Seventh grade was kind of a tough year for me. It is the middle of middle school, after all, and awkwardness is probably at its peak. I enjoyed my teachers and had some good friends, but I was still much taller than most of my peers. I had braces and crazy hair and I was absolutely hormonal.
I was always boy crazy, playing the game of wondering what boy might possibly like me and then flirting as much as possible. But in seventh grade it became a full-on obsession, one of those things your thoughts dwell on. Not only that, but my crush of choice was six years older than I.
An aside. I suppose in some ways I have always been ambitious…then it was crushing on a much older guy, later it became class rank, elite colleges, and the highest paid, most difficult major I could find.
Anyway he and I had attended the same small church for years and our parents were friends. We were in youth group together. I thought he was the coolest thing since sliced bread. He was pretty into music, especially the band Petra, as was I. He played the keyboard and eventually a 12 string guitar the way I aspired to. His sister reads this blog sometimes (Hi Charlene!) and I know she’s gonna laugh. When he was a senior at my school, and I was in seventh grade, he drove me to my piano teacher’s house after school once a week. I even liked the way he said my name…it was with a kind of unique pronunciation.
Incidentally, he decided to go to college for Chemical Engineering. I had forgotten about that, but along with my dad and grandfather being ChemE’s, it probably did have some influence on me.
My best friend, Abigail, was also crushing on a senior, a friend of her brother’s. She and I would write long notes to each other, fantasizing about being their girlfriends. We even started writing long stories, just for the fun of it. I had some of those notes and stories but I think I tossed them during my last move. Looking back, I guess I always did like writing. I kind of pushed it aside in favor of the math and science of engineering, but obviously blogging has resurrected my love of writing.
My sister and I dressed up as a clothesline for Halloween. Dorks.
If you are a blogger, do you consider yourself a writer? I’m finally coming around to that realization.
It sure sounds like you had it bad for the boys! Sounds like you had a great friend to share in the experience though.
As for the writing question, I think I thought of myself as some sort of writer for a long time and then kind of forgot about it – much like you I feel like blogging is reminding me how much I have always loved writing.
Amber 🙂
OMGosh! I loved petra!! Ah more crushes and here I forgot to mention crushes.
I also loved to write long stories with my friends. It’s too bad you tossed them, it would have been fun if you shared them!
It seems like liking a boy in 7th grade was more about what we could talk to our girlfriends about than actually having a relationship 🙂
I consider myself a writer b/c it fills a need to express, remember,and share.
The clothesline cracks me up!
Why do we have to get so boy crazy?!
I consider myself a writer b/c it fills a need to express, remember,and share.
The clothesline cracks me up!
Why do we have to get so boy crazy?!