Report

July 5th, 2002

I’ve been reading through my old reports, because Mum found an envelope of them, and it’s extraordinary the story that they tell; at the American school I started out really smart and full of enthusiasm and blasting my way out of the remedial writing class they stuck me in thinking that I was a ‘dumb Australian’, and then as I got into seventh grade, comments read like “Joanna does not participate as much in class as she used to” and my marks start falling and there’s even “I believe underlying problems may be affecting her results”. Oh really? Underlying problems like ooooooh maybe I was being bullied every day, and I was fucking miserable and I wanted to die? Do you think that might have affected my marks. FUCK YOU to every single fucking teacher at ASIJ. Just looking at the reports, it’s so fucking obvious what was happening to me, and what the fuck did they do about it? Nothing. And my mother just now is like “Should we have taken you to a shrink so that you could realyl have fit in with those Americans?” Well, yes, maybe, Mum. Or maybe you could have spent at least one day in those four years not telling me how miserable you were, and tried to make things a little easier for me. This is so pathetic of me; this stuff was like, ten years ago, and it’s making me cry right now. I’m okay, I survived it all – thank god for Beth Dodd arriving at ASIJ in 8th grade, and for Lisa Gonser and Ryan Rimschnider leaving at the end of 7th grade.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.

Last night, I went around to Fatty Si’s house. We went adn got coffee at Midnight Espresson, and then rented DVDs – Zoolander and Nurse Betty. We chatted and hung out and stuff. It was cool. He said that a long long time ago, his girlfriend at the time, Heidi, used to worry about me before she met me, cos he talked about me a lot, but then she met me and thought I was super cool and loved me. As soon as you actually meet me, you realise that there’s no way I could take your boyfriend away from you, even if I wanted to, which I don’t, ever. Ladies, I am not a threat to your man! Statistically speaking, I am far more likely to score your girlfriend. I’ve only slept with one guy who had a girlfriend, and she was far too good for him anyways (as was I, which is probably one of the main motivating factors for me to do it, since it was in the six months I spent last year trying to reach rock bottom). On the drive home, through the wilderness of Wilton, I suddenly started feeling very lonely. It was a little odd.

Now I am sitting in the very warm lounge listening to the Topless Women Talk About Their Lives soundtrack (I love this album so much, although the current association i have with it is of a sweet boy’s white bum shining in the dark as he bent over to put it on at my request), and thinking about doing some writign that i told someone I’d do for them, which I wish I hadn’t. I’m too nice, I think. But my word is my word and I hate to let people down. Maybe I’ll work on it tonight when I come home leeringly drunk from “a quiet dinner” with KateB. We’ll go BYO, drink two bottles’o wine and see where the night takes us. I get to see my baby girl again, YAY. Then I just have to spend lots’o time with Karen, Anji, go visit Oma, see Fatty again, see Hulita, adn maybe call the Rimu Crew (Bopha’s old flat). It’s probably just as well that the Welly Massive doesn’t really seem to exist anymore – Ayna’s on holiday in Indonesia and Daniel moved to Korea to teach English, cos i probably don’t have the time and energy to take e and go out dancing for hours and hours and hours.

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