Tell Me Little White Lies

Jan 29th .Cloudy, Rainy.

"That's ok."

Slap.

"I'll just work harder."

Slap.

"I'll just give up my sleep."

Slap.

From up top, I fell down low.

Today, in Socials, we finally got our tests back. I knew I messed up one section and probably cost me ten whole marks. He hands the test back. No compliment given. This can't be good. I look for the red markings on the top of the sheet. Forty seven out of Sixty. I thought so. I look through it in detail. If I didn't mix up Federal and Provincial...I would of received fifty-seven. I knew the material. All of it. Should I tell him? If I do...what is he going to do...what do I want him to do...I know it's my own fault for mixing up the two in the first place. I shouldn't say anything right?

He calls me up to tell me my current mark. I couldn't help but mention that section where I messed up. My own mouth was out of my control somehow.

"Uh..Tiffany. You have...eighty-eight percent right now."
"Oh thanks. Um...about the test, for the Federal and Provincial part, I mixed those two up and got zero rather than ten..."

"Oh really? I noticed that you were doing so well on the test but suddenly messed up on that section. I thought you were too busy to study that part."

"Oh no...I mixed them up. So...I got zero..."
He pauses and stares at his desk filled with papers and books.
It was silent.

"Sorry...I'm not telling you to give me bonus marks. It's ok. I just wanted to tell you what had happened."
He stares at the computer monitor.

"You kn-"
"It's really ok. I know it's my fault for mixing it up in the first place."

He looks at me.
"Ok."

"Kay. Thanks." I smiled.

I know it's not right for him to give me those marks even though I knew the material almost perfectly. I shouldn't have mixed them up in the first place. It's not his fault. It's mine...and I should accept the consequences. Everything is learnt by a lesson taught. And I've learned.

In Physics, Mr. Fuerderer, as always, isn't teaching much. He assigns a work sheet and leaves the room. I start to work. I understood everything but one little part. I catch a glimpse of Azra, the girl sitting beside me, looking at my paper. I didn't want to cover it up. I didn't want to be mean. I kept my paper there. And leaned back. Mr. Fuerderer finally comes back and our group asks him the question I didn't understand. He looks at Azra's piece of paper. "This is good work." I just stared at her paper...with nothing to say.

He starts to hand back out our quiz. I get mine. I see...the number three. Out of ten. "I knew it." I said with my face. Another slap.

Our group finished the worksheet first and we left the class at 2:45. I decided to go find Mr. Lee earlier since he doesn't teach a class in the last block. I look in. A couple of grade 12 or 11 girls are sitting around his desk. "Should I come back later..." I thought. But my feet didn't listen. They continued to move forward.

"Hey Mr. Lee."
"Hey."

"Um...can I talk to you now instead?"

"Sure."

The girls stop talking.

"Um...I was wondering if you could help me out with physics."

"What? I'm not a physics teacher though...I'm a math teacher." He said jokingly.

"But it's basically math..."

"Who is your teacher?"

"...Mr. Fuerderer" I mumbled. For some reason, it was so hard to say his name aloud.

"Oh."

"See? You know what I mean..."

"Well these girls might be able to help you."

I glance over.

"Isn't it just plugging in numbers..." One girl said.
I was empty from words...I felt like crying. If Mr. Lee isn't willing to help me, I don't know what I can do. Eric is busy with university, and so is my brother. And these girls making it sound like it's so easy just makes me want to cry even more. I feel stupid enough.

"Tell you what, I can try to help you but I can't guarantee that I can help entirely. But how do you want me to help you."

"I don't know...I was thinking about doing some questions and if I have anything I don't understand I could go and at least try to ask you."

"Sure, I'm free Monday at lunch."

"I just finished my physics block right now, because I finished the worksheet."

"Do you have any review material?"

"Uh...he has some online."

"Go ahead and use my computer. Ask me if you don't get anything."

"Thanks...."

As the clock hits 3:11, I say thanks to Mr. Lee and head upstairs. My cheeks turn warm, as I'm holding my tears back behind me. Chris passes by me, and instantly, like always, he could tell that something was wrong.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." I whisper. I try to walk away from him.

He moves to the side to blocks my path.

I stop and look down.

"No seriously...what is wrong." He demanded.

"Nothing...really Chris. I'm just tired."

"...fine.." He lets me go.

I walk away hurriedly. I can't let anyone think there is something bothering me. But each step I took to walk up the stairs...my eyelids were getting harder and harder to hold all those tears. My eyes became blurry. My arms got weak. My legs slowed down. My hands uncurled. As I reached the top, I see Johnny heading my way. Shit.

He sees my expression, and just like Chris, he knew something was wrong. He hugged me like always. "Can you just...don't." I attempted to say softly. I wanted to slowly move his arms away...but I couldn't even manage that. I was too tired. I was too dependent on him. I shouldn't have been mean to him. But I was too tired....to think...to hold...to breathe...

At the lockers, I just pretend that everything is fine. My fake smile finally lit up. And Minmin cheered me up a little, but I still felt very strained. I felt my smile cracking. It was about to go off and shatter.

It was raining. Unlike with my other friends, I wasn't afraid to let my emotions flow out to Johnny. I continued to throw a little tantrum at him. He hugged my back suddenly.

"I love you." he whispered.

"I don't love Physics." I said bluntly.

"You'll do better next time." he whispered.

"No I won't."

But he continued to hug me. He continues to love me.

If he held any longer...I would of gave in. I would of cried on his shoulder. I would of burdened him.

I've told myself that white lie so many times. I need stop lying to myself and face reality. Face-forward, that this is how it's going to be. How can it better...How can I make it better... How can I succeed... I only got an A once in that class. Once. I'm so tired and scared of lying to myself again...that somehow I can manage to do this. I don't want to pull myself back up. I don't want to fall down again. I'll be smart this time, and stay at the bottom where it's impossible to fall any lower. But I also know...that I never end up sitting down. I always end up standing and lying to myself one more time.

My mom picked me up and I just loosened my grip and let my books fall on the seat. I sat down and just stared through the crystallized window. It was moody...but so clear. Heading up the stairs, I didn't feel like eating, talking, or smiling. I just wanted to stuff myself in my warm blankets and lie to myself one last time. One soothing lie. I am far away from my concerns. But even in bed, I was crying. Even when Johnny sent me a message, I was crying.I just wanted to avoid everything and everyone. I wanted to find my door of escapism. Away from all things...even him. Even myself.

Welcome the New, Keep the Old

Jan 21 .Cloudy.

Today, I had another class of English; the one and only class I feel completely comfortable to be in with a teacher. We were going through some propaganda pictures for our latest project, and when it had ended, Ms. DC began talking about the past essay and how it was just 'lukewarm' for our class. Suddenly, I see her lean to get a thin pile of paper from her desk. She starts to hand it out. "Here is an example of an essay that Tiffany wrote." She looks at me. My whole face felt loose and I opened my mouth like I wanted to say something. But I didn't. "Is that ok Tiffany?" She asked when she saw my uncontrolled expression. I nod speechlessly. "You're kidding..." I thought.

She starts to read it and lecture to the class about how I wrote my essay and what strategy I used. Strategy? Technique? I've never even considered those terms whenever I write. I just write and consider if I like the sound of the sentences I write down. After she was done lecturing for fifteen minutes or so, Nicole, Lucida, and Bella compliment my writing. "That was so good! You should be writer." They said. Dazed. Yeah. That's the word I can use to describe how I felt. Just dazed. "Thanks" I said with a smile. I just couldn't believe that this was happening.

"Wow.."

That's the only word I could think of. I didn't feel pride or confidence after that situation. I just felt really warm inside. To be acknowledged and complimented by so many people in one day was awakening. I just can't believe it. I don't feel proud. But I feel so surprised and amazed. As Ms. DC was reading out my essay...it sounded different than the many times I've read it myself from the computer screen as I edit it over and over again. I was the listener this time and it sounded like I don't recognize that essay as my own. It sounded like it didn't belong to me. It sounded so good. To tell myself that I'm the one who wrote it...it's unbelievable. It's such an amazing feeling. To know that I'm actually the writer of this piece. I'm not happy because of the fact that everyone notices me, and my 'skills' for writing now. I'm happy that my writing can actually help someone and make them feel something special deep inside. That is so special to me. And I've never felt this way before. It's indescribable.

***

At the end of the day, I had Planning with Johnny, and he brought his camera again. I held it in my hands one more time. "It's been a long time since I held you in my hands." I thought. I look at it as it was sitting on my lap. My fingers curve. My hands gently cradle it as I remember the very first time I had this camera in my hands. How it felt...

Sitting on the gym floor. My fingers cradling the camera like I was today. Exactly identical. But still not the same. He was playing his badminton game, and I was just sitting there holding on to the camera and wishing that somehow this camera could give me the courage to say how I felt. Somehow...holding the camera made me feel like it knew my story already. Is it that easy to see straight through? And that smile he gave me on the same day. It is probably the sweetest smile I have ever seen from him. The smile was poor in his usual confidence and pride, but so rich in sincerity. And because of that smile...I fell even deeper.

The first time I held that camera....Johnny still didn't know how I truly felt. He still didn't know how many times I have thought about him everyday. From the hit of morning to the curtains of my eyes closing. Very often. It's funny though. I was probably even less than a friend back then.

Every picture I skimmed through, my hands were hesitant. But they still wanted to hold the camera longer. There was a lot of pictures. But I didn't mind at all. Not a lot thoughts went through my mind that time. I just loved that feeling to hold that camera in my hands. A soothing connection to the guy I started to really like.

His camera gives me so many memories from the past...the contrast between October and, now, January. In October, I had to ask twice before he decided to give his camera to me...now I can just easily take it from his hands with a smile, without a verbal request. A smile is a free pass. The person he loves is holding onto the camera he loves. It works doesn't it? Even though that camera isn't mine, it feels like it's something so important to me...like it is the mark of the start of my feelings for him a few months ago. Looking back on it, it always felt like the camera was trying to tell me something. But I just didn't understand. Or I was too scared to.

The first time I held it, I was a scared and one-sided girl. I didn't know what would come my way. I didn't know if he felt the same. I didn't know how long I would like him for. I also didn't know how long I would be able to keep this up. But from where I am now, things have definitely changed...for the better. Although I'm still scared at times and most of these questions are still unanswered, at least I'm on my way to the unimaginable possibilities.

Escapism.

Jan 14. .Dark.

Before the Winter break, I had to do an English Essay on The Kite Runner. Just like always, I was a bit confident going into class, and writing without any music or unlimited time given. And finally, the result came this week. Mark first. It's not a low or an extremely high. I guess it was what I deserved. My eyes start to scan the pages slowly in detail. "I'd like a copy of this as a sample." it said. My eyes widen. I blink. Checked again. Stared at it for awhile. You're joking. Ms. DC somehow ends up standing beside me handing out papers and talking to students as they all looked at their essays. "You want a copy?" I asked without thinking clearly. Ms. DC looks at me and then at the essay I was holding. "Oh yes." She said calmly. "So I'll print out a copy and fix it up a bit?" once again, I wasn't thinking before I let my words slide out. "Is that ok?" She asked nicely. "Yup!" Are you kidding me...I'm honored.

Even in elementary, I was never the student that wrote outstandingly. I just wrote. I remember a time where I tried my best on a book report, and my grade seven teacher didn't write anything but, "Did you copy this from a book?" That's all she wrote. No. I didn't copy. I wrote it...with my own hands, with my own mind, with my own imagination. Thinking back on that situation, I feel so insulted. But I still thought that I would be the last person that would be good at English. The only reason why I started to blog again is because I wanted to vent. I wanted to type out anything that made me smile, laugh, confused, or cry. Who would know....that in the first month of 2010...a teacher actually asks to keep my piece. To other people, they might think, "Oh it's just a sample. Big deal." But it's so much more than that to me. I always thought that I'm a girl that doesn't have much to offer, or much potential. I'm just a person that loves to study and style. Two aspects that are totally opposite from one another. I thought I had nothing...or I was nothing. Although I still think that about myself, I think at least now, I'm still empty...but with a tiny spark. I have always received sweet comments about my writing from friends and Ms. DC. But that request made me completely sure that I have this. I have talent for writing. I don't know how strong this talent is. But I love it.

When I started piano, I was always told that I wasn't good enough compared to Jason or Mandy. I was always the third place when the three of us are together. They are both so smart. And even if I'm close, they are still always higher. They are always better. My mom would always remind me. I could even tell my dad was disappointed in me at times. I know that they are skilled, and I'm not. I've heard it over and over again. I think I get it. I know. I understand. I gave it a lot of thought. But this is who I am. I know I'm far from perfection in any category. But I can't do anything about it even if I wish I could.

When I gave up, I started to hate piano. Every time I hit those keys, I always knew in my heart that no matter what I feel inside when I play...it's just not enough to be noticed. So I gave up. I continued to play. But my heart was absent. It took over seven years for me to notice that I'm not compared anymore and that the piano is there...ready for me to play on it. It won't judge me. It won't criticize me like my parents. My friends have told me, "You're so talented." No...Mandy and Jason are. The word 'talented' doesn't fit with me. I just play the piano.

That's how it always was. No matter how I try. It's just an undeniable fact. Maybe I don't play for my parent's pleasure and pride. I also don't play for people to praise. I play piano the same reason why I write. For myself to tell a secret. When I play, I tell my piano a secret. When I write, I tell a secret to a person that reads it. Not being the best isn't a factor anymore. Writing and playing piano is my escapism from judgement. I get judged almost everywhere I go nowadays. School. Countless amount of people talk and judge. My parents judge. But now, I've found my own hiding spot again... and I will never lose it ever again.