#high school memories

[theblogoftimelines]

I made this a while back for my Graphic Design class when I was in high school. MK took a while because we were using Adobe, a program I'm still not used to. Either way, I love how it came out.

[bookmothic-dyke]

My first dnd character…. WAS A TRANS GIRL.

Why did it take me until college to crack. I’m so stupid.

[i-am-trans-gwender]

When I was in high school they at one point blocked search results for the word "Joker" on our computers. To get around this I just looked up "J oker". That one space betwen J and o was all it took.

[thelcsdaily]

A Thankful Heart

Have you ever received praise and gratitude without even recognizing that your small act of kindness had benefited someone else? Throughout high school, I consistently brought my lunch and some peanut butter sandwiches for snacks. I always share my peanut butter sandwich with a classmate. She never raised a protest, so I assumed that either she enjoyed peanut butter or was being polite. Following high school, we lost contact. Years later, she would thank me on Facebook for my kind gesture and the sandwiches that spared her from being hungry. I was taken aback since I never would have guessed that she didn't have enough money to buy herself lunch. I was thankful that in some way I was able to help.

Food brings people together on many different levels. It’s the nourishment of the soul and body: it’s truly love. –Giada De Laurentiis.

[bringbackmaes14]

It's so weird when someone that you knew from high school but are no longer connected with becomes famous/popular because it's like wow they were on national television and performed on a stage in front of hundreds of people and I have a picture of them in a bird costume when they were fifteen saved in my phone memories lol

[lesbianinthesea]

Is it a thing that short people love big instruments because when I was in high school the shortest senior with scoliosis decide to play the bass drum and then with my sister 5 foot nothing join the high school she took over . All you could see tiny legs and little arms sticking out from behind the drum she also has back issues. The drum weighed more than her!

[ryan-trovert]

Culture Crash, a Philippines comic magazine, sparked my interest for comics. It inspired me to start a comics-making group in high school

[mourntomidnight]

All this talk of concern about young men and boys turning Christian makes me think of a kid I knew my senior year of high school (2016) that I talked to briefly about the anime Soul Eater and how to him it looked like a hentai and apparently there were rumors about having hentai on his tablet and then closer to the end of the year suddenly became a “radical Christian” (his words, not mine), and started going off tangents with other boys about “if you lie, you’ll go to hell” and making anti porn statements and stuff like that (it’s been years so I don’t remember all of it). It was a bizarre shift in behavior and I still don’t know what the fuck happened to him that caused that.

My theory is that I think he had Christian parents and he was sort of not a part of that and they caught him watching hentai and then made it out like he had a “porn addiction” (read: porn addiction isn’t real but porn stigma def is and can lead to ppl being secretive about their porn consumption to avoid getting caught) and then idk manipulated him into Christianity. Again this is 100% a theory as I wasn’t a friend of his and I talked to him only once and it was just a weird high school memory of mine.

[i-am-a-megalodon]

My high school English teacher reading the ridiculously florid symbolic bullshit of a review I vomited onto paper at midnight the night before: Wow! You’re so insightful! I love how fascinated with symbolism you are! You’re getting an A for this!

My college creative writing professor seeing me do the same thing: Maybe the peaches are just… peaches?

[frantic-cheesecake]

Man I love small classes. My microbiology class has only 13 students on a day of perfect attendance. I get to have my own microscope for labs.

[starfleet-lol]

now. do i like sylvia plath? no.

however comma, one of my favorite memories involves her. in high school i was on my school’s scholastic bowl team. (this is a sport composed of a ton of nerds sitting around with buzzers getting HEATED over trivia. i am EXCELLENT at it)

it was the final question of the round, it was my first season of in person play, the captain was my dear friend who happens to be the gayest man i’ve ever met.

the question quoted the poem daddy. something about mein kampf idk. he SLAMS his buzzer, and the match was won by a twink yelling daddy damn near at the top of his lungs.

good times

[jaeshoney]

i remember this one time in class, to get out of doing work with this one teacher, we all updated our laptops at the same time and they would not stop until lunch. So we spent like 45 mins doing nothing before going to lunch to chill. fun times

[sunnshineyelllo]

Throwback Thursday, back to a time before babies and boobs 😅😆

My oldest made her debut about a year and a half later. This year, she graduated high school at 16 and earned her high school diploma a year early 🙌💗

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Hey @tomato-kitten

I was gonna DM you but I wanted everyone to see your amazing screen printing work.

Remember this?

[isilrina]

🌙👑 Isilrina - Unveiled 👑🌙

Happy Art Monday! This drawing serves as the second part of the Isilrina diptych, representing the concealed side of myself that remained hidden from the world until last year. "Masking," a coping mechanism prevalent among non-neurotypical individuals, becomes a means of self-protection in an unsupportive environment. Only a select few were privy to this concealed facet until now – trusted individuals with whom I could authentically be myself, free from societal expectations. It resulted in many burn-outs along the years until I finaly decided to put down the mask for good. Now I'm only showing this unveiled side of me when I meet new people so they know what to expect. Because I realized it isn't real friendship if people are only friends with your mask.

It took me a long time to realize that but I think I had to come to terms with not being able to be friend with everyone, before I understood this. And, looking back at it, in the end, it is a relief, because I also realized I had spend so many energy and years of my life trying to fit in other people's idea of friendships that didn't aligned with mine, and I can never get that time back either for myself or for the people I care for. In the end, I'm incredibly thankful for those who embraced and accepted me without judgment during this journey, and for those who helped me recognize and understand my ADHD.

[harrison-abbott]

Semi Autobiographical Story

They told me I needed to go and see the Guidance Officer at 11:15. At that time, I was in maths class – so I had to tell the maths teacher that I had to go. He seemed perplexed. As did I, because I had no clue why I was being pulled out. So I went down the claustrophobic yellow corridors and all the way downstairs and then I knocked on the Guidance Officer’s door. She was a mid-thirties blonde women who gave an air of not knowing what to wear if you saw her at a party, or, had gone into this profession without any desire to teach children and only chose it for the money, or, most importantly, had no training in child psychology, and had no qualification in counselling or any other form of therapy. “Come and sit down, Billy,” she said to me. And then she brought out two bits of paper.

“Did you write this?” I blinked at the story that I had written in English class. I nodded, thinking it was a bizarre question because it had my name written at the top of it. She pulled out a red pen. As in, a marker pen. “What gave you the idea to write this?” she asked me. I told her that I’d written it as an assignment for English class because they wanted us to write a scary story.

“But what made you write this material, Billy?”

“I just made it up. You know … because the teacher asked us to do a spooky piece.”

She sat back in her chair and looked at me. Prickling all over, and when she spoke she used that reprimanding voice that adults do with people who are far younger than them; and I still hadn’t much clue what was happening. Then she said,

“Do you know what happened in Germany earlier this week?”

“No.”

Apparently some German teenage boy had walked into his high school with a gun and had killed several people with it. As she told me all of this – again – I still had no clue why I was here or what this event in Deutschland had to do with me personally. She waffled on for a bit. And then went,

“Well. If something did happen here, we would have to say that we did know about it. So we can’t ignore what you’ve written in this story. Now. Let’s go through it.”

And then she proceeded to mark the 1500-word odd story that I had invented. It was probably less words than that actually, maybe around 900. And it was fairly skimpy writing because I was only 15 years old when I wrote it. I think, if I remember correctly, it was about an alien that comes down to planet Earth, disguised as a human. The alien walks about a suburb, looking like a handsome man. Nobody knows who he is. Though he can speak the neighbour’s language, they find him a bit weird. So they call the police on him because they’re freaked out by his presence. And then when the policemen arrest him, he panics and gets violent and ends up killing one of them. The alien runs away and there’s a manhunt for him – and nobody knows that he’s not a real man.

Honestly, it was about as silly as that. It was just a horror story … I thought that was what they’d told us to do. Make one of those.

But here was this Guidance woman underlining different bits in the story – as if I had made mistakes on an exam – and then asking me why I had included each bit. It was quite baffling. And because I was so young I began to believe that I had done something especially wrong. I thought I was ‘in trouble’, and yet I was confused as to what the crime was.

She then asked me if I read in my spare time? Yes, I said. Then she asked me what I read. Hmm, well, I said, I used to read those Edge Chronicles books, and those Mortal Engines ones, and, umm the Phillip Pullman ones … oh, and I just finished In Cold Blood. And her face changed when I said that and she went, “In Cold Blood?” She then wrote the title down on her notepad.

Altogether the one on one meeting with her was surreal. Befuddled as to how to defend myself, I said at one point, “I’m not insane.” And she said, “I know, Billy. I’m just trying to figure out where these ideas came from. They’re quite offensive.” She finished the meeting by telling me she was going to phone my mother and tell me about this. And she ordered me to go and apologise to the English teacher – who had been shocked by the story – and had been the man that had passed it on to her. It was him that flagged me up for it.

So I was let go for now. With this acute feeling that I was something dangerous and disliked and that the teachers were suddenly afraid of me. In short, I felt like a creep. I got back to maths class and tried to concentrate on the sums. And later on in the afternoon I saw my English teacher. I knew I had to go and say sorry to him and that’s what I did. It was in front of the other schoolkids; and their ears twitched as they listened, or they stared, wondering what I was apologising for. The English teacher was a mousey man from somewhere in England, whom hitherto I had actually been quite friendly with, and we’d even talked about books a few times. And it was quite jarring that he had snitched me out to the Guidance Officer. Was a tough betrayal to know that. “Okay, Billy,” he said, not looking at me, “Okay.” He was obviously keen for me to leave and take the attention away from him. [A few days later I saw him again, somewhere else in the building, and he flatly ignored me, when he obviously knew it was me, and walked past with a nervous expression.]

Yes. The Guidance Officer called my mother about the whole thing. And my mother stuck up for me, because I had written a creative story, and had done nothing wrong. Though I never knew the exact transcript from the phonecall, mother said that the Guidance woman got very irate and said things like, “Can you see the types of things he was writing here!” But, my mother was, quite rightly, on my side. [During the phone call the Guidance lady told my mother that I had read In Cold Blood. Mother said, “So what?”]

The incident did leave me damaged for a long time. Left me with the notion that I was dodgy or that I unnerved people.

There are similar examples from that particular high school which I’ve written about before. Perhaps I was a bit unlucky that I went there. I find it telling that I left high school early – and a couple of years later went to university, instead, where things were far different, and totally flourished there as an academic.

Nowadays I still look on this tale as being a bit odd and unfair. I was not an alien going around a sunny suburb killing people. That was fictional short story. Jesus. But at the same time, it did kinda plant an idea in my fifteen year old head that went, ‘Hey, maybe I could be a writer one day.’ And … there you go.