Liza on LGBT YA lit and romantic tragicomedies.

Dear(est) Diary,

Today, in between various standardized tests, I started The Miseducation of Cameron Post, by Emily M. Danforth.  It's beautifully written--sort of Big Girl Small (Rachel DeWoskin)'s Judy Lohden  infused with a little of how John Green portrays teenagedom and some of Prep (Curtis Sittenfeld)'s Lee Fiora.  The fantastic fearlessness of Liza and Annie, from Annie On My Mind (Nancy Garden), is definitely there too, only the stakes are different-- Miseducation is Miles City, Montana, and Annie On My Mind is New York, New York.  I loved these perfectly thought out vibes Ms. Danforth managed to shape--best friends running around a small town, playing extended games of dare, yielding only for popsicles or swimming or cream pie.  Over the years of junior high and early high school, shit becomes more complicated--quietly dealing with her parents sudden deaths, getting involved with a girl from Seattle one summer and starting to come to terms with herself (in a way that's different from the comin' to terms movie montages set to a Blondie song, more real) and joining the youth group at the local Evangelical church.  I was slightly demoralized when, after establishing a relationship with a new student, a beautiful, effortless homecoming-queen-esque cowgirl, Coley Taylor, everything goes downhill.  It's not a dangerous, beautiful, and infinite American YA romance, not one that makes you (me) feel warm and bubbly and inspired when I read it in the car waiting for my brother to be done with soccer practice.  I want to fall in love on the Staten Island Ferry in New York City like Liza and Annie, going back and forth and back and forth, watching the night fall and the city lights come up.  I want to go out for dimly lit Italian meals and come home later than I was supposed to, because that's what YOUTH IS ABOUT, right?  The love that's not cliche enough to be the cheerleader and the head quarterback, not sad enough to be the two outcasts who band together like they do in movies?  It's by no means EASY for Annie and Liza as young, closeted lesbians in the 80s surrounded by disapproval coming from those closest to them--there's a point there where you think they might not get back together, that in the end it was all too much.  But you don't really think that--you know that in the end Liza and Annie will meet up again in New York over winter break, come out or do whatever they feel they have to do.
In The Miseducation of Cameron Post, though, I as an American born n' bred teenager with a secret affinity for all these romantic tragicomedies where you know they'll get back together but WHAT IF THEY DON'T, I felt almost betrayed as Coley denounced Cam and her sexuality, tells their preacher and Cam's aunt, gets Cam sent off to God's Promise, a "facility" for kids who have experienced "unholy desires".  It sounds melodramatic and YA fictiony and like something that has no meaning, something that would never play out in REAL LIFE, but it still fills me with a rush of doom to hear this inspiring, fantastic hero be trapped in this awful damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don't kind of situation, one that makes me feel trapped even though I live in a big city, have a club called Spectrum at my school, parents who I know will support me and love me throughout the choices I make.  I don't know how to conclude this, really, because I don't know whether I have a conclusion.  This book is important.  It sheds light upon so many issues that are still very much present in our society today--no doubt.  But we need Annies and Lizas, too, and we have to hope that there are more and more opportunities for kids to feel as exhuberant as Annie and Liza do that day when they go back and forth on the Staten Island Ferry.  You know?
I was gonna talk about how watching 30 Rock made me feel really empowered, better about m'self, but it's pretty late, I need a warm beverage before I go to sleep, and writing this has strangely helped me feel a lot better.  Hooray for the internet?
Love,
Liza

Cozy At Home Time

Dear Diary,
Having had dinner, done my homework, and settled in for another average night alone in my room, I was faced with a conundrum. I had my pjs on and was already lying down, but I reallyyyy wanted hot chocolate. If you're as lazy as me, this is an utter travesty! I couldn't BELIEVE I've done this to myself. It was a definite face-palm worthy moment, but I PERSEVERED. Once I got my flower covered red and blue hot cocoa mug and added the milk, I decided to find my favorite book to go with it. I'm not one to discriminate against any sort of book, but today I wanted a Special one. So, after a long thought process, (the amount of time it takes milk to boil) I decided on the Outsiders. Don't worry dear reader, I've not strung you out this far just to say, "And then I went back and fell asleep. The end" I think that the outsiders is an Amazing Book because the narrator Ponyboy is just Perfect. He embodies who I wish I was in a lot of ways. He's Part of Something as it were. It never fails to make me cry and I think it fits what I want my entries in this blog journal to BE. It's one of those lovely coming of age, finding your place novels done perfectly. It's not (very) melodramatic either. I think in the scheme of things, I'd end up being a sort of Cherry not a Ponyboy; Just a girl, whining about her comfortable, middle-class life. I've certainly got friends that qualify as Sodapops or Dallys, so there's still hope! and now, I'm off to have a long chat with a good friend.
Lots of Love,
Paytoni

the odd introduction

Dear diary,
 Here's me in a nutshell: You can call me Paytoni, I'm 14 going on 15. I listen to music, keep my grades up, read books, and try desperately to be someone worth talking to. My hair's too big and I'm not pretty enough, but that's just how it works. I have a grand total of 5 moves under my (large) belt and my mom thinks I'm depressed. That may be true, but in the words of the Beatles, "I get by with a little help from my friends!" I have a particular weakness for milkshakes, and a talent for nonsequiter. My room's clean and my mouth is less so. In the scheme of things, I'm really not much. I don't even count as much of a teen yet-14 is pretty much synonymous with "almost 15" but I try my hardest to make an impact. Last year I felt a little more vibrant than this year. I could walk wherever, I could do whatever, and now I'm stuck in a HELLHOLE (not gonna say where) in which I'm constrained once more. Hopefully the location won't make me boring, but that is definitely a possibility that scares me as I have some pretty stiff competition in the "interesting"department.
Valentine's Day has always scared the hell out of me. ALWAYS. It is the truest form of evil teenage spite wrapped up in frilly paper hearts that I've yet to EVER receive. This is including 3rd grade when giving them out to everyone was mandatory. That'll probably be the subject of one of my next few posts, but for now, that's all folks! A little peek inside my head.
Lots of love,
Paytoni

WHO AM I???? Jean Valjean!!!!

Dear Diary,

You know when the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland asks Alice who are you? Well I've been thinking about it. It seems like such an easy question when he says it, like the act of answering one name but it is pretty hard to explain. Sometimes I don't even really know, those are usually the times I find myself cheating on a test or not being able to stand up for a friend. Those are the times when I think and say that I am loyal and truthful but then end up lying to someone or telling them a secret. It's also things like never really being able to figure out what to wear in the morning that complicates the question Who am I? 

Then again I think I may be just complicating things Liza said we should write a little bit about ourselves but I'm pretty sure who I am is a part of that. Maybe I'll just tell you things that shape who I am since I obviously am having problems answering the question directly.

My name is Nikki. N-i-k-k-i, not Nicky, Nicki, Nikky or Nicole, and most definitely not Nicole.

I play basketball and just started acting this summer. In my free time I write poetry and stories that never get finished, but mostly poetry. I also read a hell of a lot, you could say it is one of my favorite things not unlike snow flakes on eye lashes. That brings me to the third thing I like which is musicals.

WOW I never thought I would sound more filling out a profile on eharmonyish than this. I know I'm saying my own work sounds like something of eharmony when I'm supposed to be a confident young women but it is just sooo hillarious. Oh! that brings me to another fun fact about me I laugh at myself and random things way to often. For example when Javer died in the movie version of Les Miserables and his back cracks I guffawed. Also, I started laughing randomly in the hallway by myself when I thought I was hearing moaning noises from the boys bathroom.

I guess that kind of shapes up who I am but as my humanities teacher stated that she will learn more about us through the work we accomplish, you diary, will learn more about me through the things that I write.

Love,

Nikki

Saskia

Dear people (I'm sorry, I can't do the whole dear diary thing....),

Hiya! I'm Saskia (SAS-like sassy or sassafras-KEE-like a key you put in a lock-UH-like UH I have so much math homework to do)

Here's a little about me...

I have two little sisters

I love trees

I love stars and skies

I have a dog, Cleo, two cats, and two fish

I am a vegetarian

I love outside

I love drama

I love animals

I love nature

I love swimming, climbing, running, dancing

I love ramen

I love stuffed animals

I love music

I love trumpet

I love rain, in fact, I dance in it


I love life!

Adventure Time!

Dear Diary,

I feel like there are so many times were I feel like sprinting, running, climbing up a tree and overall having an adventure but daily life stops me. Who creates this system of life and why don't people ever seem to doubt it? everyday going to school, freaking out over a test about quadratic functions. Everyday I continued circle over and over, a life of organization, planning and trying to always be on top of things. No one ever has asked me whether I wanted that life.

When I was young I did not care about grades or money or college all I cared about was getting to school in the morning and hanging out with friends. Most days after school I went outside stole fruit from peoples yards, visited the crazy dog lady, ran around the neighborhood or bought candy from CVS. Of course my grades sucked and I got in trouble a little but I felt adventurous, daring and full of life. 

Ever since seventh grade I've been wanting to have an adventure, wanting it to come and sweep me away instead of me finding it so teachers and parents won't call me irresponsible, idiotic or inconsiderate. Yet nothing ever comes besides the things I make up that keep me up all night. Things that make me scream for someone to check under my bed for monsters because I made myself think the footsteps outside the door were those of a mutation.

One day I'm determined to have an adventure in a distant land were I will become a pirate and battle faeries. Die a noble death and have my last words be may adventure find you at every corner, and someone will write it on a great list of quotes under mine name because they were my death words. Even though some poor girl who lived through adventure books and never had any friends but was brilliant will have said it before. Oh goodness gracious now I've gone and ruined the ending. Eh, well when does life ever have a perfect ending.

Now, to prevent myself from going on an angsty rant about how life sucks I'm going to do my math homework and listen to my Les Miserables soundtrack. Oh my goodness I LOVE MARIUS!!!!! goddammit I'm just a rant machine.

Okay now seriously I have to learn about quadratic functions or whatever its called.

Sincerely,
Nikki

Liza on Valentines Day, being in love, and herself.

Dear Diary,

Teenage love feels super present now that all the stores are switching their merchandise from used Santa Claus costumes to Valentines Day shit.  Last Valentines Day, my friend and I wore all-black, expressed our newfound teen angst to all those who were watching.  My crush gave me a card and I was giddy, which sort of killed the deadpan mood I was hoping to spread to the annoyingly awkward middle school couples surrounding me, and I remember skipping to my locker and singing A TEENAGER IN LOVE to a tune that sounded right, creating the soundtrack to an imaginary movie about me having a crush and being the only one to dance at the 7th grade dance and biking around the neighborhood and making hot chocolate.  Everything felt perfect, black lip gloss smeared across my chapped lips and my mom's heavy black skirt swishing against my thighs.  There's something addictive about crushes, like listening to the same playlist over and over knowing that it'll get you through the day until you get sick of it and it's just this constant thrumming in the background when you craft or do homework or whatever, and it's specialness is kind of gone.  Crushes LAST in a different way, though--thinking about experiences and songs and excitement and nervousness and movies that I associate with certain crushes gives me a rush of nostalgia and longing, like there's always a piece of me that longs for not as much that person but the excitement of admitting to the piece of notebook paper I write angsty poetry on, or later, a friend, while we watch Arrested Development on the floor of her basement, that I'm in LOVE.
I'm Liza, by the way, thirteen almost fourteen, eighth grade, stuffy but prestigious private school, cracked (not a brand or a nail sticker, actually cracked, like in the olden days) nail polish adorned nails, unmade bed, red cheeks, unfinished but satisfying when I wrote them to-do lists dotting my desk, spotify playlists playing as I clean up my room.  There's so much that comes to mind when I introduce myself--through writing especially, because with writing you can choose how you want to be seen--but I'm holding off on jucier labels for the time being. 
I have to go work out now, watch 30 Rock, think about roller derby, and then read about soil in my science textbook.
Love,
Liza