2003-12-31 - 5:20 p.m.
2003
8th grade.
I started this diary on… the 11th? Of January, I think. Jr. High was awful, we all felt trapped inside those walls, with those teachers and same-old, same-old. I liked the days when I had Eagles and I could talk to Liz and everyone would poke fun at everyone else. I remember one time that we played charades and Kyle, Liz, and some chippie had to belly dance. I also recall making gum, which dissolved in your mouth as soon as you put it in. The process of making gum, which involved hot plates, gave us all burns and resulted in Miss Wenrick aborting the whole experiment. There was this pink-of-a-question thing that I’m sure they’d still mock me for now and the time we went to some science seminar (and Jordan feeling the “black of rejection”) are good memories too.
One of the biggest things that happened to me last year was making the play. True, I should have had a bigger role but still, I got to travel with the whole cast to Atlanta, Georgia to compete. We should have won but since Mr. Deihl is more original than John Jacobson ever was we couldn’t perform one more time. But still the feeling of doing something that wonderful was so amazing, we were all one, and everyone was so, so proud for us. In Atlanta we had some great memories, the Coke factory and Hard Rock Café. It was wonderful.
Then there was the Purple Team Civil War. I guess we were all a little rational and dumb. But God it was fun. Mr. McKeiver split us into two groups to symbolize the North and South of America and picked two generals. I didn’t want to be a general but Mr. McKeiver dragged me into it and plus Zeljko was the other general so I had to show him up. That’s kind of the way we were. Anyhow, Mr. McKeiver made Zeljko give a speech that he was “leaving the Union” but it was more, or less, a lets-bust-on-all-of-Abby’s-tree-hugger-qualities. Which he did. A lot. I heard that (since I was in gym) he called me an environmentalist-treehugging-something-or-other-freak. But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity of getting back my dignity. So I gave a speech too, which was very fun and Mr. Dennehy told me it was rather embarrassing for him. In the end, after leading for the most part of the war, the Violet Team came to a crashing defeat. And my team was victorious. That war was the best thing that happened in school that year. Good times…
And then there was summer.
Summer is always an oasis to some, and a disaster for others. For me, summer was wonderful. Even though I was stuck at home, or working I still didn’t have to go to school and I could dream about high school in September. On the last day Jeremy, Chad, and I walked home with Liz for an end of the year “staff meeting”. Cheryl, who skipped the last day came over with a bottle of sparkling grape juice, which we put in nice glasses , toasted with, and felt very sophisticated. I got a job last summer too, which sucked. But I made good money, that I’m not really sure what to do with.
I went to Stone Harbor with Care, and had a wonderful time, even though it rained almost everyday and she was afraid of sharks. We played hide-and-go-seek one day when it rained and we had watched all the movies she brought. I learned that it’s a hazard to hide in the washing machine and to never do it again. We also went to the board walk and walked around with two of her friends. The guys there are more…outgoing than they are here and had no problem hitting on us. One of the girls’ brother, Jason, was really cool to us and gave rides and me advice on high school.
There were random moments through-out the summer which rocked too. This one time when my room was totally empty because we were painting I was sitting on the floor listening to The Beatles and the window was open, letting in all the cool, summer night air. And it was so wonderful, like I was having epiphanies or something, except not and everything just felt…calm.
The very last night of the summer Cheryl, Kassi, Liz, Jessi, and Care came over to sleep out in our back yard. We looked at the stars and ate strawberries, and played music loud, and Jessi dressed up like a pimp and I had to swear never to show the tape to Jeremy.
There was the True Revolutionist through it all
The idea came to us sometime in the middle of December. Plan A was to get a gun and well…that wouldn’t have worked. So we came up with a different plan – our own newspaper. From that time on we collected subscribers and a web designer. Now the True Revolutionist consists of, for the most part, Cheryl, Liz, and I (plus anyone else who shows up at a staff meeting). We have had 6 issues, our site has been visited roughly 3,500 times, we have over 60 subscribers, and its in more countries than just America, thanks to our wonderful “foreign affairs” operator, Cheryl. And on the second we’re having our one-year anniversary party, just to show how far we’ve gotten. Liz even made shirts!
And then, like a smack in the face - high school
Coming into high school as a freshman, you expect there to be a difference between high school and jr. high. I expected there to be a new freedom with high school and for the people to be more interesting and sophisticated. But they’re the same. Even in the first week it was realized that things weren’t going to get better just by moving up a grade. All the boys were still immature and the girls just liked the way they looked and the teachers didn’t give shit about what grade you had. The juniors were the bitchiest because they had just became “upper classmen” and were much better than the freshman and sophomores. To the seniors, we were just part of the seanery. Art class is the best for me, it’s the only place where I can go and feel like home. Miss Chickey, my teacher, is one of those feminist-do-it-yourself-artsy-individualist-type people. Which is cool. Even though I have it first period and my table doesn’t have any snappy comebacks and we forget how to spell purple we have our laughs. Bio is another story. The whole class is riding on extra credit and the only thing to keep us from falling asleep is knowing we have to study for English. I decided to take German again, which is lame, for a lot of the first marking period we all thought she didn’t understand the English swear words. When she started using them, we figured she knew them well enough. Unfortunately I can’t get much sleep in that class because Rustle will scare the shit out of me right when I’m almost asleep. On alternating days I go to computer app. Nice as my teacher is, she can’t tell me and the boy next to me apart which says something for how long his hair is. Or there’s gym class. Unfortunately Miss Farrel hates me; I think it was the skipping-gym-class-thing. Twice. Anyway, they really have no mercy on how embarrassing square dancing is. I feel like a monkey at the mercy of the ape-like gym teachers. English is the vain of our existence for those who stupidly chose to take Hon. English. Our slutty English teacher is the type who hand out assignments and never gives them back. And math is just math and math is always, always boring. Especially when it’s your last class.
The good parts of high school are fewer than the bad, but I’m waiting for that to change. One of good parts is the football games we all attend. Some come to watch, some come for the booze, and most come for freedom and to hang out with friends. A lot of days a group of us would walk home with Cheryl to hang out, walk some more to the ABC, and then go to the game. Those are the infinite days that we’ll remember for a long time. There’s this one day that was especially memorable when we were lying out in her front yard as it grew dark with our heads in someone’s lap and joking about an orgy. The moon was out and I think we all felt very one with the world. Another wonderful thing about high school, is that more people are into good music. I sit in the trainer’s room three days a week listening and talking to Leah about the joys of classic rock. And just walking around school there’s bound to be at least two people with the same Led Zepplin shirt on and countless tie dye Greatful Dead, Pink Floyd, Bob Marley shirts. Personally, I look for new bands I’ve never heard of and look them up. Thanks to one kid I’ve discovered Thrice, Thursday, and A Static Lullaby, and rejected Less Then Jake.
There were movies, memories, and boys and parties. There was laughing, writing, crying, wishing, thinking, and a little too much school. There were moments of fear, existentialism, happiness, gloom, and depression. I guess most of our lives are made or goodbyes. Everyday you walk out of your house, and say goodbye to your family. You walk out of school and say goodbye to your friends. You say goodbye to your friends and teachers at the end of school. Goodbye to the old year, but we never really say hello. You just walk to through your life saying nothing but goodbyes but when are you really happy to let go and say goodbye? Last year was a really slow year for me but even still, I can’t believe its going to be over tonight. Thank God. This year has to be better. They say that the way you spend New Years is the way you spend the new year. And this year, I’m not going to Hoss’s with my family, and I’m not drinking Sprite from a fancy glass. I’ve wished on every 11:11 I’ve seen in the past two days (which has been 4) for tonight to be wonderful. I’m going to hang out with Katie and Virginia at Cheryl’s house and even though we didn’t find any boys to kiss at the stroke of midnight (sounding cliché, once again) I guess its ok and it’ll be fun.
For next year, I don’t know what to resolve. I can’t resolve to get a boyfriend because that just happens, like a smack in the face. I am resolving to 1.) Learn to play guitar, 2.) Eat healthy (this is me and Care’s doing), 3.) Write what I really mean and not lie to myself. 2003 is something I’m really sure I want to let go of. In years past I haven’t wanted to go onto a new year but this year I’m ready because truly, last year wasn’t as wonderful as I’d have hoped.
So 2004 is tomorrow, it’s not really anything more than a number, except for maybe a little hope for some of us…
Song of the Year – “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd (hey it’s a “golden oldie” as they like to call it. And I just discovered it this year so it’s MY song of the year. Plus I spent a lot of time wishing someone was here.)
Movie of the Year – Whats Eating Gilbert Grape (Watch it - you'll like it.)
Book of the Year – The Perks of Being a Wallflower (Something we all need to read.)
Band of the Year – Something Corporate (Hard to believe I only discovered them a year ago.)
Album of the Year – “More Than You Think You Are” by Matchbox Twenty (This is an album everyone can relate to, its raw and honest, and been played so many times over in my CD player.)
With love,
Abby
