Memory Lane never felt so hysterical

For a writer, I learned to read late in life. Though I went through pre-school, Kindergarten, and the first few months of first grade desperately trying to emulate my reader friends and classmates, I couldn’t get the hang of the activity. Memorizing books didn’t help, nor did feigning my kindred spirit Belle from “Beauty and the Beast” when she roams town with a novel in hand. I certainly tried that at pre-school, where my male schoolmates would move out of the way whenever they saw me walking around with a book and say to me, “Hello, Belle!” Oh, how I longed to trade lives with the brunette French beauty.

Right before Halloween, my first grade instructor Ms. Lujan got through to me with the BOB books series. Suddenly I understood the words on paper and craved more. Pretty soon, I started traveling to the library daily for reading material.

A year later, I saw the Nickelodeon film, “Harriet the Spy,” which was the catalyst for my writing aspirations. The movie follows novice writer Harriet as she observes and writes about her junior high experiences. Her journal entry topics are limited to friends, teachers, snooty classmates, neighbors, family members, and random passersby, but are entertaining nonetheless.

Almost immediately after watching the kids flick, I chose Harriet’s intended career path and began keeping diaries and journals. I even started spying on others and came close to breaking into a neighbor’s house (she found me in her bushes, assumed I just wanted a mid-day snack, and invited me inside for milk and cookies. After that, I concluded I wasn’t smooth enough to break the law and stopped trying to enter other people’s homes). I didn’t slow down with journaling until the beginning of college, when I only completed one notebook a year. As a high school freshman, I vowed to put a moratorium on the practice before entering higher education, so it seemed appropriate to fill up as many journals as possible before becoming a pseudo-adult. Here are a quarter of the journals I had during childhood:

Before beginning classes at the University of Arizona, I asked my mom to burn all my journals, but thankfully she hid them in her room instead. I realize there’s a dog in the photo above, but Roxy was a major part of my upbringing, so she’s right where she belongs. The journals are a great source of laughter now, especially the pages about crushes and complicated friendships. During my sophomore year of high school, AOL Instant Messenger (AIM) was popular, so I copy and pasted some memorable AIM conversations with love interests in my journal entries. Most of the discussions were uninteresting, so I have no clue why I included specific conversations. Here’s a sample AIM chat that I recorded in my diary, as if this particular convo was significant in any way:

GUY: ah…you hang out with the maynard club peep huh
ME: Yeah
GUY: awsome
ME: yep. how are you
GUY: been better, could be doin worse, yourself?
ME: pretty good, how was school this week? we were all absent…
GUY: oh science camp counseling im guessing…um it wasnt bad. was just same ol same ol
ME: yeah now we’re on break
GUY: yup. stoked for that

And what was so groundbreaking about this conversation that it warranted a re-print in my journal? This guy was one of my first big high school crushes, so I was pretty excited about talking to him, even via AIM. Before that, I had a creepy obsession with a classmate from church who had liked me in junior high, when we attended different schools and no one from SVMS would go near me with a ten-foot pole. When he told me I was cute, I grimaced and said he must have a problem because all the dudes at my school dubbed me repulsive.

By freshman year, when I finally felt the same about him, he had long since lost interest. At 14, I didn’t know how to interact with him on a pre-adult level, as we had bantered about silly things in sixth and seventh grade, so I was too shy to strike up a grown-up conversation. Up until I met the guy from the AIM chat above, I couldn’t for the life of me move on from church boy, or, as Lauren referred to him, Bean Dip Boy.

Last I heard, Bean Dip Boy started a business in our hometown. This afternoon, I spotted him riding around Scotts Valley in his high rise white truck, tapping the edge of his windowsill as music poured through the monstrous vehicle’s speakers. He still rocks the skater/surfer boy dress code, and for some reason, this was oddly comforting. In high school, he often donned O’Neill, so I guess he has maintained his style and brand preferences. Eight years ago, when I was hung up on him, he drove a motorcycle to school and work. I’m not sure where he was employed, but he was among the first of our classmates to land a job. Though in my grade, Bean Dip Boy was a year older than me, so he had his license at the start of sophomore year. He often spoke of his desire to travel, open up a business, go skydiving, and engage in other fun outdoor activity. My parents had become acquainted with his family members through the local Catholic church, but said I needed to pursue Bean Dip Boy on my own. I may be overly needy and talkative around men now, but it took me three months to acquire the courage to say “hi” to Bean Dip Boy. Crystal witnessed the anti-climactic scene and congratulated me on finally making progress (if you can call it that) with him, but I still had a lot more work to do.

After a year and a half at SVHS, I decided to put the shyness to an end. Bean Dip Boy had to know my feelings once and for all. Rather than profess my love to him face-to-face, I sought a messenger to deliver the news. James, my drama II class BFF and co-worker of Bean Dip Boy, agreed to pass the word along.

I purposely waited until the start of the weekend to assign this task, as I wanted to give Bean Dip Boy several days to process the information and approach the situation with a clear head when we crossed paths again.

On Monday, I caught him staring at me a little longer than usual in P.E. At the end of the lesson, I said “hello” again and received a nod in return. That was it. According to James, Bean Dip Boy had no comment upon learning of my crush. This came as no surprise, but at least my feelings were out in the open. Eight months later, I fell in love (yes, it was love). I knew this because I was anything but nervous to talk to this new guy Kevin, with whom I had easy chemistry and lots to laugh about. As soon as we became friends, I felt moronic for wasting almost two years on a dude who I’d been terrified to even greet for MONTHS! After Bean Dip Boy, I uninhibitedly pursued whomever I pleased.

Bean Dip Boy, AIM dude, a fellow named Jimmy, and my high school boyfriend each have a strong presence in my high school journals. My middle school diaries are mainly about battling mean students. The elementary school notebooks reveal my adventures and misadventures with Crystal and Nikita.

While sifting through the notebooks today (my mom stashed them in the back of her closet), I stumbled upon a humorous loose piece of journal paper dating back to second grade, when I’d first begun writing. Forgive my grammatical errors, as I was seven years old when I made them:

“This year, I kept a journal for Miss Duval’s class. Everyone had to, but mine was a masterpiece. I had the most interesting and very long [sic] stories! Like for instance, ‘The Case of the Missing Baby-Sitter.’ This was true! I got on honor roll for these stories! Before I knew it, I finished up the notebook. I was the best writer in the entire class, including the teacher! And the class pet too, of course! After I graduated first grade, I couldn’t keep a journal, so I had a diary. I think a journal is better. Love, Laura. P.S. I will write interesting stories.”

Even back then, I was determined to go forward with writing. “Harriet the Spy” sparked my passion for the craft, but the movie isn’t responsible for my accomplishments sixteen years later.

Days away from my big move to northern California in fourth grade, I journaled the following:

“Next week, I will move from Los Angeles to Scotts Valley in Santa Cruz. The other kids in my class have to do Mission reports. I don’t have to, though. Someone picked Santa Cruz for his report. His name is Brian Wong. I better pack, and fast.”

Have you ever taken a look at some of my Daily Caller slideshows? Ever wondered why I enjoy making them so much? Perhaps my journal entry covers will give you some answers. I loved putting together collages back in the day, so it makes sense that I’d become TheDC’s designated celebrity photo montage person:

After pulling some of my journals out of her closet, my mom asked if I’d like to take them back to D.C. with me. Though tempted to accept the offer, I’m going to pass.

“They belong here,” I responded, kicking the journal pile on the ground.

While they give me a good laugh, the journals make up a portion of my past I wish never to revisit. I wrote all about my daily life for catharsis, not for review ten years down the line. With that said, I got a kick out of my passages about dating. One diary entry from the first day of junior year is a riot. At the time, I liked a guy from another high school. That’s another thing: At SVHS, it was considered edgy and hip to be romantically linked to someone from a different high school because our school was new, squeaky clean, and tiny.

The summer before junior year, I was into a Harbor High student named Jimmy. After a coffee excursion at the beginning of July, he felt the same. That lasted a week. Though he’d moved on by mid-July, he showed up to SVHS for the first day of school to say hi to me and our mutual friends. That day, I was elated to see him:

“I got lost on my way to 5th period because of Math. Ugh. I think I’m going to drop that class and take Student Government instead. As you can imagine, I was in a terrible mood at the beginning of lunch. I ran up the hill, met up with Day, Crystal, Nikita, and Lauren, and complained that I have the worst class schedule. I ranted on and on and as soon as I was about to buy lunch, Day pointed and yelled, ‘Look who it is!’
‘Who?’ I asked without turning around.
‘Jimmy,’ she said.
I turned around and saw him strolling up the hill, looking adorable as ever. I gasped and totally freaked.
‘Hi!’ I said before running up and tackling him.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, releasing him from my embrace.
‘Today’s my last day of summer before classes start and I wanted to hang out with you and the others.’
I was so happy, I couldn’t even talk. I’d just had an awful first day of school and was on the verge of tears all afternoon, but his surprise visit made everything better…When it was time to go to U.S. History, Jimmy walked me to class. Such a gentleman!
Before going back to his car, he said I owe him a visit to Harbor High. If I can ditch school in the near future, I’ll totally head to his neck of the woods and return the favor. Hopefully he’ll do this more often.”

The aforementioned Hill (the non-Washington one, hah!)

The next day, he drove to my house to say he just wanted to be friends. After he sped away, I headed up to my room, blasted Ashlee Simpson (*headdesk*), leaned against my wall, and sobbed for ten minutes. That was the first time I ever cried over a boy. My partner-in-crime Lauren, who now works as a stripper (you go girl for having the talent and body for that!), hit him for seemingly leading me on and letting me down. Only a stand-up friend would do that. Within a week, I was over him. All it took was an all-nighter sleepover with Shannon, Day, Lauren, Crystal, Katherine, and Sarah. Hopefully I never react that way with another guy again! It’s too easy to behave like a silly, jaded teenager, and boy, do I fall into that category on a regular basis. I’ve been meaning to stop, but this whole aloof act isn’t working out for me so well. Someday I’ll learn.

I’m kind of sad that I have only a handful of journals to show for my college years, but even at 14 I knew I couldn’t maintain my diaries forever, nor did I really want to. I used journals to survive brutal elementary, middle, and high school, but there wasn’t much to endure about college. Aside from dating dipshits, I had little to complain about. College treated me well, and the same can be said about work life. My biggest gripe is that I’m sleep-deprived, but at least I’m no longer a tortured teenage soul.

German exchange student, Johannes and me senior year. For a few seconds, I thought about taking him to prom. I went with Jimmy instead.

Since moving on from Bean Dip Boy, Jimmy, Kevin, and AIM dude, I’ve been free. Someday their names might appear in a book of mine, but until then, they’re the leading men of my old diaries. Thanks for the memories, boys. May you star in the journals of new women now.

DW farewell, Blackberry advice, France, Eat Pray Love

As a graduating senior, I’m done writing stories for the Arizona Daily Wildcat. What a great experience. Now, it’s time to find another publication to obsessively write for.

Be sure to read Jazmine Woodberry’s Everyone has a Story article on me. That was a nice way to end my time at the Wildcat. I had such a blast working in the newsroom, and I’m grateful for the friends I made all throughout my time at the newspaper. To the people who loved my articles and sent fanmail to my email account as well as the parade of people who hated me like Captain Ahab despised Moby Dick: Thank you for reading. Really.

I wrote a story on ASUA’s immigration forum, which took place after the Daily Wildcat issues stopped going out to print for the semester.

Of course, there will be a commencement issue out on Wednesday, and my final Wildcat articles will be in that. I interviewed 2009-10 ASUA President Chris Nagata and wrote a short blurb for the “Top 10 News Stories of the Year” section. And that’s it. C’est fini.

Speaking of French, I am delighted to be going to France in exactly 20 days (!!!). I’m staying at my good friend’s house in the south of France for three weeks. I will, of course, miss my Blackberry, which does not work over in Europe. I am not sure how I handled not having my Blackberry all last summer…Call me superficial, but my one vice is my cell phone. I’m not into shopping, television, or sports, but I’m all about texting and bbm’ing. Quel dommage. Does anyone know if I can order a phone (with my same number and contact information) to take with me to France? I am sure it can be done..

I’d be lying if I said I don’t want the Eat Pray Love story to happen to me during my France trip.


I’ve actually never read the book, but I know the gist, and I’m hoping for revelatory experiences now that I’m graduating and leaving behind everything I know, cheesy as that sounds. I’ve already studied abroad in France, so this will be more relaxing, not to mention a great opportunity to practice my French again. I’m excited to spend more time with my friend Lola and her family, all of whom are absolutely incredible. Let’s hope I can learn to cook Croque Monsieur, and for the love of God, I hope to maintain my size. Last time I went to France, my host family gorged me with bread, pasta, and Nutella. Didn’t do wonders for my figure. I guess that’s part of the Eat Pray Love experience, though, being that the author gains a mess of weight during her year in Italy, and who wouldn’t? Anyway, here’s to exceptional cuisine, swimming, traveling, good friends, nights out on the town, and great memories.

Ever since its DVD release on April 27, I’ve watched It’s Complicated an obscene number of times. As you know, I’m anti-television shows (aside from Gilmore Girls and Sex and the City), so I only turn on the TV to watch movies. It’s Complicated is playing in my mini-DVD player right now. I just like to have it on for background noise, and I am not ashamed to admit that I adore Meryl Streep.

My two finals are separating me from the rest of my life. Boy, will Friday and Saturday be surreal.

Tomorrow, I am going to hatha yoga class. I’ve definitely missed doing yoga, but I haven’t had time since last semester. Plus, nothing beats yoga classes in Santa Cruz. Just sayin..

Miley Cyrus’s Boyfriend Shouldn’t Go After Minors

Here’s my bi-monthly celebrity blog. I don’t watch TV, much less Disney’s Hannah Montana starring Miley Cyrus. I also don’t know much about 16-year-old singer/actress other than the fact that there’s something very sweet and likable about her. She has a sincere smile that tells me celebrity life hasn’t corrupted her Tennessee-bred good-nature. But maybe she’s lost her senses. She’s dating 20-year-old model, Justin Gaston.

Miley’s father, Billy Ray Cyrus should not have allowed this to happen. I hate to be the relationship police, but Miley isn’t even eighteen. More than likely, this is an illegal situation, and Gaston probably won’t be prosecuted for statutory rape if they’ve engaged in sexual activity, which is highly probable.

Think of it on a more personal level. Let’s say you’re in college and one of your classmates starts a relationship with a high schooler. It’s a social taboo. If you’re a college junior looking to date a high school junior, you’re going to come off as kind of a creep. There’s a reason why there are laws against this kind of thing.

What was Miley’s response? She said in the May issue of Glamour magazine:

GLAMOUR: Do you worry that your boyfriend is so much older?

MC: I don’t feel like I’m doing anything wrong, and I’m ready for people to accept it. My fans already accept it—they just want me to be happy. And I haven’t been that happy in a few years…working so hard, moving to L.A. from Nashville, going through a bad breakup [with Nick Jonas]. I’m finally happy again, and I think that is reflected in my music and my work. So honestly, I don’t feel like there’s anything to hide. And I love him so much I don’t really care.

Fair enough. Miley Cyrus isn’t the problem. As the younger of the two, I don’t hold her as accountable as her sleazy boyfriend, who apparently doesn’t find it morally objectionable to pick up on underage girls. It really saddens me to see this happen to nice young girls.

This is how it started out for Britney Spears, who moved in with boyfriend, Justin Timberlake at age 18. After an annulled marriage, a divorce, two babies, multiple stints in rehab, mental health problems, shaving her head, beating a van with an umbrella, and a lazy performance at the 2007 Video Music Awards, Britney Spears is finally starting to restore her sanity as she spends time with her boys. Based on her poor boyfriend choices, I’m positive the same windy road is in store for Cyrus. After all, Britney used to be a sweet southern belle, too.

Why I am Attending the “Twilight” DVD Midnight Release Party

It looks like I’m not the only fool attending a Twilight midnight release party this evening. I’m off to Border’s at 11:45, and luckily, I live in a town with fewer Twilight nut jobs than in the posted link, where hundreds of teenage girls are screaming and waiting for the clock to strike twelve. The Riverton, Utah Wal-Mart said that the Twilight pre-sale was even bigger than the Harry Potter pre-sales. It makes sense since a surprise actor/actress from the film is expected to make an appearance at this specific Wal-Mart.

Unlike the Utah natives, I won’t be engaging in Twilight trivia or costume parties at the Border’s release gathering. I want something to make me laugh tonight. If you’ve never seen Twilight, you should rent it for comedic value alone. My best friend and I were laughing uncontrollably when we saw it in theaters last November, and we were the only ones out of the audience of mainly teenage girls.

It’s not supposed to be funny, but the over-earnest dialogue, faux-vampire hostility, and dramatics make for a spectacular comedy. I laughed so hard, I cried, so I know I can count on Twilight to cheer me up and satisfy me in a different way than it satisfies most 12-year-old fans, who believe one of the main characters and vampires, Edward Cullen puts all human men to shame despite the fact that he wants to eat his girlfriend, Bella Swan. I actually saw the film after one of the worst days of my college career last semester, and the knot of anxiety and disappointment in my chest completely faded because I laughed so hysterically at this movie. It was a memorably atrocious day, but Twilight saved me from the Hell I endured.

The lines that had me falling on the floor laughing are:

Edward: (referring to himself): “And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.”

Bella: “What a stupid lamb”

Edward: “What a sick, masochistic lion”

Edward(to Bella): “You are my life now, you’re the only thing it would hurt me to lose.”

Edward (to Bella): You are my own personal brand of heroin.

Bella (uncredited, but in the trailer and novel): “I’d rather DIE than stay away from you.”

Edward (to Bella): “I’ve never wanted to kill someone so much (as you).”

How’s that last quote for Prince Charming?

All this aside, I do appreciate Twilight as something more than a slap-stick comedy. It’s all too reminiscent of the stereotypical high school couple. My best friend, Tracey said Bella’s character gave her insight into the way I view relationships and love, and to an extent, Bella and I share similar views on the subject matter.

But Bella is an over-exaggerated example of a silly high school girl who is totally and completely infatuated (and sometimes, in love) with a guy. Many young girls can relate to this. For me, I’m reminded of how I used to be, even though I had goals, a busy schedule, hobbies, and tons of good friend while Bella’s character is hobby less, friendless, and uninteresting.

Regardless, most girls have experienced Bella’s hopeless devotion, and though he’s dangerous and scary, everyone can find something good in Edward Cullen’s character. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for Bella. He’s still “the biggest creeper ever,” my friend says, because he breaks into Bella’s house and watches her while she sleeps. Unlike Bella, I would not find this attractive, no matter how great a guy seems.

Here’s to a night of intense laughter. Come join me if you haven’t laughed in a while, I promise you won’t be sorry.