About the Table

If you go up to a random person on the street and ask them "Hey, what's the table?" they will look at you like your insane and run away without answering. However, if they were to answer most of them would say that a table is a flat surface, usually made of wood, on which one places a plate and proceeds to eat their edibles. Not everyone is that boring, though. On the 20 or 30 in 6.5 billion chance that this person was a tablean they would puff up proudly and grin. "The table is everything! It's our home and shelter and its full of some dear not queer, love! It's the land of insanity and self-fulfillment through creeping people out. It's a council for people to help each other in their quests for world domination and immense riches. It is my homeland for I am a *poses* tablean." That, of course, would leave you wondering (if you hadn't already been scared away) about it's history. After all, every society has a history and a culture. Like a creepy national geographic photographer you would set out to study the tablean in it's natural habitat. Well, if you really want to dedicate your entire life to hiding in the wild lockers and sleeping in a tent in the cafeteria, filming the wild beasts, be my guest but it would be a lot easier just to read the rest of this. That's right, this is: THE COMPLETE HISTORY OF OUR GLOIRIOS TABLE. In case you hadn't read the title.

(Note to the reader: You may notice that I switch off between assuming you're one of us ("Our table" and the beginning of this sentence) and that you are an outsider (Being creped out, studying us like strangers). This is the point where most people would say there is a totally reasonable explanation for this. There isn't. Lesson one about tableans: We don't make sense. Ever.)

In the beginning, there was a cafeteria. In this cafeteria roamed, throughout the lunch mods, many sixth graders. Most were short, whiney little kids who only wanted to go home (I know I was). So they formed short, whiney little groups; and sat at slimy, unsanitary, pathetic, ugly brown tables. Whether or not the tables were originally brown is something even I do not know. (Actually, there are many, many things I don't know. Any tablean can attest to this). Isolated at one end of one such table were a few ordinary looking young girls. If you had ever gone near them, however, you would realize they were nowhere near normal. They had competitions to throw French fries above a big gray thing (which ended when one Angie succeeded) and much, much more. Those who sat there included Erin, Whitney (spelling?), Angie, Lindsay, Laura, Rachel Simmer, Rachel Morris, Cathie, Emily and more I have trouble remembering after so many years. Some sat there originally, some were invited and some followed Cathie. (That would be me, Emily Iversen, the only tablean never to be invited or introduced to date. I sat down and for the next year did not utter a word to the tableans. I was actually a shy kid once, and still am if you don't know me pretty well. I listened to the tableans and watched the history go by, as part of the wall, for an entire year until I was so familiar with them all via eavesdropping that I decided to speak; and I haven't stopped yet. Anyways, this isn't MY story it's ours. Unless you're some random kid who stumbled into this, in which case it still isn't my story. It's The Table's.)

Through sixth and seventh grade the table was a magnet for people who were weird in the awesome way and didn't know where they could go to escape the strange concept of normalcy that had infected their school. It also simultaneously served as prep-repellent, which is really the best of both worlds. The tableans accepted everyone, trusting that the unlikable types wouldn't want to associate with them in the first place. For the most part, they were right and they found many new tableans and traditions. They wrote songs about their shoes (*singing* I lost my shoe. My lucky left shoe). They questioned the contents of the meals they were eating as they choked them down anyways. Something much more important happened in seventh grade, too. The first notebook ever was formed (I think). It was written by Angie, though I'm not exactly sure what it was about (See above, I didn't talk). This would be the first of a gigantic library ranging from lemony fresh stories of fun, to huge stories 5 or 6 notebooks long *coughvalentinescough*, to things which everyone wrote in (tablean notebook), to stories of power-hungry crazed interview ladies. But most of those wouldn't come along for at least a summer yet.

It was during this frenzied time of expansion known as seventh grade that the table became, well, the table. First earning it's title as amazing and awesome. Also, the first and only tablean election was held. Angie was elected as the Grand High Elder and Rachel Morris earned Highest Elder status. A round of lunch table survivor was held and led to the "voting off" of many who never left. Greta, Jessica, Colleen, Rel, Mallory, Lia, and many others came in this era.

Of course, this is my version of seventh grade. You must note that you might find a very, very different story if you ask some tableans, possibly including you if you are a tablean. Well, I've been wrong a lot and probably am now, but from what I watched in seventh grade I think our table was once two tables. Many tableans came to the table at the same time, almost, in seventh and early eighth grade. Many of them seemed to me to have been friends before. So, were "we" going to "them"? Or were we coming?

In eighth grade the table strengthened, gathering up those who remained in sunrise who weren't already in the table (Hi, Beth!). Also, it ensured that newer, shakier tableans or those who just hadn't talked before *coughmecough* found confidence in their table. Everyone became greater and greater friends by the day, so by the end of eighth grade we were an even closer group than before. Some where in there someone started calling us tableans. I think it was Mel, who decided we could find each other this way at Valley Fair. The name became much loved and throughout the following summer the exact spelling of the word tablean would be debated. It's still spelled many ways to date, the main ones being tablian, tablean and tablien. It also spurred some spin off names, like Circlite and Guildian which never really caught on. One of the most important accomplishments of eighth grade was the founding of the Guild on Neopets. The message board there served as a way for all the tableans to talk at once and created many inside jokes and strengthened the table by making everyone there better friends. Without the guild the table might not be the same, and I may not be a tablean here today.

During the last few weeks of school and the summer two major events occurred. The first being the afore mentioned forming of our name. The second being the formation of the Circle, a place where tableans could get together and cry. It got mixed reviews, some tableans feeling it was "too depressing" and some feeling that it was the best therapy they'd ever had.
Then came high school. The first guy tableans came (Logan! Jon! Hi!) and through their coming brought more (Josh, Mike) and threats of even more who were scared away (Creepy short kid! Bye!). Also, more girl tableans came too, including Megan, Nicky and probably a few who I've gotten to know so well I've forgotten they just came this year. They all rocked our socks. A language known as Zephyer (Or Hebrew, if you ask certain males from our science class) was formed, notebooks were made and much more.