Two entries from my junior year of high school. The second one, when i came across it this morning, made me laugh so hard that tears streamed down my face. It’s about one of our teachers who used to give us all nicknames. Could you EVER get away with such stuff in a classroom now? Who knows, maybe you could … but some of them (one in particular) are truly in bad taste … but no matter … I was guffawing <\/b>reading them.<\/p>\n
Once again, my junior year was when I was WILDLY AND PASSIONATELY IN LOVE … with a boy who sort of liked me. As a person, not as a girl<\/b>. It took me an entire YEAR to realize that he liked me as a person, not as a girl<\/b>. Bummer.<\/p>\n
In the first entry, my mother gives me some AWESOME advice … (which, of course, I blatantly ignored for the next 20 years – until, through the school of hard knocks, I finally got the message. I think I’ve got the hang of it now, though … Thanks, Mum!! You were right!)<\/p>\n
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Thank God<\/u> the week is over. And tomorrow — I shall be in NYC with Drama Class and Mere and Kate and Beth. I really need this break now. I can’t wait! The city just excites, exhilarates me. [Still does<\/i>] I can forget about stupid Chemistry and stupid school. Oh yes – I finished my paper for English. I am so proud of it! I worked really<\/u> hard on it – 12 typed pages. Last night I got 4<\/b><\/u> – count them – 4 hours of sleep. I typed and typed – my back still aches. I got up late and had to dash out without breakfast. I got to school – I felt so weak and light-headed – J. told me my face was stark white. My stomach gnawed painfully – I must have looked gorgeous.<\/p>\n
Once again – French picked me up. [Shorthand translation: HE was in my French class, so I got to be in his presence<\/i>] French comes at a perfect time for me — in the middle of the day. Project Adventure days [a gym class that HE was in with me<\/i>] are heaven. First period just sets me off in a good mood. I don’t have to struggle on to get to period 4. [Okay, Sheila … so … you might want to look at your propensity to WILT when you are not in the presence of the guy you love. Not a good habit to get into.<\/i>] He has no<\/u> idea.<\/p>\n
I came home today and thought about him really intensely. [Stop doing that. Go for a run. Jump in the lake. Do ANYTHING other than sit around thinking about him “really intensely”<\/i>] I didn’t think about us<\/u> [Uh – there is no “us”<\/i>], or asking him to dance – but I thought about him<\/u>. He’s a person<\/u>. Why is that so thrilling to me? [Don’t ask me.<\/i>] I just look at him – hair combed, glasses – Mum said to me, “I think at the dance, you should wait for him to ask you. You’ve let him know, don’t push it. But also<\/u> – you don’t want to take away from his masculinity, his maleness.” [Go, Mum!! Awesome advice! Too bad I ignored it for so many years!<\/i>] It sounds sexist but I know what she means. If he does feel something, then I want to give him a chance to do something about it first<\/u>. I hate being such a dreamer. I’m gonna be crushed someday. [You will be crushed over … and over … and over … and over … <\/i>]<\/p>\n
I think humans are beautiful. Aren’t people beautiful? I imagine his growth [as in height? or his soul-growth?<\/i>] and his teenager-hood – He is a teenager. Just like everyone else. He has up days, down days. I don’t really know what I’m trying to say but — I know that when he looks at me, I feel in awe of nature for just creating life<\/u>. Individuals. Created out of the stuff of nature. Atoms. Molecules. And him — I mean – who is he? What is it like inside his head? Does he have questions or fears about sex? Is he a virgin? Oh God<\/u> I don’t even want to contemplate that one. I wonder if I look as virgin pure as I feel (and am!!!!)<\/p>\n
I think the masculine race is wonderful<\/b><\/u>.<\/p>\n
[I still do. And I’m glad that now, in my old age, I realize that men are, in fact, NOT a different RACE, but a different GENDER. But when I was 16, they sure seemed like a different race altogether.<\/i>]<\/p>\nDecember 3<\/h3>\n
Dance tomorrow night. I am not going. I wouldn’t care about it if he weren’t there. [All eggs in one basket. A basket who liked me as a PERSON, not as a GIRL. Not a good idea.<\/i>] That was the reason I went to Homecoming and it was going<\/u> to be the reason I went to this one. He is now at Harvard representing some little country and debating. [This must be Model UN. At least I hope it is. Otherwise I have no idea what he was up to.<\/i>] I WISH I WERE THERE! I’ll have to get April to tell me all about it.<\/p>\n
Next week – the 15th – the band puts on their annual Christmas concert in the gym. Of course I planned on going. Now<\/u> what I didn’t know was that he is in the Stage Band and — he has a solo where he stands up alone to play<\/u>. J. says he really gets into it, leaning into the music. I can’t wait!<\/p>\n
I have too much homework. I feel extremely close to a mental breakdown.<\/p>\n
Every night I stay up until midnight. Chemistry is plaguing my life out, no thanks to Mr. Amoeba Man. I really am teaching myself Chemistry. History is so<\/u> boring. [Yup. I had to find a love of history all on my own. My parents helped too.<\/i>] Mr. Butler is really sexist. He openly tells the girls in our class he doesn’t think it’s right that girls wear pants. “Oh, Kelly, you look very pretty today. It’s a shame that girls wear sweatpants nowadays.” Uhm – Kelly has gym right before History. Asshole. I mean, he’s a nice grandfatherly sort of guy, but he condescends to the girls when they ask questions, and treats the boys like members of his team. It gets a bit much<\/u>!! First period studies and gym are heaven<\/u>. Studies — of course we never study! Studies are not there to study<\/u> in, are you crazy?<\/p>\n
Kate, J., April and I sit at one table and cry with laughter for forty-five minutes. It’s a blast!<\/p>\n
Math is crazy. Mr. James is crazy<\/u>. He throws chalk and erasers at people. He threw a pencil at me – it hit me in the tooth<\/u>. He gives everyone nicknames. He calls Kim Gately – Rusty<\/u>. (Think about it.) He calls Dawn Wemmer – Sunrise<\/u>. He calls Tim Devinck – Leonardo<\/u>. Steve W. has his hair cut really evenly – he is called Bowl<\/u>. Mark W. has the same haircut, and he is called Bowl II<\/u>. John Marcus is called Aurelius<\/u>. Sue Rice is called Corn Flakes<\/u>. He calls me Marsha<\/u>. (As in Marsha Malley). Oh yeah, and there’s this kid in our class named Tuan Do – Mr. James calls him Don Ho<\/u>. Sean O’Brien is this kid who looks like a leprechaun, or an elf, maybe. Or<\/u> the Baby New Year in the Christmas special. Mr. James always calls him Baby New Year, right to his face. “Who knows the answer – Baby New Year?” [Is anyone else guffawing right now? This is all SO inappropriate and SO FUNNY<\/i>] Everyone laughs in that class so much<\/u>. The kids who don’t<\/u> have nicknames feel left out. Mr. James is always saying, “Hey, come on, Sean – wake up! New Years is coming!”<\/p>\n
I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE CHRISTMAS CONCERT! [I find the lack of segue and the capital letters quite alarming<\/i>]<\/p>\n
My favorite author, by the way, is JUDITH GUEST. Oh my God – her books honestly make me cry. It’s rare to find a book just<\/u> as good as the movie or vice versa. But – it runs both ways here, with her Ordinary People<\/u>. I loved both equally. I bought her 2nd book Second Heaven<\/u> in NYC. I love<\/u> how she writes. Her characters are wonderful! I’d love to act in a movie of one of her books. I’d love to be able to have one of her characters and say, “That’s my character.” If I was a guy, I would have killed to play Conrad!! I hope Judith Guest keeps writing more and more and more and more.<\/p>\n
God, this entry is boring. I’m bored just writing it – so I am going back to Chemistry and p+<\/sup> and e–<\/sup> and moles and Avagadro’s number and 6.02 x 1023<\/sup> and I can’t wait!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Two entries from my junior year of high school. The second one, when i came across it this morning, made me laugh so hard that tears streamed down my face. It’s about one of our teachers who used to give … Continue reading