Sarcomical

Dimples

When I was little, I went through a brief period of longing for dimples so badly that I would stand in front of the mirror practicing and practicing, trying to form a smile that would result in at the very least a mere one half of a dimple. I thought if I could just train my face a certain way, the dimples would develop somehow and then last forever. I can't tell you why this was something I aspired to so fervently, but for some reason dimples were the thing I thought a cute little girl should have, and I was madly desirous of them. I blame this partly on the pretty girl who rode my bus and had long brown hair and the most irritatingly obvious dimples even when she didn't smile OH YEAH and that damned Cindy Brady.

(Kind of reminds me of the time, at around age 5, when I saw my little friend with an apparently glorious shag haircut and decided I had to have it RIGHT NOW and as soon as I got home took scissors to hair over the kitchen trashcan before anyone could stop me. Impetuous, even just out of toddler clothes...)

As I've now taken up residence in the meat of my 30's, I find a certain amusement in looking back on those strange little moments in my childhood when I wanted something so obsessively or didn't comprehend the value of my uniqueness. It is, of course, ridiculous for me to pretend as if in some ways, on some days, I don't still doubt parts of myself as a person, or occasionally get an incredible hunger for something I don't have...but it's nice to know that I can also feel myself poised ever-closer toward peaceful self-contentment and awareness.

Also, the last thing I practiced in the mirror was the perfectly-messy low side chignon. OH - and Speed Flossing.

Attention: Paging Pre-teen Melodrama, Age 12...

January 27, 1989:

"The most terrible thing that could ever happen to someone happened to 2 people.

(insert sad face) First, Tim Hemmlegarn (insert heart) split his kneecap in basketball yesterday. He came to school today in a cast. I feel so sorry for him. He won't be able to play in basketball or football until he's a freshman.

Amy fell down the steps of the Ed Complex at musical practice and hurt her ankle. She hobbled, but I think it'll be O.K. (insert happy! face) Sharon's birthday is today. Her party is tomorrow night."

I mean, truly...was I SERIOUS?
Sadly, I think I kind of was. My world was quite small, eh?

Whew. Thank God nothing else somewhat terrible happened, you know...like famine. Or homicide. Or alien takeover.

Diary Entry November 1, 1984: Age 8

Thrilling. And yes, I see the irony in the spelling error.

technorati tags: NaBloPoMo

My Musical Flashback: "Walk Like an Egyptian", the Bangles, 1986, age 10

It struck me as I was making my "Memory Lane Overload - 80s & 90s" playlist on Rhapsody the other day (ahem) just how much of our formative lives is heavily-ridden with musical bookmarks that trigger precise feelings, states of mind, and actual pinpoint moments more than almost any other cue.

I'm a music FaReeeak! And also a bit of a Contemplative Geek at times. This means of course that I can't resist - documenting some of the memories I flash to when hearing certain songs sounds like OH SO MUCH FUN. So, I think I'll do it.

Starting now.

My Musical Flashback: "Walk Like an Egyptian", the Bangles, 1986, age 10

this house full of girls, girls, girls

five sisters and then there is me

diving into the "play makeup" and Aqua Net

your slumber parties were rarely without costumes and acting skills employed

enough blush to be seen from space and now it's time to practice

tease, tease, tease that hair!

cue camera operator!

take 4

dancing from bed to bed, egyptian-walking and lipsynching perfection

music video Stars need their Pringles and pizza

screening event with your parents

Success! once again the audience is impressed

(we put on many acts

mini-movies were made of pure genius HAHAHA

would make phenomenal blackmail today)

scrubbed-up and pajama'd, scary movie time if you dare

your mom brings popcorn sprinkled with something delicious

what was that? to this day i have no idea

crunch crunch hold hands!!! eek gasp

never as scared as i were you and your sisters

but you also told the best ghost stories

you taught me the art

of whispering a dream into a sleeping girl's ear

giggles as she recounted confused pieces of it in the morning

wake up

pancakes and eggs and loud and lovely

   

p.s. in memory of your mom.

When I Was In First Grade...

I looked like this:

Feathered hair is Hottt.

My principal was especially excited that year to be in the Business of Education:

"Look! I'm pointing to where we are RIGHT NOW! Right here! Doesn't that just BLOW. YOUR. MIND?!?"

Apparently, the Little House on the Prairie Look was sweeping the school:

Neck ruffles are the new black.

I began to nurture a blossoming love of expressing myself via LOTS OF WORDS. I may not have been able to write them all yet, but I could definitely say so many of them that I often drove my parents crazy:

Aaand, a future member of the blogging generation rears its chatty, TMI head.

This was my class:

Mrs. Bricker was sweet and pretty, and she wanted to move me up a grade or two because I was a smarty-pants extraordinaire. My parents decided to keep me with my age group, which was probably good. Funny to think I would not have met The Husband if this had changed, and my entire life would probably be different. That's creepy...

Another trend among many of the ladies was the classic "metal barrette with ribbons braided into it", with long ends trailing down to complete the effect:

I myself had several of these lovely accessories in various shades, so as to be able to coordinate them with any color palette. AWESOME.

I was super-cute. I'm just saying:

Three of the top songs this year I was in school were "Bette Davis Eyes", "Physical" and "Eye of the Tiger". Wow.

technorati tags: 1980's, 1981, 1982

When I Was In Kindergarten...

This was my class:

I remember Mrs. Granger playing the harpsichord when we'd we'd sing "Baa Baa, Black Sheep" during music time.

I looked like this:

That little scarlet-colored velour shirt was one of my favorite things in the entire world. I wonder if that's why I'm not repelled by velour track pants...

I told David he colored too hard for me to be his friend:

He used to pick on me on the bus, and my mom told me he probably just liked me. Boys are so ridiculous.

Siv Gut (sue goot) used to tickle our faces with the ends of her braids:

I later used that move to torture my little sister at home.

I sold a lot of candy, apparently:

I have no idea why I wasn't wearing the Hershey hat. I vaguely remember it being in my house at some point, so I know I got one. Rad.

This was our playground:

I would ride the merry-go-round, but not the teeter-totter. That thing terrified me, and I always ended up on them with someone on the other end who thought it was funny to keep me in the air. I felt about 30 feet in the sky and would FREAK OUT.

Here was our guidance counselor's office, where a Duso the Dolphin hand puppet taught us life lessons:

This was also the room (about the size of a large closet) where the girls were told all about our periods several years later and were then sent home with boxes of sample feminine hygiene products.

I had a record that read this book to me, and I listened to it A LOT, and made sure no one would steal it:

I seemed to write inside the covers of my books an awful lot. Now, I can barely stand to bend a page corner.

I had an early appreciation for all things girly, including the pretend blowdryer that came with this set:

I wonder how many lip glosses would fit into that pink plastic case?