Ah Bugger

The vapid utterings of a neurotic mind.

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Location: DC, United States

I ain't too proud to bug.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Age 12

Ah, first year of junior high school. I don't really remember much specifically about it. I thought having my own locker was pretty damn awesome. My friend Eunice was a forward looking crusher in having a poster of Kelly Slater in her locker. Most people did not realize he was hot until recently. I think I had posters of Cyndi Lauper or something in that vein...
One thing that is vital to know about me from this time in my life is that 7th grade was the beginning of my personal responsibility of my hair. Until then, my mother brushed and braided my hair every single day before I headed off to elementary school.
I was born and lived in Germany until I was close to six, and my mother had some pretty firm ideas about how a young lady should look. Yeah, I heard it all. "Hey, Pippi Longstockings." or they would grab my hair and pretend I was a pony.
So, I was in charge of brushing my hair. My hair was really long and it was a big pain in the butt to brush it, so instead I ran a brush over it to put it into a pony tail at the base of my neck. I also had some super stylin' feathered bangs that I estimate I used an entire container of hairspray on every morning. After a while, the hair at the base of my neck grew into a massive rats nest. A friend spent the night one night and using an entire bottle of detangler, worked a brush through my hair properly. After that, I think I cut my hair. Too damn hard to take care of all that!
Check out the attempt at makeup application in my 7th grade photo. I had some purple eyeshadow and after having applied it one time, my sister remarked to me how similar I was to a panda bear. I loved this red outfit. I got it at Kids R Us. My teeth are HUGE! I used to ask the dentist to file them down. He told me I would grow into them, and I suppose I did. My hair isn't short, it is in the infamous rat's nest ponytail. Enjoy!

Age 13

As you can probably tell, I went rummaging through my mum's old photos. I found a stack and hence the random biographical photo essay.
Since you've met my folks and one of their (the most important one, obviously) creations, I decided to start at age thirteen and go backwards. Mostly, because I have been talking soo much about that age and my desire to be it again. I am a LIAR! I was some serious unfortunate at 13. (Though age 12 was worse. We'll get to that later.)
Some things I recall about myself at age 13. Banana clips, a math teacher who h.a.t.e.d me. I was probably the shortest kid in my class. I had a boyfriend named Scott who had brown hair and blue eyes. We made out by his locker and I felt cooool! I had a core of friends with whom I hung out at Godfather's pizza after school and played Super Mario Brothers at People's Drug. I was damn good at that game. Could play for half an hour on a single quarter.
I was in a confirmation class at my church where I was woefully uncool until the girls took me aside and showed me how to feather my hair and look like a fluffy lion. I greeted my mother at the airport with this delight of a hairstyle and she almost passed out.
My best friend was Kristy was a year under me (and a foot taller. WTF?). She was cool and pretty and taught me how to shave my legs. We traded clothes and makeup, blue makeup. She was the pioneer of the art of practicing kissing pillows, doorknobs, and your own hand. One night I spent the night at her house. (We were practically inseparable.) Kristy had a waterbed and one night I woke up all wet. She was sound asleep. I still question that heavily. Who leaked?
Our group of friends played a lot of spin the bottle that year. I had a friend named Lori (I think her name was Lori) who was my age, but looked a lot older than me. She was also much more socially advanced than I was. (Am?!? Ha!) I tried to have a nice 14th birthday party, but no one came. (Sad, I know.) So Kristy called her boyfriend who arrived with his older brother. The five of us hung out in my parents rec room. After a little while Kristy and her boyfriend were making out and so were Lori and the older brother. That's right. Happy freakin' Birthday to me. This was typical. Poor little Bug.
That was age 13.
So I present to you, with a ton of embarrassment, my 8th grade photo. I actually looked like this. Yikes. Check out the sweet sweatshirt with the multi-colored handprints. The necklace is a penny that had been shot through with a bb gun. I wore it on a chain forever. I wonder if I still have it? The hair is a perm that was brushed through and the feathered side thingies met in the back of my head to create a butt. Hottie!

Friday, September 02, 2005

They made me..

Thursday, September 01, 2005

My folks

Many years ago, one of the laughing boys on the left met the cute girl on the right and so began the saga of BUG.

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Fight fair.

I was listening to the radio this morning. They were all up in arms about an anti-porn crusader who apparently said that the "shock-jock" (I like to listen to) is the reason that young girls are being raped and murdered.
Penny Nance's theory is that depravity (obviously, I am paraphrasing here) leads to depravity. In essence, she believes that people will hear the DJs talking about sexual situations and will then go off and use the information gleaned from the radio to perform their own horrifying procedures.

My take:
I do believe that people get ideas from things they see or hear. But I also recognize that most people have a meter in them that bars them from committing violent acts against other people. I think the ones that are influenced are people who are predisposed to cruelty against others. Just maybe they would not get as many ideas, were they not to see or hear them from others?
I also feel that Ms. Nance's desire to put the bible into everything is going to be her downfall. A totalitarian view on a specific religion to govern our society will never be met with favor. Is it not the zealots who are the most frightening of all? Their belief in their faith (and I am not pointing my finger at any one specific faith) gives the believer some self deigned right to trample over anyone else's values. This is frightening to me. We all have read about the Crusades, and the Taliban and other religious fanatics, and the havoc wrought. I am not trying to indicate that Ms. Nance is as intense as previously mentioned religious extremists, but I have to say that it is just as dangerous to attempt to force your beliefs onto someone else as it is to glorify violence. One begets the other.
I wish that there was less violence in entertainment. I wish that corruption and immorality were not glorified. I believe that we would respond to goodness in shows and movies. I think we have kind of resigned ourselves to the current of mass media and it's a shame. I also like that there are people out there willing to fight to bring some sense of humanity into the things we see everyday. I just wish they would do it for us, as opposed to hiding behind the bible. It's a valid fight. Now fight it right.

Monday, August 29, 2005

Thanks for lending me an eye.

Okay, so yesterday I was a 13 year old and today I feel prepared to handle anything. Weird huh? You people who don't know me, or even the ones who do must think I am so schizophrenic. (Manic-depressive? How many terms from the DSM-IV can I toss at ya?)
I guess I usually write when I feel something strongly. There are certain parts of my life that I am not ever going to write about completely and yet others where I feel like I can totally pour my heart out.
I know that I talk too much and I over-analyze everything. (Ever notice that anal is part of analyze. I am totally anal, too. (Check that. I am neurotic.) So I try to use this as my outlet in order to save the sanity of the poor folk around me who have to actually hear me speak to them.
I like to analyze things. I like to try to understand things. I love discussing things, but I get fired up and people tend to take that personally. I am trying to tone it down. Maybe I would have a been a good politician. But I don't think I would have enjoyed it. Ah, maybe an attorney? But I don't think I am scary enough.
I am terrified of misrepresenting myself, but honestly I don't believe myself to be a bad person. I am working on my defensiveness and my ability to attack people on issues. (I don't mean to, like I said, I get fired up.)
My friends are good people. That must mean that I'm not so bad.

Hello, my name is Buggie.

This might just be the purest picture of me. (Not the best.. Marci got that one on her phone this morning. Ha!)

But truly, does it not show my feisty nature? My delightful sense of humor? My ability to laugh through pain? My sexy middle finger? (Sorry, Mommy.)

This is me.

I get it!

Marci and I went to the Nationals game on Friday and afterwards went downtown to celebrate their win against the Cardinals who happen to have a Pujols on their team which may just be the funniest name in baseball. (See Marci's poll.)

Sunday, August 28, 2005

30, going on 13

A few years ago, I was the saddest girl and my mother took me from my sorrows on a trip away from my life. We went out of town and my mother became my protector and caretaker. We went to see "13 Going on 30". It was completely how I was feeling. This absolute desire to go back to being a child. To let my mother take care of me. And I was hurting the way a 13 year old hurts.
That was a rough time. Being 13, I mean. You don't know who you are, where you stand, what kind of person you are going to be. That is exactly how I felt when we went to see that movie. Alas, I can't go back and get a "redo".
I just watched that movie again. And I feel that way again. Like a lost 13 year old. I can't quite seem to figure myself out. I thought I had everything I wanted and now I just want to have my mommy wrap her arms around me while I cry into her shoulder. And I want her to pat my hair and tell me it will all be okay.
This whole life thing is so scary. I'm tired of making choices and hurting people, and being hurt by people. I am so terrified that all I am making is foolish mistakes. What if everything I am doing is wrong? What if everything I ever loved is a big lie? What if I am just impossible to love?
I feel like I am trying to do things right. I feel like I am a nice person, somewhere under all this. I am trying to set up my life to be a good one and to help other people, but am I wishy-washy? Am I just coasting my life away?
I am 13 again. Lost, confused and feeling really small.