posted on Friday, Mar. 25, 2005 @ 09:38
last night owen and i saw born into brothels. it's terrible to think about all those little girls who will, in a few short years, be forced into prostitution. listening to them speak, you'd never think they were 10 or 11. the adults curse at them and call them bitches and cunts. one girl works from 4:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m. cleaning houses. one family couldn't afford to have someone babysit for 10 rupees (25 cents). they all want to leave the area, but most schools won't take them. even after some of them got accepted, their family took them out or refused to allow them to attend. so they can make money for them as a prostitute.
this is avijit. he's so talented in drawing and painting and photography. he got to go to amsterdam for something put on by world press photo. i loved listening to him explain the pictures he took.
it showed him taking this picture. he's the one pouring the wet sand from the bucket. during the filming of this documentary, his mother's pimp set her on fire. she died.
afterward, owen and i went to "mexican restaurant." there, i told him about this guy i knew in middle school, alan mcjunkins. he was one of the preppy people, but for some reason we talked all the time. in mr. allen's seventh grade english class, he sat behind me for a while. i had hair nearly down to my waist, and he would braid it as mr. allen talked to us. he taught himself. one day i told him not to tie it in knots, and just because i'd said that he did. not tightly, of course; they were easily loosened.
as with many people, i lost sight of him when we got to high school. not only did my high school have 2500 people, everything changes then. it's when you need to be your coolest, so you forget about many of the people you knew from middle school.
one year, i think my senior year, i was walking in the hallway during class. i looked up at one point and saw alan coming toward me, a complete stranger i hadn't seen in four years. he smiled at me and said, "hey, chelsea!" i smiled back, and returned a hello, and then i didn't see him until graduation.
i always assume i'm the only person who remembers everyone. i'm good with faces and names, and i can remember for 13 years when my third grade teacher mrs. davis told me christopher beaugrand had moved to dallas over the summer. when i see people from my past, i don't think they remember me, especially if it's a prep who braided my hair in english. i wonder if he remembers braiding my hair and calling me "chelsea jokes." he's the first person who ever did that, and i always think of him when someone new thinks they're clever for doing as much.
<3, chels
p.s. look at the lunchbox i bought.
"great friends we are to the extremity. LOVE ME TAPEWORM!" tickles tapeworm, part of the parasite pals. i love the bed bug.
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