I came across my eighth grade English notebook, which apparently I was forced to keep a journal in. You all remember these damn journals, where the teacher gives you a topic and you try to come up with three sentences about it.
Ahhh, eighth grade. The year of Ryan Paavola and Matt Recupero and countless other delightful human beings. (Brian Post was also apparently in a couple of my classes, including English, though I don't remember him at all.) Although I remember eighth grade as being substantially better than fifth or sixth grade, my English journal seems to indicate otherwise. My current comments are [in brackets].
I started the school year at Lighthouse. I liked the school and everything, but the long bus ride (about 40-50 minutes each way) forced me to switch to Jerstad (for reasons I don’t want to get into) [I don’t know what that means].
Of course, as soon as I come to Jerstad, I am mocked and insulted because of my clothing, tastes, and age. [In sixth grade, I took a seventh grade math class, which I excelled in, and thus was allowed to skip the rest of seventh grade. Many of my eighth grade classmates then I knew from that math class.] I wear T-shirts and sweatpants, while virtually everyone here wears jeans and some ugly shirt. Well, part of the price I pay for being a non-conformist. [...]
[....When I’m middle aged,] I’d be watching these purple-haired kids ["whippersnappers" I refer to earlier in the entry] from my trailer in California. My plan is to get a job in Atlantic City with the FBI. I’d save up enough money to buy Microsoft (Bill Gates would be dead by then). Of course, using my negotiating skills, I could buy Microsoft at a low price. Then I’d sell it for $100,000,000,000.99. With all my money, I’d move to California and live in Hollywood. After that I plan to lose all but 0.01% of my money at the casinos. All this would happen in a 13 year span (starting when I’m 42 and going until I’m 55). [...]
By the time I’m 40, there’d be a lot of weird junk invented. Smellevision, America Offline, computers that hypnotize you, and robots that turn on the light switch for you. (Of course, those would all be my inventions.)
By the time I’m done with [middle-age], I’d be very wise. I would’ve learned that it’s not a good idea to bet $99,999,999,00.00 on a single round of poker in a casino. I’d also have learned to keep your trailer clean, otherwise the rats would crawl all over you (and everything else) when you sleep. Also, when trick or treaters come up to you for candy, it’s best not to give them raisins.
I would go and teach everyone these lessons, and spread peace and goodwill throughout the world. [...]
As you can see, I have a pitiful life. I look forward to having even a more pitiful life in the future. Thanks for your attention.
Promptly at six o’clock, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and saw little green martians holding ray guns at my head. I screamed and ran amuck. Finally, I saw some leftover jell-o in the fridge. The jell-o was red, and everyone knows that red symbolizes love. After I threw the red jell-o at them, they became loving, so I made them my slaves. And I never had to do homework again. The End.
The new semester has begun. I don’t feel like doing any work. I’ve worked for hours on all of my English papers, gotten all A’s, gotten 100’s on my spelling, and my final grade is a B. I hate the teacher [geez, was she supposed to be reading this?!], I swear I do. I’m never going to lift my finger again in English. [...]
If I were a teacher, I think I would go mad. Especially if I were teaching middle school. If I had any kids like Matt Recupero in class, I would probably try to kill myself over and over to avoid facing him/her. [...]
My favorite myth to date is "Prometheus and Pandora." I think it is because I have heard this story when I was littler, and I have always loved it. The theme of the story is beautiful... "with all the troubles in the world, there’s always hope." [...]
I would like to be Clara Barton for a day because she is dead. [...]
The month of February is boring and dull. Valentine’s day makes me want to puke. Groundhog’s Day is just an excuse to fill up calendars. There is absolutely nothing interesting going on in February. The only thing good about February is that it’s short.