Welcome to a series of stories that basically make up my autobiography. It’s not entirely thorough, but I’ll do the best I can with the memories locked away inside my head. Could be therapeutic for me. Could be humorous for you. Either way, enjoy…

Previously on Life Story… I played baseball. Well, I guess you can call what I did playing. But I really wasn’t very good.

Eighth grade was… well… eighth grade.

The hierarchy of students at Woodrow Wilson was base on the levels of the school. Sixth grade classes and lockers were on the 3rd floor, seventh grade was on 2nd, and the eighth graders met on the coveted first floor. This was convenient because, after two years of climbing treacherous stairs, we could finally take it easy.I don’t remember much about classes that year. A project from Civics class that sticks out in my mind had something to do with learning how to find a job, a place to live, and work out a monthly budget. The jobs were given to us by drawing out of a hat. I don’t remember what job I drew, but I remember the salary was over $50,000 a year. If only I could draw out that job now.

This was the year of the vomit. I know that sounds disgusting, but you weren’t there, you don’t even know. My friend, Justin (whom you’ve read of previously), had a sleepover for his birthday party that year. After gorging ourselves on pizza, we began settling in for the night. Now, one never wants to be the first to fall asleep at a sleepover. You just never know what the other guys are gonna do to you. But I was lying on my sleeping bag when the incident took place. Stephen decided it would be funny to belch in my ear. So he leaned down and let it rip. But he also released a few slightly digested slices of pizza in my face at the same time. Scarred for life.

It was also somewhere around this time that I developed a crush on that other friend I’d known since the first grade, Jessica (whom you’ve also read of previously). I’m not sure exactly what clicked with me in particular that year. I mean, it wasn’t as if I suddenly started noticing girls. I mean, I did, after all, have a girlfriend way back in preschool (whom you’ve read of previously). Yeah, I was quite the ladies man.

This is where I pause the story to let you get the laughter out of your systems.Are we done now? Okay… I decided that I liked Jessica in a more than friends kind of way. She may have playfully kissed me on the forehead at one point. A truly symbolic action that says “You’re just a friend,” but my immature, 8th grade brain interpreted it as “Oh, I want you now.” Probably didn’t help that a bunch of us made it a regular thing to go roller skating every week. Her mom would come and pick us up and we’d all ride together. I seem to recall phoning her one day and, without saying a word, bursting into “You Are My Sunshine” (actually, a depressing song if you read the lyrics to the verses). This slight infatuation lasted well into our freshman year of high school. So, you can see, it was a real serious thing. She just wasn’t that into me.

But I wasn’t bitter. She’s still the only friend from high school that I still keep in touch with on a regular basis.

So, eighth grade ended and I left Woodrow Wilson Middle School behind. I didn’t miss it even a little bit.