(Immediately following Columbine)
“I had to carry ALL my books today because we can’t have backpacks now, for fear of bombs. Unless they’re clear, but I wouldn’t be caught DEAD with a CLEAR backpack!”- age 15
Oh.Dear.God.
I desperately wish that I was just being inappropriate and insensitively ironic, but I was not. This is an accurate account of how Columbine affected my fifteen year old self. My reaction was that of… gentle displeasure.
This tragedy provoked national debate on gun control, goth culture, video game violence, and quite nearly put the HOT TOPIC out of business. Yet, I was unmoved. The worst part is I remember pretending to care. The teachers would turn on the news coverage and I would mimic their head shaking anguish. Other students cried, so I threw on some water fountain tears to match their empathy. I was the devil.
I remember doing that kind of thing a lot actually. I didn’t LIKE being emotionally stunted; I knew how I was supposed to feel, I just didn’t. Sometimes I would stare into an overhead fluorescent light to give my eyes that “beginning to mist” facade. I wanted to wear my heart on my sleeve like my hormonally electric friends did. The injustices of the world allowed them to shamelessly cry in public! And I would just be standing around, looking like an ass-hole robot from planet Don’t Care.
I realize this makes me look like a sociopath. It’s a bit “Dexter-esque”, isn’t it? But I can assure you that I’m not. It turns out it was just a phase, just your average 24 year phase. And all that sympathy/ emotional connectivity I couldn’t feel for those first 24 years now bubbles out of me at any given moment. A picture of a dog in a butterfly costume? I’m WEEPING. The beginning of the movie UP? I called in sick to work…out of grief. And don’t even get me started on those soul inspiring GE commercials! Sometimes my drive to work, the same one I have taken every day for three years, is too beautiful to digest. And if there are cows are grazing I’m useless the rest of the day.
In High School I only cared about myself, my own drama induced delusions. Even then I rarely shared them with anybody and just wrote them in my diaries (luckily for you). So while the entire nation was crying for the victims of a small town; forever changing public school policy, I became disgruntled under the weight of my school books. I didn’t see the “clear back-pack” as an increase in security, but instead a fashion faux-pas, something I tried frantically to stay away from. Though looking back through photos I clearly failed.
During this time we were also given lanyards that we had to wear while on school property. It was a plastic ID with our picture and grade level on it. During first hour, some guy with a cleft lip came around and checked to make sure we were all wearing it. I replaced my picture with a picture of Cartman from SouthPark. I was looking forward to getting into “cool-kid trouble” for standing up to “the man”. But Cartman’s fat head and constant scowl must have registered similarly to me, because it was 5 weeks before anybody noticed. Fail.
While researching for this blog post, I came across a charity (Pacer.org) that helps set up anti-bullying seminars and preventative measures in the education system. I donated to it. Did I donate because I feel REALLY bad about my one sentence reaction to the Columbine tragedy? Yes, most definitely. But I mainly donated because of the sentence that followed;
“…for fear of bombs. Unless they’re clear, but I wouldn’t be caught DEAD with a CLEAR backpack! In more important news, Matt looked SUPER HOT TODAY!”
Hopefully karma was a teenager once too…
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Picture Day
“Okay, well I am a stupid idiot! We got our school pictures today and it was HORRIBLE!!! I went up to get it and I fell on my FACE! GROSSSSSSSSSSSS!! WHYYYY am I cursed?? My life is in constant turmoil!! Complete and utter CHAOS! Well, I’ll talk to you later diary… I’m going to go cry myself asleep…again! ~ Age 13
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Angsty teen much?
Also, I want to mention that this entry is MANICALLY scrawled into my journal. The letters are slanted all over the place and the pen marks are deep enough to draw blood. This doesn’t look like the work of a pre-teen girl, but instead some sort of asylum escapee, living off berries in the woods and suffering from trauma induced flashbacks. There’s an ominous dark stain on the page too. My first instinct was blood, but after a CSI like investigation (sniffed it), it appears to be chocolate. Of course.
I cannot stand to read the above passage. I can scarcely believe I would write something so embarrassingly trivial. Who was I back then? I realize that I was thirteen and cannot be held accountable for my self indulgent scribbles, but still. I think I wrote it best with a long-winded “GROSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”
Oh, I WISH that taking a spill was one of my biggest problems now. Can you imagine, as an adult, thinking your world was turned upside-down by one miss-placed foot? Tossing and turning over it? Writing paragraph upon paragraph about the injustices done to you? No. Of course you can’t. You know why? Because you grow up and realize that life is kind of a drag and that being thirteen was AWESOME.
I will say that being thirteen for ME wasn’t as awesome as it was for most. Awkward, acne, fat, star trek obsession; you name it and I had it. I was also in a C cup bra size and it wasn’t “cool” yet to have boobs. The only thing boobs did for me back then was throw off my center of balance. I was constantly falling forward and tripping over myself, much like how this entry began…
So there I was- Mrs. Wilcox’s science class. She was a young, trendy teacher who found it amusing to taunt and mock students in front of their peers. Our school pictures were regrettably delivered to her classroom. She began holding them one at a time, high in the air for everyone to see, and bellowing out the poor students name simultaneously. Most students flew to the front of the room, snatching the picture out of her hands, hoping their lives hadn’t yet been ruined. The more popular students lazily strolled to the front as if to say, “Yes, hold it up for the world to see. Let’s give everyone a minute longer to gaze at 13 year old perfection, I don’t mind at all”.
I fretfully waited for my name to be called; sweat dripping from every hormonally charged pore. I had one foot in a runner’s start position at the side of my desk and my hands clamped down for a magnificent push start. I was near the front, so with any luck the picture would be viewable for no more than two seconds, maybe three. Of course, like many days of my youth, luck was NOT on my side.
“COURTNEY BURGETT!!!! Mrs. Wilcox screamed from behind her desk of torture, “LOOKIN’ GOOD!!! HAHAHA!”
I leapt from my chair in one swift motion. The runner’s foot was a good idea; it propelled me forward with surprising grace. Even the push-start went well! The desk stayed in position, no lurching noises or creaking metal. Two giant steps, and I was almost home free! Then, disaster struck.
(Remember those “new” dry-erase projectors schools were so fond of? They projected images onto a pull-down screen that was always too tall for anyone to reach. They were inevitably at the front of most class-rooms and were usually the teachers’ prized possession.)
Mrs. Wilcox, being evil and an environmental succubus had left hers plugged in. After the greatest running start of my life, my right foot became entangled in its thick cord protruding from the wall. I hopped up and onto my left foot but that didn’t help matters, because my left foot came down on the cord closest to the projector. The bulky and expensive piece of equipment came hurtling downwards toward my knee-caps. Still off-balance I screamed and tripped/dove forward; hands grabbing feverishly at the air, hoping to take the dreaded school picture down with me. My hands caught nothing, but with a SMACK my face hit tile. It was terrible. I lay in a face-down spread eagle, a solid five feet away from Mrs. Wilcox’s horrified expression. I hadn’t even been close.
I gathered myself and jumped up as gaily as I could pretend. “I’m okay!” I cheered and put both fists into the air. Nobody bought it. I think there was a blood stain on my shirt and shattered projector pieces matted to my hair. Mrs. Wilcox, open-mouthed, was unaware she was still holding my picture when I snatched it. I looked down and was beyond shocked, completely baffled. It was…a REALLY GOOD PICTURE! My hair fell at the right places, I didn’t look THAT fat and my smile looked natural. It was a miracle! I couldn’t have been happier. I spun around, smiling like a crazy person, and saw my path of destruction and the horror-struck faces of my class-mates. I mumbled “sorry” and took my seat. Mrs. Wilcox complained about not having a projector, a janitor came in to clean up the mess and people kept asking me if I was “okay?” I hardly noticed any of it, because for the first time in my life- I had a decent school picture! It took awhile for the embarrassment of what happened to settle in (hence the night-time journal rage). But until then, even the blood in my mouth tasted sweet.
Good picture.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Angsty teen much?
Also, I want to mention that this entry is MANICALLY scrawled into my journal. The letters are slanted all over the place and the pen marks are deep enough to draw blood. This doesn’t look like the work of a pre-teen girl, but instead some sort of asylum escapee, living off berries in the woods and suffering from trauma induced flashbacks. There’s an ominous dark stain on the page too. My first instinct was blood, but after a CSI like investigation (sniffed it), it appears to be chocolate. Of course.
I cannot stand to read the above passage. I can scarcely believe I would write something so embarrassingly trivial. Who was I back then? I realize that I was thirteen and cannot be held accountable for my self indulgent scribbles, but still. I think I wrote it best with a long-winded “GROSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”
Oh, I WISH that taking a spill was one of my biggest problems now. Can you imagine, as an adult, thinking your world was turned upside-down by one miss-placed foot? Tossing and turning over it? Writing paragraph upon paragraph about the injustices done to you? No. Of course you can’t. You know why? Because you grow up and realize that life is kind of a drag and that being thirteen was AWESOME.
I will say that being thirteen for ME wasn’t as awesome as it was for most. Awkward, acne, fat, star trek obsession; you name it and I had it. I was also in a C cup bra size and it wasn’t “cool” yet to have boobs. The only thing boobs did for me back then was throw off my center of balance. I was constantly falling forward and tripping over myself, much like how this entry began…
So there I was- Mrs. Wilcox’s science class. She was a young, trendy teacher who found it amusing to taunt and mock students in front of their peers. Our school pictures were regrettably delivered to her classroom. She began holding them one at a time, high in the air for everyone to see, and bellowing out the poor students name simultaneously. Most students flew to the front of the room, snatching the picture out of her hands, hoping their lives hadn’t yet been ruined. The more popular students lazily strolled to the front as if to say, “Yes, hold it up for the world to see. Let’s give everyone a minute longer to gaze at 13 year old perfection, I don’t mind at all”.
I fretfully waited for my name to be called; sweat dripping from every hormonally charged pore. I had one foot in a runner’s start position at the side of my desk and my hands clamped down for a magnificent push start. I was near the front, so with any luck the picture would be viewable for no more than two seconds, maybe three. Of course, like many days of my youth, luck was NOT on my side.
“COURTNEY BURGETT!!!! Mrs. Wilcox screamed from behind her desk of torture, “LOOKIN’ GOOD!!! HAHAHA!”
I leapt from my chair in one swift motion. The runner’s foot was a good idea; it propelled me forward with surprising grace. Even the push-start went well! The desk stayed in position, no lurching noises or creaking metal. Two giant steps, and I was almost home free! Then, disaster struck.
(Remember those “new” dry-erase projectors schools were so fond of? They projected images onto a pull-down screen that was always too tall for anyone to reach. They were inevitably at the front of most class-rooms and were usually the teachers’ prized possession.)
Mrs. Wilcox, being evil and an environmental succubus had left hers plugged in. After the greatest running start of my life, my right foot became entangled in its thick cord protruding from the wall. I hopped up and onto my left foot but that didn’t help matters, because my left foot came down on the cord closest to the projector. The bulky and expensive piece of equipment came hurtling downwards toward my knee-caps. Still off-balance I screamed and tripped/dove forward; hands grabbing feverishly at the air, hoping to take the dreaded school picture down with me. My hands caught nothing, but with a SMACK my face hit tile. It was terrible. I lay in a face-down spread eagle, a solid five feet away from Mrs. Wilcox’s horrified expression. I hadn’t even been close.
I gathered myself and jumped up as gaily as I could pretend. “I’m okay!” I cheered and put both fists into the air. Nobody bought it. I think there was a blood stain on my shirt and shattered projector pieces matted to my hair. Mrs. Wilcox, open-mouthed, was unaware she was still holding my picture when I snatched it. I looked down and was beyond shocked, completely baffled. It was…a REALLY GOOD PICTURE! My hair fell at the right places, I didn’t look THAT fat and my smile looked natural. It was a miracle! I couldn’t have been happier. I spun around, smiling like a crazy person, and saw my path of destruction and the horror-struck faces of my class-mates. I mumbled “sorry” and took my seat. Mrs. Wilcox complained about not having a projector, a janitor came in to clean up the mess and people kept asking me if I was “okay?” I hardly noticed any of it, because for the first time in my life- I had a decent school picture! It took awhile for the embarrassment of what happened to settle in (hence the night-time journal rage). But until then, even the blood in my mouth tasted sweet.
Good picture.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Mark Paul Gosselar
“The top 50 things I love about Mark Paul Gosselar..” ~ Age 13
TIME OUT!
FIFTY?!
I can’t think of fifty things I love about anything anymore. That list is too long! Perhaps it’s the innocence and happiness of childhood which allows someone to become so enamored. Or maybe it’s that nothing in life can, or ever will compare to Mark Paul Gosselar. Let’s be clear; it wasn’t Mark Paul Gosselar I was in love with, it was Zack Morris. The fact I even knew Zack Morris’ real name is astounding. It shows what a truly devoted fan I was, considering I didn’t know my Mom’s maiden name until 2003.
In the 6th grade I was given an assignment to write an essay about “somebody in history, alive or dead, whom I would want to meet and why”. Most students wrote about Thomas Jefferson (boring) or Jesus (lame), but I wrote about Mark Paul Gosselar. My three reasons were as awkward as the subject matter:
1. “Mark Paul Gosselar is the BEST actor I have seen”. I do remember watching other television shows, so I’m certain this is false. Have you ever gone back and really WATCHED episodes of Saved by the Bell? They’re awful, complete garbage. Unfortunately they’re as addictive as ever.
2. “You can tell he really cares about people.” (No evidence is given)
3. “He is gorgeous and you can tell he’s funny in real life too”. Okay, now we get down to the heart of the matter; Zack Morris is a sarcastic hottie with a propensity for trouble. This is the honest reason I wanted to meet Mark Paul, and why he became the type of guy I always fell for. Zack was one in a long line of “douche bag, hot guys” that I loved. It all started with Garfield (don’t judge- He was such an adorable little bitch of a cat). Raphael the Ninja turtle, Macaulley Culkin, ALF, Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Liutenant Commander Riker were all characters in my daydreams. Looking back, Zack was actually the best crush I ever had. At least he was charming… and human.
He was the ultimate heart-breaker with his bleach-blonde quaff, cock-sure attitude and the ability to stop time. He continually committed felony crimes with no real consequences AND managed to score a 1502 on the SAT without attending a single class. Can we say DREAMBOAT? He even had a diverse and fantastical group of friends who stood by him no matter what. It was delightful how they each fit into their own little, cliché box; The Jock, the Environmentalist, The Cheerleader, The Fashionista, The Dork, and once Tori joined – The Big Ol’ Lesbian.
Real friends are much harder to deal with. Their catch-phrases aren’t solidified, and you never know what kind of reaction they will have to your schemes. With The SBTB clan, you always knew. There was a friend for each situation in life, and a lesson to be learned from all. My real friends couldn’t teach me jack-shit, except that being in band/choir/scholastic bowl made you a candidate for social suicide. And let’s face it- I would have learned that one on my own: QUIZ BOWL FOREVA!
I desperately longed for Zack’s hip way of terrorizing adults and his charming affection towards women. Because of this, Kelly Kopowsky was both the bane of my existence and a definitive role model. I would study pictures of her, trying to decide how to get my hair to look so perfect (ultimately deciding on a wig). I tried to eat less, so I could become thin and perky (for about 30 minutes until that second snickers bar proved too tempting). And her adorable little mole (which I drew on with a marker) made me look like a hobgoblin.
Being Kelly was NOT my destiny, and no amount of pleading with the cosmic forces was going to change that. She was quintessential High School perfection who was impossible to live up to. This includes the girl who played her: Tiffani Amber Theisen. While Kelly Kopowsky lives in our memories as a vivacious teen beauty, Tiffani Amber walks around with a large and extraordinarily flat pancake face. I realize that we all age and body parts sag, and things aren’t “where they used to be”. But has that saying ever applied to somebody’s FACE? It’s downright bizarre! Something happened to Ms. Theisen after SBTB because she showed up to Baywatch wielding that face of hers, and it has yet to stop melting outwardly. Kelly Kapowsky would have married Zack, had two perfectly adorable children, and lived a long and fulfilling life with a normal sized face. Tiffani Amber is NO Kelly Kapowsky- that is certain.
Unfortunately, I did manage to bear a resemblance to one of the cast members- Jesse Spano. “Best Friend” to the hottest guy in school? CHECK. Annoyingly concerned with the environment? CHECK. Prone to abusing prescription drugs? CHECK that box for a decade. Later in life she would take her clothes off for money in the worst film ever made; something I would have done in a heart-beat had my body been up to par. Luckily though, I didn’t settle for some acid wash loser like Slater. Did anybody else feel like you were watching him go OUT of style? He was always about two years behind in his fashion, and he tried to make up for it with crater sized dimples. It clearly didn’t work, because while Mario Lopez is skipping about the E! Network, Mark Paul is busy banging Mary Louise Parker in the latest season of Weeds. Oink, Oink Baby! (Worst catch-phrase ever).
All that being said, Mario Lopez is an angel of mercy compared to his co-star Dustin Diamond (aka Screech). His character on the show was grating and never ending. I think he would have played that part until “Saved by the Bell – the geriatric years”, but unfortunately he was cancelled and had to find new ways to support himself. So, first things first- he releases a tape on how to play chess. Apparently “how to be a nerd” tapes weren’t raking in the dough, so he went with the obvious next step of releasing a SEX TAPE. And for those of you who are wondering, it’s not just a run-of-the-mill sex tape. Oh no, it’s golden. My favorite part is he hasn’t done ANY filming since the release of the sex tape in 2006. This means the last shot of Samuel Screech Powers anyone can see presently, is of him performing a “dirty sanchez” on an unsuspecting porn-star. Perfection.
I need to wrap this up: basically Mark Paul Gosselar is a hunky God who deserves a list longer than fifty. He managed to continue a solid career while becoming more attractive and honing his acting skills until he was actually pretty good. That’s WAY BETTER than you can say about the rest of the cast of Saved by The Bell. Let’s do the rundown:
1. Kelly/Tiffani Amber: Pancake Face
2. Slater/Mario Lopez: E! Network bitch
3. Lisa/The black girl: probably dead
4. Jesse/Elizabeth Berkely: stars in NC17 film and then becomes a hermit
5. Screech/ Dustin Diamond: Plays chess and enjoys dirty sanchez’s
6. Tori/The lesbian: maybe a lumberjack?
7. Mr. Belding: I have no idea, but I’ll be he’s doing alright
8. Zack/Mark Paul Gosselar: Starring in dramas, bangin’ hotties and getting buffer by the day
I rest my case.
TIME OUT!
FIFTY?!
I can’t think of fifty things I love about anything anymore. That list is too long! Perhaps it’s the innocence and happiness of childhood which allows someone to become so enamored. Or maybe it’s that nothing in life can, or ever will compare to Mark Paul Gosselar. Let’s be clear; it wasn’t Mark Paul Gosselar I was in love with, it was Zack Morris. The fact I even knew Zack Morris’ real name is astounding. It shows what a truly devoted fan I was, considering I didn’t know my Mom’s maiden name until 2003.
In the 6th grade I was given an assignment to write an essay about “somebody in history, alive or dead, whom I would want to meet and why”. Most students wrote about Thomas Jefferson (boring) or Jesus (lame), but I wrote about Mark Paul Gosselar. My three reasons were as awkward as the subject matter:
1. “Mark Paul Gosselar is the BEST actor I have seen”. I do remember watching other television shows, so I’m certain this is false. Have you ever gone back and really WATCHED episodes of Saved by the Bell? They’re awful, complete garbage. Unfortunately they’re as addictive as ever.
2. “You can tell he really cares about people.” (No evidence is given)
3. “He is gorgeous and you can tell he’s funny in real life too”. Okay, now we get down to the heart of the matter; Zack Morris is a sarcastic hottie with a propensity for trouble. This is the honest reason I wanted to meet Mark Paul, and why he became the type of guy I always fell for. Zack was one in a long line of “douche bag, hot guys” that I loved. It all started with Garfield (don’t judge- He was such an adorable little bitch of a cat). Raphael the Ninja turtle, Macaulley Culkin, ALF, Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Liutenant Commander Riker were all characters in my daydreams. Looking back, Zack was actually the best crush I ever had. At least he was charming… and human.
He was the ultimate heart-breaker with his bleach-blonde quaff, cock-sure attitude and the ability to stop time. He continually committed felony crimes with no real consequences AND managed to score a 1502 on the SAT without attending a single class. Can we say DREAMBOAT? He even had a diverse and fantastical group of friends who stood by him no matter what. It was delightful how they each fit into their own little, cliché box; The Jock, the Environmentalist, The Cheerleader, The Fashionista, The Dork, and once Tori joined – The Big Ol’ Lesbian.
Real friends are much harder to deal with. Their catch-phrases aren’t solidified, and you never know what kind of reaction they will have to your schemes. With The SBTB clan, you always knew. There was a friend for each situation in life, and a lesson to be learned from all. My real friends couldn’t teach me jack-shit, except that being in band/choir/scholastic bowl made you a candidate for social suicide. And let’s face it- I would have learned that one on my own: QUIZ BOWL FOREVA!
I desperately longed for Zack’s hip way of terrorizing adults and his charming affection towards women. Because of this, Kelly Kopowsky was both the bane of my existence and a definitive role model. I would study pictures of her, trying to decide how to get my hair to look so perfect (ultimately deciding on a wig). I tried to eat less, so I could become thin and perky (for about 30 minutes until that second snickers bar proved too tempting). And her adorable little mole (which I drew on with a marker) made me look like a hobgoblin.
Being Kelly was NOT my destiny, and no amount of pleading with the cosmic forces was going to change that. She was quintessential High School perfection who was impossible to live up to. This includes the girl who played her: Tiffani Amber Theisen. While Kelly Kopowsky lives in our memories as a vivacious teen beauty, Tiffani Amber walks around with a large and extraordinarily flat pancake face. I realize that we all age and body parts sag, and things aren’t “where they used to be”. But has that saying ever applied to somebody’s FACE? It’s downright bizarre! Something happened to Ms. Theisen after SBTB because she showed up to Baywatch wielding that face of hers, and it has yet to stop melting outwardly. Kelly Kapowsky would have married Zack, had two perfectly adorable children, and lived a long and fulfilling life with a normal sized face. Tiffani Amber is NO Kelly Kapowsky- that is certain.
Unfortunately, I did manage to bear a resemblance to one of the cast members- Jesse Spano. “Best Friend” to the hottest guy in school? CHECK. Annoyingly concerned with the environment? CHECK. Prone to abusing prescription drugs? CHECK that box for a decade. Later in life she would take her clothes off for money in the worst film ever made; something I would have done in a heart-beat had my body been up to par. Luckily though, I didn’t settle for some acid wash loser like Slater. Did anybody else feel like you were watching him go OUT of style? He was always about two years behind in his fashion, and he tried to make up for it with crater sized dimples. It clearly didn’t work, because while Mario Lopez is skipping about the E! Network, Mark Paul is busy banging Mary Louise Parker in the latest season of Weeds. Oink, Oink Baby! (Worst catch-phrase ever).
All that being said, Mario Lopez is an angel of mercy compared to his co-star Dustin Diamond (aka Screech). His character on the show was grating and never ending. I think he would have played that part until “Saved by the Bell – the geriatric years”, but unfortunately he was cancelled and had to find new ways to support himself. So, first things first- he releases a tape on how to play chess. Apparently “how to be a nerd” tapes weren’t raking in the dough, so he went with the obvious next step of releasing a SEX TAPE. And for those of you who are wondering, it’s not just a run-of-the-mill sex tape. Oh no, it’s golden. My favorite part is he hasn’t done ANY filming since the release of the sex tape in 2006. This means the last shot of Samuel Screech Powers anyone can see presently, is of him performing a “dirty sanchez” on an unsuspecting porn-star. Perfection.
I need to wrap this up: basically Mark Paul Gosselar is a hunky God who deserves a list longer than fifty. He managed to continue a solid career while becoming more attractive and honing his acting skills until he was actually pretty good. That’s WAY BETTER than you can say about the rest of the cast of Saved by The Bell. Let’s do the rundown:
1. Kelly/Tiffani Amber: Pancake Face
2. Slater/Mario Lopez: E! Network bitch
3. Lisa/The black girl: probably dead
4. Jesse/Elizabeth Berkely: stars in NC17 film and then becomes a hermit
5. Screech/ Dustin Diamond: Plays chess and enjoys dirty sanchez’s
6. Tori/The lesbian: maybe a lumberjack?
7. Mr. Belding: I have no idea, but I’ll be he’s doing alright
8. Zack/Mark Paul Gosselar: Starring in dramas, bangin’ hotties and getting buffer by the day
I rest my case.
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