Teenage years
Ready, Set.....
I was late to the party of self-confidence. You see, being bullied by my peers from primary school onwards, wore away at my ability to understand my worth. I was told I was talented; a very artistic person. Gregarious, verbose and gifted at many things. This was all fine and good, but the blinds were down and dark clouds filled my brain. Negative self-talk consumed me.
By Kate Ashforth5 years ago in Confessions
Tales of Bette: The All-Night Graduation Party. Raymond and Company
Bette On It: Weird Adolescence. June 1, 2004. Excerpts... Bette took some time to walk around the event center to find other people to sign her yearbook and talk about old times. A guy named Raymond told her that her Lady Marmalade dances at prom were a total turn on, and he grunted and put his hand on his crotch. They had flirted once or twice in physical science class freshman year, but she couldn't believe he was telling her this. She told him to call her, but the look on his face was total shock when she was sincere. He was joking around, she wasn't. The politics of high school didn't matter anymore, she didn't care what people thought. She was single. He was a blond, auto shop, farm boy-type; totally different than anyone she had been interested in before. She wasn't even sure if she was interested, but why not give someone new a chance? It was more of a chance than most guys had given her. She wrote her phone number in his yearbook, applied a layer of lipstick, and put a kiss print next to it. It was another What the fuck am I doing?! moment, but when she walked away, she could feel her face turn red. Ray's buddies with him made lewd comment about getting 'two hands full' and his 'wick dipped,' and she heard all of it. She found Skye and Terry and told them about what had just happened with Raymond. Skye told her she had heard that Ray likes to 'take care of his ladies' but make sure to make him wear a condom. Bette said that anyone who wants in her Wheelhouse is required to have Rubbermaid tires.
By Tinka Boudit She/Her5 years ago in Confessions
Tales of Bette: Ozzy's perspective, After midnight January 1, 2000
Bette On It: Weird Adolescence. 8th Grade 1999-2000. An excerpt... Midnight came and went and Ozzy and Vanessa didn't even kiss when the ball dropped. Vanessa offered to give Bette a ride, but she didn't want one, she wanted to walk again. Tylor had already crashed, and Greyson grazed on popcorn and consulted a Magic 8-Ball with various questions. Ozzy saw Bette to the door.
By Tinka Boudit She/Her5 years ago in Confessions
How I Became a K-poper
It was summer 2008, I was only a 19 years old clueless second year student of an university. I was in the car of Aru, one of my besties back in the university days, there were also with us, Aderu, Shanshan, Myonk, and Mermer, we were singing along of Big Bang's song titles "Lies", crumpled in Aru's tiny 2007 car. That was how, I became indulged in kpop, that was how, I became the die hard fan of Big Bang (even though now I no longer their fan anymore).
By Ratri Kelana5 years ago in Confessions
Hair Comes Trouble
I’ve always been obsessed with changing my hair. I'm never happy with it for long. I’ve always felt my hair has been what helps define me. I look at it as a reflection of my personality. I’ve changed colours numerous times and I’m patiently waiting for the opportunity to go to the salon for the first time to have it properly coloured to red and pink. I’ve never really been bothered about the length of my hair though. When I was growing up, I had the bowl cut bob and all throughout my teen years, I was constantly changing it from long to shoulder length. I had always had my mum’s friend, who was a mobile hairdresser, come to the house and cut my hair the correct way. That was until one day I decided to act on an impulsive decision to try and cut my hair myself.
By YesItsMocha5 years ago in Confessions
My High School Poetry
Okay, so funny story actually. I was really terrible at poetry in my freshman year of high school -no surprise there- I cringe every time I find one of my pieces tucked away in a drawer. Unfortunately, I had no impulse control, so during my writing class, poetry was practically all that I turned in. My teacher, lets call her Mrs. S, she didn’t have any exposure to my writing since then.
By Anna Miller5 years ago in Confessions
Music saved my Emo life
Going through all these songs for this challenge was tough. Some were hard to listen to, but also comforting. If you want an immersive experience, and to feel sad and maybe nostalgic (if you know any of these), you can find the playlist here:
By Lauren Dee5 years ago in Confessions
The Many Faces of Me
What an unforeseen moment of serendipity it was stumbling across this challenge so soon after reliving my own teen music experience with a close friend of mine. Just recently while wandering the well-worn track of our weekly walks, my best friend and I issued each other a challenge. We were to each put together our own playlist, filled to the brim with songs from our teenage years so that on our next walk we would be able to share and compare. For every song, we would detail how we came across it and why it resonated with us so heavily during our teenage years. Given our little friendly challenge, I’m sure you can understand why this Vocal prompt came as a pleasant, though somewhat unexpected and surreal surprise.
By Bree Beadman5 years ago in Confessions
How I Overcame "Middle Child Syndrome"
It’s true what they say about being a “middle child”. We’re overshadowed by the strong will our older siblings sustain, and are dulled by the light the “baby” of the family radiates. In my situation; my older sister was the star of any sport she played- running with the popular crowd, and confidently guiding herself through upcoming adulthood. Being only 15 months apart in age, and with her birthday being late in the year- we ended up in the same grade throughout school. Which made me less of my own person, and more of “(sister’s name) sister”.
By Kennedy Brown5 years ago in Confessions
Misunderstood
Let’s be honest, “you don’t know what it’s like to be like me,” and I am most definitely “stronger than yesterday.” This is sort of a “story of a girl who cried a river” but the only thing she drowned were her sorrows on a tear-stained pillowcase. I seemed to forget that “big girls don’t cry” when the tears were always bubbling just below the surface, waiting for the next rejection from a crush or spite from a best friend. Man, “why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?”
By Trish Felecos5 years ago in Confessions
Raising a Worker
I loved playing football. Hitting other men that are obstacles in my way. There is only one thing in my sites. Sacking that quarterback. Just thinking about it makes the hair on my arms stand on its ends. I can think about those moment before the count. All of us heavy breathing, anticipating the snap, before all hell let’s lose. God, I loved it. It’s too bad I didn’t get to play very much. I sometimes wonder what would have or could have been.
By Bastion Whittingfield5 years ago in Confessions
