I remember everything. When I say that people say, uh huh sure, and roll their eyes. Ok, so it's not like I have a photographic memory, but I remember tiny little insignificant events in my life that everyone else has looked over, or chosen to forget. I can remember who I had crushes on in every different school year, and why. I remember the moments which made me sick inside which I wished for all the world that I could have changed, but I also remember all my little personal victories.
Let's see, starting at Kindergarten. I remember I had a crush on a boy named Matt Winn. He had a mole on his chin, all the girls made fun of him for it, I thought it was cute. I'd get up from my table and walk all the way across the room to sharpen my pencil just so that I could get his attention. He was a bad boy. We knew it in kindergarten, and he never changed. I've always been attracted to the bad boys; I guess I never changed either.
First grade I didn't know where I fit in. I tried to make friends with the cool kids, but they didn't like the fact that my clothes never matched and that my hair was always a mess. I overheard one girl talking about wanting to learn sign language, so I pretended like I had mastered the art. They all wanted to know how to say their names with their hands, so I made up some elaborate gestures and convinced them that was how it was done.
Second grade, we had read-a-thon days once a month. It was a big day for us; it was almost as good as not having school. We brought pillows, candy and books to class. Throughout the day we'd take breaks from our reading to play games. That day we had a spelling bee. I loved to spell, and was one of the best in my class. It was down to four people and the word "remember" came up. Two kids got it wrong before me. My turn, I was going to show them! "R-e-m-B-e-r." I got out. Brooke Adams spelled it right. I was furious.
Third grade I sat at a table next to a boy named Eddie Richards. He was a bad kid, he had a Mohawk and so did his dad. Everyone stayed away from him, because they didn't want to get him mad. He was really nice to me though, and I didn't really care that the other kids gave me dirty looks when I laughed at his jokes. One day he told me that I was a "Great dame." I took serious offense because I thought he was calling me a dog. He explained the difference to me…I couldn't stop blushing.
Fourth grade was an off year, I got chunky. When this new girl, LeOra moved in I was more than happy to make friends with her. She was tall and skinny. Her eyes were bulgy and always bloodshot. I remember wondering if she was a crack addict. She didn't mind that people assumed things like that about her, she liked being mysterious.
In fifth grade Trevor Cottam sat behind me. He was a punk, he had an earring. He teased me about being the teacher's pet because I always got the answers right in class. Mr. Olson yelled at him for poking me one day. He was causing a class disruption. Trevor responded with some smart mouth comment and Mr. Olson picked him up out of his chair by the place where your neck meets your head. I felt like it was my fault.
Sixth grade was when we ruled the school. I was the best artist in the whole grade, therefore probably the whole school. I drew a picture of Jasmine, from Aladdin on my Valentines Day folder. Everyone wanted me to draw pictures for them; it was like I was a celebrity. I came to class on Valentines' Day and my folder was missing. Someone had ripped it in two and thrown it in the garbage can.
Seventh grade we moved to the junior high. It was so big in comparison to my elementary school. I went to my locker on the first day of school before class ever started. I tried to open it, but I couldn't. I tried again and failed. I walked outside, sat on a bench and tried not to cry. All I wanted was to go home.
Eight grade I got my first boyfriend, my first real boyfriend. Once before that I made up an imaginary boyfriend that I told a girl in one of my classes about. She was rather easy and anxious to share details, I felt left out so I pretended to know what she was talking about. The fake boyfriend was much better than the real one.
In ninth I got invited to a party by some of the popular guys from high school, my friend and I went. We had to sneak in through a basement window, because the boy's parents were out of town and he wasn't allowed to have girls over. This really cute guy whom I had a slight crush on kept asking me if I wanted to make out. I watched him play Nintendo for an hour before he stopped asking and stuck his tongue down my throat.
Tenth grade I thought about killing myself one night. All my friends were at a dance, which I wasn't allowed to go to. I felt like I didn't have a friend in the world that night. I knew I could never really do it, but I cried for hours, because I was terrified that I'd allowed myself to consider it. I was so messed up over not being able to date and that my friends would leave me behind that I thought it was the end of the world. I had no idea that even when I could date I wouldn't necessarily date often. That's somewhere in the fine print. I don't know why such petty things had control over me, but it was a dark place.
My junior year, Prom was the big deal. I wanted to go, but not with the guy who asked me. He told me stories all night which he was blatantly making up as he went along; everything he did was trying to impress me. I felt like I was with a complete stranger who was far worse than the real kid himself. We danced a total of one and a half songs. I cried when I got home. I knew I was being selfish, but it was my night to feel special, and I didn't.
At the end of my senior year I had a boyfriend who was in college. He was sweet, he was cute, and everything I wanted. He told me that he loved me, and could see himself marrying me. He knocked up his ex-girlfriend and was married by the end of summer.
My second year of college was the year of sleepovers. The roommates would pull the mattresses off our beds and drag them into the living room and line them up into one big tumbling mat. Sure some were co-ed, but these were good wholesome hang outs, not all that scandalous. One or two might have turned out a little sketchy, kissing the roommate that was not the crush, or the time that I honestly thought there was a ghost outside. Creepy old house, ironically Mag. 3 again, making out with a fairly random kid whose brother had been flirting with me via instant message at length. One brother puts in the time and effort, the other reaps the reward of being there when the mood struck. In the end turns out the 'ghost' was really my jackass friend with a camcorder and a sidekick egging him on. So pissed.
Third year of college almost didn't happen. I sold knives the summer before. Turns out I didn't really care if people bought my knives or not. So I almost just took the money I'd managed to save to buy a ticket for NYC so that I could see Joey Fatone in Rent. If he'd been cast as Roger I would have been, but Mark, eh, not so much. I get to Cedar, ready to move in show up at "my" house to find it full of Polynesian dudes who were just fine with having me as a roommate. My parents however, were not. I managed to find a place to live with less than two days before school started. The only reason I even stayed was when I was walking back to my car, completely given up on the idea of going to SUU I heard someone say, "Loni!" from an open apt. door. It was Katie a girl I had gone to Snow with, she was visiting friends. I moved into their apt. That was my "sign."
My last year of college I didn't think I'd make it. My course load was rough, my social drama was worse. I had absolutely had enough of men, or rather, boys. I vowed that I wouldn't date anymore because it was just too much of a distraction. I'd already sworn off military men the summer before. So what happens? I slip and fall into love with an Airman who proposed to me under a blanket fort watching Finding Nemo with Hot Pockets and Dr. Pepper on Friday the 13th in
These are just blips on my memory radar. I've got so many thoughts and flashes and scenes that resurface it's no wonder I can't remember important things like birthdates and appointments. I hope that you enjoyed my jaunt down memory lane. It was fun to conjur up thoughts from each year and see what popped up first! Trivial and childish, maybe. Look who's writing.
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