These are the entries that didn’t seem to fit any other categories, but contain little nuggets of insanity.
April 26, 1995- Well, the stitches are good for one thing: Glory. Everybody loves a nice gory bunch of stitches.
It’s true. Fifth graders love major injuries. Of course, I was not one of the cool kids who broke her arm falling off a skateboard or got stitches from, I don’t know, machete juggling. No, my moment in the Munchausen spotlight came from keloid tumor removal where I had pierced my ears the year before.
November 10, 1995
Orff Ensemble [the NON-mandatory choir I sang in] went to Dallas today. It was cool. I’ll give you the play by play.
4:30am Loaded bus, listened to music
4:50: Started going
5:00 : fell asleep
6:00: Woke up
7:00 : DONUTS!
8:00: music, Austin
9:00: used nasty bus bathroom
10:00: read, DFW Hyatt
11:00: practiced
11:30: performed
12:00: finished
12:30: ate lunch in basement. Hoagie, chips, coke.
1:00: saw exhibits
2:00: left
3:00: fell asleep 3rd time
4:00: wake up
5:00: read
5:30: MCDONALDS! 9 chicken nuggets, soda, fries
6:00: left
8:00: sang. Become VERY sick of Love Shack
9:30: Home (Seele)
10:00: real home
Nick fell off the bus toilet. Our performance was pretty good. Got sugar drunk. Had to use the men’s restroom at the Hyatt.
Judging from the account, DONUTS! at 7am were the highlight of the day. Rivaled only by MCDONALDS!
I am still twitchy about the song “Love Shack.” Pre-teens will listen to songs like “Love Shack,” (and then later “Barbie Girl,” and “Stacy’s Mom”) until your ears bleed. It was preparing me for being mother to a toddler who is infatuated with Cats: The Musical.
I also remember listening to “Gangster’s Paradise” on that trip and feeling particularly badass. I think this was when I learned that “roadtrip” is synonymous with “everything you aren’t allowed to do with your parents” including fattening foods, and apparently mainstream light rap.
My final somewhat random things are prompts from my American Girl journals. In 2nd and 3rd grade I used American Girl journals that were filled with helpful prompts for organizing memories. Actually, they were there for exactly the purpose they are now serving. To illicit ridiculous statements for my future self to enjoy.
From my 1992 American Girl Journal
More than anything I want to be able to tell Theodore I love him.
That dream is important to me because I love Theodore. And I am too shy to tell him.
This is how I plan to make it come true by paying atenchen [sic] to him and smiling at him.
Nothing can stop me except if he gets a girlfriend or the end of second grade.
I was a mute with a deadline threatening my quest for true love. I don’t mention it here, but I also have a fish tail and lovely red hair. They based a movie on me.
Looking back, I have changed in this way I am not so shy.
I have not changed in my sweet personality and good taste.
Still going strong on that one.
From my 1993 American Girl Journal
On the best day I can imagine, I would be kissed by Theodore in hot pink spandex shorts and a swing top. And he would take me to extra cheese pizza in winter at His Hill we would dance to a Hole [sic] New World and Kirsten and Amber [my dolls] would come to life.
I’m assuming I’m the one wearing pink spandex in this fantasy. Also, a girl knows that boys come and go, but dolls who come to life will endure.
I think that now (this is/this is not) the best time to be an American girl because our new president (Bill Clinton) is very over charging taxes.
Ah, yes, my Fox News days…
More than anything I want to be an artist and a model
That dream is important to me because it is my ambition and how I intend to make a living
This is how I plan to make it come true take art lessons for an artist and for modeling just hope my natural good looks shine through.
Nothing can stop me except hand disease, pimples, warts, broken hands, and bad hair
I think I’ll succeed because I’m pretty (not meaning to brag) I’m a fairly good artist and I’ll do everything I can to.