JUST GIVE ME A WORD

Invisibility. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I know it doesn't have anything to do with the baggage that I pulled out from under my bed, opened up and examined closely for the first time in years, and then wrote about in an extensive blog, and then took one step further, and sent Right Guy an email to the address of said blog, hoping that he would read it. My phone has been deadly quiet. My email says that "I don't have mail." Invisibility.

Do you remember that scene from MY BIG FAT GREEK WEDDING when the (Greek) father is driving his children to school (and I think one of their friends) and he says, "Give me a word, any word, and I will show you that the root of that word is Greek?" I don't remember the words. But they kept tossing words out and the kids kept doing these eyerolls because he was clearly flying by the seat of his pants and making crap up. It was hilarious. But, to him, everything = Greek. The more I thought about it, the more I had to put it in here. It is less than a minute and it is too funny. For any newbies, go down to the bottom of my page and kill the sound on my music player. Sorry for the inconvenience.



For me everything bad = junior high school. I feel like that guy right now. Give me a bad experience or negative emotion, any bad experience, and I can give you a junior high school experience. I dare ya. Bring it. I'll start. Invisibility. In theory, invisibility could be a good thing if you had control over it and could turn it off and on. It could be a superpower. It could make you a superhero.

Invisibility. For those of you who are new to this blog, we had moved to Ohio from Florida, and I had gone to 6th grade at the local elementary school. However, that experience really didn't help me blend. My best friend was still the girl down the street who had gone to Catholic school for elementary school. However, she was going to go to the public junior high school. There was another girl on the next street over that I knew from elementary school, so before school started I suggested that we all walk together. It was actually a rather long walk to the junior high. Within days, the two of them became fast friends. The year and a half of bonding between me and my friend from down the street disappeared like *that.* After about a week, they let me walk behind them, but not with them. It is true what they say: three is a crowd.

I made other friends at school and left those girls behind. I don't regret that and I wouldn't change it. The friends that I made were *good* people. We had common interests and they were smart girls who turned into smart women. I didn't have a lot of friends, but they were quality friends. I will take quality over quantity any day of the week. I also had one bully and a bunch of people who may or may not have known my name. I wasn't exactly popular.


Invisibility. I do only have one male blog reader, right? Bathwater is pretty hard-core. I think he can take this and be okay. And since I'm invisible, it's no skin off my nose. It's ninth grade. Nope. Can't start there. Although, that is when this "event" actually happened. All girls want to get their period. I don't understand this NOW. But it is true. I was gleeful when I got mine. Was I insane? Yes, I do believe I was. Anyway, it came and then it went. For like a year. And after that it was really sporadic for a couple of years. In other words, in junior high school, the most dreaded years of life, I never knew when my period was coming, because it has no timetable. It could be gone for months at a time. I think you now see where this story is going.

Now, about that day in 9th grade... It was algebra class and I was wearing white pants. Yep. I said white pants. The teacher was big into having kids go to the chalkboard and solve problems. Heck, that was commonplace in every math class I had all through high school. I don't remember working my problem out at the board, but I know that I did. Afterwards, Kris (a girl), leans over to me and says, "John says that you've started your period." Is there anything more mortifying than this? No. I had to have turned red all the way to my hairline. I gathered up all of my stuff and did not say a word to the teacher. I backed out of class and just left. I didn't even ask for a hall pass. I JUST LEFT. I never do that. He must have been stunned. I wouldn't have been a bit surprised if he asked what happened and Kris announced to the class that, "John noticed that she got her period." She was a classy girl.

My dad came and picked my up. Again, where was my mother? I remember pacing the backyard after changing my clothes. I think I was talking to myself and shouting at God. My neighbor, Robin, comes out of her house and inquires about what I am doing. She got the rundown. I finish it up with, "I can't go back there EVER. I just can't." We both know I have to go back. She then tells me some story of hers that was kinda sorta the same and I go back to school. I got some looks, but no one said anything. Nada. Nothing.

I haven't thought about that story in a long time. Either one actually. They both are junior high and both relate directly back to invisibility. The first is two people who wanted me to feel invisible, and the second is a time when I wanted to be invisible, and then we could talk about how I felt invisible as a a general rule, which would make for a third story.

However, I keep thinking about what Kris said to me that day. She could have just told me that my period had started. That is what I would have done. The thing is that John probably did say something to her, and maybe she didn't see it for herself, so she didn't feel comfortable passing along information that she didn't know to be true. Or she just wanted me to feel worse. Either way, chances are really, really good that John did tell her that my period had started. At the time, that was horrifying. Now... John was really hot. And he was checking out my ass. How else would he have noticed that my period had started? Perhaps, this very dark cloud does have a silver lining.

I still maintain my original theory. Every bad experience = junior high school. Just give me a word.