The Class Was Bad

Sometimes I can't figure out what my little brain was thinking.  Mr. Campaign was our school headmaster, Mrs. Markwell was my 3rd grade teacher.  Seeing as I wasn't even there that day, I don't know where I got this story from.

Other than that, I'm impressed I spelled "temperature" correctly, and not surprised I spelled "gone" as "goon."

High School

How come no one thought to get me on Prozac earlier?

Be Free, St. Neds

 A recurring theme in my childhood and young adult life was obsessive friendships.  They weren’t necessarily sexual (actually I’d be hard pressed to think of one that was), but I was OBSESSED with these girls and the relationships we had.  I wanted to be the most important thing to them, their closest friend and confidant, and once we was old enough to know sex, I wanted the closeness of that with them too.

This entry is from my 6th grade diary, and I’m not sure if it’s an early obsessive friendship or just normal jr. high Mean Girls drama.  It’s probably a little bit of both.  I also think I’ve always had a heightened emotional reaction to things, and I attribute a lot of my youthful angst to that (and my current angst too, these things don’t just go away).

 It’s still funny though. The “Best Friends” ring or piece of jewelry was such a THING, like who gave one to who, who wore which half (“Be Frie” or “St Nds” - pronounced “Be Free” or “St. Neds.”)  And “If I had it my way no one would be popular” is such BS, if I was popular I never would have said that.

What A Bad Day

I still leave letters off of words all the time, I think because my brain moves faster than I can write by hand.

Dream Wedding Dress, 6th Grade

The Shadow of God

Organized dancing often leads to religious revelations for children..

Sooo Much To Say!

Sixth grade was the first year of "middle school," which is what St. Margaret's called Jr. High.  I didn't realize how lame I sounded saying "Lower School," "Middle School" and "Upper School" until I started talking to normal people that went to grade school, junior high and high school.  Anyway, I was 11 years old in 6th grade, and enjoying my last gasp of Lolita-aged hottness before puberty had it's cruel, cruel way with me.  In this installment of my Very Secret Diary, I must decide between two equally "nice & cool" prospective "b-friends," struggle with the jealousy I have for a friend with "an awesome popular boyfriend," and fret for the health of yet another friend who may be "anerexic or balemic (sic) I can't remember which."  But none of that really matters because "I can't wait 'til summer!  Weeee!"

Boyfriends, bulemia, whatever!!  I love passing notes and soccer is so cool!

 
Post script - the very next day one of my amorous suitors "un-asked me out" because he "didn't feel the same way anymore."  So I said yes to the other one.

I Hate Patterened Underwhere

Sluts!  Smokers!  No one is safe from my youthful self-righteousness.  This time the target of concern is our beloved housekeeper Peggy, who smoked cigarettes, which I had been taught were VERY BAD and a GATEWAY DRUG and STINKY etc etc.  (We actually had an all school assembly one time with Christopher Nance, who was the local weather guy (double parenthetical - omg I just googled him and found out he was fired in 2002 for "menacing and profane off-air behavior"  !!!???  wtf that is so crazy), anyway he came and spoke to us in the gym and I vividly remember he said he would rather "lick a rat than kiss a smoker."  This image stuck with me forever and when I finally kissed a smoker as a young adult I thought "this is really not so bad and actually kind of hot" so yeah, drug deterrent fail SMES.)

Stay tuned for next time, when you'll learn what kind of "underwhere" I preferred as a 9 year old.

Precious Moments Diary Cover

Nuzzling with geese is always a precious moment.  Other precious moments include being a naked toddler cherub riding shooting stars, holding hands with other white children, scattering bird feed, obeying your parents, following your dreams, and having a gigantic head.

Early slut shaming, TV crushes, and other things that are "so cool"

Ah yes, the "imodest brat" on my AYSO team.  Her name was Shayla and she wore a hot pink leopard print sorts bra to every practice, which was bananas to me because I didn't even wear a jog bra at age 9. 

Then of course we get into my continued run down of which boys I think are cute - in this edition, an older boy is "sorta cute" but not as cute as "the first king in the Christmas Pagent (sic)."  Doogie Houser gets a shout out (an early flash of my total lack of gaydar), and of course Zach Morris from Saved by the Bell, who I call "Mark Paul." 

But for me it all comes back to "I love passing notes and soccer is so cool."  That so aptly sums up my state of mind as a fourth grader in south OC in 1993.  At that point, I had no doubt that I would grow up to be beautiful and smart and marry a rich man and have lots of children.  This was before I knew I was at least partially on Doogie Houser's team.

And for what it's worth, I still like passing notes and still think soccer is cool.  Non ironically.  I really love soccer.

Fourth Grade, Precious Moments Diary

Early drunken ramblings

Big Ones: a Boobifesto, age 11

It's sad that I struggle with a lot of the same shit now.  I want the affirmation of the patriarchy but resent its power of me.

Flash Forward: 6th Grade

This is when I start to think that I have some really Big Ideas and am very Down To Earth and Cool.  Self-awareness was not my strong point. 

So Fine, All Mine

Hipmitized

Sept 9, 1991

Dear Diary,
Today was ok.  My lunch was good I failed in math. and no marbles.  I got constipated.  We got book orders.  My moms getting her hair cut.  She will look bad.  My room got cleaned.
Love,
Annika
I LOVE DANNY

Brokin Harted

This Means You

Discusting

Why does "boring" get a capital B?  Why was I so negative about our dog going to the groomer?  Why did I feel these revelations were so personal that I could share them with nobody?

Like last time, I had crossed out Kyle and written in Danny's name.  I think when my affections changed I went through and updated all past entries.

The bully thing is interesting now that bullying has become such an issue, especially of LGBT kids, of which I guess I was one, though I didn't identify as when I was that young.

I don't remember being horribly bullied as a kid, more just picked on for being awkward or ugly, but no more than any other kid.  The first time the sexual thing donned on me was in 5th grade on our class retreat, this girl in our cabin decided we needed a name for our cabin and should be called "Boy Crazy"  but then pronounced "If that's our name, then Annika doesn't belong."  I felt weird because I liked boys at that point but wasn't crazy vocal about it.  In retrospect she probably picked up on something that even I wasn't aware of.  I was way more interested in our pretty 12th grade counselor who introduced us to the song "Mr Jones."

God has given me sin.

8 Is Such a Hard Age.

Seriously guys, I donn even want to tell you about it.

Underneath Danny's name I had written but then erased "Kyle" who was my big crush the year before.  8 year old love is fickle. 

March 8th, 1992. Sin Is Great.

I took religion very seriously as a child.  At St. Margaret's Episcopal School we went to chapel every morning before class and I listened closely except for when I got bored and then I'd play the alphabet game or make up sex stories in my head.  They talked a lot about sin in chapel and church on Sundays and I figured if the priest is saying it, it must be good and Bible approved.  I had a Deep Thought about this and wrote it down in my diary.  This is what it said:

Danny was my major childhood crush and factors heavily into my grade school diaries.  Even if I'm having deep thoughts about God it still has to end with dramatic proclamations of love.  I was just that kind of girl.