(no subject)
Sep. 11th, 1990 06:00 pmI'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
harinezumi's name in ridiculously girly-curly cursive.
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