking to that woman and drink what she’s serving.
Your Forever Aunt Joyce.
*AUNT JOYCE E-MAIL* 4/6
E-mail from me to Aunt Joyce
Dearest Forever Aunt Joyce,
Thanks for being so smart. What would I do if I didn’t have you to love me? I don’t know. I know everything you said is true, but it will take me a while to really know. My heart is broken. It’s broken. Well, it’s more than that—it’s gone. This plan that God has worked out for life just doesn’t seem doable. I’m kinda pissed off about it. Teeth, for one thing. Why would a deity design teeth to rot? I got a cavity that needs to be filled on top of everything else. It seems like added insult to injury. Well, I gotta go because a guy from my social skills class is coming over, and we’re gonna do homework together. His name is Daniel. I’m probably not telling you anything you don’t know because you and Mom seem to always have all the up-to-date info on my life. Thanks, though, you save me.
Danielle (aka Clarabelle, the cow)
*ME-MOIR JOURNAL* 4/8
The morning after Daniel came over
I’m really miserable. I mean, I have to be. Jacob Kingston moo’d in my face. It’s ridiculous to write, but it’s completely painful to feel. If I could lobotomize this experience from my brain, do an eternal-sunshine-of-the-spotless-mind overhaul on the whole episode, and every warm feeling I ever had for Jacob, I would in a hot second.
Daniel came over and brought his homework, and we both sat at the kitchen table and did work. He tried to apologize for the Emily thing, but I told him to stop. He had nothing to apologize for. I had a bunch of my hats scattered on the table, and I think he was trying to cheer me up, but he put on a fashion show with them. It made us both laugh to see him in the feathered bonnet I have, the one with flowers around the rim.
“I remember how funny you and Emily were together in junior high,” he said.
I was uncomfortable for a minute but then I said, “You do? We were?”
“Yeah. I remember this one day in seventh grade when we all got balloons for some reason. You know, the helium kind on strings. And you and Emily drew faces with mustaches on yours and pretended they were your rich husbands. You carried those escorts around all day. It was classic juvenile hilarity.”
“I forgot about that.”
“I admired you both. Smart ladies in the market for rich men . . . those are girls to watch, I thought.” He punctuated the statement perfectly by flipping the Sherlock Holmes–style hat onto his head.
Talking about Emily and talking with Daniel made me realize just how long it has been since I have had a friend. And maybe that’s what Daniel is becoming for me, a friend. I mean, he ran four miles in pursuit of my crazy self and hugged me after I ate dirt. That’s gotta be a friend, right?
After we finished our work, my mom made us dinner. I could tell my mom liked Daniel, and it was a little embarrassing how proper she was and how she got out my favorite plates, the ones that have European landmarks and postage designs; they look like old postcards, and I fell in love with them on a family trip years ago, so Mom bought them for me. She served us salmon and asparagus. As a side note, I’d like to add that we haven’t had any red meat since the incident.
When dinner was over, Mom excused herself to go to her own therapy appointment while Dad worked out at the office gym. (God, what is it with my family? Every single one of us has a therapist and a myriad of self-help regimens! I have no idea what my dad even talks about in his therapy because he seems so together all the time, but he goes.)
I was alone in the house with Daniel. I had never been alone in my house with a boy EVER.We went into the living room because Daniel brought Harold and Maude for us to watch together. Daniel had no idea how much I love this movie, but he loves it, too. We sang along to the sound track, and I cried a little at the end, but so did Daniel. “Don’t look at me,” he half joked. “Leave me alone with my rich emotions.” And then I punched him in the arm and that led to him dragging me onto the floor where we wrestled and tickled each other until we were exhausted.
When my mom came home, she made Daniel call his mom and say he was spending the night. It was a school night, and I don’t know how our parents let this happen, but he stayed, and he slept on my couch and so did I. I fell asleep for the first time in a boy’s arms. As I started to close my eyes, I stared out at the entire San Fernando Valley through our big living room window. The dark, starry sky was the perfect blanket for us; the mysterious universe snuggling us in. I don’t know why my mom didn’t wake me up and make me get into bed. I don’t know. But my dreams in those hours were so soft and lyrical. I dreamed I was lying on a giant soft pillow that swallowed me and gave off oxygen. The farther I buried my face in it, the more life I felt.
When my mom woke us up at six, she gave Daniel towels and walked him toward the shower. He dressed in the clothes he came over in, but he looked cool. We ate fruit and toast and talked about how we had to face Lisa and the rest of the misfits tonight in social skills class. We decided we’d pretend we both went to the rock concert that his stepfather was at last night, and therefore, couldn’t hear anything from tinnitus and couldn’t speak due to our screaming-induced laryngitis; but Lisa would have to be thrilled as we had “made a social date.” My mom packed him a lunch (which I just loved), I hugged him good-bye, and my mother drove him to school while I stayed home and started this journal. I have never loved my mom so much. However, I don’t want to mischaracterize anything. I’m still profoundly miserable.
*ME-MOIR JOURNAL* 4/12
Another Journal about Daniel
Daniel came over one more time before I went back to school. He actually volunteered to go to Meadow Oaks and pick up all my homework from the front office so I wouldn’t get too behind; there isn’t that much school left and I can’t jeopardize my college options. Daniel found me in my room reading, and he looked around at all my stuff.
“Holy crap, Danielle. I can’t believe you’ve read all these books.”
“How do you know I actually read them?”
“It’s obvious. All the pages are dog-eared and the covers are all worn. Oh my God, you’re a genius.”
“Oh, but I wish,” I said.
I showed him my letter from Justine. He thought it was awesome. “She is wicked wise,” he said and “you are lucky to be friends with someone who has been alive a long, long time. But you know what I like best about her? The fact that she likes you. ’Cause that club, the digging Danielle club—we’re the shit.”
I threw my arms around him.
“It’s true. I have good taste,” he said.
He insisted we call each other when I got back in school to make sure I’m feeling “copacetic” when I’m in class with Jacob. I’m glad he set that up because back at school, after fourth period, I ran out into the quad and called him.
“I was just in English with him. It was really hard. Looking at him makes me sick to my stomach.”
Daniel said, “Abide, sister, abide.”
“Abide what? Him?”
“Yes! Abide it all. Him. The situation. Endure it. Withstand it.”
“I’ll try, but I’m afraid I might puke.”
“Well, if you think you are going to, try to make it to Jacob’s lap.”
“Ha! Good plan. Thank you.”
Talking to Daniel on the phone made it look like I had a friend. I saw Sara do a double take when she saw me on the phone laughing, and I realized it didn’t just look like I had a friend. I actually did.
*ME-MOIR JOURNAL* 4/13
Jesus, can’t social skills class just go away??!!!
No, it cannot, according to my mother who says these classes have “yielded some fine results. Look at your friendship with Daniel,” and so I have to keep going because it might get even better. I told her I don’t need it to get any better. This is good. I have a friend. Social skills class—a success. “Not so fast,” she says.
When I’m forced to do stuff against my will like this I want to be destructive and ruin environments. I want to fully turn on my impulsivity spigot so that all the inappropriate words I have stuffed in my head flow out. If I actually loosen this spigot in social skills class in an effort to show my mother how bad this class is for me and punish her at the same time, I realize I will probably just end up in some other group I can’t stand or have to go for an evaluation to see if I have Tourette’s syndrome. (If I had to have a syndrome, I think I would like to have that one, but Daniel said I’m being very shortsighted with that view, that Tourette’s is nothing to shout about. He’s funny.) So I went to class tonight, and I swear, if it weren’t for Daniel, I might gouge my eyes out with one of Lisa’s brooches (like Oedipus, thank you very much) right in front of everyone, and they could just send me to wander into the desert of Los Angeles!
Tonight we had to do what Lisa calls a “social autopsy.” We had to each talk about a social situation in our lives that we didn’t think went well, and Lisa took it apart and analyzed it like doctors do to dead bodies. I think the analogy is morbid and hopeless. A social autopsy? Really? Like we’re all dead on arrival in any social situation. That is probably true, but how messed up for Lisa to use this language. Some of us in the room get the deep, dark, penetrating meaning.
Daniel saw the schedule for tonight online where Lisa posts everything for us. I just ignore it, but Daniel gets off on checking it out and mocking it. He’s more evolved than me, clearly. Anyway, he saw that we were doing social autopsies tonight and he came in dressed as a cadaver. A stroke of genius, totally. He put gray makeup all over his face that made him look plastic, and, well, dead, and said he came prepared for his autopsy. It was fantastic. We all laughed, and I have to give it to Lisa because instead of acting all offended and superior like she usually would, she laughed, too.
For his autopsy Daniel told a story about being slammed up against his locker by a football player at school, and how the incident drew a crowd. He couldn’t fight back, and there were a bunch of people who just saw him slide down his locker onto the floor and wipe snot and blood off his nose. He just started singing “Who Let the Dogs Out?”, which I thought was a brilliant maneuver in this situation, but it got him further pummeled.
“Analyze that situation, Doctor,” he said to Lisa.
At first, I didn’t know if this really happened to Daniel or if he was just using it to make Lisa struggle at her craft. Lisa asked if Daniel had done anything that might have instigated that assault (not that anything would justify that behavior she said); she was just asking. Daniel said he didn’t have the slightest idea what he had done.
I could tell by the way Daniel said it that he knew exactly what caused the football player to go crazy, but he wasn’t going to tell Lisa. I had a feeling then that this was a true story. I don’t remember what Lisa said to Daniel. I don’t think I was listening at that point because my mind started drifting off and thinking about how Daniel has had it rough, too. I wasn’t the only person in the room whose life had been marked by pain and for whom school was a war zone.
*Essay assigned by me to me to vent my frustration* 4/18
Why Must Things Like This Always Happen
Danielle Levine
English 12
Ms. Harrison
Period 4
In English class today, I was staring out the corner window and found myself taken in by a little hummingbird fluttering among the huge branches of the tree that grows outside our second-floor classroom. It was gray and for a second I wondered if this was the hummingbird my mom called Spaulding. It made me chuckle, and I wasn’t paying attention when Ms. Harrison announced our groups for the day. Keira yelled my name to break my trance, and that’s when I found out my group consisted of me, Keira, and Jacob. Need I write more? Do those three names not clearly address the title of this essay I assigned myself? Even though I like Keira, it’s really hard for me to be around her and Jacob, especially since they found every excuse to touch each other in between discussing the assignment, which was to brainstorm-as-a-group possible ideas for a “poignant and passionate” essay entitled “Why I Stand Out.” I thought “murder-suicide in front of your classmates” would fit the bill, but I kept that idea to myself.
I was completely infuriated that Jacob just talked to me as if everything was as it always was—which it frickin’ was for him because his moo-ing in my face had no impact on him at all!!!!!!!!!! (There aren’t enough exclamation points in the world, believe me.) And I realize that I am tragically flawed because I can’t just get over this easily; that I can’t let it all roll off my back; that I can’t figure out how to be like the Amish who can forgive so easily. Dear God, right now, can’t you teach me how to do that? What kind of God designed a world where things and people you find value in eventually hurt you?
I really wish someone could give me a clear, cogent response to that question.
During the course of our little perverse brainstorming session, Jacob said to me, “Danielle, why don’t you write about how you have red hair? That makes you stand out.”
Yes, and why don’t I also add to this winner of an essay how I’m fat! Ah, Jacob, Ye of the genius literary mind.
He told Keira, “Hey, babe, you should write about your tongue. That stands out.” She hit him, thank goodness. That let out a little steam from my desire to bludgeon him.
I logically see what a jerk Jacob can be, but that doesn’t seem to be enough to get my body from having charged feelings for him. OMG, I could solve the energy crisis with the feelings this guy stirs up in me!
To make matters worse, at one point, Keira said, “Danielle, do you have a date to prom? Because Jacob has a friend who wants to go, and he’s like just a little chubby but super nice. Do you want to go with him?”
“No, but thanks. I’m going with my boyfriend.”
What the hell was I thinking? I don’t know, but now I have to remember to ask Daniel to be my pretend boyfriend for prom.
I hate my crazy emotions, and I hate the God that made this emotional chaos possible. Oh, and I tangentially hate the teacher who put me face-to-face with the object of all my conflict. During class, I heard my father’s voice say, “Danielle, work is the antidote for worry.” This was a little past worry, Dad, and trying to work in that situation was impossible. I didn’t come up with any good ideas for that ridiculous essay.
*ME-MOIR JOURNAL* 4/23
Daniel and I watch The Big Lebowski
Daniel and I stayed up too late on Friday night and watched a movie he insisted I see. It was called The Big Lebowski, and he said if I watched it I would learn to abide in the proper way, and I would laugh heartily, which I did. The movie was revelatory.
First off, I saw that people have problems that never even occurred to me. Cutting off your toe to make money is beyond nuts. Also, I had no idea that people take bowling so seriously. It was really an obsession with these people. Beyond all the craziness, there was something so enticing about this film. It may be that it had mythic elements, which is something we are talking about in English right now.
Myths are these universal stories that come about and last and last over thousands of years because everyone can relate to them. We have mythic symbols and mythic relationships that just are. It’s kinda amazing to me. A hero is a mythic symbol. In a way, Jeff Bridges is a hero in that movie—albeit, a very lazy one. The narrator with the really cool deep voice says “He’s the man for his time and place” and in Los Angeles, nonetheless.
Anyway, Daniel and I talked like Maude Lebowski for hours after that movie. I have the affected accent pretty much down. “The story’s ludicrous” is now one of my favorite things to say because, not only does it apply to the plot lines of porno films, which is what Maude was referring to when she said it, but “The story’s ludicrous” might as well be the bumper sticker on the vehicle that is my life given that I was moo’d at publicly. Daniel had gone to Lebowski Fest a few years ago and said we had to go this year because there was one near us. Okay, Dude, I’m in!
It’s held at a bowling alley and you dress up as characters from the movie, and Daniel said everyone is incredibly creative in their choices. We’d have to rewatch the movie and look for über-subtle details in order to come up with a costume because that is what some people do, and it’s fun to try to guess what people are. (He said the more obvious ones are fun, too, but we are clearly the nuanced, obscure types.) If truth be told, I’m looking for any events or distractions to keep my mind off graduating from high school and going on to more school where I’ll continue to feel like a freak. (At least at Lebowski Fest everyone is a freak.)
Daniel and I have been talking about college a lot. I got in to three of the six schools that I applied to. I think my mom is more excited than I am about my college options because she’s been reading about them online constantly and creating lengthy, color-coded pros and cons lists. Every time I talk to her about it, I just end up confused over her color-coding, which she tells me is not “the salient point” from her notes.
Daniel applied to the California universities like I did because his parents made him, and he didn’t have to write an essay or send a teacher recommendation, which he said wouldn’t help his chances. He was thinking of applying to some private Catholic schools because of his weird fetish for Catholicism, and while Sal appreciated his devotion (little did he know), he said they were too expensive. At any rate, we have to decide on schools soon because we have to send in our deposits. However, figuring out how to go to Lebowski Fest sounds more fun at the moment.
*AUNT JOYCE E-MAIL* 4/24
Dear Super-Hip, Way Cool Aunt Joyce,
I really need you to watch The Big Lebowski, think it is one of the best movies ever, and then want to take Daniel and me to Lebowski Fest. I’ll explain the thing to you after you watch the movie and make my dream come true! (I’m sure we need someone over twenty-one to take us. You just barely fit that bill, LOL.)
Your niece who loves you sooooooooooo much,
Danielle
*AUNT JOYCE E-MAIL* 4/24
E-mail back from Aunt Joyce just seconds later
Well, lady, I’ll watch the movie, research Lebowski Fest, and then let you know.
A.J.
*JUSTINE LETTER*
Letter to Justine
Dear Justine,
Thank you for writing me. I hope you don’t mind that I shared your letter with my friend Daniel, who I think is my best friend, and you are the first person I’m telling.
How am I filling my days, you asked? Well, right now I’m trying to get over a boy I once really liked but who acted like a real jerk to me on several occasions, actually. And I’m also being forced to think about college and where I will go. My friend Daniel and I are going to talk about it and try to come up with a plan. I never spent much time thinking beyond high school because dealing with high school was hard enough, and there were some bad things that happened before high school that made thinking about the future kind of an incidental idea. I don’t know if that makes sense. My life is kind of complicated, I guess. So, anyway, I guess I’m busy with thoughts.
I am also sometimes busy with hanging out with Daniel or with going to yoga with my mom or doing other family things. (I have a really cool aunt, and if I could grow up and be remotely like her, I’d be thrilled. I would also be thrilled to be like you, too.)
I like my yoga class. I’m trying to lose a little weight. The teacher says some really smart things, which reminds me that I saw some quotes you had written and put on your refrigerator. One said, “Close both eyes to see with the other. ~Rumi.” Did your husband write that? Is “Rumi” Bubbles’s real name? He was smart. Anyway, I hope you are doing great. I sure like knowing you.
Love,
Danielle
*CLASS ASSIGNMENT* 4/27
Essay that answers this prompt: Pick a work of literature we’ve read this year and a movie you’ve seen and discuss their mythic/symbolic messages.
(I loved this assignment! Ms. Harrison made up for pairing me with Keira and Jacob; all is not lost! I spent a lot of time writing this essay—with Daniel, admittedly—but I thought what we wrote rocked. Ms. Harrison only thought it rocked a B because I used the word screwed, was too informal in places, used personal pronouns, had too many parentheticals, didn’t cite my quotes properly, and “summarized” where I should have “analyzed” the movie. Really and truly, sometimes teachers have no give. They are so damned rigid in what they want in their essays. If she just read this thing as a person and not as a teacher, she might have gotten it and not let her “thinking get too uptight” LOL.)
Danielle Levine
English 12
Ms. Harrison
Period 4
My favorite works of literature have mythic structures. The hero (tragic or otherwise) appears, is confronted with a problem, gets lost, and eventually finds his way home or to some symbol of home. There are specific lessons in myths, revealed through symbols that can carry us through our lives. Their messages are universal.
King Lear is one of these stories. In King Lear, a hapless king divides his kingdom amid three daughters. Two shower him with the words of praise he seeks, while his third is unable to “heave her heart into her mouth.” She is only able to love the king simply, as her bond requires, “no more, no less.” Wooed by the flattering words of the eldest two, the king divides his kingdom between them and leaves the youngest nothing. (Poor Cordelia.) He is ultimately undone by this choice. He would have done better to see the truth in the simple, honest feelings of his youngest.
The three daughters symbolize the things we create in the world and that we find meaning through. Sometimes it is too easy to think we will find meaning and purpose in the choices that are flashy or flattering or shiny like gold. (Like really cute boys.) But those things lose their luster, so it is best not to invest in them. They do not possess a lasting value. In Lear’s case, he actually gets royally screwed by them! (Pun totally intended.)
A kingdom is a metaphor for one’s soul, the Self. We end up disappointed if we divide up our kingdom to false daughters. Sometimes, what is real, true, and meaningful is smaller, gentler, and quieter than we think. (Sometimes it is a new friend who is better than the other kind of love you thought you wanted.) It is no easy task to figure out when and how to divide your kingdom wisely, how to give of yourself (let the spigots loose) or how to not give of yourself. (Sometimes yourself just seems to leak out all over the place.) This is the daunting task of every person, and I am trying to find all the grace and the foresight to choose well, so I find myself with a thriving queendom (my own new vocabulary word). I have not always chosen well by any means.
Another example of a mythic story is from the world of movies: The Big Lebowski. If you haven’t seen it, do so. If you have, watch it again. It gets better with repeat viewings (just like Shakespeare).
The Big Lebowski is a very good comedic film, but it is also another mythic story whose lessons are important. In it, our laid-back, unlikely hero, The Dude, is thrust into a situation of mistaken identity and chaos ensues. Occasionally throughout the story, The Dude becomes lost and unhinged—he becomes impatient and worried, not usual traits of his. To quote a supporting character, he starts “being very undude.” It happens to the best of us, I’m learning. (King Lear becomes very undude during and after he abdicates power.) Eventually realizing that his own “thinking has become very uptight,” The Dude soon eases back into his calm, clever self, and situations begin to work themselves out for our hero. Ultimately, His Dudeness tells us that “The Dude abides.” Gosh, but I really, really needed that bit of wisdom.
To abide means to wait for, to stand ready for, to stand up under, to endure, to withstand. And because The Dude abides, for the most part, the truth comes to light and the chaos dissipates. King Lear did not abide and look what happened there. As The Dude says, “That’s a bummer, man.” No matter what life you choose, no matter where you divide your kingdom, you will have to abide many things. And you will hardly be able to avoid the ridiculous. Someone might even moo in your face one day. And you’ll have to figure out how to handle that.
To abide is to take a stance of grace and power. It says to the universe that you recognize that all is not certain, that things constantly change, but that you are willing to participate and stay true to your own character and its evolution; and that you recognize you are smart enough and strong enough to do just that at the proper moment in time. Well, I think that is true of the idea of abiding, but it’s a new concept to me, so you can let me know if I’m wrong.
All in all, we should go out and spread our kingdoms, our wealth of character, regardless of praise or compliment, or if we are moo’d at, and then do our best to abide what comes because heroes need to travel and have experiences in order to come home again as renewed men (or women).