Blog Archives
November 27, 2000: life-changing events
Today’s entry reflects on the tumultuous events of seventh grade and how they have ruined my life.
The short version of the story is that I had a huge girl-boner for Ryan since the sixth grade, and to show my love, I decided to write him a poem and give it to him during the Groundhog’s Day Dance. (We weren’t allowed to have a Valentine’s Day Dance, because our principal thought it would “encourage dating.” But I think invoking fat, furry animals in this story makes it even better.) Needless to say, it did not end well. Avoidance and extreme awkwardness followed, and I continually referred to this day as “the worst day of my life.”
This groundhog is mad that Ryan didn’t understand the subtle beauty of Diane’s poetry.
11/27/00
It’s drawing closer to the anniversary of the Grounhog Day Dance, and the terrible bout of depression that followed it.
The world seems so changed since those long-ago days when all that mattered was a certain person and my friends. Everything seemed like a big party, and when it all ended, I had to clean up the ruins of what had happened. Now that I have confidence and a niche in the round of life at (My town) Middle School, the months have flown by. But in the quiet, I remember the world that used to be. But had none of this ever happened, I would not be who I am today. Here are the events that changed my life.
- 6th grade class
- meeting Ryan
- <3ing Ryan
- Dance
- Depressed
- found “Gundam Wing”
- reunited w/Emily
- met J, R, B
- Me Today!
So everything has somehow lead to who I am now. But I wonder what would have happened had I not done one of those things if I had been in another class, where would I be right now?
Oh lord, maudlin Diane is maudlin. I love when things that were once tragic become hilarious in retrospect. I also love that I credit “Gundam Wing” as bringing me out of depression. However, I will always believe in the Power of Being a Fan, which is to say that being a fan of something (be it a movie or TV show or god forbid, anime) has helped me through some of my toughest times, as well as lead me to meet some of my greatest friends. Being a fan is a lifestyle, and it’s one I’ve had since the fourth grade, when my mom rented “Star Wars” for me.
Another hilarious sidenote: I have no idea who J, R and B are. I have a theory that those initials must be my friends Jessie, Rebbeca and Brittany, but it’s pretty weird that I would have credited them in this life-changing events list, considering I barely spoke to them before or after that year. I do, however, continue to have a friendship with Rebbeca (Becca). She’s still awesome, despite the fact that she apparently wasn’t invited into my ideal fantasy world.
I believe the Worst Day of my Life was a landmark occasion for one reason: it was the first time during my love life where I realized — moments too late — that I’d made a Terrible Choice. The second I gave Ryan the poem, I knew I shouldn’t have done it. (I believe I gave it to a friend to give to him, truth be told. That’s how we did things in eighth grade: note-passing style.) Right away, the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me this was a poor life choice. I’ve grown to remember this feeling, and I think every time I make one of these decisions, a little part of me remembers standing inside a darkened gym at four in the afternoon, watching helplessly as my feelings traveled toward their intended target on a piece of notebook paper.
I would remember this moment throughout high school, when I turned down a boy I actually did like because I didn’t know he was asking me out. I would remember it when I did my second and third confessions of love, both of which involved the internet instead of notebook paper. (One of these was to a gay man, so I’m not sure it was a total fail, just more of a “sorry, your genitals are on the inside of your body.”) I would remember during my freshman year of college, when a tiny lie grew out of control, and I found myself creating elaborate deceptions to get out of seemingly simple situations. I would remember this summer, when I tried to resuscitate a relationship that was already dead.
As funny as my 13-year-old self seems today, it’s disrespectful to deny the pain. Pain is something that’s irrevocably honest, no matter how hilarious its packaging. I won’t pretend that, almost ten years later, I handle romantic rejection and sadness any differently. In my heart, I’m still the same girl for whom friends, chocolate and a great hour of television heals all wounds.
November 4, 2000
We skip forward quite a bit in the diary. (Well, to be honest, there’s one entry from September 3rd that consists of only a picture of I drew of me being excited that “Gundam Wing” wasn’t canceled. We’ll get to that abomination once I can use a scanner.)
Like any TV show with a significant time jump, it’s important to note where we left off. In seventh grade, I was your typical, semi-trendy, stuck-in-the-middle girl. I walked that line between being too cool for the true freaks/geeks, and too lame for the popular kids. There were a lot of us in the middle, and we existed in large, one-gendered groups. The extremely popular and unpopular kids were the first to make opposite-sex friends, which is understandable, since there are only so many other incredibly attractive/hopelessly weird kids per grade. However, if you existed somewhere outside that line, you were doomed to two more years of all-girl lunch tables, group crushes, and unnecessary trips to the bathroom to put on lip gloss/apply body glitter.
Upon entering eighth grade, I decided to start dressing more, um, alternative. Yes, I was a wanna-be Goth crossed with a nerd who loved science fiction and chandelier earrings. This made for some interesting fashion choices, but hey, back then Avril Lavigne didn’t have a clothing line, so I had to fend for myself.
My theory was that I would rather fit in somewhere than sort of float in the sea of other brown-haired girls with glasses who wore cargo pants and butterfly tees.
It didn’t really work out.
(One of my middle school fashion icons was Caitie from the short-lived Disney show “In a Heartbeat.” If you can bear to sit through three minutes of bad editing and Michelle Branch, then watch the video to see how I dressed back in the day. Also: this is just the sort of horrible fan tribute I would have made if we had this kind of technology back in the early 2000s. Let’s all be grateful that YouTube wasn’t invented yet.)
Most of my friends didn’t get it when I came to class on the first day in an all-black ensemble. Looking back, it wasn’t particularly shocking or inappropriate, just incredibly hot for Michigan in August. However, it did change my peer group entirely. I still remained close with my bff Emily, but most of my peripheral friends drifted away. I did maintain my often volatile and ridiculous relationship with my frenemy Stefanie. (Hi Stef! If you’re reading this, I hope you have equally awkward things written about me somewhere.)
11/4/00
Stef is trying to hook me up with her friend, Joe. He said he wanted to meet me after seeing my drawing of Relena on a note she gave him. But how do I know that she isn’t lying to me. She’s lied before.
Also, I’m not sure who I like anymore. I still think Ryan is hot – but I also kinda ❤ David B. That sorta bugs me, but I don’t know either one of them all that much so I’m still just kinda confused about the whole thing. cya!!!
Again, we have a really short entry that basically says nothing. We won’t start seeing consistent entries until around February or March 2001, but the hilarity will remain, consecutive or not.
Relena is (shocking reveal ahead!) a character from “Gundam Wing.” I had some truly horrific anime drawings back then. I’ll scan them someday, and we can laugh and cringe at my artistic endeavors. I also MIGHT have some drawings and early drafts of my very first “Gundam Wing” self-insert fanfiction featuring me and bff Emily as Mary Sues.
We are also entering into a time of great romantic confusion. Get excited about that! My former flame, Ryan, is soon to be traded off for the ever-attractive, ever-douchey, ever-rides-his-tractor-to-school David B. I have no idea where he is now, or if he’s still as attractive as my eighth grade self imagined.
The story of my love for David B. is best savored over the rest of the diary. I appear to be quite the expert on the subject, as it will later fill most of the pages. There are particularly fantastic incidents where I mull over whether a brief interaction means he is hopelessly in love with me.
I actually do remember the story of how we met. It’s not that different from every other story involving my inherent attraction to jerkasses. I’m pretty sure every dude I’ve ever wanted to bang has won my heart by being a complete tool within minutes of our first meeting. I should really figure out the psychological implications of the fact that a guy has to be a douche bag to attract my attention, but I prefer to blame my childhood crushes on fictional bad boys instead.
We had some sort of class poetry assignment, and being the obnoxious wanna-be writer I was, I decided to show everyone up by writing a deep and meaningful poem about how no one understood my tortured heart. After I read my poem aloud, I was supposed to receive feedback in the form of notes from each person in the class. I kept getting tiny little bits of paper with one word on them. Words like “it” and “was” and “lame” kept appearing on tiny, dirty, wrinkled pieces of paper. I looked around to see the culprit, and that’s when David B. and I locked eyes. He winked and gave me one of those confident half-smiles. That was all it took. He had already taken his place as the Rhett Butler to my Scarlett O’Hara.
(Oh, and Joe, the other guy mentioned in this entry? I’m pretty sure he and Stefanie ended up dating. So yeah.)
Dianerific 