November 20, 2011- Journal# 45

"Art is the objectification of feeling." -Herman Melville

How does Melville do it? Really, explain him to me. Last weekend (because I have no life and a friend of mine told me to) I read Bartleby, the Scrivener: a Story of Wall-Street. It was unbelievable! (Unbelievable in that good way.) I was in awe of Herman. That lawyer guy, the narrator, made me mad but Bartleby was… right, perfect in all sense of the word.

Have you ever read a book where you hated the main character but loved the minor one?

Bartleby was frustrated about where he was, the rut was he was stuck in. He was at a dead end and I can relate, and that's the beauty of reading isn't it? Connecting to others, because it shows us, we're not all alone. Someone else is out there, reading this book and feeling the same way I do.

I don't know that person, and probably never will, but I know their soul. It's more of a presence, a set of mind.

How was that Mr. Gunter?

Ciao.

…..

I think it's possible to feel happy by knowing happiness is just around the corner. It works the same way a bad feeling would. I can always tell when something horrible is about to happen. There's always this icy chill that runs down my back and suddenly I'm a mess just at the mere thought that something bad could happen.

So, now, I know something good is around the corner. I can tell by the way I don't have to make myself get up in the morning. I can tell by the way the air smells… clean, fresh. Happiness is due in my life. A good real laugh is needed and I'll be damned if some idiot tries to steal it from me. (You can't steal my joy.)

And where is this happiness radiating from?

Miley.

It's funny how she can make me feel without saying a word. She is patient and calm. Her manner is smooth and graceful. I don't think I've ever met or seen someone so posed. Her quiet demeanor sets my mind on fire. She makes me want to learn more, become something. I want to be intelligent for her; I want to show her I'm more then this slacker. I just hope she gives me the chance.

…..

"… And then the chicken said: Boo!"

The room is silent.

Oliver is the worst at telling jokes, seriously the boy is helpless. He hangs his head in embarrassment but Sarah quickly starts laughing and jabs me in the side to start giggling along with her.

"I thought it was cute." She says to Oliver kissing his cheek.

We're spread out on Oliver's living room floor studying for stupid mid-terms. I've got my literature book open to a random page and my history notes scattered aimlessly. Craig is in the kitchen practically having sex with his new girlfriend, Jodie? Joan? Oh who cares!

Sarah's dumb tree hugging beta member vegetarian friends are sitting around quizzing each other on math notes. Brittany squeals as Amber gets number 45 right and Macy congratulates them with a hug- ick. Really, why am I friends with these dweebs? Oh yeah- Oliver. Note to self: punch Oliver in the face.

Okay, okay, I shouldn't be so aggressive Sarah's great. She's just what Oliver needs, especially after our plane crash of a relationship. But then again we weren't really "boyfriend girlfriend" we just… well… we did everything like we use to- go out to eat, catch a movie, the only difference was the make-out sessions in Oliver's dad's car.

I was never a good girlfriend. We got together in sophomore year, the year after Nate died. I wanted a distraction from my life and Oliver was supposedly "totally in love with me" whatever. I was a jerk to Oliver, and I openly admit it now. I would get angry for no reason and scream at him. We fought and bickered. I was pissed and depressed over Nate. I tried to morph Oliver into what Nate was for me- that comfort that security blanket. And when Oliver didn't add up to that criteria I lashed out.

But the beginning, as any relationship, was good. The end was messy and the middle was hell. The miracle, I think, is that we're still friend. Especially after our first time together. In all honesty, I just didn't want to be a virgin anymore. I wanted to do it and get it over with. And, I thought, if there was anyone in the world I would want to give my last bit of innocence to, it would be Oliver.

We met up at my family's lake house one weekend. The cabin was nice and warm. I snuck a bottle of wine from my parent's small storage room. Oliver had one glass, I had two. I turned out the lights. We undressed, Oliver pulled down the covers letting me slide in first and he asked me (for the millionth time) if I really wanted this.

I answered with a hard kiss.

It wasn't bad, it didn't hurt. Most girls described their first time has a horrible and painfully experience, but mine was fine. It was more embarrassing and strange. After it was over Oliver held me and told me he would never forget this, he would always treasure it, even if we drifted apart.

A month or so after that we broke up, because I discovered something- I liked girls. Oliver and I switched back into friend mode very slowly. It was hard on both of us, but apparently we made it through because well just look at the boy!

Sarah is snuggled up close to him as he whispers something in her ear. They laugh and I smile. This is how it should be. Olive should always be happy, because he deserves nothing less.

The door bell rings. "I got it!" Macy says jumping up and running to the door.

I hear the sharp crack of Oliver's old wooden door being opened. The stomping of boots on the welcome mat and then a soft voice apologizing, "Sorry I'm late. I lost track of time at the library."

My chest tightens, in that nervous sort of way and quickly I sit up a little straighter and pull my books and papers together neatly.

"I hope no one minds but I invited Miley to the study session." Oliver tells us smiling as she walks into the room. Craig and the brainless slut come back in and sit on one of the armchairs together. Miley shyly waves. "Hello everyone.

"Hi!"

"Hey."

"Sup."

"Hello Miley." I say as her eyes meet mine. She nods and takes a place next to me (even though there were several more comfortable places to sit then the floor! … Not that it means anything…)

"So we just finished math, and now we're moving onto English." Sarah explains passing out papers to everyone. "I made a list of everything that's supposed to be on the test."

I take a sheet and tuck it underneath the stacks of notes. It's not like I'm going to study. I only came to this thing so I wouldn't be all alone at my house, it's creepy when it gets dark out.

Miley takes the sheet, reading it thoroughly. What a nerd, I smirk. She catches me and gives me a weird look. "Something funny?"

I shake my head. She rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to the task. Oliver starts quizzing Sarah and her friends on literary tenses, Craig and his girlfriend are kissing. I play with my pencil and watch the clock.

"You want to… um quiz me?"

I look over at Miley, she's holding up the packet Mr. Gunter handed us about the jargon words that will be on the mid-term. I take the paper and read the first one. The terms are on different philosophies.

"What is existentialism?"

"The.. The philosophy centered on the analysis of human existence. It stresses the freedom and responsibility of the individual." Miley says with a nervous smile as she bites her lower lip. "Is that right."

I laugh, "And here I was thinking ballerinas were stupid. Who taught you about 20th century philosophies?"

I receive a smile from her. "Ballerinas are not stupid we happen to excel in philosophy terms of morals and values."

"Was that a joke coming from the melancholy Miss. Stewart?!" I exclaim snorting.

"Possibly… I've done some research on different ways of thinking… it's interesting. I like it." She says leaning against the side of the couch.

"That's cool." I say. We lock eyes.

Her usual shielded gaze has softened. I see a rising emotion springing from the blue hues of her oval shaped eyes. I want to reach out and touch it, grab that look and hold it close I want to know what she is saying beneath the surface.

"Earth to Lily!" Stupid Craig is waving his hand in my face. "Did you not hear us?"

I blink. "Apparently not."

"We're going to play a game." Craig's slutty girlfriend says leaning down from the armchair. I can see all the way down her shirt. Gross, someone needs a bra.

"Wh-What kind of game?" Miley asks, shrinking into the couch.

"The fun kind." The girlfriend smiles.

…

Author's Note: The reviews are spectacular. (Laughs) I really don't see what's so special about my writings but if you guys are pleased then that's all that matters. Leave your thoughts (rambles, questions, confusion, concerns, problems- all are welcome.)