During An Evening with Rianna tonight, I can say that many memories were grasped from their long-undisturbed graves. The intent of tonight was for massive reminiscing on personal and collective moments; without hesitance, I brought along a respectable stack of laughable and somber photographs. Oh yeah, and those essays I wrote in 6th grade, the “transition” years.
As far as my middle school days went, it seems, looking back on it, like one awkward stage after another. I went from the school’s Star Wars nerd to attaining the sickest form of humor known to all mankind. Here’s a poem I wrote for a class assignment in my 6th grade year:
As Carey Kate walked into K-Mart
She was knocked unconscious by a cart.
A clerk saw the body and dragged it away;
He threw it in a dumpster and watched it decay.
::pause:: Um… I apologize for that. I would like to re-emphasize that those were my awkward years and so much was going on in this perturbed mind that things just escalated to the forefront of my creative literary inside of me. Too much free time for a bustling mind does great harm. Actually, I would hope that by now I’ve recovered (hey, I just admitted the problem; that’s the first step, right?) and am overcoming the imbalance created by those first few hormonal doses of testosterone. What once was polar is now in equilibrium.
Sure, whatever.
So we had a fabulous dinner and a good time talking about all of those “topics”. I was also allowed to listen to a grand rendition of “Desperado” (not that I’ve heard the original) by two of her friends. They had not heard themselves the song before trying to record it, so it was absolutely hilarious (even for me because, like I said, I had not heard it myself).
Looks like I can chalk up another point for those good times.
Music: Badly Drawn Boy, "A Minor Incident"