Thursday, September 15, 2011

Dear Diry, Number 3


My brother was born it 
was the happy

I thought this one was sweet! I wish I had underlined, bolded, and drew a fluffy cloud around "the" so it had a little more significance. THE HAPPY DAY! Next year on my brother's birthday I'm going to deem it an official Cugini Holiday and call it MICHAEL'S BIRTHDAY: THE HAPPY DAY and everyone will say "Merry Happy Day to you, good sir!". I'm glad I deemed the day my brother was born as a happy one. Sadly (and strangely), I only have a few memories of that day so I'm also ticked 2nd grade Katie didn't write more. What's a diary for, kid??
* This post was actually from 2nd grade.

So I write one sentence about my brother's birth but I write an ENTIRE page on Princess Diana's death. I didn't even know who she was until she died, but I do remember being very confused about it because I had no idea that "real princesses" existed. I think it upset me a lot because I find out princesses are real then she died. Not so fairytalelish.

dear diry   8-31-97

princess diana died today
it was very sad
the driver was going a 150 miles an hour
they hit the pole and she died. 
The bodyguard was still a live
but he could not toke so he could not tell the stoy because his
mouth go hurt
it was very sad.
she was very nice and helpful

Complete with a picture I cut out of the newspaper.

dear diry 9-5-97

Dear Diry 

Paul say I was nice 
he didnt let some other girls cut
but he let me cut

Ok people. When I read this entry I laughed so hard I snorted. First, allow me to translate the situation a little bit. I think what happened was other girls tried to cut in front of Paul in the lunch line but he didn't let them and instead let me cut. I don't know how 3rd went for yall but at our 3rd grade this was clearly a flirtatious gesture. He then told me I was nice. This day was a good day for 3rd grade Katie. But by far the best part is the illustration. This is a piece of work.

"Your nice"
...."I am"
I'm glad we were on the same page

I said this with many different inflections trying to understand why I would draw something like this....(and yes I know I'm using "your" incorrectly)

"your nice"       "your nice"           "your nice"                                            
..."I am?"          ...."I am?!?!?"   ....*shrugs nonchalantly* "I am"      

"your nice"
....."I am!!!" (in a completely geeking out, thank goodness you finally noticed sorta way!)

So. good.

For the record: I was nice. I was too nice. I would run home to my mom and cry about how ANOTHER KID got in trouble and yelled at by the teacher. Something was seriously wrong with me. That reminds me of a story that I'll leave you with...

 I was a sheltered child. After the first day of kindergarden (half day kindergarden actually. That shat was amazing) I was riding home on the bus and I sat next to a fellow kinder named Drew. Drew was a girl. As soon as we sat down in our seat girl Drew whiped out a pencil and started POKING HOLES IN THE SEAT!!!!!!! There just aren't enough exclamation points to convey my horror. I vividly remember being completely disturbed by what I was witnessing. What kind of savage pokes holes in a bus seat? Wasn't she afraid of getting YELLED at? It was a complete monstrosity to kinder Katie. Now I'm not proud of this next moment because no one likes a tattle-tale, but I had to make the madness stop. So I said to girl Drew, "if you don't stop I'm going to tell the bus driver."

She then turned to me

and said


And I had NO idea what this meant. But, I did shut up. The rest of the bus ride I quietly contemplated what this could mean. When I got home I asked my mom what "shut up" meant, and she told me that it was a very mean way to tell someone to be quiet. I remember feeling so hurt and confused. Why would someone be mean to me? I burst into tears and cried for a very long time.

It has been a long, hard road from that moment (the moment I learned that people could be mean) to develop a semblance of a backbone. But now I can laugh at that story so all is well :]


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