assign me a number

There's this girl that goes to my school, and her name is Beth. A month or two ago she saw me during passing time and waved, calling, "Katie! Is it all right if I call you Katie?"

I paused. The distance between us was growing as we drifted down the hall in our separate directions. My face crinkled in confusion and I sputtered, "Okay?" Ever since she's called me Katie.

It didn't seem to matter at the time. Up until midway through sixth grade, I signed papers and introduced myself as Katie. I still respond to the name Katie. It wasn't until she called me Katie again that I realized that my answer should have been no. What the hell is this? Now people are making up pretend names for each other? Why don't we just have numbers, or something?

When I was in fifth grade I sometimes practiced signing my name on the back of finished tests or worksheets. Five years later, I still see girls idly practicing their signature in various styles on the back of handouts.

?!

My classmates are so insecure with themselves that they're still experimenting with their handwriting. Most of my classmates can also drive. This preoccupation with themselves and their lack of identity cannot be safe. In history the other day, I overheard a conversation between Josh and Kayla about how Kayla had almost ran over Josh's mom because she backed out of a driveway without looking over her shoulder. Suddenly I'm rethinking as to whether or not I should attend driver's training this month.

Pat and I each ordered a bowl of macaroni and cheese at Noodles & Company today after I got of school, and Pat accused me of wanting to bear Jon Stewart's baby. It was tempting, but I decided against it given the age difference and the fact that I love Pat to pieces.

Yesterday we caught the last half of Office Space on Comedy Central, where I was reacquainted with the insult "cock gobblers" and now love it like a child. I have a reservoir of juicy insults that I hoard for future instances, like time capsules or the way men keep condoms in their wallets.

Anyway, it's 8:30 p.m. and my yawning is going to cripple me if I stay up any later.

G'night.