compulsive compartmentalization

Captured thoughts…on exhibit in the zoo that is the blog-o-sphere.

There is no such thing on earth as an uninteresting subject; the only thing that can exist is an uninterested person. - G.K. Chesterton

The advent of the 8th grade saw the release of that strange hormone that forces awkwardness upon teenage boys. Socially, I shut down, crawled up into my shell, and waited for middle school to be over. The only solace I found was in my 8th grade crush, a cute long-haired girl who shared my homeroom, P.E., and English classes. The same girl with whom I would go on to participate in the square-dance…and to whom I would never say one. single. choerent. word.

Her name was Tracy, and the first half of my school year was spent pining for her…while at the same time, trying to repel the advances of Christine.

Why Christine ever developed a crush on me I’ll never understand. I went mostly unnoticed by everyone else (except by the bigger kids at the far end of the lunch table who would try, successfully, to bully me out of one of the two Hi-C grape drinks that I would bring for lunch) but for some reason she became totally enamoured with me.

Too bad I found her repulsive in both personality and appearance.

It grated my nerves to no end. It was truly distressing, for whatever reason, that she liked me. She would talk about me within earshot…write notes to friends and place what she had written so that I would be sure to see it…and worst of all…she rode my bus.

Even then, my compulsion to compartmentalize my life was taking shape. School was war…home was safety. The two must not mix. Christine could never know where I live. The bus may have passed by my house…but I wouldn’t be on it when it did. I would be watching from the woods…waiting in an effort to maintain the separation of school and home until it had passed.

I’m happy to report that my plan succeeded and her affections moved on to land on an oaf of a football player instead of me. I can only assume that even in the 8th grade she had a certain taste in guys. Since I was in no way a football player, that only leaves one potentially common characteristic.

Better him than me.

15 Responses to “the awkward odyssey: Christine”

  1. That’s about what I expected.

    Geof F. Morris

  2. How could you get the bus to drop you off away from your home? I could NEVER get the busdriver to agree to that.

    Kari

  3. I got on the bus at my friends house for years..and got off there for years…the bus driver didn’t know I lived where I did, and I didn’t volunteer that information. The bus, as luck would have it, only started passing by my house that year.

    brian

  4. Oh, that’s right . . . you posted somewhere about walking to his house and getting warm there. And about his dad. Or something like that.

    My vague recollection should count for something. Give me a gold star.

    Kari

  5. wow. you remembered.

    impressive.

    brian

  6. gold star! gold star!

    Kari

  7. all I’ve got is this purple heart.

    brian

  8. Did you catch that purple heart when Kerry threw it away? He might want it back…

    Eric

  9. no i earned it. I took a nasty paper cut to my left leg.

    brian

  10. Our bus would pretty much pick you up and drop you off anywhere you wanted. Those were the good old days in Maine.

    Roger

  11. well, in maine all you have to worry about is bears. the bus drivers just wanna get in and outta there before they get mauled.

    brian

  12. Nah. Bears aren’t allowed on the bus.

    Funny (?) story, my high school geometry treacher (who everyone disliked and had bad breath and whose nickname was Chewbacca) got mauled by a bear while hiking.

    Roger

  13. having girls like you when you don’t like them is a problem i’m kinda having right now. its just the price of being beautiful i guess.

    i’m also glad middle school brian and home brian never mixed. but hiding in the woods? ;)

    scott

  14. I liked hiding in the woods…these cartoon birds came an landed on my shoulder…and an old black man would come along singing while these other cartoon creatures would dance and whistle….

    wait…i’m thinking of something else

    Roger: was..uh..your teacher okay?

    brian

  15. I think so…it happened after I graduated.

    Roger

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