Tag: teenager

November 28, 1991

March 27, 2017

Thursday – Only a few more days until December and then almost a month until X-mas. I cannot wait! Even though we are going to Toronto this X-mas.

                               The most interesting thing about this entry is how neat my handwriting is. I don’t know what got into me. I guess I was trying something new. It certainly didn’t last. 

A lot has happened since I last wrote, so bear with me here. I got over J. Priestley a long time ago.

                              What a relief!

I liked Leonardo (I don’t know his last name) who plays Luke on Growing Pains. I don’t know… now it’s no one.

                              Lol. Remember when Leonardo DiCaprio was on Growing Pains? I’m glad my crush on him lasted only two weeks, and was well over by the time he became a bloated mess of a human manatee. 

I didn’t win that art contest. I saw the competition and I say the judges are on drugs. So the painting is in the basement.

                             I still can’t figure out which painting I submitted. No doubt it was garbage.

Jacques was here for a while. Now he’s in Edmonton, he’ll be back.

                            If that “he’ll be back” sounds ominous, it’s intentional. My sister and I were born in France and Jacques was our babysitter when we were babies. I was two when we moved back to Canada so I have no memories of him as a babysitter but several memories of him visiting us in Montreal. My siblings and I all passionately hated him, and I’m not entirely sure why. I mean, he was deeply annoying, but I can’t really pinpoint any particular behavior deserving of the extreme ire we felt towards him. He still creeps me out (though I haven’t seen him in decades) and I still don’t fully understand why. Sometimes I worry that he did something to us as babies that traumatized us and we can’t remember it but remember the feeling of fear.

I auditioned for the school play but I didn’t make it. The drama dude, Mr. Whittmore said I had a good delivery and that I made a strong impression on him but I didn’t even make it. Not even as a pictorial. I’m trying not to be depressed. My English teacher sent in a short story I wrote (Suspense, Don’t Bite Off More Than You Can Chew) to Fledglings (a collection of writings and stuff).

                          I remember that story. I was quite proud of it. The twist at the end is that the narrator is dead. Some kids in my class didn’t get it, but thankfully my teacher did. 

M&R is the best. We did hot seat, it was amazing. I was second to go. It’s weird because the person who went first said the number (for the next person) and she said 13. I knew right away it would be me, and it was. I loved it! My Art teacher gave me a pamphlet for the Canada Day poster challenge… I lost my agenda. It had such cool decorations. SIGH. Bye.

                          I remember that poster contest. My submission was garbage but I was still rather disappointed, perhaps even surprised, when I lost. In spite of my low self-esteem I was remarkably arrogant about my artistic abilities at that age. Thankfully that overconfidence fizzled away by the time I got to University and met people with actual talent. I also discovered that artists were insufferably pretentious prats (maybe I saw something in them I didn’t like in myself) and chose to go in a different direction. I guess this blog is evidence that I am returning to the ways of insufferable navel-gazing, but now I have a more realistic perception of my own art. Progress!

October 10, 1991

March 13, 2017

Thursday – I know I haven’t written in a really long time but hey.

                                      Usually when there are really long gaps in my journaling it’s because I’m too happy to write. I tend to only journal when I’m upset or depressed. But I doubt happiness is the reason for this particular gap.

Well, I like BHS a lot more than St-T, but there are still problems. Where to begin… I’m not popular and I will probably never have a boyfriend.

                                  Self-pity: check.

I entered an art contest and am doing a painting entitled Self Discovery.

                                Oh god, that sounds pretentious. I don’t remember that painting and let’s all be grateful for that.

I tried to be on the newspaper at school, but I missed the major meeting because I went on an art field trip and couldn’t make it, so I don’t know.

                            Interesting that I colour the truth even when writing to myself. I vividly remember the reason I missed that newspaper meeting and it wasn’t because of the art field trip. There was in fact a trip, that I did in fact attend, but it ended in plenty of time for me to make it back to school. I took the bus back, but because I’d never ridden public transportation before I didn’t know you have to ring the bell to be let off. I just kept waiting for the bus to stop, which it never did, and went way, WAY past the required bus stop. Eventually I realized that I’d missed the stop but by then I was paralyzed by anxiety, and too shy to ask the bus driver for help. I figured not being part of the school paper was a fitting punishment for this failure at correctly living life.

I’m failing math. There are extra things after school on Thursdays but I couldn’t go because of the painting. Mr. Math Teacher asked me if I could get help during other classes, but I don’t want to fall behind those either. So he called my house and now my mom is pressing me to stay after school but I don’t want to spend more time at school than necessary! The thing is I probably would have stayed once the contest was over and I could spare the time but I’m too stubborn to do that because I don’t want mom or Mr. M to think they influenced me. I want to do well on my own, but I just don’t understand math… SIGH.

                      Bullshit. I think I was failing math simply because it required the least bit of effort. I’m sure I could have done fine if I’d just tried. My proof for this is that I’d managed to do well in the past. At that age almost all schoolwork came easily to me so if something was even slightly difficult I just didn’t bother. Laziness born of melancholy I imagine. 

One night I had a dream about the show Beverly Hills 90210 (it’s a show that is really popular, but we don’t get it here). I wanted to see that show so bad that I dreampt I saw it. In the dream I met Jason Priestley (the star of 90210) and we were going out and stuff. Now I am obsessed with him. In a weird way I think I love him. Not in a fan way, I don’t have a bunch of pictures of him all over, I don’t swoon over his face (in fact I keep forgetting what he looks like) but it’s just a feeling deep inside. All the interviews and stuff I read about him, I don’t like his personality (a smoker and stuff) but I guess you can’t control your feelings. I’m hoping that if I win the contest (300$ prize) I will have confidence and stuff and will forget about him.

                      Wow. Thankfully that particular infatuation didn’t last long. I have no recollection of ever being into Jason freaking Priestley! Ugh.

I guess everything leads down to that stupid contest. (I also failed a history test because of lack of study time).

                        Why was I so obsessed with this art contest? I can’t for the life of me remember a single thing about it. I have to assume I was lying to myself in these diary entries, trying to blame my failures on something concrete, rather than on my more nebulous inability to take personal responsibility.

Oh well, life sucks. I wish I were more independent. If things don’t get handed to me easy I guess I’ll have to die young.

                           Lol. That’s some refreshing self-awareness there. Good thing I eventually got my shit together. Now people sometimes criticize me for being TOO independent!

P.S. I love M&R class. Mr. Taffenden is the coolest teacher.

                          M&R stands for Education Morale et Religieuse, also known as EMR, also known as MRE (Moral and Religious Education). It’s the class non-religious kids took back in the day when the Christians were taking Christianity. Is that still a thing? 

P.P.S. I cut my hair.

                            It’s now long again. I have come full circle 😉

August 20, 1991

February 27, 2017

Tuesday – Marlene is going to come here by bus and we are going to have fun. (she will come Friday and stay ’till Monday). We will go to Fairview and movies and La Ronde.

                                    I love how determined I was to have fun. I sound like an android. “We WILL accomplish this thing you call fun.” FYI, Fairview is a mall, and La Ronde an amusement park.

Speaking of La Ronde. My brother came into my room this morning saying he was going to La Ronde with his friend (he borrowed 20 bucks) so he wasn’t here to let in Bob (our stupid worker dude who is putting a third bathroom in our house) so I was sleeping and in my dream the doorbell rings and the other girl goes to get it and it keeps ringing and I slowly drift awake and hear the doorbell, by the time I figured out what was going on it stopped ringing. I fell back asleep again and then net time I woke up I think it was mom who came in the house. I fell asleep again and what woke me up this time (at 2:00 p.m.) was music so loud I thought the singer was in my room! I heard Bob and his little helper singing along (ooh, my ears!) then it sounded like they were in the kitchen eating or something. Like what are we paying them for?! Anyway, Bob the idiot doesn’t know I’m here and I don’t want him to, so I’ll stay upstairs and sneak around as best I can. I’m starved, oh well, I need to go on a diet anyway, and need to use the bathroom but I want to wait ’till they are in the garage and it doesn’t seem to be happening. Gosh, I hate this, why do I have so many goddamned problems?

                              I was cringing in pain as I transcribed this, but then the lament about having so many problems made me laugh. So here’s the deal: I’ve got social anxiety, but as a kid I didn’t know what it was. I just knew I was afraid of people. I was deeply ashamed of it, but afraid nonetheless. And because I didn’t understand what it was about, it was all the worse. I sound like a spoiled brat, hiding in my room, sleeping in until all hours, refusing to open the door for our contractor, forcing my mother to leave work to do it, and from an outside perspective I can see how ridiculous it seems. But I didn’t remain hidden because I was bratty, I was truly afraid. Afraid of what, you might ask? Any interaction that I wasn’t prepared for. I was panic-stricken and frozen in fear.

Even today I do silly things like this. As recently as a month ago I was in the bathroom taking selfies when the doorbell rang. I knew my significant other was home so I let him answer it. (I don’t answer doors when I’m alone unless I’m expecting a delivery). It was our contractor and he came in and proceeded to have an unnecessarily lengthy conversation with my SO. I figured I’d wait them out but… after half an hour it became ridiculous. They were right outside the bathroom door so I knew I’d startle the contractor if I suddenly appeared, but it felt equally awkward to stay hidden. I chose to stay hidden, and basically stared at myself, chastising myself for being so weird as I waited for him to leave. Oh well. Some things never change.

School starts the 28th. Maybe something good will happen then, maybe I’ll be popular and have a great boyfriend. SIGH.

                             I guess I still do this sort of thing too, i.e., hope for the impossible. Every time we hire someone new at work (which happens shockingly often) I think maybe it’ll be someone totally awesome and we’ll become fast friends and conquer the world together. But then it just turns out to be another utterly normal human being and I’m disappointed again. Still, I’ve made some progress. I’m much more capable now of enjoying the company of normal humans than I was when I was a teenager.