Year Meme
Basically, here's how it happens: I got a year from gluedupsidedown after I responded to her post. I have to write what I remember about this year. You comment and I give you a year to meditate on. Ready?
1996, how shall I remember you? I was 12 years old and in the seventh grade (that's a good place to begin). I might have had one friend at my shitty-ass educational institution, Brookville Middle School, but it was more like an acquaintance. Seventh grade was actually pretty good in comparison to sixth grade and was heaven to hellish fifth grade. I wasn't getting beat up as often; people seemed to have matured a little and some of the bullies moved away. I remember drawing utahraptors in science class, because I had read Bob Bakker's Raptor Red and thought it was cool (this book is still in my bookcase at home, in case I feel inclined to return to it one day). In the same science class, we also dissected worms, and I remember reading about the solar system and life on Europa (Jupiter's ice moon) in kids science magazines. I also remember having to pay a nickel or something ridiculously cheap for my lunch, because my sister and I were on that school lunch program for poor kids. I wanted to join the school writing club (whose name I forget), but was convinced that I couldn't for whatever reason. This was also the first FULL year that I played bass clarinet in band; it rocked hardcore and I'm eternally grateful to Mr. Cain, by music teacher for allowing me to play it.
Some time after the start of the year, my first real best friend in years moved to Brookville from Louisburg. Her name was Stacy Freeders. She had been somewhat popular in her old hometown, having been on the volleyball team, and she would have been popular at BMS if she hadn't have chosen to sit with me and the small group of reject kids one day (there were three of us - myself, my acquaintance, and a guy named Shaun, whom my acquaintance liked but I did not). I remember her kindness shocking me at first, and then thinking that it wouldn't last. Somehow, it did, though. Stacy introduced me to Playstation, Star Wars novels, and "wicca" (which was actually an imitation of what she saw on The Craft).
I also vaguely remember chaperoned dances in the cafeteria; this guy named Ryan Rose who was the dream guy of the seventh grade (for whatever reason) danced with me. I still believe that it was on a bet with his friends, but nevertheless it was a nice memory. And then there was cotillion, where I learned to dance. REALLY dance. Ballroom dancing. Lessons were taught by a white woman and her black husband, who were both very nice. I liked the waltz, which was simple, but hated the tango, which was hard. Amusingly, if this was 1997, my preferences would have been reversed, because the instructor's husband was kind enough to teach the tango to me when I was having problems with it; he made it easy to learn.
It's funny how you expect yourself not to have remembered a lot about a certain time in your life, but when you really reflect upon it, you can remember so much.
1996, how shall I remember you? I was 12 years old and in the seventh grade (that's a good place to begin). I might have had one friend at my shitty-ass educational institution, Brookville Middle School, but it was more like an acquaintance. Seventh grade was actually pretty good in comparison to sixth grade and was heaven to hellish fifth grade. I wasn't getting beat up as often; people seemed to have matured a little and some of the bullies moved away. I remember drawing utahraptors in science class, because I had read Bob Bakker's Raptor Red and thought it was cool (this book is still in my bookcase at home, in case I feel inclined to return to it one day). In the same science class, we also dissected worms, and I remember reading about the solar system and life on Europa (Jupiter's ice moon) in kids science magazines. I also remember having to pay a nickel or something ridiculously cheap for my lunch, because my sister and I were on that school lunch program for poor kids. I wanted to join the school writing club (whose name I forget), but was convinced that I couldn't for whatever reason. This was also the first FULL year that I played bass clarinet in band; it rocked hardcore and I'm eternally grateful to Mr. Cain, by music teacher for allowing me to play it.
Some time after the start of the year, my first real best friend in years moved to Brookville from Louisburg. Her name was Stacy Freeders. She had been somewhat popular in her old hometown, having been on the volleyball team, and she would have been popular at BMS if she hadn't have chosen to sit with me and the small group of reject kids one day (there were three of us - myself, my acquaintance, and a guy named Shaun, whom my acquaintance liked but I did not). I remember her kindness shocking me at first, and then thinking that it wouldn't last. Somehow, it did, though. Stacy introduced me to Playstation, Star Wars novels, and "wicca" (which was actually an imitation of what she saw on The Craft).
I also vaguely remember chaperoned dances in the cafeteria; this guy named Ryan Rose who was the dream guy of the seventh grade (for whatever reason) danced with me. I still believe that it was on a bet with his friends, but nevertheless it was a nice memory. And then there was cotillion, where I learned to dance. REALLY dance. Ballroom dancing. Lessons were taught by a white woman and her black husband, who were both very nice. I liked the waltz, which was simple, but hated the tango, which was hard. Amusingly, if this was 1997, my preferences would have been reversed, because the instructor's husband was kind enough to teach the tango to me when I was having problems with it; he made it easy to learn.
It's funny how you expect yourself not to have remembered a lot about a certain time in your life, but when you really reflect upon it, you can remember so much.