Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World: List 2

Cassandra pretty much hated me. And I pretty much hated her right back. It was a mutual dis-admiration society, even though I don’t think “dis-admiration” is a word. And I hoped I would manage to avoid running into her and seeing that look of outright disdain on her face.

She may have been a superior being—but that was no reason to make other people feel like they should apologize for breathing. “What’s that smug look on your face?”

“You’re not exactly Ms. Congeniality. You look at me as if you’re one second away from slapping me from here to hell. But then again, you look at everyone that way.”

"...Guys like you don’t care. You don’t know anything about what a man like my brother went through just because he was born. You’ll never know his kind of courage.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because straight little boys are callous...”

“I said stand up.”
I looked at her with that almost cynical question on my face.

And I get that you’re a private person and you don’t think you need to tell anybody—for your own survival. But I promise you, Susie and Gina—and me, too—we’ll help you. Sorry, that sounded condescending.

That word, “school,” was hovering over us like vultures over a dead carcass.

And I admired the ability he had to make fun of himself. I hadn’t yet acquired that art.

“Well, maybe I am up to something. But it isn’t anything nefarious.”

“No,” he said, “today I’m a cultural anthropologist, and I’m observing behaviors of young men and women who have known one another for almost twelve years and, having been stuck in a kind of emotional stasis, are attempting to examine their behaviors in order to deepen their interpersonal skills that support and promote emotional stability. In order for me to maintain my role as a social scientist, I must maintain my objectivity.”

Objectivity? You walked up to Gina and Susie and greeted them by hugging them.

“Well, don’t expect the hugging thing in the future. Dante can hug you if he wants. He’s an indiscriminate hugger. I reserve hugging for special occasions, apart from spontaneous outbursts, which may or may not happen every now and again.”

But she liked them, and sometimes women had a solidarity between them that men didn’t have—maybe because they needed it and men didn’t.

“I did have ulterior motives for having you come over today. What I have to say may not be a big deal for you, but apparently it’s a bigger deal for me than I ever thought.”

Jaime and I have always believed that a parent holds a sacred office. And we will never abdicate or resign from that office just because things get difficult.

She explained that all the Catholic Daughters were going to march in procession wearing white dresses.

He was laughing, and it must have been a candid shot because the wind seemed to be playing with his thick hair.

She said that my question was very astute, and she said that she was happy to know that I was looking at the world with open eyes.

She wasn’t hanging her head in any kind of shame. The afternoon sunlight seemed like it was shining on her and her alone. And she had a look of defiance. She wasn’t broken, and she wasn’t going to break.

She kept her eyes focused on the casket as the pallbearers carried it out of the hearse.

I’m high and on top of the world because I am deeply, profoundly, ecstatically, entirely, and most emphatically in love with a guy named Aristotle Mendoza.

Lucky guy, though—I mean, all that love that’s deep, profound, ecstatic, entire, and emphatic, well, that’s some kind of love aimed at that Aristotle guy.

Lucky guy, though—I mean, all that love that’s deep, profound, ecstatic, entire, and emphatic, well, that’s some kind of love aimed at that Aristotle guy.

“Well, you never know, I might run into him at school and there’s a chance I might recognize him, and if that happens, I will be more than happy to convey your message to him—only I don’t know what that message is.”

I got their attention with that old catcall whistle that no one used anymore but that my mom and dad laughed about.

My school days would start on a good note—a note I’d written to win the first round. I was going to get trounced.

He was a nice guy, smart, nerdy, and with a lot of lilt in the way he spoke.

I didn’t even know Danny—but I did know something about him that made me feel that I could trust him. It made me sad to think that people didn’t see the most obvious thing about him—that he had a noble heart.

She had a look at my bandaged hands and she knew exactly what she was seeing. But she couldn’t help but ask, "Ari, do you happen to be accident prone?”

“We’re both smart enough to know what a clenched hand is. Your fists, do they run into things or people?”
“Sometimes the two are indistinguishable.”

They were both playful and serious—and always, as if by instinct, they could take a discussion, even if it occurred spontaneously, and point it in the direction where real learning began.

You were so completely oblivious to the fact that people liked you, and you seemed not to care.

She’d taken me to the principal’s office once because I had what she referred to as an altercation with another guy in the hallway after school.

“Some school nurses are quite competent. Others are not.”

“Well,” she said, “perhaps it’s best to adjourn for the day. Perhaps tomorrow, we’ll all do a little better.”

And then she said, “And I kept digging myself deeper and deeper and I just couldn’t stop. And you looked so exasperated. And I just kept right on going.”

“We’re carping on our teachers.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because you were preventing me from saying something.”
“Well, you have to learn to be more assertive.”

“Lecture. There’s a word. You may think that term has negative connotations, but usually when someone attends a lecture, they learn something.”

Sometimes I would go to the Charcoaler all by myself. Just to grab a bite to eat. I don’t know why. Part of it was the nostalgia of having worked there.