Kate, Ivy, Lynandreth, Ashley . . .

Kate.  What can I say about her?  Lol.  Well, she’s me.  I call myself several different names because that’s who I am in the different stories I write.  Ivy is my series name and probably the one I think of myself as most often.  Lynandreth and Ashley are the names of my characters in two different short stories.

I was made fun of all through grade- and middle school.  I hated it.  All I ever wanted when I was a kid was to be pretty, popular, and thin.  I didn’t think that was too much to ask.  But as far as I was concerned in grade school and middle school, it was too much.  Those kids made fiun of me for being fat, for wearing the wrong clothes, for the way I wore my hair, for what I read, for reading at all, for how I talked . . .   The list goes on.  I hated those kids, yet, I wanted to fit in with them so bad it sometimes actually hurt.  I mean, more than emotionally.  All I wanted was to not be on the outside, because I always felt that I was on the outside looking in.  I was in my own little clear barred prison, watching what I knew everyone else had, and what they seemed determined to keep away from me.  To never let me have.

In middle school, I discovered a very disturbing fact.  I’d wished so hard for popularity, and you know what?  I realized I was.  But not the way I wanted to be.  I was popular, or perhaps I should say notorious? because of exactly how many people made fun of me.  It seemed there wasn’t an eighth grader in my middle school who didn’t know my name.  It made things worse, and I welcomed the mostly quiet sanctuary that was my house.  My parents are another story, though.  I’m not getting into that.  But in my room, I was alone, at least.  I could stare out the window and watch the different people my age pass by, and I daydreamed.  I wish my fantasies had been real.  The nicer ones, anyway.

In between middle school and the start of high school, I got into the Beatles.  And I knew, as soon as I bought that very first Paul McCartney T-shirt, that I was gonna get made fun of even worse than before.  But after I was into them, I didn’t care anymore.  I started gaining more confidence, and I decided at some point, ‘all right, they’re gonna make fun of me anyway, so let’s give them something to make fun of!’

So, I did.

I’ve always been the kind of person who wants to find people to trust.  I accept just about everyone I meet as someone I can trust, rely on, etc.  But even when I was younger, people would betray me.  But I always wanted friends, so if they started being nice to me again, I’d accept them back.  But they’d betray me again, but then be nice, but then betray . . .  It was a never-ending cycle for me in grade school.

Once my sophomore year of high school came around, I met new people, who didn’t know about my past of being insulted and everything else.  I became friends with some of these people, and I thought that maybe, my days of being betrayed by people who were supposed to be my friends were over.

I was wrong.  My junior year, I fell for a guy, who betrayed me, along with God only knows how many other people, by telling us he had cancer and was going to die.  Not to mention the fact that he was dating about three or four girls at the same time.

But even so, my high school years were good.  Ironically, being into the Beatles, and wanting to stand out was exactly what helped me fit in.  See, everything my junior year, being told that this person supposedly had cancer, came because he thought I was friends with the people in the group.  I was friends with a couple of them, but not all.  But, because he thought I fit in . . .

I’ve mentioned random people and years in the other entries about random high school events, or poeple I met.  I still say that, while they weren’t the most interesting, my four years at Raritan were the most fun.  Everyone I know, I know because of one of these three people.  Ryan, Chuck, or Kathy.  And they’ve all interconnected, too.  It’s interesting.  I mean, I’ll try to do the connections, starting with Kathy.

If I hadn’t sat with her on the Scrambler at the Holy Family carnival, I never would have seen her in school, which means I never would have met Shannon, never would have met Pat, never would have waited for Pat to get out of the play rehearsal, which means I wouldn’t have met Will, who was the cancer story one, which means I never would have mentioned the one story with Will to Mike . . .

Okay, getting into the other chain.  If I hadn’t met Ryan, I never would have started going to Youth Group, which means I wouldn’t have met Jess, wouldn;t have bveen invited to her birthday party, wouldn’t have met Mike, wouldn’t have met Dan, (that one I could go for.  J/K!), wouldn’t have invited Mike to my house, wouldn’t have told him about Will’s story . . .

Okay, that one connects now.  Chuck, I wouldn’t have met Jason, and everything that that implies.  Nuff said.

–Notes–

Sounds complicated! …I used to be obsessed with the Beatles. Absolutely obsessed. I’m not anymore, but I still love them! Paul was cute! Anyway… peace.