TBT to 1992: "Maybe I'll Turn Out Okay After All."

Hello, readers, and welcome to a new entry in the most embarrassing series of posts I've thought up yet: TBTs to my middle school journal. Honestly, most of my original journal is boring or makes no sense or is just weird drawings (the R.E.M. fan-fiction didn't show up until my high school journals), but a few of the entries beg to be made public. Just in case I ever start thinking I've got my shit together or something, I can re-read these and be instantly transported back to the early '90s, when sisters were the WORST OMG and Nintendo was the BEST OMG, and I was awkward as hell.

Sixth grade: When my mom made me get a perm, but I refused to allow them to perm
the top - only the sides; and when I wore a plaid v-neck jumper for picture day.
Also when I "rated" every picture in my yearbook, only to go back later and
Wite-Out all the ratings. No, I don't know why.

The following journal entry, from when I was an eleven-year-old sixth-grader, is especially embarrassing because anyone I went to middle school with will 100% recognize the name of my crush. But whatever, ladies; you know you were all crushing on him, too.

********************
February 21, 1992
     I wrote a few letters to Naoki, telling him I like him. I signed them "Your Secret Admirer." I gave him clues to figure out who I am. In the last note, I asked him to, if he knew who I was, write me back telling me if he liked me or not.
     (Probably or not.)
     I gave him my locker number - #2171 - and told him to stick the note through the vent of my locker A.S.A.P.
     He didn't.
     That was the day school let out for Winter Break - Valentine's Day. The week before that - on Feb. 7, a Friday - there was the Valentine's Day Dance. We danced, like we've done at all of the other dances.
     I think (and hope) he likes me. Enough to go out with me.
     Mom and Dad don't know about this, but if Mari finds this journal, they'll know in about two seconds. Okay, so I'm exaggerating.
     Mom has met Naoki before, and she knows I like him (I think), and I think she likes him.
     I hope.
     I really hope.
     By the way, in my last entry, I said I changed my mind about killing that fly. Well, I didn't kill him. And if I had, I would've immediately felt terrible, begged the after-life to send him back, give him mouth-to-mouth recipitation, or anything. And if that didn't work, I'd send up a prayer, saying I was sorry. Then I would've given him a funeral, burying him where no one would step on his little grave.
     BUT!!!
     I didn't kill him!
     Maybe I'll turn out okay after all. Maybe Naoki likes me.
     (And maybe not - to both!)
********************

Okay. OKAY. Let's break this down:

1. Naoki was so totally cute, and funny, and smart. I was right to pursue him. High-five through the space-time continuum, Sixth-Grade Cathy!
2. We did indeed dance at all the dances, in the classic middle school dance pose: arms stuck straight out in front of us and heads turned aggressively to opposite sides, so as to avoid the potential for any eye contact during Boyz II Men's "End of the Road".
3. But I was wrong about thinking my mom would like him. After all, his dad let Naoki drive his car in a parking lot while Naoki was sitting on his dad's lap, with a few of us other sixth-graders in the backseat. This was while we were supposed to be doing a group project for school at Naoki's house. Yeah.
4. Why was I even concerned with my parents' opinions on this dude?! Did I think I was going to marry him or something?
5. FOR THE RECORD, Naoki ended up leaving some mysterious hockey trading cards in my locker later in the school year...right before he moved back to Japan. But that means my feelings were TOTES reciprocated, even if it was too late to act on them.
6. Speaking of reciprocation, wtf is up with the fly interlude? "Mouth-to-mouth recipitation"? Close, Cath, but not quite. And "send up a prayer"? Where had I even heard that phrase? Maybe Vacation Bible Camp with friends or something. Definitely not from my household.
7. I really love that my faith in my own future is dependent on whether or not I killed that fly. Maybe I'll turn out okay after all. I'm fairly certain I plagiarized that line from a Paula Danziger book. And, P.S., I did draw a picture of the fly that I almost killed in the previous entry. But no, I'm not including that here. Maybe next week.

Happy Throwback Thursday!