Sometimes I see these posts where other, awesome bloggers are posting about their life through the years. Some go year by year (I was one and I loved to stick noodles under my tongue and pick my nose) and some go by grades (In seventh grade I remembered that I liked zucchini and I decided I would incorporate its greeny wonder into my science fair project). Unfortunately, despite my absolutely stellar memory, neither of these options will work for me. I can't think of enough funny/interesting/useful crap that happened in third grade.
For instance. In third grade, I was chosen to become a conflict manager. This meant that I would get (!) to wear a bright yellow jacket with green lettering across the back proclaiming my honorable position to bullies and heat-seeking missiles. I had to get special training and when I was selected to role-play a difficult situation, I cried. The type of crying where you totally say "I, um, have something in my eye." Because I was being FAKE FOUGHT WITH. And THAT is what I remember about third grade.
Oh. I also got stung by a bee for the first time ever in that fucking jacket. Yay.
And then there was that year where I was 13. And because I was this startling, loveable little nerd, I found myself in high school. I wore a lot of baby doll dresses. My friends were all seniors. I was in band and the bus rides were the awesome part. My favorite person at the time, a guy who had sloping shoulders and sang "Something There" from Beauty and the Beast with a gorgeous tenor, kissed me on the ride home after a competition while I was half-sleeping and pretended it never happened. I never let on that I knew. Worse, as the year progressed I would become more and more invisible to him and my underdeveloped adolescent brain would continue to torture myself with ideas about what I'd done wrong. Later that year, I would have my first real kiss with a guy whose name rhymes with Nacho (that's the joke, the part where HIS NAME RHYMES WITH NACHO. YOU'LL NEVER GUESS.) The day I turned 14, I found out my favorite uncle (on my dad's side) had died in a freak accident.
Do you see? Why I cannot just come up with a series? There are too many things and really, none of them all that interesting, yes?
