2004-10-23

Don't you hate when stupid thoughts and memories from years ago-ones that don't even matter- come popping up and plague you with embarrassment nostalgia? I thought I'd purge a few:

Eighth Grade- farted in gym. Heard about it till the end of the year. Stupid boys.

Ninth Grade- Was in a talent show. Lost my voice the night before. In blind faith, probably derived from watching too many movies where shows pull together last minute and all that. I still sang. And sucked.

Tenth grade- During a summer stage show, decided to wave to my sister through the side curtains. Got really bitched out by the director.

Eleventh Grade- Had strange crying fit during lunch over nothing (was dieting and in advances classes and doing a play and a job after school. So... mystery solved). It started a strange stream of shit-talking from two evil classmates of mine. Or maybe it had already started and I only found out about it after that. Highlight of that little drama:

(Play rehearsal, evening, on break)

EVIL #1: April, we heard that you thought we were making fun of you.

EVIL #2: We'd totally never do that.

EVIL #1: Oh, my God. We think you're beautiful. We'd never call you fat.

APRIL: I didn't hear that part. Is that new?

EVIL #2: Where are you hearing this?

APRIL: I got it from a reliable source.

EVIL #1: Well, Theresa better shut her mouth.

Heh. They must have slipped in front of Theresa, too. But she wasn't the source. She just coroborrated (how the hell do you spell that?) the source. Totally busted.

Twelfth Grade- Tried so very unsuccesfully to atart a drama club- just so people could do something besides musicals. What a failure it turned out to be.

Freshman year of college- Spent the entire year depressed and anti-social. Still managed to embarrass myself whenever I was in public- either with excessive sneezing or out-of-place crying. People never did warm up to me.

Sophomore year of college- was on the crew for a play. Showed up two hours late for crew time as I was writing a paper in the library and forgot I had to be there. The costume designer was incensed (even though I was never much help and my biggest task was picking thread out of the wheels of the costume racks). As I tried to explain what happened, I gave a nervous laugh, only angering her further. Her screams of "I don't think it's funny!" rang throughout the hallway. It should probably be mentioned that she was a raging alcoholic and her anger at me, though justified, should not have been so damn scary. Anyhow. Embarassing. Yeah.

Junior year of college. I'd written all these song parodies for a dinner for the seniors. The one who was directing it, who we'll call D.M., changed all my naughty bits so they'd be okay for priests and shit (still naughty after all these years, I guess). At the next theater department assembly type thing, one of the professors complimented the songs and asked who wrote them. I raised my hand and owned up. That was when one L.F., in some mistaken fit of righteousness, decried my credit-taking, saying that it was D.M. and I who wrote them. I didn't want to start a thing in front of the whole department, so I said that he helped. Afterwards, L.F. kind of bitched me out in front of some other Juniors for stealing D.M.'s glory. D.M. then came up and said that it was actually me who wrote them. He just, as I said, censored me. She just kind of said, "oh" and walked away. I still feel a bit embarrassed about that. It made me look like some kind of glory hog. And she never did apologize. I think it's more a case of my feelings not being worth her concern. She's one of those types.

Senior Year of College. Graduation. Was playing hangman with this guy, who we'll call A.T., in the seat next to me. As he tapped my shoulder and gestured to his lap, I expected more hangman fun, but found the first live penis I ever saw. I made a noise between a squeak and a choke. Later, he explained that he had to because one N.S., the guy next to him, dared him to. I wasn't mad- just surprised. I'd hoped to see my first penis in a more intimate setting. Oh, well. This story's more fun for the whole family than some romantic horse shit.

Anyhow. There. Let them out. For some reason these things have popped into my mind. I just wanted to be rid of them.... Except the penis story. That one's a keeper.