Monday, August 23, 2010

“Macaulley Culkin, I WILL marry you someday!”- age 6 ½

Can you really blame me for this one? Macaulay Culkin was:
a. Adorable and
b. Loaded

The embarrassment isn't about what I wrote, but what I did with it afterwards. I ripped out this procamation and hid it in my most spiritual place; under my dollar store unicorn figurine. Nightly I would touch the slip of paper while simultaneously touching my window, willing for it to come true. I hoped my intense energy would flow through my body and into the land of fullfilled wishes. Sometimes I'd make my arm shake "uncontrollably", to really drive the point home.

I never truly believed in God. But I suspected there was something beyond my window that with the right amount of begging/pleading/persuasion would make my dream come true. This was honest, unrequited love.

Once my nightly ritual was finished, I would get into bed and fantasize about our future together. What I remember most is how terrible I was at it. I never imagined him showing up in a limo, buying me fancy clothes or anything else movie stars are prone to do. Instead, he was always transferred into my school (in Detroit of all places) and became immediately impressed by my READING SKILLS. Yes, my reading skills. This is 100% true.

I would like to mention that in my first grade class there were only a number of us who could read fluently. I was one of those students. I was very shy, awkward, ridiculously tall and hugely fat. But goddamnit I could read circles around those ass-holes. So, it's only natural that my fantasies involved this endearing quality. It would usually go something like this:

::LIGHTS UP::
Macaulley sits in his desk looking dreadfully bored. He is resting his head in his hand. Courtney gets up to read aloud from "Amelia Bedilia", because everyone else is an idiot. She's the only one who can regale the tale of this problem-causing maid and her inept grasp at the english language. It's probably a cleverly disguised commentary on the dangers of hiring foreigners, but that's lost on six year olds. Slowly Macaulley's face begins to brighten. He can't believe what he's hearing! Courtney is pronouncing every word precisely, reading at a surprising speed and even using different inflections for all the characters. His hand falls away from his face and he is now sitting erect.
"She's amazing" he says quietly, but loudly enough so all the prettiest girls hear and become instantly jealous. When Courtney finishes the last few sentences, Macaulley stands up and starts the slow clap. Everyone else joins in, even the jealous girls. Courtney bows and makes eye-contact with Macaulley. They run towards each other, knowing that they've finally found what they've been looking for their entire lives. All six and a half years. He throws his arms around her and they run out the back door together. All the students gather at the window to watch the new love birds climb to the top of the jungle gym...


This is where it would end. I didn't really know what happened after hugging. I knew there was the OBVIOUS climb to the top of the jungle gym, but other than that I was baffled. I would usually end it there and then start the fantasy all over again. The only thing that would change is the book I read aloud to the class. All of them being at least at a third grade level.

My prayers went unanswered and luckily we did not get married. Because Macaulley Culkin hit a "creepy phase" at about 15, and he hasn't really grown out of it...

This was my first diary entry that made a lasting impression, and unfortunately it's the least embarrassing. Please let me know if you also loved Mr. Culkin when you were a kid... I'd like to feel less weird about it.



Love and Unicorns,

Courtney Wick

Saturday, August 21, 2010

The Introduction

A great writer once told me that “whatever you wouldn’t want your friends and family reading, THAT’S the stuff that will make you famous.” Admittedly, it’s pretty good advice. Nobody wants their Mom knowing about hilarious masturbation antics or a sexual attraction to your cousin, but it does make for a damn good read.

I’ve decided to take this suggestion to heart, regardless of the (most definite) consequences. A few days ago I stumbled upon my diaries/journals from age 6 to age 23. I asked for a diary on my fifth birthday and have been an avid journal writer ever since. For those of you that haven’t been, congratulations! Because reading your own attempt at philosophy, circa age 13, is nauseating. It is sincerely awful. I flipped through hundreds of pages in throbbing shame. It is self-centered, overly dramatic, angsty garbage. I puked no less than 7 times.
For those of you who did keep journals, even half-assed ones, I strongly suggest burning them. Just burn them. Celebrate being an adult with a bon-fire of broken bindings, latches and childhood dreams. It’s better than re-living it, you have my word.

In short, I’ve decided to keep a weekly blog, updated every Sunday by Midnight. Instead of burning my shameful, acne-ridden past- I’m going to post it for all to see. I will muse on one line a week, taken from different periods of my discomforting, little life. No editing will be allowed, all miss-spellings and awkward views on current events stay in place. Think of this blog as a cautionary tale against allowing children to write.

It won’t be easy and I won’t enjoy it, but I hope you do.

Thanks and Sincerely,
Courtney R. Wick

PS: NO names have been changed to protect the innocent, because nobody leaves adolescence with their innocence in-tact.