Friday, October 1, 2010

Harry Potter Glasses' and AIM Bot's

Let's go back to middle-school days. No contacts--just harry potter glasses and blinged-out braces with rubber bands (much to the dismay of my orthodontist, it was always a matter of life and death to choose a color). It was back when I still knew how to pull off jeans that made my butt look non-existent. When wearing tennis shoes was more fashionable than flats and heels. When I thought that earrings that came down to my shoulders completed an outfit consisting of t-shirt and jeans. When wearing bras from Target and Kohl's made me feel oh all so "grown up." Those were the days. Do you remember? Sitting on yellow school buses, feeling that slight thrill whenever the bus driver drove over a bump? Mixing ketchup with the school spaghetti to enhance the taste? Days when it was important to be called a "pre-teen" instead of a kid. Neopets was cool instead of Pokemon. Xanga instead of Facebook. Having lockers rocked and so did back-to-school shopping. Back to when the world felt so so so easy, and idealist dreams of Prince Charmings and fairytales still existed among females. When Romeo and Juliet were "romantic," instead of "what the fuck?!" When we didn't really want to know where babies came from, and when sex (sex?!) was only between parents. Who knew?

It's not that the drama didn't exist back then. It was like a baby version foreshadowing what more would come in time. I remember thinking I was going to die when I had my first period. I remember crying over a sure to come (and ultimately painful) death. I remember getting into a fight with a friend over shoes--the principal had to tear us apart. And another fight that involved an icy snowball and resulted in the two of us rolling on the ground pulling out each other's hair. I had lost my father. I remember my mom dating someone new; I stuck toothpicks into the carpet hoping that the "stranger," this "outsider," would step on them. Somehow, the physicality and outright rage of the moment helped. Now, everything is so hidden, so conniving, so emotionally brutal.

I remember back when I was in middle school, and I was just getting over my first crush. Of course, it was a one-sided thing, but I was so sure that the stares I shot towards the back of his head would somehow make him fall in love with me. When it didn't, I felt that immature, 13-year old heart of mine break into two. Not able to tell my friends of the emotions I was starting to feel for the first time, I found solace talking to those "AIM Bots"--my relationship doctor.

Now Google is like my "AIM Bot." I type in "How to get over..." and it's like google reads my mind. "How to get over a..." break-up? A guy? A broken heart? An ex? A crush? First love? Dr. Google has my back.

Today I find myself remembering days when it felt so much easier. I'm sure that to that girl years ago though, it wasn't.

http://blisstree.com/feel/how-to-get-over-a-broken-heart/

P.S. My sister just pointed out something else about middle-school: "I remember when dances were just people jumping up and down. There was a SKILL to it."

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