Apparently I Had Low Self Esteem in Middle School

When going through my Joey Wollin entries, I noticed a couple of gems in my journal that really summed up my middle school experience. And luckily for you, the reader, what I couldn’t describe in prose and narrative, I more than compensated with illustrations and diagrams.

To give a little background, Zak Mott was my best friend at the time of these entries and I guess his approval meant more to me than anything else at that time. Even more so than Kyle Nelson, the most popular kid at Parkview Middle School (In Kyle’s defense, his approval came in at a very close second even though he constantly sabotaged my prospects with Katie Knott…so many times).

I always remembered getting along with Zak growing up and he's a good guy now, but he sounds like a real mean bastard in these journal entries. We used to read each other’s journal too, so maybe I was just trying to reach out to him at the time. In any case, to maximize the impact of reading this post, I recommend listening to The Offspring’s Self Esteem in the background.



I used FAT letters to write the word ‘FAT’ to show that I meant business.

Wow, I really sound like not a man in this journal entry. I remember being kind of chubby in middle school, but, man, I was really hard on myself. Well I guess my raging hormones at the time had to be hard on myself for something besides my high pitched cracking voice, startling new body transformations, and my newfound interest (and crippling fear) in the opposite sex.

I just like, as a side thought for that day, I might as well add an appendix in the margin of who I hated at the time. Well not hated per say, apparently hate was too strong of a word. What’s really funny about that sidebar and amongst the many other angst ridden rants from my adolescence is that many of the people that tormented me throughout puberty became really good buddies with me in the years to follow. In fact, if I had to make a list a definitive list of people I didn’t like in middle school, it would be eerily similar to a list of people that I was roommates with in college.

But wait, there’s more:



Stink Lines! I drew the stink lines to signify that I smelled bad. In case there was any question as to the true meaning of the stink lines, I also labeled the stink lines as “stinky smell”.

Those stink lines are bullshit too. There was nothing wrong with my personal hygiene in middle school. I remember smelling so fresh and so clean clean throughout my youth which is why I didn’t need to use deodorant until my senior year of high school. Even then, I still felt like it was an elective toiletry.

I wish I could say the same about my gigantic elvish chin and my obnoxious laugh but sadly, to this day, they remain both Jay Leno-ish and donkey-like respectively.

I kept the top part of that journal entry, solely for the great The State reference at the end. Who doesn’t love Louie, that lovable Italian who was always dipping his balls into things. My favorite Louie sketch was when Louie crashed the Last Supper and Jesus had to take him aside and calmly explain to him, that although he loved his-dipping-his-balls-into-things shtick, it was interfering with him, you know, giving salvation and eternal life to all mankind. That’s just great comedy, anyway you slice it.

As you can see, puberty and I were not best friends growing up. Luckily my friends discovered my great sense of humor and wry wit later in high school and life has been one great thrill ride ever since. Coincidently, this “discovery” occurred right around the time I turned 16 and got a car before everyone else, the summer before sophomore year. My personality sparkled like a shooting star as I designated drivered my drunk friends home every weekend, yes sir, it did.

Just for kicks, I thought I’d show schematics for that Water Balloon Bazooka I briefly mentioned in a previous post. Not so much anything to do with surviving puberty, but more so because I still really want to build this thing. I can’t explain my fascination with projectile weaponry, but let me tell you, it runs deep.



Who wants to build this with me!? It sounds like a recipe for a pretty fun afternoon at the Home Depot, if you ask me.