What I Remember

I spent more than a few minutes fussing with my Facebook profile.

I get very fickle with my social networking. Sometimes I don’t mind everybody knowing everything. Sometimes it’s beneficial for my job, providing that I behave myself. Other times I’d rather just not let anybody know anything.

In middle school, aka. junior high, I was obsessed about what everybody else thought. I think at that age everybody is obsessed with what everybody thinks about them, regardless of which stereotype a kid fits into. Popularity and image matter for those years. Hormones are new so I guess it would make some sense that there’s an immediate preoccupation with how one is being perceived … Suddenly, the hormones say a social life matters.

I grew up in a wintery climate. I had a very stoic style. Long black wool peacoat, solid knit scarf, matching leather fit gloves. It was something I’d still wear today if I hadn’t taken a liking to winter wear with a bit more pizazz. There’s just something weird about the memories from eighth grade. My eighth grade year was split between a public junior high and a private christian two-room school house. We had recess at the private school because eighth graders shared classroom time with grades five through seven. I don’t remember learning anything besides memorizing Whitman. Anyway, we’d dress for the wintery weather for recess, then pile out the back door to walk along the path to… nothing. I don’t remember what was over the bridge.

I tossed a ring into the small stream from the bridge. My ex-boyfriend had given me a ring and left it outside my front door. My new boyfriend wanted me to get rid of the ring. So I did. I regret that. I don’t think I would still have it today if I’d kept it then, but it would have been nice to have kept that kind of memento. It was a fake topaz but sparkly. My mother was freaked out about the guy giving me the ring in the first place. Like anything means anything to a middle schooler. That was the boyfriend who asked if he could kiss me. The only man who ever asked. He’d walk from his house downtown to my house in the terrace, then we’d walk to KFC and he’d insist on paying for dinner. He was a very tall nineth grader with blue eyes and black hair.

These are the memories I have. Not building snowmen or having snowball fights. I think about my winter apparel and boys I dated. I wonder if it’s worth telling anyone and, if I do, am I going to regret it once some psycho starts stalking me?

I memorized O Captain My Captain in seven minutes. We had to recite in front of the class and were given the evening before to memorize the piece. I forgot about the homework and used the little time I had before my name was called to memorize the poem. I did it and executed the recital perfectly. I swear there was nothing else I learned from this school. I had to wait until high school for a real literature teacher to tell me that it was metaphorical for Abraham Lincoln.

As a matter of fun fact, I also know lyrics to every Rush song from Rush through Counterparts. I also know Roxette lyrics. I haven’t made an effort to listen to Roxette since 1991 but, for some reason, I know every word and pitch the minute a song plays. Help me!


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