The Soundtrack of My Life, The Hellfire of Junior High School

Are you tired of learning all about me yet? This might be the deciding post. You'll either be "all in" or ready to throw it in.

So, my dad didn't die, and we moved to central Ohio in a lower middle class area. It was 1980 and kids still played in the street. Atari hadn't been invented yet. And the world became a truly scary place.

I made friends with a girl down the street who went to Catholic school, while I attended public school. I considered her my "best" friend. At (public) school, I made friends with a girl one street over. I guess she was my other best friend. Or second best friend.

Anyway, the girl down the street decided to go to public school that next year (7th grade and the first year of junior high school). So, I suggested that we walk to school with my other best friend (one street over). It was only a couple of weeks before they were super chummy and I was the third wheel on a two-wheeled bike. I don't recall precisely how long after that my "best friend" said that I could walk behind them, but not beside them on our walks to school.

I know exactly what I would say to that Bullsh@t now, but then... I wasn't allowed to say those words. And the shock of hearing what she said... honestly, it took my breath away. I also can't recall how long we went on like that before I picked up what remained of my self esteem and started walking to school alone.

Meanwhile, at school there were also "problems." There was this girl who took an extraordinary amount of joy from bullying others. I didn't know then that I was just one of the people she drew blood from on a daily basis. (Thank you Facebook for reuniting people as adults so that we can share our horror stories... only to find out we're not as alone as we think. But always more alone than we'd want.) Anyway, those stories were daily... and we don't have time for that. So, I'll just share one:

One day in Home Ec we'd cooked a meal. I was sitting at my table, the first of my table peers to arrive. And this girl stands behind me holding a cup of juice over my head. And she says, "You're nobody in this school. In fact, I could pour this juice over your head and no one would care." And then we both just froze. Me in horror. Her in glee. And she held that glass of juice over my head for 24 hours. Okay, maybe 30 seconds. But it felt like 24 hours. The worst part was I believed every word she said. I was no one at the school. No one would care if she dumped that juice on my head.

This song sums up how I felt... but what I didn't have the guts to say. You know, because I wasn't anyone at that school.

I need someone, a person to talk to
Someone to care, to love
Could it be you, could it be you
Situation gets rough then I start to panic

It's not enough, it's just a habit
Hey, kid you're sick well, darling this is it

You can all just kiss off into the air
Behind my back I can see them stare

They'll hurt me bad but I won't mind
They'll hurt me bad, they do it all the time
Yeah, yeah, they do it all the time

I hope you know that this will go down

On your permanent record
Oh yeah, well don't get so distressed
Did I happen to mention that I'm in the press

I take one, one, one cause you left me and

Two, two, two for my family and
Three, three, three for my heartache and
Four, four, four for my headaches and
Five, five, five for my lonely and
Six, six, six for my sorrow and

Seven, seven for no tomorrow and
Eight, eight I forget what eight was for but
Nine, nine, nine cause I've lost God and
Ten, ten, ten, ten for everything
Everything, everything, everything
 

You can all just kiss off into the air
Behind my back I can see them stare

They'll hurt me bad but I won't mind
They'll hurt me bad, they do it all the time
Yeah, yeah, they do it all the time

I've come to realize that no one really liked junior high school (or middle school). What song would you choose to describe that time in your life?

If you're enjoying these posts, feel free to share your own Soundtrack. This isn't a hop. No requirements at all, but a suggestion to do it one song at a time. (If you participated in the hop several years ago, you can still do this. Just post them one song at a time, with the freedom to add more songs if you'd like.) I'll link to all participants at the bottom of each of these posts:

StMcC Presents BATTLE OF THE BANDS

E IS FOR ENMITY

Yeah, this is me. What? Back so soon? I know. Gone for weeks and then I am here all the time. Well, I am trying to get a handle on my hate issues. Hate issues? What hate issues? You need to step off this blog and read the last one to catch up. I'll wait for you. That would be "And this will make me happy... thanks Christine." I wrote two ~ count them two ~ blogs yesterday after getting worked up after reading Christine's blogs by the same name. I was going to comment on ya'lls comments when my comment got eaten by the black hole that is Blogger, or so I thought. I shrieked. Read the whole mess to my mother. Got up took a shower. Ate lunch. Tried to work out if I was still really pissed. I was. Am. And we are off again. Are you still with me? Good.

You all leave the same loving comments that I like to leave on people's blogs when they are on the verge of losing it, and need a reality check. That is so sweet. Truly. I know that you spend some time really pondering what to say, and trying to find something meaningful that will provide relief for someone in pain. That is awesome. The thing is that I would enjoy throwing rotten tomatoes at Flash's house because he is scum of the earth and I still have migraines. Mostly it is just me beating the drum of life being fair vs unfair. In about 12 hours, I would be over it because no one ever promised us fair. If life were fair, bad things wouldn't happen to good people. Doesn't work like that. Instead, people like my ex-husband are the luckiest bastards alive. I know that if he ever played the lottery he'd win. He is luckier than anyone I know. It isn't "right," but that is just how it is. If I thought he'd spend the money on his kids, I'd encourage him to play. Since I know he'd just spend it on himself, I don't.

I forgave Flash a long time ago. He was just the teacher. Am I a human being who doesn't enjoy just the tiniest bit the idea of Flash getting his comeuppance? Well hell. I admit it. I do. Should the day come that Flash pay for any of his crimes, I can't say that I would shed a tear, and I have to admit that I would probably be doing an internal happy dance. Does that make me a bad person? I don't know. Maybe. It makes me a human being. Certainly.

Christine nailed the point of my blog with her comment. It wasn't about Flash. The whole blog wasn't about Flash. He was superfluous. It was HER. The other woman. This person who had become my friend in the most bizarre situation known to man. She forgets my name and asks Flash so that she contact me. It galled me. I didn't say that she and Flash had communicated by email numerous times exchanging "hellos," but she did add that tidbit in her email to me. How in the hell did she reach a place where they could be that friendly after she was ready to MURDER him? Oh yeah. They verbally kicked it around afterwards in a very ugly way. Same goes for email. Her husband got in on that action. It was all of that hatefulness that led to her and I not being able to maintain any sort of a friendship.



Basically, everyone was throwing around hate and I was determined to be the peaceful port in the storm. Flash even convinced me to forgive him and try again. Well, I did forgive and we did try. That never really worked. I learned that I can forgive but I just don't trust again. Ah. The things we learn about ourselves. So, I did forgive him, but I never loved him again. Let's face it. He had already done some pretty reprehensible things by that point, so there really wasn't much to salvage. My problem was his unwillingness to let go. He was very much like my ex-husband. He just kept at you. Call. Call. Call. Show up. Pretty much "no" is not an answer. Hammer and nail mentality. As I said, in a previous blog, I am forever thankful to the pastor at the church who intervened. He got to take Flash's calls and I stopped opening emails, etc.

However, this is not about Flash. It's about HER. It bugs me that she is friendly with Flash. One email to get my name might have been okay. Did she need to tell me that they were exchanging hellos? She and her husband pulled their marriage out of the fire. Apparently way out of the fire. In a very short period of time they have a very successful business, have moved, and have built a brand new house. It looks very expensive. If I had to guess... at least $250,000. Probably more. She has gone from alcoholic, abusive husband, and a marriage that was on the skids because of her infidelity to Graceland. And she is exchanging hello emails with Flash. And she forgot my name, but she wants to know how I am doing.

HOW AM I FREAKING DOING???? I AM PISSED OFF.



I BEEN THROUGH THE WRINGER FOR TAKING TOO LITTLE THROUGH THE MIDDLE FINGER!

I would say that the song in its entirety sums up my mood, but that lyric says it best.

People in real life, and on here, tell me all the time how nice I am. You know what? Being nice isn't always such a great thing. Sometimes being nice means taking too little through the middle finger. Sometimes being nice means putting other people so much in front of you, and your needs, that it is migraine-inducing. It is not healthy. There is a point when the healthy thing is to tell someone to fuck off. You have caused enough carnage here. Go do damage somewhere else. That is actually healthy. It may not be nice, but it is healthy. You gotta love it when you can use the fuck word and it is totally the right thing to do. So open your ears kids, sometimes saying fuck is just what the doctor ordered. Screw your parents and their rules about cursing. If you don't believe me or Eminem, pull out one of my old 80s favorites, The Violent Femmes, and spin KISS OFF. That should set you straight. It didn't work for me, but you have this blog, plus Eminem working for you. And this bit of wisdom from Christine on how to handle HER:

Sometimes we are too precious for our own good.
this chick and you had one thing in common. You both slept with the same dude..and whether she owed you anything or not, she still messed around with a dude in a relationship. Then she screwed around on her husband. she doesn't sound like good friend material, relationship material or quite frankly, good people material.
serial skank would be a more apt description. It's best to leave said skank in the dustbin of history. Come up with a good excuse..you know like the fact that you have serial migraines and are trying to get an important project off the ground and just don't have time to scrape your brain free from crud every two or three weeks...but thanks for thinking of you. lol.
signed
Robin whatevermylastnameisyoustupidskank

Thank you, Christine, Eminem, The Violent Femmes, and my own middle finger which I have been road testing for the last ten minutes. I do believe that I have a handle on this situation now.


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