Category: This day in…

Flashbacks to old journal entries with modern commentary, because torture

May 24, 1991

November 7, 2016

I just sent Keith away to the dépanneur to get me 5 chocolate bars. Yes, I know I’m a pig but what can I do about it, that’s just the way I am.

                                                  I wish I still had that metabolism, and that carefree attitude.

7 days left of school! Then the Géographie and French exams. I’m sure to get recommended for Math, I got all 90s but I just wish he would give me the recommendation. I got recommended in English. On our last poetry test I got 100%. The first one in 5 years said Miss Allain. Annabeth (nerd) Napolitano got like 55%. That’s a pretty good feeling.

                                               I went to an English high school but took “French immersion” which means half of our classes were in French, which is why I spelled Geography in French. I don’t know what this obsession with “recommendation” is about. I have no recollection of what it meant or why I cared. Interesting that I felt confident about my math scores since I have no memories of ever being good at math. I do, however, remember that poetry exam. I always hated poetry because I didn’t often understand it, so it made me feel dumb, and my self-perception at that age was wrapped up in being smart. I knew I wasn’t pretty (I was wrong) but I thought I had above-average intelligence (I was wrong about that too). I was never at the top of my class but I also never put any effort whatsoever into school work. I guess my ability to perform well without effort is what made me feel smart so any time effort was required I resented it. In any case, I’m shocked that I made fun of a classmate for being a nerd. Didn’t I think of myself as a nerd? And how petty of me to be glad she performed poorly. Teenaged me was an asshole. At least I never mocked anyone to their face.

I hope I have a daughter one day. I hope she is artistic in some way. I hope she is creative and imaginative and unmaterialistic (in short I hope she’s like me, only prettier. I mean here’s my picture. Pretty depressing, huh?)

                                            It’s like I was fishing for compliments from myself. Did I really think I was that ugly? WHY?

15-year-old-nique

I hope she’s smart too. I hope we have a good relation with each other.

This again, is not so much bad grammar as a Frenchism.

I would want her to know that she could talk to me about anything. About sex or drugs, or any problems she is having anywhere. It would be great to have a daughter I could teach and talk to and have fun with. But that will probably never happen because I’ll probably never get married or anything ’cause guys are scum. But if I did have a daughter I would give her a cool name like Bliss or Psyche or Anez-Jade or Jasmin-Kay or Aragel, not a loser name like Nicole! I would name her after a goddess or a jewel or something beautiful like that.

                                                This is sad because this yearning for a daughter was really a longing for a friend. I felt very isolated at this age. But thank god I never had a kid, because those names are awful. Anez-Jade??? Aragel??? WTF?! 

Well, talk to you later. I’m gonna eat a mint aero now!

                                               Yum.

P.S. In English class I was passing notes with Matt Topner. He was telling me he thinks his family is going bankrupt and stuff… yeah… will wonders ever cease?! Bye. NY

                                              I remember this too. I was never friends with this kid, and that didn’t change after our note-passing experience. (I guess kids today just text each other?) I suppose he reached out to me simply because I was sitting next to him. I hope everything turned out ok for him. That wasn’t the last time a boy randomly started passing notes with me. Looking back, I wonder if they were trying to tell me they liked me. I was really bad at picking up on such signals at that age. Actually I’m still bad at that sort of thing. Oh well.

May 19, 1991

October 24, 2016

Yesterday, at supper, Crystal was telling us (the family – oh yeah, Keith wasn’t there and he didn’t even get in trouble when Crystal would have)…

                                                           This is interesting to me. Crystal, my older sister, was much more mainstream than my younger brother, Keith, and I. We were big nerds and rarely left the house. We were very self-sufficient so our parents mostly ignored us. My sister did normal teenage things like party with her friends, so my parents actually monitored her activities. But what I find interesting is that I noticed the disparity in the ways my siblings were treated, and seemed to find it unfair. I don’t remember noticing or caring.

…that she wanted to use the video camera to do a show for her French class. She was saying the names of the characters in the show and couldn’t remember her character’s name, so I go “was it Johanne?” and she goes “yes, how did you know?” Pretty neat, huh? My mom thinks I have ESP. I hope I do that would be cool.

                                                        *Eye roll* I was obsessed with Star Trek: The Next Generation at this age. I was a huge fan of Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troi, who had telepathic powers. I really wanted to be able to read other people’s minds, because social situations were very difficult for me. (I realize now that this was due to social anxiety). I was always worried that others were judging me so the ability to know what they were thinking would have been helpful. How disappointed I would have been to listen in on their thoughts and realize they were only thinking about themselves, as do we all.

Look at back of this diary.

back-of-this-diary

                                                          On the last page of the diary, I literally wrote “back of this diary”, and drew a half-assed fairy. ???

We just took the carpet out of my room (me and mom) and we put in a small one, and we put up my drawing table. It looks good. And the table is a handy thing, I like it. I hope Keith comes home soon because I’m bored and I want him to see my room. I think I’ll do some drawing now. Bye.  NY Art-Rejel <— rule in German, meaning art rules and with the NY in front it means Nicole Yager’s art rules and Nicole Yager is the ruler of art. It’s my new logo and I think it’s pretty cool, don’t you?!?!?

No, Nicole. No it’s not cool. It’s deeply embarrassing and ridiculous, and a bit random and weird. I mean, why German? I guess because my last name is German I took some mild interest in Deutschland. Thankfully I never revealed this silly “logo” to anyone else and promptly forgot all about it until now. And now, it shall be buried once again.

May 17, 1991

October 10, 2016

May 17, 1991

It’s just a lazy Friday afternoon (no school today). My period is almost over (Thank god) but I still have a stomach ache.

                                                     Seriously? I couldn’t put together that the “stomach ache” was cramps? At this age I’d only been menstruating less than a year so I still didn’t have it all figured out. I shudder to remember how bad it was before I started taking the pill. I also shudder to think how useless the medical field is in this regard. No doctor ever had any suggestions for me. Nor did my mother for that matter. I had to figure out all on my own how to treat myself during this monthly bout of torture, which for me, has always been comparable to gastro.

I don’t know why. Maybe the cookies and salmon sandwich I just ate. Anyway I am totally bored with nothing to do but think and sleep. Which is what I should be doing anyway since I have a cold and have lost my voice. Maybe I’ll find it from a good rest. So good night.

                                                     Wow, I remember that now. I had a history of laryngitis when I was a teenager. Among other minor ailments. I was a fucking wreck as a kid. I’m so glad I’m over most of that shit now. Mostly.

Only moments later from my last entry and I have something to say. I hope I have a boyfriend and lots of friends at BHS next year. I’ve got to be less shy. I know, I know, easier said than done but I’ll try. I’ve got to. If anything I just hope I meet Mike soon if indeed he is real. I do believe the Ouija board but I still have doubts. I can’t wait to end this eye infection, get contacts (even if they are gas permeable) so I can wear makeup, look good, and get a boyfriend. I hope, I hope, I wish, I wish.

                                                     Agony. I feel sick reading this for so many reasons. I mean, obviously this trust in the Ouija board is hilarious so I’ll give you a second to go laugh your ass off, but this obsession with getting a boyfriend is so upsetting. I can still remember the crushing ache of my loneliness at this age. And also, the horror of all those eye infections. It was brutal. I dealt with them for years. YEARS! But you gotta love that teenage girl’s yearning to wear makeup. I actually still deal with that today. Every once in a while, I feel the desire to pretty myself up but I’m always cautious about it due to my history of truly disgusting, painful, puss filled, eye infections. At least now though, when I think about makeup it’s just for the fun of it, rather than the desire to lure in a boy. Wouldn’t 15-year-old me be surprised to know she would eventually lure in many boys and most of them wouldn’t be worth the effort?