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Self Portrayal
My home continued to be quiet as my mother went through the motions of everyday life. I didn't have much to say to her, because the one thing I wanted to talk about would probably upset her more. Really I didn't know how she would react to me bringing up her college years, but I knew that now was not the time.
Dad had yet come back to visit, not even to see me. I was somewhat surprised, yet not. Though I still wondered what the reason could be that he wouldn't even come visit his own daughter. Marissa had her own thoughts on the matter, which often led to the idea that my father was having an affair. The idea had crossed my mind, but for some reason I didn't think he was capable of such things. He definitely was not capable of the things that Marissa thought of; she is definitely a weaver of stories.
The rest of the week at school was rather normal. The teachers definitely got back into the swing of things rather quickly, evident in the piles of homework that now covered my desk. I was starting to get behind on the papers due and the books to read. Art tended to occupy most of my time, since I actually enjoyed it. The days spent after school with Mr. Strumm were actually more fun and not really much of a punishment. He gave me a lot of tips to brush strokes and helped critique some of my drawings I was working on outside of the classroom. Of course I still had to maintain the lab and keep it tidy. He also would share some more stories about the “good ol' days” as he would call them. It was nice to hear about a time where both my parents were happy, unlike the atmosphere at home today.
Soon Friday came along and our art project and paper were due. I was definitely looking forward to the project being due because I really liked how my self portrayal turned out. Soon it was time for the bell to ring, and for the class to take their seats as we waited for Mr. Strumm to arrive.
Max and I had not said a word to each other since the day I finally spoke my mind. There were times where we would spot each other in the hallway and he would have this look. A look that made me question many things. It almost appeared that he was contemplating something. What, I had no clue. I was a tad bit curious what his self portrayal would look like, since I never pictured Max being the artsy type. Really I don't know what type I would categorize him as, especially now.
“Ok class. Today your projects are due and this is how I want to go about it. Since we have not really had much of any introduction, I would like each of you to show your self portrayal and share with us the title and how it portrays who you are. Also you can say the normal, hi my name is so and so, but that isn't as important. Anyways, I will go down my class list, and once your name is called please come up to the front of the class and greet everyone.” Mr. Strumm then took his seat at his desk and read off the first couple names.
I attempted to pay attention to what the other students had to say, but I was more concentrating on what I was going to say. I had no idea that the teacher would make us go up to the front and present our work. It made me extremely nervous. I happened to glance over at Marissa, but she appeared as calm and cheery as ever. Of course she isn't nervous, she can spin a tale about anything. I sighed silently and continued to listen to my fellow students “um” their way through the presentation.
“Maxim Carver, may you present yourself to the class please,” came Mr. Strumm's voice.
At first I had no clue who he was referring to, until I saw Max rise from his seat in front of me. I couldn't believe I didn't know Max's full name. After the initial shock, I calmed myself and listened intently. I really wanted to see and here what he had to say.
“Well my name is Max,” he eyed the teacher subtly and continued as he placed his artwork, still covered with a cloth, on the easel. “My self portrayal is titled inner child. I see myself as a child at heart and I really don't think I've grown up in many ways. I don't think we ever truly grow up, its more of a constant struggle in life. So instead of worrying about becoming an adult, I have decided to embrace the inner child of which I am.” He smirked and then unveiled his artwork.
I must have gasped slightly for Marissa eyed me from her desk. I also wondered if she noticed my face was blushing as I looked upon Max's painting. There, for all the class to see, was a picture of a memory. Max had painted a waterfall surrounded by trees, and right next to the waterfall sat a boy on a fallen log. The boy's back was all that was seen as he stared out to the waterfall, and it wasn't just any ordinary waterfall. It was the place that Max had shown me years ago on one of our adventures. I didn't know what to think in that very moment. All that seemed to go through my mind was, why? Why had Max painted his self portrayal, using a memory that we had both shared. Of course no one else knew the hidden meaning behind the painting. All they saw was a boy in the woods. I saw a memory, one I sometimes wish I could forget.
The teacher acknowledged Max's work and told him to take a seat. As he walked back to his desk, our eyes locked briefly and I blushed more. If it wasn't bad enough that I had to go up to the front of the class and put my heart and soul on display, but now I had to recover from whatever it was Max had just done to me. Thankfully I was near the end of the list, and Marissa was to go before me. I hoped that maybe her presentation would somehow get my mind off of my own.
Mr. Strumm went through another few names until he reached Marissa. She went up to the front of the classroom as if the presentation were no big deal. I wished I had her strength. She placed her painting on the easel uncovered. It was a painting of papers, pens, pencils, and erasers all scattered on the canvas. I had no idea what it was meant to express.
“My self portrayal is titled Scatterbrained Mind. It represents how my mind works. I really like to write, so I used objects that are used every day to create wonderful stories. Most writers are able to organize their thoughts, but my brain doesn't really work like that. I tend to just write what words come to me. So this is who I am. I am Marissa.” She smiled and the class gave their obligated applause as she took her seat next to me.
I could easily relate to Marissa right at this moment, for my brain was definitely scattered. As more names were called and the list grew shorter, I knew what I could say but I didn't want to say it to the class. In the end my name was called and I had no choice but to present to the class how I saw myself.
After placing my painting on the easel for the class to see, I turned and stood there, frozen. It seemed like I was standing there for such a long period of time, which were merely a matter of seconds. I looked at Marissa, who gave me a look of encouragement. With a deep breath, I was finally able to make words come from my quickly drying lips.
“Hi, my name is Allison and my painting is called Angel Drowned in Color. The angel represents me for I lack color pigments, yet I still am just as pretty as any other girl.” A few kids coughed quietly at that and I knew what they were thinking, but I continued on. “I placed the angel in a world of color because thats how I sometimes feel, like I am drowning in the color that surrounds me because I am different. Though I may be drowning, I still survive and I accept my differences. I think this painting expresses who I am in this world. Thank you.” With that I quickly made it back to my seat, not bothering to look at the class.
I was glad that the experience was over, but nervous about how I would now be treated by the people that couldn't accept my differences. I knew for a fact that the rest of the school would find out by the end of the day how I portray myself, and of course I awaited their name calling. As the last few remaining students made their presentations, I just sat there thinking about Max's painting. I had decided by the time the bell rang, that I would talk to him sometime today.
“I really liked your painting,” Marissa commented as we walked to biology.
“Thanks. I really liked yours too. I would have never thought that you were a scatterbrain though. You always come across collected and at ease.” I mentioned as I glanced around the halls.
“Yes thats how I am usually perceived, but if anyone was to jump into my mind they would be lost and confused,” she laughed. “I was kind of shocked by Max's painting. He did rather well. I can definitely agree he is childish.”
“You think?” I looked towards her. “I was a bit surprised myself at his talent, but I guess I never pictured him as childish, at least not the Max I used to know. He was always more mature than his age and was protective, even if he would get us into trouble at camp.” I smiled.
Marissa eyed me as we sat at our lab table.
“What?” I questioned nervously. I really didn't want to hear what she could possibly be thinking.
“Well it just seems like your anger towards him is, well, nonexistent. Did you guys talk at all this week after your fight?” Marissa questioned as she got her books ready for class.
“No we have not said a word to each other since then. I really wouldn't say my anger towards him is gone. When I think about what had happened years ago, I still get really frustrated. I guess I really just want answers from him. I think I might talk to him after school.” I looked towards her to see her expression.
“That might be a good idea. If you get answers you can move on, and quit obsessing over this guy. To me, he isn't worth your time. You could do so much better than him in the friend, or even boy friend department.” She smiled.
I really wanted to tell her how wrong she was, and point out the obvious that there were no guys lining up at my locker to ask me to the movies or dinner. I guess she was right though, I was obsessing over the past a bit and maybe by talking to him it would help.
The rest of the day flew by, which I didn't want to happen. I could feel myself getting nervous again, hoping that I could catch Max alone. If Cecilia was with him, I don't think I could muster up the courage to intrude or even say hi.
With the last bell of the day ringing in the hallways, I exited the classroom and began to walk towards my locker. As I was walking, I saw Max approaching. Here was my chance to speak to him, before he met up with Cecilia, or even worse, Will and Ryan.
“Max,” I spoke rather loudly.
He turned to me with a questioning look. I could feel my mind swim with questions, and then there was nothing. No words came to mind as I stood there with him. My mind screamed at me to just say something.
“Your painting was good,” I blurted out. Idiot! With all the questions you had for him, thats all you could say? I blankly stared at him without another word.
His questioning look soon turned to confusion. “Um, thanks. Is that all you wanted?”
No! There is a ton I want to say. “Uh, yes. Thats all.” With that, I half smiled and hurried off to my locker, which I soon shoved my head into spouting words of how stupid I was. I couldn't believe I just blew my chance. Why could I just say what I needed to tell him? Why was this so hard? If I could just say and ask the questions I had, it would be all over and I would have no other reason to talk to him, or was that it. Did I have a fear that Max would be out of my life for good? My head hurt and I just wanted to go home. Life was too complicated in high school, I could hardly imagine what it would be like once I get into the real world.
Thankfully my mom was quiet during our car ride home. At least I had the weekend to recoup from my humiliation. I decided to put my own personal problems aside and focus on something else. In the end I decided to make it my mission this weekend to cheer up my mother and hopefully see her smile again.
 eimichan · Tue Sep 25, 2007 @ 08:12am · 0 Comments |
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