Excuse me, did you just call me a fad?
tweet thisFiled under: Deep South, Everyday, faith, family, life
I learned what the meaning of fad was the hard way. And I don’t just mean having to look it up in a dictionary. Since, I come before the mandatory use of home computers. I had a personal encounter with the word. It’s surprising, though, what one’s personal history of fads says about oneself. For me, in retrospect, my string of passing fancies was equivalent to that annoying solid beep of an emergency broadcast—“ in the event of an actual emergency, contact information will be provided.” That second part there, that never happened. Some of my “interests” were rather unique to me and me alone....
Mercy Blog, Part 3: A Nearly Christian Apology for Eighth Grade
So, the other day I was in Piggly Wiggly (or as U.L. calls it, The Pig) to purchase an eggplant, and while fondling the produce, legally - i.e., all fruits and vegetables were at least 18 days or older - I overheard two people, down by the locally grown peanuts bin (the peanuts were locally grown, not the bin - it was cardboard) discussing the stupid behavior of one of their other friends...I imagined the friend was the topic of conversation as the result of some weekend revelry. One said, "And I was like, God, this is stupid. You're being so eighth...
I don't believe I cared much for sixth grade.
I don't believe I cared much for sixth grade. I was already fully in the grips of a terrific identity crisis (mostly sexual) by the time I was rounding out my junior high years. At my school, sixth grade was the last grade on the junior high side. Seventh graders had to move around to the right side of the building, and that side was high school. They also had more than one teacher, and several different classrooms. That didn't shock me nearly as much as when I was told they also had periods. Even the boys. I was terrified of high school. ...
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