...and last weekend answered. It all started Friday night when James and I started Fuller House. By the end of the first episode, I had tears streaming down my face. Full House was never the best show on tv, but I've been watching it since I was tiny. I watched it when it was on the air, and just like everyone else in my generation, I watched it on ABC Family after school in the afternoons. Even though college, I watched it before class. Nothing pulls my nostalgia strings like Boy Meets World and Full House. During the Fuller House intro, I saw my childhood flash before my eyes. I felt like I was living in Nevada again, bedecked in scrunchies and Bath & Body Works Cucumber Melon body lotion. It was an emotional evening.
I went to visit my parents on Saturday. It has recently become official that they will soon be moving. Far away. Yes, I'm devastated, and all I've done lately is cry about it. They've been going through old boxes of things to get rid of before they move, and they wanted me to sort through my childhood things and take what I wanted. Well. I sorted through box after box of beanie babies, my Lisa Frank sticker collection (!!!!!), and various pictures of school field trips and summer camps, and middle school art projects (a ceramic elephant whistle?!). We found my baby toys, books, and clothes that I brought home for Gracie. I was a bundle of emotions from reliving so many memories. I was also a bundle of allergies due to the musty dustiness, and my eyes burned for days. I found two things I had hadn't seen in years, and I wasn't sure if I was happy to see them or not: my middle school journals. I stashed them in a box to bring home, and I cracked them open later that night while lying in bed. I don't think I've read them since they were written, and for good reason. I read excerpts out loud to James, and we were laughing so hard we were crying.
My tween years were rocky. I went from a little Christian school in Nevada to a public middle school in Ohio, a strange land where people said "bookbag" (wrong) instead of "backpack" and "pop" (super wrong) instead of "soda." All I wanted was to fit in and find some friends, but I was shy and awkward. Plus, 12 and 13 year old girls are the worst...and apparently I was the worst of the worst. I had blissfully forgotten how absolutely awful I was back then. Here's an excerpt, written in shimmery blue gel pen, from my purple fuzzy (seriously, ugh) 7th grade journal. All names have been changed on the off-chance someone from my hometown reads this and knows who I'm talking about. Not that it matters, but I'm feeling enough shame as it is.
April 1, 2002
Man, I am SO in <3 with Chad. APRIL FOOLS!!!!!!!! I hate his slimy guts! He treated me like dirt today! He chewed me out b/c I didn't call him over break, he yelled at me b/c of some plan Allie came up w/ 2 spill food on him, I wouldn't do it (but pretty brilliant plan hehe), and one time I shrugged my shoulders, so he yelled "I HATE IT WHEN YOU DO THAT!" I was like, well, too bad. He kept staring at me in Reading & Band. Now for the GOOD news!! I'm once again in <3 w/ John!
I then ramble on for another 5 pages about how much John and I stared at each other and how dreamy it all is.
If I find the nerve, I might post more journal excerpts. Maybe including the one where I no longer want to die because my mom is FINALLY letting me wear bellbottom jeans..??? Was I actually living in the 1970s? I'm not sure.
Clearly, some things are meant to stay in the past.