Letter to My Freshman Self

Dear Freshman Self,

First off, I know you'll doubt this is actually me. You. Whatever. Some proof? In the middle of eighth grade, you started a slam book and became closer friends with K. Within, you discussed boys, K's falling-out with M, and science class (in science class- you/we passed it back and forth like crazy; you'll be amused to discover that now, four years after the slam book, K and I have been assigned to sit next to each other in Bio II, and she still rants to me about stuff and things). It was like controlled gossip. Oh, not enough proof? God, I'm a hell of a jaded freshman. One of your friends- L- had a sex dream about your seventh grade English teacher, in the seventh grade. Enough proof? Yeah, I thought so. Now stop thinking about your teacher like that. Stop it. Stop. Okay, moving on- hey, I told you to stop!

Second off, I'd like to congratulate you. You've made it through the tough part, babe. I know you're not sure about it and that you've heard horror stories, but it's really so, so much better than middle school ever had a chance at being, and everything beats elementary school, right? (Elementary does have one advantage high school doesn't: nap time. It doesn't seem like anything now, but by senior year, you'll be begging teachers to let you nap. Spoiler alert, they won't let you.)

Seriously, though, high school will kick ass. There's a higher level of freedom. It won't feel like it at times- hell, it'll feel like they're giving you the responsibilities of an adult with all the trust and liberty of a third grader. And sometimes, that'll be true. Other times, you'll be having the time of your life. Between super-fun classes, friends, and... uhm... the school food (there exists a seniors-only tradition of throwing apples at the brick wall outside the cafeteria), the years will fly by.

Your freshman year will be a piece of cake, trust me. Everyone has the basic classes, and you'll throw in Career Management as well. The teacher is a silly old fart, and he'll have you draw lots of pictures. Easy A. Plus, you'll move in with Mother, and Mrs. A will start to take you to school! Yes, you'll have fallen out of love with her son by that point, you silly goose.

Speaking of love- freshman year, you'll be clear. Your friends will involve themselves with others, but other than an ill-fated, super-chaperoned movie date with McN (spoiler alert, you smash your fingers in the car door and spill nacho cheese on your way in), you'll keep on flying solo. Sophomore year, you'll screw yourself over. You'll say "I love you" without meaning it and because you're scared. He'll say it after, like, three days! And you'll break up after, like, two weeks! And then you'll go back to him, because you're a dumbshit. It'll all work out eventually, though. He's a dick, and you'll figure that out. Also sophomore year, you'll start to have a thing for BK. Yes, he was the first guy to call you a bitch. Yes, you and he made up freshman year. Yes, he has magnificent hair. Yes, he likes you, too. Yes, RD will call you crazy. Yes, you're crazy. BK is not for you, no matter how great the terrible hour-long television dramas he recommend are.

At the very end of sophomore year, you'll meet a nice boy. You'll be entranced with him. He's a junior. He's a loner. You'll attempt to Facebook stalk him, but you won't find him until summertime. You and he will be enchanted by one another: you'll stay up IMing on Facebook until 4 AM a few times! He'll suck you into his nerdy online RPGs! He'll hit on you with Star Trek references! It'll be wonderful. Have fun talking with him.

From there on, no more spoilers. I don't want to ruin a good time by spoiling the ending, and I don't want to draw out a lengthy, emotional explanation of how you'll get from there to where I am today.

By the way, make sure to put in the Governor's School applications on time November of your junior year! It's worth it. You'll have the time of your life. You'll make new friends. You'll figure out what you do and don't want that you do or don't have.

Oh, and make sure to remember to start putting in your applications on time your senior year instead of writing imaginary letters to your freshman self. Shit's important!

With much love and luck,

Your senior self

In a Year, I'll Miss This

I'm worried about graduating. In about a year, I'll miss what I have now.

I don't mean to say that I'll miss the bullshit decisions of the Cheatham County school system, or the dreadful lack of vegetarian options in the cafeteria, or the new librarian who will, to me, never be able to replace our beloved- and fired- Mrs. Wuller.

No, I won't miss any of that.

But I'll miss getting to see my friends every day. I'll miss cuddling with Jonathon in the alcove in the front lobby while Hammy and that guy whose name I don't know scream not-quite-rude things at other people and I slowly down my coffee for the day. I'll miss complaining with Poland (a girl I know whose actual surname is Zurawicki) during seventh period about the idiots in first period. I'll miss my overbearing dictator/mother of a theatre instructor; I'll miss my nerdy role model history teacher whose student teacher won't quit calling me a hipster. I'll miss Grayson and his snide remarks about capitalism, Marissa, and me. I'll miss my calculus teacher and his Southern genius.

Even the things that are brand new to me right now, I'm sure I'll miss sorely.

I'll miss Ty, the skinny white starving-artist-to-be with the nerdy glasses and the giant music collection and the ability to play the ukelele. I'll miss the snarky new biology teacher who plays it by ear and is so much how I want to be in ten years.

I'll miss so much, and that's why I want to chronicle it.

Broke Up

Oh, hey there. So Kirby and I broke up.

I'm starting my senior year in high school, and I need to focus. He's starting his freshman year of college, and he needs to not be weighed down by me.

We're better as friends anyways.

I broke up with him.