Because of my mid-life crisis fitness quest, I’ve really tried to avoid sweets as much as possible. But desserts are my greatest weakness. If I’m not totally in control, I so easily fall for a piece of cake, a cookie, a brownie, or candy. Sometimes I just have a sweet-attack and scrounge for anything sweet I can find around the house. Usually we don’t have much sweet stuff in the cupboards and pantry, or else Wifegrit keeps them well hidden. A few days ago I was in one of my sweet tizzies and looking around for some kind of sweet, and I found the mother load hidden at the top and back of the pantry.

I pulled everything out and set it on the kitchen table. What the hell? Do you think my wife is trying to sabotage my diet?

Her response: “But it was all on really good sales.”

I ended up baking a batch of cookies. She saved me from worse damage by taking the other packages away and hiding them, (I suspect at her mother’s house).

Bullgrit

So I found a section of a journal I had to write for my 11th grade English class — 1983-1984, 16 years old. This is eight pages torn from a spiral notebook, with each entry written in pencil. Here’s the transcription, including poor grammar and spelling and all…

Sept. 7.  So far school has been great. So my day was too.

Sept. 8.  Things have gotten better. I’m beginning to talk to people more and I don’t feel like a stranger.

I don’t remember why I would feel like a stranger in 11th grade. I attended the same high school 9th through 12th grades. So that entry confuses me.

Sept. 9.  I’m having great fun. Today is Friday but I wish we still had a few more days at school before the weekend.

Sept. 12. School is still great. It seems people think that this girl I’ve been talking to is my girlfriend. But their wrong. I have no girlfriend and won’t none.

I know who this girl is because her name is at the top of the notebook page where I wrote a note to her saying, “Cammy, Please don’t read this.” I remember Cammy.

Sept. 13. Well nothing much has changed. I’m still having fun.

Sept. 14. Its been about the same today.

Sept. 15. Its been a wild day. This girl I’ve been talking to has all-of-a-sudden gotten lots of enemies.

Sept. 16. Nothing much has changed, still having a good ole time.

Sept. 20. This has been a tiring day.

Sept. 21. This has been a great day. Everything has been going my way. I found out something that everyone though I wasn’t but I am.

It seems that my junior high school year started off really good. I don’t remember why every day was great, fun, wild, or tiring. And I don’t remember what the Sept. 21 entry meant. The vagueness of that one short sentence intrigues me.

Skipping ahead a few entries, I find that some things about male-female relationships are pretty much constant.

Oct. 5.  Today has been pretty good. But a girl is mad as fire at me and I don’t know why. She want speak to me or let me know what she’s mad about. So I’ll just let her be mad. If she won’t talk to me theres nothing I can do to straiten what ever it is out.

Here and there through the pages of this journal, my teacher wrote short, one- or two-word notes in red pen. At the end of the above entry, she wrote, “Right”. It’s good to know your English teacher has your back in your adolescent relationships.

Oct. 10. Today has been hectic <- is that the correct spelling? Not much has happened today, its just that I haven’t had enough sleep. I went to the Street-A-Fair yesterday and a channel 12 camera man filmed us for a while. So I stayed up till 11:00 to see if I was on T.V. Unfortunately I wasn’t.

I actually remember this situation. The Street-A-Fair was, (is? I don’t know if it still happens), a sort of fall festival in the downtown of my hometown with food and music and various demonstrations by local businesses and performers. I was there on a date with a girl and her friend. I remember seeing the TV camera, and I remember it was trained on us for a good amount of time. But, sadly, when the local news that night showed footage of the street activities, we weren’t shown.

There’s much more in these journal pages, and maybe I’ll show more of my young days later.

Bullgrit

I have an appointment with an ophthalmologist next week. My vision has deteriorated to the point that simple off-the-rack reading glasses — which I have four or five pair around — just don’t fix my vision. My astigmatism is enough now that just magnifying words on a page or screen isn’t enough. So this time I think I’ll have to get prescription lenses with actual correction, (“medicine”), in them. I’m still struggling with the whole eyeglasses thing, but as my job is all about reading, all day long, I have to suck it up and do this fully.

For a look back on my vision and eyeglasses evolution, I offer these old blog posts:

The First Thing to Go  – December 2007

Accepting Eyeglasses – July 2008

Buying Glasses – September 2008

Buying Eyeglasses – February 2011

Bullgrit

A discussion on a message board elsewhere reminded me of this Best of the Blog adventure.

I went to visit a girl friend one evening and found her hanging out with two other friends, (two sisters). They were getting ready to head out for a night of clubbing, and they invited me to go with. I, of course, said, “Sure.”

As we were walking out of my friend’s house, they warned me:

“It’s a gay and lesbian club,” my friend explained.

When I was younger, I often had gay guys hit on me in one way or another, in normal, every-day situations. The first couple of times it happened, it bothered me. But then I realized it was a compliment and I easily and politely just explained I’m not gay. No muss, no fuss, no embarrassment for anyone. I wasn’t effeminate or anything, but I was thin, single, and neat.

It happened enough times in my 20s that by the time I grew out of the “look,” brushing off the mistake was almost a habit — I once said, “I’m not gay,” to a guy who wasn’t either but was just making small talk to pass the time standing in line.

Fortunately, apparently no woman ever thought I was gay, so setting off men’s “gaydar” didn’t seem to interfere with women’s perceptions.

Sort of related: While cleaning out some old stuff, I came across some old notebooks from my high school days. In one was a daily journal I had to keep as part of English class homework. Reading the journal is cracking me up. For instance:

Sept 12: School is still great. It seems people think that this girl I’ve been talking to is my girlfriend. But their [sic] wrong. I have no girlfriend and won’t [sic] none.

That was from my junior year, and I was 16 years old. Oh the ignorance from inexperience. It wouldn’t take long or much to get me to change my tune about girlfriends.

Bullgrit