Category Archives: The Diary Project
Just in case you thought I was making everything up, here’s (scanned) proof of the now-infamous “love graph.” (As indicated by the little heart I’ve drawn in the title.)
As you can see, it’s tacked on to the last entry, but I thought it warranted its own post because … yeah.
You can view the page in all its glory here.
As you can see, I’ve drawn a very scientific and incredibly accurate graph depicting how often David B. and I talked/interacted during the week. My scale goes from “kinda” to “a little” to “a lot.” And I’ve noted where the Holocaust Memorial Center field trip has gotten in the way of our love. (We were sadly split in separate groups, attending on different days.)
The bonus entry on the next page has a wonderful little frowny-face. I am apparently upset that Stefanie and Andrea (I have no idea where this girl is now, but I do remember she and her friend Whitney had upper-ear piercings in which they wore earrings in the shape of dollar signs. I thought this was awesome.) knew about my crush. I don’t know why this was a big deal, because I probably either told them or made it so obvious that they didn’t need to do a lot of detective work.
But I guess this made me super upset, because I did write “today is BAD!” under the smiley-face.
Stay awesome, self.
This post is brought to you by office supplies!
At last, we come to one of the crowning moments of my crush on David B. It is an event doomed to be re-lived over and over in my adolescent mind forever (or at least until the first day of ninth grade.)
It was a few days after my fourteenth birthday. Art class was in its full swing of awesomeness, and I was really enjoying school. (Not of course, for academic reasons. As I’ve mentioned before, I learned upwards of nothing that year, and spent a majority of my time reading Simon R. Green’s “Deathstalker” series under my desk.) By this point, I’d confessed my love for David B. to a dozen or so of my closest friends. So basically, everyone knew about it. Somehow, he either didn’t know, or it didn’t faze him, as he continued to hang around me … a lot.
Before we go into this entry, let’s set the scene a little and take another look at my wonderful 2001 wardrobe. Do they still make body glitter? What about those little circlets of rhinestones you could stick around your belly button, Christina Aguilera-style? Inquiring minds want to know!
Good grief! has that man any sense at all? It seems so totally obvious to me!
Today in art, David didn’t do much. But near the end of class, we ended up at the bucket of clay slip (how romantic ^_^). I was talking to him, and I told him he had two sticky notes on his back. He asked me to remove them! I thought any idiot could get sticky notes off their back! So I did of course, but the moment I touched him I felt a little jolt of electricity run through me. It was a very strange feeling! Why the hello did he do that? Stuff like that only makes me like him more! It’s such a roller coaster with him. Either we’re interacting, or he’s ignoring me. I wonder if any of my teachers notice our chemistry. One thing is for certain- I either want to hit him or kiss him!
Excuse me, I’ll be over there, pounding my head on a desk.
Two words: STICKY NOTES.
I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that the only on-purpose physical contact David B. and I ever had was when I removed a post-it note from his back. Excuse me, that’s two post-it notes. So I guess it took more than one touch. Or something.
I’d also like to add that I changed “why the hell” to “why the hello” in case anyone ever read it and caught me swearing. I hadn’t yet embraced my foul mouth.
Also, note the anime-style smiley face. Cringe-worthy.
I am ashamed to say with how much detail I remember this particular event. It is burned into my brain, unfortunately. I could still tell you exactly where we were standing, and how the light from the floor-to-ceiling windows had that pale yellow, washed-out, late winter look. I remember being all “OMG HE IS INVITING ME TO ENTER HIS PERSONAL SPACE BUBBLE OMFG AMAZING.” It even surpassed the previous awkward sink encounter to become the greatest moment of our relationship.
This moment would go on to inspire several awful art projects, poems, and short stories. We’ll get to those later.
However, I’m pretty sure I made up the thing about “electricity” from every bad romance novel or “Gundam Wing” fanfic I’d ever read. I’m pretty sure all I felt was paper.
This Thursday was my friend Kit aka “Bunny’s” birthday. I promised that I would revisit some of our bff-hood as her wedding gift (if you’ll remember, she got married last month). So today, I bring you a momentous multimedia spectacular that showcases some of our best awkardness.
When we were in ninth grade, Bunny and I had some complicated boy troubles. We decided to channel our frustration by making a list of 100 reasons y guys suck (yes with the “y” instead of the real word.) I’m not sure we actually took our own advice, but the list brings the lols nonetheless.
I used “Bootylicious” as the background music, since Kit and I basically wanted to be Beyonce. Sadly, we were short, white and hopelessly suburban. But damn did we try our best.
I’m going to pin this list on my wall at school, in all its early-2000s AOL printout glory. Note the pink font and our fantabulous screennames. Though we wrote this when we were much less cool, I think a lot of the items still hold true today. But in the advent of social media, I feel I need to add one last reason:
101.) Three months after your breakup, though you haven’t talked since that day, they still try to invite you to be their neighbor on pointless and confusing Facebook applications like FishVille.
(Yeah, true story.)
I love you, Bunny! Happy Birthday, and I’m glad you found a guy who doesn’t suck.