On March 5, 1998, we made our own collages. I thought it was a good idea. I didn’t make something very creative, though, because I’m more of a non – fiction person. Well, I made a moose and here are some of the ideas I had, colors and shapes I made, and what I was thinking when I made “MY MOOSE.”
The colors I used were red, green, and purple. The reason I used these colors was because they seemed to blend well. Plus, I wanted to make an abstract moose, and these seemed to be good colors to use. For the shapes I used ovals, circles, antlers, triangles, and semi – circles because those seemed to be the shapes of a moose.
When I made my moose it made me feel very happy. It seems that whenever I make an art project I always mess up on it, but not on this one. You see, I really like moose, so making a moose made me feel excited and joyful.
I got the idea of making a moose because I love moose. Whenever I do something like this, I just seem to immediately think of moose. Since moose is sort of funny, and I love to laugh, I thought that making a moose would make me feel happy, and it did.
I really enjoyed doing this project because it made me feel relaxed, and it made me feel free. It was a great feeling, and I hope we do this project again.
Today is the 16 of October. I just finished cleaning my room. As my dad would say, “It’s so clean it’s sparkling!”
Nothing’s new. I’m still reading “Number the Stars” By: Lowis Lowry. My class reads sooooo slow! I mean, I read the book at LEAST 3 times! Oh well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to read it again. It IS a good book.
I’m playing the clarinet now! Our teacher Mr. G is nice, but when you get him mad he gets MAD.
If you fail this final you can give up all hope of getting into AP. And if you don’t get into AP you’ll never get into a good college, or might I say, university. And if you don’t get into the most prestigious pretentious #1 school in America, you may as well kiss your life good bye because you’ll end up on the street a crackwhore with a burn out husband collecting food stamps for your five children, all because of that one little exam you failed way back when. YOUR WHOLE LIFE IS RIDING ON THIS YOUR WHOLE LIFE…
Go to the Netherlands and smoke hash at a hash bar
Go to South Africa and listen to people play guitar on the street
Attend an Afro-Cuban show in Senegal
Make and edit a film that I’m PROUD of
Become a published author, none of this school lit mag bs
Meet Dave Matthews
Travel across country/hitch hike
Smoke a cigarette on the corner of Haight/Ashbury
Drink wine by myself and fall asleep on a beach under the stars
Climb a mountain… any mountain.
Learn more about Buddhism
See every single Degrassi episode
Drive a Jetta
Sit in a cafe in Italy on a stone street with my legs crossed wearing pointy shoes made of Italian leather and drink mineral water and smoke a clove while wearing red lipstick, but not get any on the filter.
Follow DMB around on tour and not wear shoes and say things like “Trippy” and mean them.
i’m really annoyed actually. because i have tickets to go see phish tomorrow night, and it’s their last tour, and whitney’s been planning to go with me. i have no idea if she’s still coming because she hasn’t returned my call. and so if she calls me and cancels tomorrow then i’ll have no one to go with! and this is phish’s last tour so it’s not like i can just NOT GO. and on top of that, i kind of need to be able to go with someone who has their license because we won’t have rides all the way to camden. so i’m pretty much shit out of luck if whitney can’t come. ugh, NOT. COOL.
Today I went to the mall with Grammy and Ali and bought 2 spaghetti strap shirts, and one has a light blue jacket that goes over it and the sleeves stop at the elbos! It’s sooo cool. It looks like a Danielle Fishel outfit!
We ate at Red Robin’s tonight. It was alright, even though we had to wait for our food for like a half hour! And boy was I hungry, and tired!
Exams went alright. I’ve had a traumatic night. Well, at any rate, Andrew told me he loved me and was being too sweet to me. Journal, I told him I loved him too. IDK. I mean, I think I do. But that word LOVE seems so serious. It seems like it’s for boring adults who sit at home drinking whiskey and investing in the stalk [sic] market. Or for people who jump off cliffs and mountains, and shout it as they plunge to the cold, hard earth. Love isn’t for 13 year old kids in the suburbs. Love is more than sex, and phone conversations, and a little laughter. Love is deeper than that. Uh - but what is love, truly? How the fuck do I get myself into these things? Do you think I really love Andrew? Do you think he loves me?
Tears, nothing matters. My friends come, and help me through, Things matter again.
If I Were
If I were a TV show I would be Gilmore Girls. If I were a school subject I would be Drama. If I were a book I would be Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. If I were a pet I would be a cocker spaniel. If I were a clothes store I would be Abercrombie and Fitch. If I were an animal I would be a monkey. If I were a city I would be New York CIty. If I were a board game I would be Risk.
Being a teenager is hard, it seems you can never win, your parents may never understand, how hard it is to fit in.
But being a teenager’s also nice, you can dance, be yourself, laugh and sing, If you can get through these years, you can definitely conquer anything!
For some reason, in 7th grade, I decided to make my own teen magazine. There was only one issue—released in June 2001—but it is HILARIOUS. The mag was called “Teen Star,” and I clearly went to great pains to assure its professional, glossy look: it is comprised of Clip Art / Word Art, Curlz MT font and nail polish serves as border decoration. I even laminated it. Behold some of its glory in the next few posts.
Letter from the Editor
Welcome to a brand new and exciting year of one of the best teen magazines on the market…Teen Star. I’m your editor, Jess, and I’m really excited to be working on bringing the coolest issues of Teen Star right to the Teen Readers. I’m a 7th grade student at Springfield Middle School. I really enjoy acting, singing, and dancing. I love pop music and shopping, but I also love field hockey and softball. I love to hang out with my friends and go to the movies.
The reason I’m writing this magazine is because I love teen magazines, and I’ve always wanted to create one of my own. I love to do hair and make-up, and I love to share my ideas with my readers. You’ll find that all of my articles deal with teen issues, so I hope they help you out.
In this issue you can look forward to my informational piece, advice column, and survey. This month is really going to be great and I can’t wait for you to see all of the new things going on at Teen Star. Se you next issue!
Jessica Roy (With the “i” in my name dotted with a star, obviously)
Ed. Note: There is something so strange about the diary entries from the end of high school and beginning of college. Clearly I haven’t quite etched out a definitive voice, but I’m really starting to get there, and some of the passages do reek of things I’d write later, things I’d even be proud of. There are these lines of clarity that make my chest constrict even now, but most of my 18-20 year old writing is just so painfully ham-fisted. See for yourself!
There was red wine in your hair, your mouth tasted like smoke. The subway ran under us every 11 minutes and from above me you said, “Everything you say makes me want to kiss you.” I was resurrected.
I refuse to look you in the eye because that would make this real and I’m still not convinced that it is.
I saw a man at the station on Spring Street with a voice rough like sea salt and heavy hands like my father’s. The chords resounded the way my hair used to along the streets in Paris, fanning out like reeds, music in that silent world.
On the way back from dinner I counted tiles in groups of six. Our shadows were thrown across the floor by fluorescent light and mine looked so small next to yours. I lit two cigarettes with one match and you kissed my forehead. The city wind stung my wrist when I stuck my hand out for a cab.
I have a real life now and you are in it. We listened to Springsteen on the turntable and I pulled you by your tie into the closet.
Our lips chapped from all that kissing, I put my hands above me, the apple core I had placed on the shelf broke into pieces on the ground and this is what it feels like to surrender; blow up the deck, the whole damn ship, I’m on my toes and you are running and we are headed towards something celestial, something that’s already gone.
On our second day together I told you I was okay with being second to words to phrases to punctuation and I am, I promise. This is what you do to me: I stay up writing angrily manuscripts in cluttered dim apartments where the bed smells like your skin and your shirt is still stuck under my rug and your CD is playing on the stereo somewhere between dishonesty and truth.
I sit in my underwear and think about all the things that I’m afraid of. I take 3 pills tonight instead of 1 and wait for my bed to become the ocean where I slip underwater and sleep through honking and telephones and the subway that still goes by every 11 minutes.
Things start to feel heavy, slow motion and I get so high I don’t recognize my friends’ faces. The wind is getting colder, the streets are getting filthier, my skin is getting thinner and you are gone.
i am so sad. tonight was the season finale of the oc. of course i cried my eyes out. i’m not even fucking kidding, what am i going to do until fall without it? and it was such a good episode but i feel like all the issues will be resolved next week, but they won’t! i have to wait until september! ahhh.
so theresa went back to chino and decided to have the baby, she asked ryan to go with her (ugh, bitch) and he did. she doesn’t even know if it’s his baby! it could be eddie’s. marissa is really upset but she is being understanding. summer just feels really bad for everybody. seth is like heartbroken and now is really sad because he has no friends again since ryan left. he sailed away and left his parents and summer notes, so i think he’s going to tahiti! oh cohen, my life. julie married caleb and he bought her a house and marissa moved in. but caleb hasn’t told julie that the newport group is going bankrupt yet. jimmy and hayley are happy together but cal and jimmy are still fighting. sandy made up with caleb because kiersten asked him to, and kiersten admitted to having an abortion earlier in her life. i was thinking maybe it was jimmy’s? hmm. anyway, drama.
i wish my life was as dramatic and interesting as marissa or summer’s (but not theresa, i don’t want to be pregnant!) oh well.
it’s not that I hate my family. it’s really not. i love them, at least as much as i can, after all the shit we put each other through. on the very surface, i think they’re great people: philanthropic, accepting, traditional. the trouble is, i just don’t know how to communicate with them anymore. it’s like all of the practiced dialogue i grew up on: the question and answer session at dinner, the post-dinner homework routine, the morning car rides to school: all of those had programmed conversations. and the programs keep running, only because i’m away, i’m not tuning in. it’s almost as if we all figured out exactly how we’re supposed to act around each other, but since i’ve been away for so long, i completely forgot.
i feel like an exchange student in my own home. i’m barely in the family photo album. my aunt doesn’t send me gifts anymore because she assumes i’ll be in new york. my sister sleeps in my bedroom now. and none of this bothers me. i accept it as a part of growing up and moving on. what bothers me is my literal inability to be around my family without getting frustrated and annoyed almost immediately. i don’t even think that i’ve changed that much, i just think the kind of people i’m used to interacting with has changed, and i’ve developed these social skills, this new york etiquette, that works only with people my age and accepting, foul-mouthed new yorkers. my breed of sarcasm is doomed in the suburbs, where everything’s all wrapped in cellophane and my stepmom decorates the house with wooden snowman figurines and my dad gets a sad look on his face when I prove that it’s impossible to be pleasant while i’m home and my sister and i fight over who gets to check Facebook next and my grandma won’t look me in the eye because she’s trying so hard not to say something negative, and she knows if she opens her mouth or makes eye contact it will just come out of her. and i feel awful because i don’t know how to deal with them anymore.
it’s almost as if i’ve developed this idea that I’m better than them somehow. i look at their sad little suburban lives and think, “Thank God that’s not me.” i just feel like i’m 19 years old and i’ve experienced more than they have in their whole lives, simply by virtue of living in new york. i just want to be able to be around them without feeling such distaste. my new years resolution is actually to be nicer around them. i need to be, for everyone’s sake.
After being pummeled by oranges by my sister for the past half hour (no lie) I’m pretty pissed off.
I just about realized how much I hate my family and need to get the hell out of here.
All my parents ever do is fight. All my sister ever does is whine. All I ever do is homework.
This isn’t a way to live. It’s a fucking prison! And at the risk of sounding melo-dramatic… what the hell? Why is life like this? I’m sick of all the trauma and drama, but I’m sick of the normality of it all at the same time.
I need freedom. I need these next 4 years to fly by. I need college. I need drugs sex and rock and roll.
I realized today that I am a very cynical and sacastic little girl. I wish I could be happy and sweet like boys want girls to be. But instead I am someone who overanalyzes situations until they are “blue in the face” so to speak, and with a sharp wit to match. I wish I could be the cute nice girl that everyone loves. But I can’t. No matter how hard I force myself to be sugary sweet it just seems so fake and horrible. I can’t stop my tongue from making snide remarks and I’m always perfecting ways to be even more devious than the last time. Maybe it’s in my nature- I mean, maybe I was just born overanalytical. Or perhaps I developed it because of my environment. It was a defense mechanism made up for those harsh days in Allentown, and now it doesn’t exactly fit in or coincide with the personalities of the ineffectual people mulling about in the vast spoils of suburbia. I don’t know, but this kind of speak is an example of me overanalyzing nothing at all.
I haven’t been bothered by my atmosphere in a long while. I haven’t been having those concurring thoughts of “Oh GOD I need to fucking get OUT of here.” I’ve just sort of been living my quaint and charming life, taking things day by day. That’s probably the way to do it, but I enjoy overdramatizing things and fucking them up, so usually I don’t have that kind pleasent mindset. I realized that today, though. I do like to fuck things up. It’s like I get some sick pleasure out of it. Like, I really deeply enjoy doing things the hard way. I’ll purposely do something that I know will get someone angry just because I want things between us to escalate to a point where it can be blown out of proportion! And at the same time, I hate it when people dramatize situations. It’s crazy.
I’m such a fucking hypocrite but I can’t help myself.
Who knows. It’s so late, and my need for conversation is begging to be quenched. I guess my warm bed is calling me. I suppose I should just go to sleep so that I can wake up to the annoying racquet of my alarm and start this day over again, only in a new outfit and on another spot on the calendar.
I don’t like being depressed. Me and my horrid, uncaring, pathetic self have locked the bedroom door and began blasting my old Nirvana CD. Poor ol’ Kurt Cobain - so tragic, so REAL. I like reality. Like in Almost Famous. I can relate to him. He was real. William was so fucking real. Am I?
I think I’m too real. Too intense. I wish desperately sometimes to be carefree and do what my blonde hair is screaming at me to do - HAVE FUN! But for some reason I’m under these unbreakable pseudochains where I’m forbidden to be happy. I want to be fake. And cheery. I don’t want to be told a thousand times a day “CHEER UP EMO KID!!!” Fuck! I want to slap on a blue cheeraleading uniform, the one that reflects my pooly blue eyes, shake a few pompoms, and shout some RAH RAH RAH’s… and be happy with that. I want, no, I WISH to be SATISFIED with being superficial and eternally joyous. But I’m not. And I don’t know why. Why I don’t want to go see 8 Mile in leopard pants and permed hair? Why I don’t want to date the star football player? It frustrates and saddens me that I can’t just be okay with being mediocre.
Instead I have to ponder things wayyyyyy too much. Ms. Plath had it right - thinking sucks, and dammit it’s all I ever do.
I’m soooooo board! My dad and my sister, Alison, are at Ali’s soccer game. My mom is in a really bad mood as usual. I’m not surprised that she is though.
I called Lauren and Megan and they’re both not home! I get the feeling that nobody likes me or maybe they just are to busy doing their 6th grader things to have time for a 4th grader like me. If that’s how they feel then, if they can’t find some time for me I’ll just act like them.
I have this book report due on November 31st. I’m reading Spying on Miss Müller. That’s an umlat. You see, Miss Müller is German so she has an umlat over the u in her name. Well, I gotta go! I’m running out of paper anyway so until the next time I write to you journal!
(Scribbled up the margin of the page)
Help, I’m running out of paper!
(You should know me well enough by now that I shouldn’t have to write my full name!)
I know I haven’t written in you for a really long time! About 5 months and 4 days. I’m surprised you haven’t forgot about me! Here’s an update on what’s been happening in my life since I last wrote you. School started about 5 weeks ago. I’m in 4th grade now. No more baby games or fooling around. 4th grade is a real grade. Not one of those baby K-3rd grades. I still intend to keep my record of all A’s. My teacher Mrs. S. is really nice, except she’s very strict about talking. If you so much as open your mouth, you get sent to time out. Oh! By the way, don’t you think time out’s a little babieish for 4th grade!?!? I do! Well, I really hafta go. My Grandma’s coming to watch Ali & I soon.
One of my biggest reservations in doing this project is that my childhood diaries are just so painfully cliched that it’d be easy to mistake them for fakes. For authenticity’s sake, I’ve gone back and posted pictures of the entries that were written in physical notebooks. You really can’t make this shit up, people. I actually was this embarrassingly angsty.
I found out something that I didn’t know if it were true or false. I found out that the Easter bunny and Santa weren’t real! It kind of makes me sad that my parents have been lying to me for so many years. I still like to believe, though!
My favorite book is called “Mandy.” It was written by Julie Edwards. It is about a young girl who’s name is Mandy. She lives in an orphanage and one day climbs the wall and finds out that there’s a little house behind the wall. Well, you find the rest out yourself. Read Mandy by Julie Edwards.
I finally got this urge to do something….artistic. So, my dad took me to grand old CVS and bought me black and white film. I’m really into symbolism so I get these ideas for really fucked up, symbolic pictures. Like, I put chicken wire over this mini American flag, and put it on the slide of our tree house…It symbolizes how the american dream (the flag) is restrained (the chicken wire) by the suburban youth and our fucked up ways. (The run down tree house) I don’t know if anyone would get it….but it makes sense to me…
Guess what happened at school today?!?! A kid named Matt, Sarah’s brother, found a raser blade. He luckily did the right thing and gave it to Mrs. B. I think he did the right thing. Amanda, on the other hand, thinks he should of stabbed his sister Sarah but I don’t. I like Sarah.
Hi! How are you? I’m fine, but OMG! I’ve got something BIG to tell you! Alright, well Samir told Stevan and Stevan, Cortneys bf told Cortney, and Cortney told me (long list isn’t it) Well guess what?! Samir still likes me! I couldn’t believe it when I heard it! I thought my ears were playing tricks on me! OMG! I just can’t believe it! But, see, I don’t know what to feel ‘cause I really liked him last year and he completely dumped me, so, I don’t know if I can trust him or not! I mean, I still sorta like him I guess, but A.B.* is my man now! I tell ya, A.B. is as HOT as they come! He’s a real hunk!
Initials changed because 13 years later this is still really embarrassing.
Hi! I’m in a bad mood! My mom has been calling all of these important people, to talk to them about my test grades! Then she tries to talk to me about it and I’m just like, ‘Mom, I DON’T care about the stupid NWEA test grades right now! I couldn’t care less! I just want to lead a normal life, like last year, when my mom wasn’t calling all these important people! I just want to be in 4th grade forever, where I looked forward to going to school, and everyone cared as much about my test grades as I do now!!! I don’t know! I don’t know what I feel I can’t explain it! I just don’t know! I’m having all this pressure put on me because I’m advanced, and they think I can handle this weight! It’s driving me nuts! I just want to say to Miss Eby, and my mom, ‘No person can hold the weight of the world on their shoulders, but you think because I’m advanced, that I can! Well, go check up on your facts, you 2, because your wrong!’
I’m so sorry!!! I haven’t written in you for SO long!! Well anyway, guess what!?!? The most horrible, annoying, incredible thing happened to me today. I was at a football game and when I got back, I had a message from my best friend Hannah. The message said that she had bad news. And boy was it bad!!! Hannah said that Kristie Smith*, the meanest, cockiest, most stuck-up person ever (we both agreed), was gonna be in our acting classes! Well I HATE Kristie Smith. She’s always been mean and stuck-up, and she thinks that everyone under her age (6th grade) was a baby!!!!!!! Well, I’m only in 5th grade and she still asks Hannah why she plays w/ me!!!!! I’m only one year younger than them!!! Well, Kristie’s just a stuck-up brat and I won’t let her ruin my acting classes that I have been wanting to do for years!!! I just WON’T!!!!
*Named changed due to the fact that we’re Facebook friends and that’d be awkward.
Mine always pick the littlest things to get on my back about. They know that I don’t give a fuck about any of their unimportant superficial shit, so they do their best to try to make me to care. Hah! Bullshit.
My parents decide to “invite me” to a movie with them. Let me tell you, I’d rather sit through three Britney Spears concerts with NSYNC as the special performance than go to a movie with my parents! It’s not the movie that’s bad…I don’t have to talk during the movie. It’s the car ride there and back. It’s this constant third degree…blah…blah…blah. I’d feel a hell of a lot better if they would just shut up and ignore me! At least then I could listen to my music in solace!
Man, parents are stupid and pointless. On top of that, mine just happen to be a pair of assholes with the moral stick up their ass. I must be adopted.