MATH
"Now heres a scary thought. I might Like like Brandon. It's really farfeched. I don't know if I like him or not. I don't think I do, and it would be really scary if I actually did. I don't think he likes me."
What you have just witnessed, my friends, is the budding of a flower of genius. The above quote is an excerpt from the personal journal of one Caitlin Jane Sellnow: age ten.
My mother found it recently when she was cleaning out some closet space. Really, it's remarkable that she didn't throw it away, since I had so cleverly disguised it as not a diary by etching MATH on the front in pencil and underlining it twice. I was so concerned with secrecy the names have been changed in the first entry. My best friends Samantha and Leslie became "Michelle" and "Luella." The code was so brilliant, even I didn't know who the hell I was talking about when I read it two days ago until I looked a little closer and saw the remnants of"Samantha Georss" erased behind her new alias, "Michelle." I must have been worried that the names of the boys we had a crushes on in the fifth grade would be damaging to our legacies "100 years from now" when I meant for the journal to be discoved and read by the world. Because I state clearly in the praface (what, doesn't your journal have a preface?) that "right now when I'm alive this journal is PRIVAT!"
Even though it hasn't quite been a hundred years, I'm going to share a few of my favorite passages with you now. They demonstrate just how swiftly time can pass. In all of it's misspelled glory, this journal comes from a time before my soul had shrivled into oblivion. A carefree time before I knew the meaning of heartache...or "far fetched." Before I had given up on my dream to become the most famous singing, writing, baton twirling star on Broadway. Before I had been introduced to adjectives more expressive than "soooo" (as in "soooo jealous"). Before I had cried all my tears. Back when words poured freely from my unfettered soul with wreckless, passionate abandon. Observe the emotion:
8-14-98
Today I have to preform my share the fun skit at the county fair becaus we won first pace in the contest. I don't want to be in that stuped play! Nothing is going right today. I have to wear a ridiculis costum that I can't find, I don't know my lines, my eyes are red and puffy because I've been crying and I have alergys. I have to go in an hour but I haven't gotten out of my pajamas, let alone brushed my hair. I'm a wrek! Well, may I break a leg! (With my luck, I probubly will, lituraly.)
***
Oh man, that's totally my favorite one. A "wrek"? "let alone"? apparently, the ten-year-old me studied at the Dynasty school of temper tantrums. I was such a little drama queen. Looking back, it's hard to remember why I had any friends. Sadly though, whatever friend making method I was practicing then appears to have been more effective than any method I've practiced since. Try as I might, I have yet to be able to match my elementary school success at founding secret clubs:
5-22-98
I just came back from my little sister's historical picknick. All day her class pretended it was the olden days at the historical society. I was soooo jealous. The girls had to wear dresses and the boys had to wear suspenders or bibs. I tell everyone I hate dresses but I really like them [I was brimming over with painful secrets]...When I was there I made a secret club with some friends. (All girlls) At the meetings we trade secrets. Mostly about boys. The members of my club are:
Tatum Blume
Shawna Stich
Emie Seechan
and of course, me, Caitlin Sellnow.
Right now, Jackie is being tested. She doesn't know it though. Tatum told her that Shawna french kissed a boy. (It's not true) We're waiting to see if she can keep the secret. If she can, she's in the club.
***
Being ten was no excuse for not knowing that plan was lame.
Behold, the product of a charter school. Somewhere along the way, I picked up the proper way to spell words like "tradition" "Historical" "Suspenders" and "society," but the correct spellings of "even,""stupid" and "because" never found their way into my lexicon. I guess there wasn't room in Lincoln at Mann's "creative" curriculum. We were too busy learning about the seven multiple intelligences. Thanks to my elementary school, I can't tell you what seven times eight equals without a calculator, but I can tell you that I am a visual-spacial learner who enjoys kenisthetic activities.
You know, the more I look at these journal entries, the more convinced I become that I peaked in the fifth grade. Sure, I had a few things to learn...like how crying isn't an acceptable way to get what you want...but creatively, I was at the top of my game. I wrote some wicked awesome stories about magical creatures made out of chocolate and lemons, and I was a regular caligraphy pen prodigy. Also, I posessed leadership skills I have given up all hope of ever gaining back. I directed and starred in some very innovative plays (at least, that's my story until Encyclopedia Brown sues for copyright enfringement) and founded the most exclusive secret clubs in town. In every area besides multiplication and spelling, it appears I have taken a step backwards. I would be depressed about that if I hadn't already formulated a plan. I'm going to use the information contained in this journal to make myself popular and shocklingly brilliant once again. I'll remake my entire image from the clothes I wear (I know those green crushed velvet stirrup leggings are around here somewhere...) to the friends I have.
So get ready and be nice, or I'll tell every one about that boy you french kissed.
P.S. I am the new proud owner of a fifteen dollar button maker. (Not buttons that fasten things; buttons that say things like, "Girl Power," and "you looked better on myspace.") Now I need suggestions for things to put on said buttons. If you want, you can submit a request and I'll be happy to make you a button of your very own...If I like you.
What you have just witnessed, my friends, is the budding of a flower of genius. The above quote is an excerpt from the personal journal of one Caitlin Jane Sellnow: age ten.
My mother found it recently when she was cleaning out some closet space. Really, it's remarkable that she didn't throw it away, since I had so cleverly disguised it as not a diary by etching MATH on the front in pencil and underlining it twice. I was so concerned with secrecy the names have been changed in the first entry. My best friends Samantha and Leslie became "Michelle" and "Luella." The code was so brilliant, even I didn't know who the hell I was talking about when I read it two days ago until I looked a little closer and saw the remnants of"Samantha Georss" erased behind her new alias, "Michelle." I must have been worried that the names of the boys we had a crushes on in the fifth grade would be damaging to our legacies "100 years from now" when I meant for the journal to be discoved and read by the world. Because I state clearly in the praface (what, doesn't your journal have a preface?) that "right now when I'm alive this journal is PRIVAT!"
Even though it hasn't quite been a hundred years, I'm going to share a few of my favorite passages with you now. They demonstrate just how swiftly time can pass. In all of it's misspelled glory, this journal comes from a time before my soul had shrivled into oblivion. A carefree time before I knew the meaning of heartache...or "far fetched." Before I had given up on my dream to become the most famous singing, writing, baton twirling star on Broadway. Before I had been introduced to adjectives more expressive than "soooo" (as in "soooo jealous"). Before I had cried all my tears. Back when words poured freely from my unfettered soul with wreckless, passionate abandon. Observe the emotion:
8-14-98
Today I have to preform my share the fun skit at the county fair becaus we won first pace in the contest. I don't want to be in that stuped play! Nothing is going right today. I have to wear a ridiculis costum that I can't find, I don't know my lines, my eyes are red and puffy because I've been crying and I have alergys. I have to go in an hour but I haven't gotten out of my pajamas, let alone brushed my hair. I'm a wrek! Well, may I break a leg! (With my luck, I probubly will, lituraly.)
***
Oh man, that's totally my favorite one. A "wrek"? "let alone"? apparently, the ten-year-old me studied at the Dynasty school of temper tantrums. I was such a little drama queen. Looking back, it's hard to remember why I had any friends. Sadly though, whatever friend making method I was practicing then appears to have been more effective than any method I've practiced since. Try as I might, I have yet to be able to match my elementary school success at founding secret clubs:
5-22-98
I just came back from my little sister's historical picknick. All day her class pretended it was the olden days at the historical society. I was soooo jealous. The girls had to wear dresses and the boys had to wear suspenders or bibs. I tell everyone I hate dresses but I really like them [I was brimming over with painful secrets]...When I was there I made a secret club with some friends. (All girlls) At the meetings we trade secrets. Mostly about boys. The members of my club are:
Tatum Blume
Shawna Stich
Emie Seechan
and of course, me, Caitlin Sellnow.
Right now, Jackie is being tested. She doesn't know it though. Tatum told her that Shawna french kissed a boy. (It's not true) We're waiting to see if she can keep the secret. If she can, she's in the club.
***
Being ten was no excuse for not knowing that plan was lame.
Behold, the product of a charter school. Somewhere along the way, I picked up the proper way to spell words like "tradition" "Historical" "Suspenders" and "society," but the correct spellings of "even,""stupid" and "because" never found their way into my lexicon. I guess there wasn't room in Lincoln at Mann's "creative" curriculum. We were too busy learning about the seven multiple intelligences. Thanks to my elementary school, I can't tell you what seven times eight equals without a calculator, but I can tell you that I am a visual-spacial learner who enjoys kenisthetic activities.
You know, the more I look at these journal entries, the more convinced I become that I peaked in the fifth grade. Sure, I had a few things to learn...like how crying isn't an acceptable way to get what you want...but creatively, I was at the top of my game. I wrote some wicked awesome stories about magical creatures made out of chocolate and lemons, and I was a regular caligraphy pen prodigy. Also, I posessed leadership skills I have given up all hope of ever gaining back. I directed and starred in some very innovative plays (at least, that's my story until Encyclopedia Brown sues for copyright enfringement) and founded the most exclusive secret clubs in town. In every area besides multiplication and spelling, it appears I have taken a step backwards. I would be depressed about that if I hadn't already formulated a plan. I'm going to use the information contained in this journal to make myself popular and shocklingly brilliant once again. I'll remake my entire image from the clothes I wear (I know those green crushed velvet stirrup leggings are around here somewhere...) to the friends I have.
So get ready and be nice, or I'll tell every one about that boy you french kissed.
P.S. I am the new proud owner of a fifteen dollar button maker. (Not buttons that fasten things; buttons that say things like, "Girl Power," and "you looked better on myspace.") Now I need suggestions for things to put on said buttons. If you want, you can submit a request and I'll be happy to make you a button of your very own...If I like you.
posted by Caitlin at 10:05 PM
6 Comments:
A BUTTON MAKER?!? WHEREVER DID YOU FIND IT?
this excites me quite a bit. i'll have to get back to you on what sassy statement i want to display to the world.
this will make you SO popular, caitlin.
Here's that quote from my journal, age ten:
"I just finished a math test in which I got one wrong. :( [Yes, the sad face is actually in the journal.] I feel so stupid! It was such a dumb little mistake! One little switching around and I would have had 100%."
Turns out most of my journals aren't that exciting. They are dominated by things like details about my meals and a play by play analysis of the 2000 election. There are a few delightful gems, though.
Okay, here's one more entry, my personal favorite, circa 1999:
"Well, school has been out for less than 4 hours and I already miss my friends. When I think about not seeing them for another 2 1/2 months, possibly never, I want to cry. The person I miss most is Mrs. Arends."
Mrs. Arends was my social studies teacher.
Sellnow, just when my life has lost all purpose you give it one! Your unstoppable hilarity is meaning enough for me! You've now inspired me to go on a treasure hunt in the attic for artifacts...
Marcy here! Bravo! What about all those plays you did for you visiting family? I remember how you had props and witty lines, and drama, drama, drama! When you were finished, you proceeded to ask us, "what was your favorite part?" I sure did pay attention! Just dig deeper, I'm sure you have tons of un-tapped leadership potential in there. Just don't practice on Aby & Cam...I'm sure they wont encourage any leadership skills in a sister. :-)
DUDE!!!!!!!!! I've been looking all over for a button maker!!!!! (...sort of...)
i'll send you a design, it's totally awesome. i think it says, 'live sustainably, end hunger' (dartmouth ends hunger). we had big plans to mass produce them and sell them with the dining kits we bought (aka ziplock containers). you made my day caitlin, even though you haven't emailed me in FOREVER (HINT HINT HINT). get ready for an order.
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