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In english class we had fun. After we read our compositions we started being silly. Alison had a big stuffed dog, I had my green Lucky Sprite, Kostia had a cookie, and Dina had an apple. Alison, Dina and I started balancing things on our heads. Kostia and I got into an argument about whose composition was stupider. Finally to make him shut up I threw my doll at him. It clonked him on the head and to make me laugh, he pretended to be knocked out.
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Oops! I think I got Kostia in a pickle. He's not in trouble but... Oh well, I think I better explain.

Dr. Medrano is being a mother hen over Kostia. I understand why, but really, I think that Konstantin would do better by himself. He has friends but everyone was plenty mean to him last year, so.

5/12/04 - Great. That clears everything up. Thanks, me.

Dr. Medrano. How I hated that woman. Actually how everyone hated that woman. She truly was a bitch on wheels and not just to the kids. I mean, she was not only mean, but when she was being "nice" what she actually was doing was passive aggressively... i don't know, being mean. :) Ah, well, I only had to suffer her being principal for two years...
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Today I had fun. Kostia and I were telling jokes again. Now I have an incurable habit of chewing pencils. The only way I stop is when someone tells me to. I told him that. He said that when he was in first grade (Soviet School) he used to destroy pens. He told me a lot of jokes about this extremo Soviet president. Apart from that, I had a pretty good day, except for the mile. I cheated, and I know Kostia did too.

5/12/04 - "I chew pencils." "So do I." "The cosmos has spoken - we were meant to be together." *snrrk* I love myself sometimes.

It's so weird reading this stuff and remembering oh, yeah, there used to be this thing called the Soviet Union, huh? History happens all around us every day, and it only becomes significant in retrospect. How odd.

Ya know? kids need to be exercised more these days, I quite fully agree with that. But I still think it's rather sadistic to make an asthmatic kid that hasn't grown into her legs run a whole fucking mile. I can't remember how many laps around the school roof constituted a mile, but it was a lot and after you pass the tennis court for the third time it all gets that much more boring. I still think mile runs would be a lot better if they meant a straight line from point A to point B rather than several times in a big circle. You could at least enjoy the view then. Bah.
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Boy, a lot of things happen in ten days. I lost my key, so I didn't write.

Last Thursday, Konstantin knocked over his water, so I saw him running back and forth from the napkin table. I got the notion to ask him what he spilled. Now, just about a week later, we're telling jokes and talking about Nintendo, etc. I think we're on the road to being good friends. Alexandra would drop dead if she knew.

5/12/04 ...because Alessandra didn't think I had the guts to do anything about it the year before. Man. I really do wish I'd kept up with journalling in sixth grade, it was such an interesting year in retrospect. Traumatic, yes, but interesting.
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I'm scared stiff.

I couldn't do half of my English homework because I left my reading book at school. Either I ask Vanessa for her book (if it isn't where I think it is) or I take detention. No letters home. I'd like to see my twelfth birthday in October.

I made friends with Kerem U. today. He's a good friend of Konstantin. With a bit of luck this should profit for me spying on him. Konstantin, that is. Not Kerem.

5/3/04 - 'cause really, why would I be spying on Kerem?

I find it really funny that is seventh grade, spying on someone meant basically not paying any attention in class becuase you were too busy mooning over the person you liked five seats away. And then you got your best friends to tell you everything they know about the other person, and to feed you information as they get it. It's really an elaborate excuse for barely pubescent girls to gossip at great length about attractions they don't yet understand.

And the usual trouble with keeping my real mediocre school performance from my parents that haunts me to this day, thirteen years later, manifests yet again... the more things change...

At least I'd stopped writing [livejournal.com profile] harinezumi's name in ridiculously girly-curly cursive.
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Today was the first day of school. (Yes, it's a Monday) I have Mr. Swallow for a teacher. He kinda looks like a mad scientist. [flowery writing]Konstantin's[/flowery writing] in my class. I got several mock lovecalls from jehan when I told her. Anucha (who recently had a baby boy named Roy) brought him to school. Sheela cooed over him. I don't blame her.

5/3/04 - Yep, my nephew was a mad cute infant, especially as he had a crater in one cheek when he smiled. I say crater as the indentation was and is still far too deep to truly be called a dimple, and yet it's only visible when he smiles. What causes dimples anyway? I've always wondered that. And I've always found them wicked cute. :)
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I have not written in this diary for more than a year. I am now nearly twelve. Oh, to hell with this peoperity shit. This is a diary, for heaven sakes!

A lot has changed since the last time I wrote. I'm gonna be in seventh grade next year. Another thing that has changed is that I'm not in love with Ashkan anymore. My new fling is [flowery writing]Konstantin Koptev[/flowery writing]. Yes, he's Russian. I feel a bit sorry for him. You see he doesn't have any friends. Quoting from Sheela, "everyone says how stupid and ugly he is."

I better sign off. I've got to give Sheela a call.

5/3/04 - Ah, middle school. Anybody need a guaranteed deterrent against spawning, spend a day observing the petty backstabbing cruelty of seventh graders. UNIS, despite being upheld as this paragon of harmonious international living still had a crop of 12-13 year olds. The fact that we were all smart didn't level the playing field any, it just made the mean kids meaner in a far more vicious way that left deeper scars on some of us than any physical beating could.

Hindsight is 20/20 though. Looking back on the couple of photographs I've got of sixth-seventh grade, whoever initially made the condemnation of [livejournal.com profile] harinezumi's attractiveness wasn't looking very hard. Though he often says he embodied the very essence of seminiferous tubular buttnoid, this was actually right before he hit the awkward ravages of puberty and testosterone and was still quite a beautiful boy. And was probably the last time he would only outdistance me height-wise by four inches rather than by nearly a foot.
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Okay. so I forgot to write. Nothing much happened except for a few thing in the past two wees so I'll fill you out on what did happen: (1) on May 24, Cliona said that she thought Vanessa was teasing me about health food. She didn't know that Vanessa had called me fat. (2) May 26. Jackie, Alicia's niece (Alicia is Anucha's friend) came over and she stayed the night. Running up to her my foot got wedged in the bannister, and my little toe got dislocated. It still is kind of purple. (3)The next day I went to a ballet. Romeo and Juliet. It was great. after that my parents and I went to New Jersey and ate at this restaurant. Then we visted my aunt. (4) June 11, went to ballet class but had to take it easy because of my toe. We practiced our dance with costumes. (5) June 3 - I went to a ballet called Don Quixote then we went to a place called Jezabelles. It's this crazy restaurant. Wh ever heard of a fern in the bathroom? And that's it. Today I sort of got Ashkan and Bassem in trouble. Gayle found this note that Betty wrote yesterday. Betty was eavesdropping on them and she wrote down what they were saying. What they were talking about was dicks and fucking Oceane (one of my friends.) Well today, Gayle found the nore under her desk. She brought it to Mr. Muslin.

and what happened next I don't remember, and the world will never know because I stopped writing here and then didn't pick up the journal for almost a year and a half. So we miss all of sixth grade in that time, which is a bit sad, as I wish I had some record of it, since a lot of really really angsty things happened in sixth grade - it's when I stopped giving a rats ass about my grades, much to my parent's ire, it's when my mother and my sister took me out to Prospect Park lake to tell me I was actually not the natural child of the folks I call Mom and Dad, but actually Stanley's little college accident whom they later adopted, and survived being in Mr. Blackman's class (and he was a case let me tell you). I started questioning things a lot more in sixth grade, sort of along the lines of well, if my family could keep a secret that big from me for 11 years, what else are they hiding? It was also the year I quit ballet, for two reasons - one, that year I did pointe for exactly four months and my ankles couldn't handle it. Also Yaya was being really mean to my friend Sheela, and as a show of solidarity, we both quit her class that December. Right before a performance. Boy was she mad. :) There went my sparkling career with the American Ballet Theater. :) Or maybe Alvin Ailey? >:) Mama! Habarigani, Mama! *niggy jig, Alvin Ailey style* (yep, [livejournal.com profile] beatgoddess, that was all for you!) I'd like to take up dance again at some point, there are times when I really miss it....

And of course, sixth grade was where I met (but hadn't yet become friends with) and seriously crushed out on the person who would become my best friend, the (at the time) love of my life, my worst enemy, and my blinking red question mark, not in that order, of course. :) I of course speak of [livejournal.com profile] harinezumi. That part I aleast have a record of, in the form of the first long-ass thing I ever wrote, a little autobiographical story called
Go Figure Boys! Still have a copy of it too. Occasionally I read it over and shake my head about how silly and at the same time horrible kids are right around puberty. But anyway. That was the second half of sixth grade, and rightly timed too - that whole issue distracted me from the fact that my life as I'd known it had gone straight to hell in a handbasket.

Anyway. Thus ends grade 5. Journal 1 picks back up here
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Today was great up to lunchtime at school.

I had Trix, a peice of cake, two hot dogs, and a can of cream soda. My friend Vanessa started. She said, "You eat that for lunch?!" she was pointing at my Trix. "That's full of fat."

"Full of sugar," I said.

"Full of - is that a hot dog?" she asked. I nodded. "That's full of fat, also." Cleona Took Vanessa's side. I had to cry in the bathroom three times. I hate them.

Granted that wasn't the healthiest lunch in the world, but hell, I was all excited about eating it until Vanessa climbed to the summit of Mount Molehill and planted her flag. She was always a little nuts about health food, but she was one of those weight conscious girls back then who was all about not getting fat . . . as I wasn't the skinniest kid in the world (but photographic evidence proves that no matter what I thought of myself then I was nowhere near fat either) anything she said about how my lunch would make me balloon to the size of a baby beluga definitely upset me. Considering we were all around 10 at this point, that's really kind of sick. Damn weight-phobic society. Bash it good.

This was also the first entry where I included the day of the week as well as the date. Times I didn't start doing until later - for now, I'm estimating.
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In case you're wondering why I eat dietary ice cream, here's why My body cannot digest milk. A bag of milk chocolate is a different story. We're doing a play called A Case for two Detectives. It's really funny. Ajamu in my class is so nosy. What does he care if I love Ashkan or not? Anyway, I had a Violin lesson and Dad picked me up. Sheela sure is being moody latly.

The fifth graders would put on plays at the end of the year, and our class had a lot of fun putting on Two detectives. I remember I was cast as this pretentious old lady that talked really really fast about dead german philosophers until one of the cast members gets fed up and shoots her in the back. Perfect role for a little kid who was once told by one of her teachers that she had "diarrhea of the mouth ..." :)
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Well, I didn't talk to Mr. Muslin about Ashkan. But I had fun today. I teased Sheela, scared Ruba's sister half out of her wits, and really made Sarah laugh. Now I know that if Sarah ever goes back to Saudi Arabia, I'll be brokenhearted. I don't know why. It's like Joselyn. She went back to Malaysia a while ago. And I really miss her.

Being UNIS, the kid turnaround in that place was always pretty high, since diplomats were constantly showing up in New York, staying a while, putting thier kids in school at UNIS, and the next year, inexplicably they'd be gone, shipped off to who knows where doing who knows what diplomats do . . . so kids coming in, then leaving, then occasionally coming back was nothing new.

And when Sarah did finally go back to SA after we all graduated, I wasn't all that sad, as she'd turned into Megabitch Homophobe by then. What a difference seven years make.
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Sorry for not writing. Mohamed, Ashkan and I got in trouble for fighting. Rats. My fun is over. Oh well. I had a ballet class (a fun one,) but Yaya's barre exercises take a million years. I made up with a friend's mother for saying something rude to her. Sometimes I don't know when my mouth gets me in trouble. I'm going to talk to Mr. Muslin (my teacher) about the Ashkan thing tommorrow

mother in question didn't even notice I had said anything. Stupid parental implanted paranoia.
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Today was the usual. School. I got into a fight with Ashkan. I pinched him, stepped on his ankle, almost spraining it, and called him names. He threw chalkboard erasers at me and called me names. My ears killed me after gym, so I went to the nurst to get an ice bag. My new nickname for Ashkan is Turkey in a Trash Can.

"Trash Can" stuck with that boy until at least the end of the next year, after which I was decidedly not interested in him anymore.
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Mom, Dad and I went to see a ballet based on Shakespere's play A Midsumer Nights dream. It was GREAT!

I feel like I should be placing [sic] after each typo, as I'm copying them in pretty much as they are, but then again, I'd have more [sic]s than actual entry at this rate.
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Anucha was on the Cosby Show! We had a party for it. I better get on tbe days I missed. Number one, on Gracie Mansion night, Ian and Gayle Started pulling my hair. Then Nora and Ashkan joined in. I pushed ashkan into the side of the van. We hit a bump, and Ashkan fell in Patrick's lap.

and that was the only bit of catch-up I put in. I did have this habit of leaving entries and not picking them up later back then.

What I didn't mention here was the fact that of course when you get twenty little kids packed into two vans, sooner or later someone is going to be accused of farting - and the whole reason why Ashkan got shoved into the side of the van (and thereafter to flail helplessly into the arms of a bewildered Patrick (whoo woo!) was becuase he actually had the nerve to lean over and smell my butt when I said it wasn't me. Boys are so gross.

As for the fascination with my hair, I'm guessing this was one of the few events where I got to wear my hair down, or at least loosely twisted, as opposed to planted firmly in six or seven little braids, so I'm not too surprised everyone was poking it.
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SORRY! I forgot to write for a while. Yesterday I went to Gracie Mansion (the Mayor's House) to sing. on the way back, Ashkan, Nora - I'll tell the story later.

yearrgh.

Are you a diplomat in New York? Are you hosting an event? Do you need something to give your event that o-so-special touch of global peace promotion? Quick, get the United Nations school to trot out all of its kids in national costumes and have them sing
Let There Be Peace On Earth for the 10,000,000th time. Jeeezus. I can't count the times we've piled into a bus dressed in kimono, daishiki, cheongsams, liederhosen, rebozo, clogs, bonnets and what have you, driven to gawd knows where to sing that song, sometimes on TV. It got so bad that Sheela and I made up our own flatulent parody called Let There Be Farts On Earth and would sing it raucously to each other over the phone and laugh hysterically. I'll spare you the gory details of the parody, but my favorite line of it was always "Let us fart with each other, in perfect harmony . . . pee-yoo-oo-ooh . . ."
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Augggh! Ballet Performance! I played a Princess Cat. Sheela was one, also.

Yep, this was the princess cat ballet. I think Mom had pictures of us in our ears, pink tutus, and little white socks over our hands.

Also dated this one wrong too, taking the date from the previous entry . . .
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I know Ashkan's greatest weakness. Two years ago, he was sking and he banged into a rock and broke his hand in two. It didn't heal right, so one of his hands is smaller than the other. He's really sensitive about it so if somebody say something he gets upset

greatest weakness? well . . . probably not, but I did have a flair for the dramatic, especially when dealing with my crushes on boys. Of couse, Ashkan's greatest talent in my opinion was that not only did he play piano really well, he could also fit an entire New York style pizza slice into his mouth at once. Yep, saw him do it once. He couldn't chew, exactly, but he could get the whole thing in there. It was rather like watching a snake detach its jaw so it could devour an entire animal.
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Everyone watched the Super Bowl. I will go to bed with Samantha.

The doll, you gutter minded freakazoids! I wasn't quite that precocious!
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being Bored.

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