America, America

Happy Independence Day! That's what Dad has taken to calling it. He is of the mind that "Fourth of July" is not specific enough and might cause confusion to those of us born outside privilege. He might be right. I don't know. I only wish he would stop lecturing everyone about it. We're going to go over to our grandma's house in about half an hour to eat dinner and watch fireworks. Unfortunately, we invited our cousin Darren over, which would be a good thing, only he has elected to bring his friends with him. I'm contemplating faking a disease to get out of this. Actually, that wouldn't be too hard, since my head has been aching viciously for three days now. I should probably take a Tylenol so that no one will suspect my identity as Lady with a Malady. It wouldn't do to appear weak, you see, as I am a warrior and I eat weakness for breakfast. But I never like to take pills, since I always feel like it will build up resistance against when I truly need succor, so I'm really reluctant. I only take stuff when my friend Tom comes to call and makes me feel like Boromir at the end of Fellowship of the Ring. But where was I? Ah, yes, Darren and Co. What in the world am I going to do? Maybe I should get over my irrational fear of all unknown individuals. That might be a good place to start. How will I ever make friends in college with this attitude? I will be the Kevin of the campus and no one will cheer for me at graduation! Perhaps by then I will have become normal and be a truly acceptable member of society. That would be good. I might even stop trying to quote poetry at people all the time. Oh dear, I hope I don't do that at dinner today. "Jayne," will say one thoughtless soul, "Will you please pass the salt?" "It's Jasmine, actually," I will reply with an awkward chuckle, "But what's in a name? A rose by any other name would–" "Shut up!" will come a unanimous response, and I will return to my burger as red as the rose I just espoused. Or what if the subject comes to art (somehow)? I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself from popping in, completely unwanted, and messing up a nice, low-key, discussion. "So," says one of the friends, "I was in Italy this summer, and I was looking at those lovely High Renaissance paintings, you know, like Bronzino and Pontormo, and I thought to myself, what a wonderful world!" "Excuse me," I pipe up, "Bronzino and Pontormo are actually Mannerist!" Everyone turns to give me a nasty glare. "Jasmine," says Dad in a disappointed manner, "Would you like to go walk outside and see if the fireworks have started yet?" "Yeah," chimes in the friend whom I've just slighted, "And can you stay out there until they start?" Sadly, with tears of awkwardness dripping down my now-greasy Kevin nose, I wobble outside and stay there the rest of the night until the police come along and arrest me for loitering with the intent to cosplay and I have to go to court, and against Gideon v. Wainwright, be my own lawyer because I'm so awkward that no one will want to represent me. And as I lie in the depths of my jail cell, pondering the inadequacies of the American justice system towards awkward individuals such as Kevin and myself, I will curse the day that Darren decided to be a clever and gregarious lad, for by bringing his friends to dinner, he will have brought me to my ruin.
No but really, I'm worried about this. I don't think I'll say anything awkward, which is a bonus, only this happy fact will occur because I'll be too shy to say anything at all. AND I HATE EATING IN FRONT OF PEOPLE! When I go to parties or on dates or whatever, I'm always the last one done because I make sure to only take bites when no one's watching (also because I'm just really slow in general, but that's beside the point). And then I have to pretend I don't want the rest of my food, even though I do, because I don't want to be the only one eating. It's terrible. And now these boorish bores are going to take my joy away from me as they sit and simper and preside over everything like college age Stanley Kowalskis. Oh goodness me, I am like to die. I'm really diddley-darn hungry too. Phooey!
We made pies today, Mom, Kitty, and I did, which I found to be bothersome, since it enforces the old-fashioned patriarchal stereotypes still all too present in this overbearing society of ours, but I suppose it's not, really, since Kitty and Mom like to do it. I don't particularly, but I feel like it's my duty. Usually, they don't ask me to cook, because I really am atrocious at it, but I guess they were feeling the crunch today, and invited me into the inner sanctum. Did you know a tablespoon is not the same as an eating spoon? I didn't. I thought their measurements were one and the same. I had to make lemon zest, so I peeled a lemon, but apparently you're supposed to grate the lemon so the pieces are small enough. The next hour-and-a-half of my life was spent cutting pieces of lemon skin into tiny pieces. Man, I guess I learn something everyday, but I really don't see how I'm ever going to be able to take care of myself at this rate.
I found a setting of "Barter" by Sara Teasdale for choir. Yay! I really want to sing it, but I don't know whom I can sing it with. Choirs don't grow in my back pocket, you see. But it's still lovely to have it. I just thought I'd share.
Poor little Tangent, one of the guinea pigs (sister of Sine and Cosine) is having trouble with her teeth. She can only eat soft food, so we have to make special meals for her. Anyway, Dad thinks she depends on him for survival, and is clipping her teeth right now. He also likes to minister unto her with shea butter and iodine and sundry other "treatments" he buys off the internet. Poor little Tangent.
Okeydokey, it's already past the time when we were supposed to be there, and no one's made the slightest move to get ready. I suppose I should go spur them on. Bye now! Happy Fourth!