Yes, I am aware that it has been literal ages since I last posted (not that I think anyone would actually care? this being more of a self indulgence than an actual functioning blog)
Life gets in the way, and it gets in the way a lot. Tibbets of fiction and nonfiction and thoughts will still go up sporadically, but precisely that – sporadically.
Sometimes we all need an excuse to get out of some things, and an excuse to make mischief. That is not to say that we always need it, or that some (most) wouldn’t do it without the excuse – it’s just easier for everyone when there is.
April fool’s has been that day for us. I can’t vouch for other people, but for as long as I can remember April fool’s actually being a thing – which basically means since middle school for me – it’s been a very grandiose thing without exception. Back in middle school, I’d trade places in class with my then-doppelganger, sitting out of place in the seniors’ classroom but everyone enjoying themselves a bit too much when the teacher passes by the girl in short hair that really does resemble the boy she’s replacing. We’d drag our desks out into the outer hallways, exclaiming that we had a picnic class of sorts, or we’d hold our teacher hostage (there were karate chops involved) until she bargained to get out of it over the ransom pay of ice cream. Flip the desks to face the other side of the classroom, be absolutely nowhere we had to be – it was really the time of our lives, in a way.
And then high school came, and even if it weren’t that much of a giant change, it really couldn’t be denied that it was indeed one. Crazy things weren’t that largely tolerated, because craziness. Craziness is usually frowned upon when not everyone is crazy. Not just on April fool’s, but in general, the crazier part, eccentricities of a person had to be subdued or risk something akin to derision on every corner. Of course, it managed to manifest itself in ways outside of it, but still – it was a bit of a shock that for some people, obsessions of every kind were frowned upon. Three years of absolutely living outside normalcy had ruined normal for me – it was bland and uninteresting, to say the least. I don’t even remember what we did for the last two years – it’s very plausible that we didn’t do anything at all, or at least not anything worth note.
But the last year of high school – now that’s special. There are two spaces of time in a Korean human being’s life when being near clinically insane is passed over with a cluck of the tongues and light head shaking at the most. The first is when you’re born and you’re a helpless baby who literally can’t do anything to fare for their actions. The second is when you’re in your last year of high school.
(Truth be told, anytime between that and your admission into college, but that’s just a little bit too depressing of a story to think about.)
There’s a bit of a tradition for us, and for our homeroom teacher. His spans a bit further than ours. He’s been in charge of the last class on the roster for six years to boot, and always the Spanish majors. Mostly because the subject he’s in charge is happens to be Spanish. (There is word, on good grounds, that his subject isn’t actually Spanish but the well-rounded subject of college itself.) And the Third-graders, the Goh-Sahms of the country, will take it upon themselves to mutilate the teacher’s long suffered and loved car with whatever equipment they can find. A couple of years back, they themed it into a wedding car, with the ribbons and flowers to complete the look – last year and the year before that had been a thorough coverage of the car, meticulously done in post-it notes. This year, we envisioned a tank – envisioned being the key word.
As the photo will no doubt prove, it wasn’t a very nicely done job. Our cannon, devised out of connected Pringles’ containers broke down in the middle of the taping process; we ran out of paper to cover the car with soon enough that we ultimately decided that we won’t do the parts of the car that went unseen unless you took efforts to go that way; and even then, it was a very hastily and messily done job. Some of the kids scoffed at us, claiming that they needed to actually go to college and went in the way to stop us doing it properly. It was a mess, and frankly, the end result was little short of embarrassing.
But it had been so much fun.
And really, that was all it. Sure, the things we were doing were thanks to tradition, and for the most part it was for show. But that didn’t mean that the process, no matter how butchered and how messy it had been, was fun. It was fun because it gave us the chance to unhinge – to go crazy, mad, stop thinking about responsibilities (ironically enough it was through another responsibility that we managed to do it but still) and just go for it, for once. It failed spectacularly, but who cares? It was all nothing more than pieces of construction paper that we were going to tear off sooner rather than later.
There hadn’t been that many incidences when I felt that I could truly unhinge, especially after coming to high school. High school had made that count closer to nil than I would have liked. Being a Third grader certainly didn’t help. But for once, to unhinge, to let go – it had felt so immensely good.
And even if I am aware that this is probably a very illogical and very odd conclusion to come to, not to mentioned hurried, (I really do have to go to sleep and I’d prefer to not put this post off for any longer), it really was just that. The chance to unwind, to have fun regardless of the consequences. Another eight months of this and it probably will be close to being done with; I can’t wait to see what that might bring. College apparently brings forth chances for you to regress into your high school uniforms and to relive memories. I have no doubt this one, this year, has been one that will etch itself into my memory to spring back at those moments, along with the ones where I was stuck in the place of my doppelganger. :)
Happy April fool’s, everyone.