Getting Mortified

[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

For most of us in the United States, the rite of passage we share as we navigate the treacherous waters between childhood and adulthood is Junior High School, a kind of concentration camp melting pot where we are sent to learn but instead experience a kind of personal and social annihilation. Whether you were popular or dumped on, I say poor babies each and every one of us. (Well, okay, maaaaaybe I spit in the eyes of the popular kids a wee bit, but just a wee. I think puberty takes its toll on all.)

Most of us were ill prepared for the transition. We became sexual beings but our newfound sexualities were policed. As our bodies betrayed us and hormones assumed control, no one was spared: the popular kids, the freaks and geeks, so suffered us all.

After the nuclear holocaust of adolescence, what evidence remains to prove that hated peons and worshiped beauty queens suffered silently alongside each other in their own unique ways?

The written word.

Pictures don’t necessarily “tell a thousand words.” If you were to compare my bad perm, zitty skin, braces-on-teeth 9th grade photo to the flawless visage of some of my female classmates, the only conclusion one could come to is that I had it worse. And, on the surface, that might have been true. My name probably showed up in SLAM books more often. People made fun of me. Blah, blah, social pariah with one or two friends, blah, blah. Pretty, ugly, smart, dumb, the proof is in the tales we wrote down.

I tore up and threw away every scrap of writing I committed to notepad or journal between the ages of eleven and eighteen. Nothing survived. I could stomach my old angst, angry diatribes and poetry horror shows just fine, but the idea that someone *else* would read them? Terrifying. So I amputated that part of my life and put the year books in permanent storage. Bye-bye 1988 – 1992!

Thankfully, not everyone did that. Thankfully, many held onto their written treasures and are now willing to share their mortification gleefully and publicly online and as performance art.

Last night I attended a Mortified (http://www.getmortified.com) event in celebration of a friend’s birthday. She still has all of her old journals and knows someone who kept all of her old Wil Wheaton fan fiction stories from when Star Trek: The Next Generation was on the air.

After seeing Mortified, I wish I could have all of that old writing of mine back, even the three page essay I wrote, complete with pictures, about being in love with Edward Scissorhands.

Mortified is a celebration. Years after the fact, popular kid and nerd come together to share battle scars by reading aloud from old masterpieces: A privileged teen lamenting her trip to Paris and complaining about her “bitch” housekeeper while signing off multiple times with, “I have to pee. [heart], Lara!” An intelligent girl with God and sex on the brain, who addressed all of her entries, “Dear Jesus…” The naval cadet unable to get an erection during his first encounter with a prostitute because “I watched as she stood up to pee in a bucket, and then wiped the WRONG way, back to front!” The nerdy screwed up intellectual type who preferred damaged girls because they were worse off than him, “I spoke [x] in the library. She told me she was molested. I. Am. In. Love.” And so on. The autobiographies of our adolescence = the best stand up comedy out there. Our trials were different but we all went through it and survivied.

And, in a similar vein, here is YOUNGME – NOWME (http://colorwar2008.com/submissions/youngnow). Hee-hee.

[Kevy Baby]

Love the concept. If I allowed myself to have a life, it would be something I would love to check out.

[Alex]

I'm always amazed at how many people have evidence of their childhood. It isn't that I intentionally hid or destroyed it, I just don't seem to have ever produced any artifacts. I never journaled. I never purchased high school year books. I didn't letter in any sports. I didn't write for the school newspaper. There isn't an email archive or old message board posts (for obvious reasons of them barely existing at the time). Other than family I am not in contact with a single person I knew before moving to California in 1998 after grad school.


And it is kind of sad at times. I actually enjoyed my teen years. School was not a drama. I got along with the nerds, the dweebs, the athletes, and the popular kids without ever really being at the core of any of them. Motorheads were about the only ones I could never find any point of commonality with. So I'd be interested to have more than just my memory of those times to see if I'd be embarrassed in hindsight.

[Not Afraid]

I never wrote or journaled and my memory is, at best, flawed. However, every once in a while I find out something about myself from a friend. The events told in these tales are usually raunchy and naughty. Sometimes I wish I was a fly on the wall with a tape recorder viewing my teen years and committing them to memory. Most of the time, I'm glad I don't remember.

[€uroMeinke]

I think I may have started journaling at 16, but I didn't start in earnest till I was 18. Almost makes me want to wander out to the garage and see what I might find...

Or make sure they are lost forever

[alphabassettgrrl]

I journaled, of sorts, though I don't know where those are. I'm sure I still have them somewhere. Kind of took the heart out of it when I caught my mother reading it.

My friend in high school a couple years ago found the notebook we passed back and forth, writing conversations in it. I'm not sure what we wrote. I'll have to have a look at it next time I'm home. She's the only one from my high school years that I still contact, other than my (small) family.

One of my teachers told me it was sad that I don't remember much of my childhood. There just wasn't that much to remember. Mom stayed home with us until my younger brother got in school; she went back to school to get her degree and she took a job to pay for it. I played sports with the neighborhood boys. I don't remember being ravaged by puberty. Mostly I thought for years I was damaged, asexual. That there was something wrong with me. I had a crush on a boy, mostly I think to cover the fact that I didn't really want a boyfriend. I had a boyfriend in high school but he was safely at another school and didn't get in my way much.

My childhood was pretty boring. Hardly worth remembering I think. I'm not sure I'd want to share details with others though, at least on a wholesale basis. Individually maybe.

[blueerica]

I have some stuff from when I was younger, but I'll have to investigate next month, when I go back to Cali. I also have a few pictures that I think would be fun to recreate.

Interesting concept, indeed.

[Stan4dSteph]

I think my scrapbook still exists at my parent's house. That would probably qualify. I clipped pictures out of entertainment magazines. I never journaled so there's not a whole lot of my writing that's personal.

[katiesue]

I've got tons of stuff. Letters, school papers, photos, clippings. I use mine to mortify my friends. Kidding. I did actually put together an ipod for my best friend for her 40th. I put on all our music and scaned in tons of old photos from pre-school on.

[Morrigoon]

I never really journaled as a kid. Tried a couple times but just couldn't get into it. I think it's because I can't really write just for myself. It's only the concept of having an audience who wasn't there, and relating the days events or thoughts to that audience, that allows me the mental freedom of rehashing things in print.

Which isn't to say that I haven't occasionally LJ'd and set it to private, but even those entries were written with an audience in mind before I thought better of it. More often than not, though, I'll just delete it if there's no audience for it.

Which is to say, I have no journals from that time of my life. Plenty of purple cows, but no journals.

Just as well... I don't think I'd enjoy reading my thoughts from that time period, as they probably bordered on morose and would only bring up things that could still make me feel bad today.

[BarTopDancer]

All journals and diaries from my childhood up until age 22 or so went up in smoke. That's right, I burned them.

[Morrigoon]

But what memories you have! (Of the burning, I mean. I've never done anything so wild as to burn stuff that wasn't intended as kindling)

[Cadaverous Pallor]

I only journaled a little bit in Jr High and it's not very interesting stuff. At the time I wasn't very good at getting my feelings out, and instead of writing about how I wanted to kill myself, I just mentioned what movie I had watched.

In high school I wrote some bad poetry, but mostly it was about note passing, which was a habitual daily occurence. Ignore Geometry and write a lengthy note instead, decorate with doodles and song lyrics when the stream of consciousness hits a wall, fold it in a complicated fashion, meet so-and-so at the corner of the 400 building on the way way to 5th period and pass off. Every. Day. In 1993 that was the way to social network, at least in my neighborhood.

I've always felt annoyed that my best conversations over the phone weren't recorded for posterity.I adored that the passed notes were captured on paper, and I saved them. Each and every note anyone ever gave me in high school, I saved. Swear to God. If I sat next to someone in a class and we passed notes back and forth, I saved it if it seemed somewhat interesting.

My boxes of notes were my most prized posessions. At once point I wrote a will in case of untimely death and made sure to mention that everyone got their notes back. (remember that story?) I think this was actually evidence of hopefullness that someday I'd get my notes back from them.

I had begun to go through these boxes in recent years and scan them in so I can rid myself of the baggage. It's kinda sad to revisit, though. Those relationships, those conversations, they're only good for so long. Now I've forgotten what those inside jokes meant. There are lots of fun surprises in there though. It's only as an adult that I can see the painful sexual tension a male friend of mine felt towards me. Then, I really had no clue. I wasn't that horny in high school.

Most of it really isn't all that interesting, and it makes me sad to think that all these thoughts that I cultivated and saved, that I thought were so valuable, really weren't worth much in the long run. Sure, there are good memories there, and those experiences made me what I am today (read: A Message Board Participant), but I can feel that childhood misconception eroding away. The things we say and do don't matter as much as I thought they did.

I still wish I could read those notes that I wrote...alas, no Sent Box is available when dealing with ruled notebook paper.

On the other hand - I did write an entire journal about the history of a love triangle (square, really) between me and 3 friends in high school. However, I wrote it after I'd already graduated. I thought it would make for good drama - but I couldn't keep the truth out of it, and I sure as hell didn't want to do a tell-all. That's a problem I continue to have when writing longer stories.

[katiesue]

Here's a hint -don't write things in your diary in code. 30ish years later you'll never have any idea what was going on.

[BarTopDancer]

But what memories you have! (Of the burning, I mean. I've never done anything so wild as to burn stuff that wasn't intended as kindling)

Burned journals, burned photos. When I was 16 or so we went to the beach, lit bonfires and burned so much stuff we shouldn't have (clothes, mixed tapes, evidence). The Beach patrol loved us. Not.

[flippyshark]

Oh lordy. I have a whole box of horrible short stories and bad screenplays, torn from the headlines of my own adolescent angst, from this period. (I seem to have thought my life just had to be made into a movie someday. Be very glad that it wasn't!) My brother found them when he was helping my Mom move a couple of years ago. He sent them to me, after gleefully reading and howling at them. I glanced through the material, but couldn't bring myself to read any of it in depth. There is certainly Mortified worthy stuff in there.

[€uroMeinke]

But what memories you have! (Of the burning, I mean. I've never done anything so wild as to burn stuff that wasn't intended as kindling)

When I went off to college I had the distinct pleasure of creating a tombstone effigy out of some scrap lumber. Not having any paint I improvised with household materials and used nail polish to write my name under some Neitzschean inspired epitaph (Behold the Uberman) - ah the surprise and delight when the words themselves caught fire and announced my name in flames - good times.

[€uroMeinke]

Here's a hint -don't write things in your diary in code. 30ish years later you'll never have any idea what was going on.

Hmmm, I'm reminded that somewhere there's a journal I did for class in the junior high era when I was obsessed with Tolkien, I believe it is written in large part in Runes...

[innerSpaceman]

As a boy, I don't think I'm at all unusual in never having journaled during my early teenage years.

I certainly had no urge to purge everything about my adolescence and whatever angst it produced. But there really wasn't much written material.

Starting in my early 20's, there's plenty of writting ... in fits and starts, i.e., whole years or decades missing. Rather than have any urge to destroy ... I've saved a lot of this stuff for perusal in my senior years. I'm sure I would have done the same with earlier writings / self-evidence ... but it simply does not exist.

[lashbear]

I never kept a diary of any kind, I never wrote, except for tales of visiting Disneyland. I would write pages and pages of what I went on, which rides I liked the best, and all in as great a detail as I could achieve, given that I had never visited there in my life.

Strangely enough, my USA diary after my first trip, was uncannily close to what I wrote prior. I still have that, from 1991. I shall put the first day's worth in Open Mic and see what you all think.. It is both mortificational, and enlightening.

[katiesue]

Year isn't dated but it's 6th grade so erm 1977ish

Jan 6h - Went to Becky's and Andy's birthday party. Byron asked me to go with him. We kissed 9 times!

Jan 13th - Got sick at school in Math. Missed Core - yea hoo.

Feb 23 1980 (obviously not the most dilligent diary writer) - Went to Anderson for a tourney - was a total blast.

Feb 24 1980 - Slept in - went bowling and to pizza with (think it says Jan). Went to Jan's to prep for Garage Sale.

Feb 25, 1980 - Went to the airport to look for stuff for garage sale (Janet's parents had a hanger that was storage. We were doing a garage sale to earn money for a trip to Washington DC)



Feb 26, 1980 - Cleaned house. Got junk for sale.

Feb 27, 1980 - Papers (can't read other word). Went to Airport and over to Dales. Played with Andy.

Feb 28, 1980 - Went to JB's after school. Then to Airport. Had chicken for dinner at (can't read).

March 4 (no year) Went to 4H judging day. Then went to see the Danish gym team. I saw a boy named Thomas. I think I love him.

March 23, 1979 - Went to a dance at school. Had a blast. Spent night at Jans.

March 24 (assume 79) - Went to Reno and played Raquetball.

March 25, 1979 - Went horseback riding. Penny (my horse) tried to buck me off three times. She really bugs me.

March 26, 1979 - School was ok. I went to Sewing meeting. Then watched Captain & Tennielle (sp??) and went to bed.

May 7, 1980 - Constitution test -ugh.

May 8, 1980 - Bike rodeo. Won first in trike race. Was ok day.

May 10, 1980 - Orthodontial clinic - need braces.

May 12, 1980 - Called Curt to send me a plane.

May 14, 1980 - Had Jobies (Jobs Daughters). Worked on annual. Anne (sister) had game.

May 15, 1980 - Worked on annual after school. (something) team. Plane contest rubberband 1st.

May 16, 1980 - Got out of all my classes working on Annual. Went (something) typed letters to Caudie (my grandma) Susie & Curt.

May 29 - Went to put flowers on the graves. Becky W. came over. We played for 2 hours.

Sept 29 - Caudie came today - she's a drag.

Sept 30 - Went to soccer and Cheri's wedding it was fun.

Oct 1 - Caudie's still here. She got me a Grease record for my birthday. Went to (something)

Oct 2 - Back to school again. Wasn't much fun but I guess that's allright.

Oct 3- Today's by BD. Made a cake, many (something) come over. My cake had (something) on it.

Oct 4 - School's ok. Everybody asks me who I like but I don't really know who I like (something).

Oct 5 - Today was a (somthing that starts with R) day. Staci's going with Richard. Cheri's going with Dean.

Oct 6 - School's ok. Staci wants to break up with Rich but doesn't have the guts.

Oct 9- Today I didn't do much. Painted part of the clothes line. Got a tan.

Oct 14, 1980 - Just (something) in Bio. Had ok day. Am playing football in PE.
Oct 15, 1980 - Picked teams for PE. On all frosh team. Study for tests (something).

Dec 15 - Had dance didn't dance once. Caudie and Lisa (cousin) came - ugh.

Dec 16 - I am mad at mom - she's a f***er.

Dec 17 - It snowed today. Painted Windows.

Dec 18 - played in snow. Lisa went home.

Dec 20 - Campfire meeting at Scuffy's. Had snowball fight.

Dec 21 - Today is boring.

[katiesue]

http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y217/kathyteater/katharlington.jpg

Photo from back in the day.

[Prudence]

I try my best to not remember anything from about years 10-18. If I had journals from that time, I wouldn't read them. I wouldn't burn them either - as I refuse to acknowledge that period of my life even existed.

[Kevy Baby]

Year isn't dated but it's 6th grade so erm 1977ish

Jan 6h - Went to Becky's and Andy's birthday party. Byron asked me to go with him. We kissed 9 times!Ho!

[blueerica]

I've always felt annoyed that my best conversations over the phone weren't recorded for posterity.I adored that the passed notes were captured on paper, and I saved them. Each and every note anyone ever gave me in high school, I saved. Swear to God. If I sat next to someone in a class and we passed notes back and forth, I saved it if it seemed somewhat interesting.

I felt that way about some conversations, never kept passed notes, and I'm glad they're left in my mind so that they can survive the passage of time and maturity. I still think they were pretty cool. I was fortunate enough to have friends that were into philosophy, the discussion of religion and politics, art, music, travel - at least the travel we dreamed of doing.

Too bad there wasn't a hidden camera set up in the coffee shop we hung out in. I remember being the only group in there. Coffee shops were a relatively new thing in the middle of nowhere in the 90s.

I thought it would make for good drama - but I couldn't keep the truth out of it, and I sure as hell didn't want to do a tell-all. That's a problem I continue to have when writing longer stories.

I find that to be true for myself - longer stores becoming semi-autobiographical. I try to veer away, but unless it's very far removed from my own reality, there's always a grain of myself in what I write - even a few short stories. Though I haven't looked back on it in a while, I am certain that there's much in the Inspiration thread(s) that came from my own experiences.

Burned journals, burned photos. When I was 16 or so we went to the beach, lit bonfires and burned so much stuff we shouldn't have (clothes, mixed tapes, evidence). The Beach patrol loved us. Not.


I remember a photo burning or two in my time with you. Looking back on it now - even though it wasn't my own stuff, knowing someone else was liberating herself from the past was liberating to me. I'll never forget it.

[katiesue]

Ho!

I know. I thought it was only 6 times but 9. Very slutty for one's first kiss/boyfriend.

[Not Afraid]

OMG KS! I LOVE your journal entries.

Painted part of the clothes line.

I am mad at mom - she's a f***er.

Today is boring.

I laughed through the entire reading then decided this needed to be put to music. maybe David Byrne and Brian Eno are available.