10 years of blogging later...

Ten years ago, I started this blog. August, 10, 2009. Well, clearly I missed that anniversary.

Back then, I had the idea that maybe a publisher would stumble upon my blog, want to publish my book or at least my thoughts, and I hoped a blog could help me build a readership. It's been ten years, and not a single publisher has come knocking on my door, but I have found readers. Thanks for tagging along.

In that first year, I wrote about visiting China, fertility, the Dodgers, and then excerpted a bunch of a novel in progress, New LA Life, that still isn't done. I started a second blog, Throwing Cookies, for writing about sports, and I wrote a lot about food and education.

Nine years and 250 blog posts later, so much has changed since 2010. Back then, I was five years post MFA. I was teaching, eating at LA food trucks, and playing lots of beach volleyball. David and I were working hard to get pregnant, but we were not getting pregnant. The country was living in President Obama's first term.

In 2010, I wrote about my decision to self-publish Through Eyes Like Mine and included a mixtape. In 2012, I wrote about my middle school memoir, Overdue Apologies. Then, Kiara arrived, and although I tried to keep reading and writing and reclaiming my brain, it was hard. When Gabe showed up, it was even harder. But now, nine years later, I'm finally ready to complete the coming of age Through Eyes Like Mine series.

I Tried: Tales from an Emerging High School Feminist explores what it means to be a young woman of color growing up in rural America. In the final installation of the Through Eyes Like Mine series, Nori teeters on the edges of adulthood and navigates shifting expectations of her community, her family, and herself. I Tried examines the challenges and isolation a multiracial girl faces in small-town America.

Stay tuned. More in the next couple of weeks.

She said she would publish the books herself.

It's been almost nine years and two kids since the release of Through Eyes Like Mine, my early childhood memoir. My decision to publish this book on my own came after the manuscript sat with an agent for about a year, then made its way through publishing houses where editors complimented the writing but found it too quiet, so I resolved to launch the book myself. I planned readings in Oregon with family and friends, and I was happy to place the book in the hands of receptive readers.

It's been over seven years since Overdue Apologies, my middle school memoir quietly made it's way into the world. Motherhood was right around the corner, and I knew my life was about to change making the work of finding a home for this manuscript even more challenging. I never properly launched the book or made time for readings, but it has also made it's way into readers' hands and found fans with middle school audiences.

Since then, stealing time for writing has become harder. Teaching and parenting make time management even more important. Early mornings are still key, and in November, the words come during National Novel Writing Month, and in April, for National Poetry Month, I've written a poem a day ever since Kima Jones spent her time as a PEN fellow visiting poet in my classroom. My writing partner, Hazel Kight Witham, and I have continued to meet weekly to focus our writing and teaching practices. We have also escaped to writing residencies at Wellstone Center in the Redwoods. These spaces mean that the final book in the Through Eyes Like Mine trilogy is finally ready for the world.

I've also spent time over the past few years building to emerging as a writer with Women Who Submit, an organization empowering women and non-binary writers to submit their work for publication. As part of this submitting work, Through Eyes Like Mine was chosen as a finalist for the inaugural 2040 book prize. Excerpts from Overdue Apologies appeared in Spector and Sky Island Journal. As my publishing credits grew, I decided to try find a traditional publisher for the high school memoir. Again, I queried agents, submitted to small presses, and excerpts from this work appeared in Compose, Lady Liberty Lit, and East Jasmine Review.

Senior portrait of the author.

Then, after the 2016 election, with conversations about the divide between rural and urban America intensifying, my high school memoir and all of the books in the Through Eyes Like Mine trilogy gained significance. Books like Hillbilly Elegy and White Trash became best sellers, but the perspective of a young girl of color coming of age in rural America was missing. This book is what's missing. The books in this trilogy are the missing books, and now the third book is ready.

In the next few weeks, I'll be re-releasing Through Eyes Like Mine and Overdue Apologies with updated covers and forewords by my sister, Laura Yukiko Nakada Flennaugh and my brother, Chet Nakada. Like with the first two books, I will launch playlists and excerpts and this go around signed, personally bound copies of the trilogy will be available as I Tried: Tales of an Emerging High School Feminist will FINALLY be here! Whoooo hooo!

#ReadDiverseLit Post: Ta-Nehisi Coates' Between the World and Me

I took my time reading Ta-Nehisi Coates' book, Between the World and Me. From the opening pages, it reminded me of James Baldwin. Both writers challenge me to think through their pages, to consider their arguments, and see how their view of the world connects with my own. But the part of his book I couldn't stop thinking about, was the protection of the black body, of the value of the black body to our nation, and in particular how he describes his walk to school as a young man.  

"When I was your age, each day, fully one-third of my brain was concerned with who I was walking to school with, our precise number, the manner of our walk, the number of times I smiled, who or what I smiled at, who offered a pound and who did not—all of which to say, I practiced the culture of the streets. [...] I do not long for those days. I think I somehow knew that that third of my brain should have been concerned with more beautiful things. I think I felt that something out there [...] had robbed me of... what?"


The other evening, I rode my bike home from work. It was a little later than usual, so I was paying close attention to cars and bumps in the road that might sneak up on me in the darkness. The sun was setting and the cold, winter, LA sky, glowed brilliant shades of red and orange against bright and blue darkening to navy. Every time I looked up, I was met with a different version of this beauty and tried to smile in appreciation. I also couldn't help but think about Coates and the protection of the body. I relate to this as a woman, a small woman, and a small woman riding through LA traffic. Yet I still do not know what it is to hold the fear of violence as a black man in America like Coates describes. When I was young I walked home from school musing red cinder on asphalt or juniper pollen or ice under mostly blue skies. I recognize this privilege and hope more of America will pick up this important and timely book to explore how our experiences connect and differ. 

As part of the #ReadDiversLit challenge, this counts as a memoir or biography by a diverse author. This category has so many titles I love to read (and write) so here are a few books I recommend if you're looking to fulfill this part of the challenge:

Running in the Family by Michael Ondaatje: A nontraditional, beautifully rendered memoir of the author's family in Sri Lanka.

Men We Reaped by Jesmyn Ward: The unique structure of this memoir beautifully and brutally sheds light on the violence of growing up poor, black, and male in the American South.

Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay: Essays on pop culture and feminism from an intelligent Black voice.

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin: Coates' letter to his son brought me right to Baldwin's letter to his nephew from this work.

The Autobiography of Malcolm X: Alex Haley and Malcolm X: This book was my introduction to the Civil Rights movement beyond Martin Luther King Jr.




Through Eyes Like Mine and Overdue Apologies by Noriko Nakada: The story my early childhood and middle school years from a multi-racial perspective.

Oh, and on my list to read in this category: Fire Shut Up In My Bones by Charles M. Blow. 

Through Eyes Like Mine v. Overdue Apologies

So, a couple of times in the past few weeks people have told me they didn't know I had a second book. What? How is this possible? It came out almost two years ago. Apparently, I didn't do a very good job getting the word out about Overdue Apologies, the middle school memoir follow-up to Through Eyes Like Mine.

Well, the early reviews are in, and it seems that the adults prefer Through Eyes Like Mine, and the young adult readers like Overdue Apologies more. My students have given me great feedback, even though I'm a little bit torn about my students reading my books. I don't mind when they read Through Eyes Like Mine, but this year I made the mistake of telling them they shouldn't read Overdue Apologies. So, of course, this made them want to read it. It's been good for me, though. I've had the chance to get more feedback and it's always funny to hear them critique my middle school choices.

"Ms. Nakada, I was mad when you broke up with Robert."

"What ever happened to Robin, or Casey, or Bianca?"

Then, one of my students wrote in a reading journal that she cried as she read the last chapter. She loves her middle school friends and hates to think they will someday drift apart.

She made me consider that it might not be so bad for my middle school students read my middle school memoir. Even though I did some things I'm not proud of, maybe reading my book will help them make better decisions than I did.

So, if you have a reader on your holiday list, here are a couple of books for your consideration.

Through Eyes Like Mine

Overdue Apologies

Walking to School

This past Wednesday was Walk to School Day. I helped a pass out stickers and fruit roll-ups to Emerson students walking to school. The small town where I grew up is far from urban Los Angeles, but as kids passed by with their friends, I doubt their walks are all that different than the ones Robin, Bianca, and I took most days to school. Those walks were a block of time without adult supervision so we walked slowly toward Pilot Butte or away from its shadow discussing our day, our plans, our fears and dreams. On those walks my friends and I grew closer, or we tested the limits of our bonds and I imagine the same thing happens with my students as they make their way to and from school each day. Here’s an excerpt from Overdue Apologies: a Middle School Memoir, about those long-ago walks.

Morning

Every morning in the house on Jones Road we execute a carefully choreographed dance. Dad starts a fire in the woodstove, and Mom turns on the heater to take the chill off the rooms upstairs. Dad showers and leaves for work before the rest of us race through the shower. Mom makes breakfast and packs lunches. We scarf down pancakes, waffles, or cold cereal. Chet and Laura eat first, and then Mitch and me. We move near one another, through the kitchen, and around the breakfast table. It's a silent dance except for Morning Edition playing on the radio. We brush teeth, and then Chet and Laura rush out to the old Datsun 210 and drive to Mountain View. Mitch and I walk up to Pilot Butte, but not together.

Mornings in Bend are always cold. Even when the sky is clear, the sun's rays can't penetrate the cold of the high desert. In fall, yellow, brown, and red leaves litter the ground and the first snow paints the Cascades a gleaming white. Soon ice will form a slick crust along the roads. Every morning, I leave the quiet chaos of home and wait along the side of Jones Road to walk to school with Robin Crank.

Robin lives across the street with her new-age-mom, step-dad, and two sisters. Her mom buys organic chips and natural sodas. A couple summers ago Robin and I played makeovers with her Fresh 'N Fancy makeup kit, and when I came home wearing pink blush and blue eye shadow Laura said I looked like a clown. Robin has a tetherball pole in her backyard and an indoor pool where we play Marco Polo and Sharks and Minnows. Robin's older sister, Heather, is nothing like Laura. Heather wears thick black eyeliner and lipstick. She's into music and film. Laura never wears make-up, and she's into sports. Robin and I have way more in common than our older sisters, but since we went to different elementary schools we've never become close.

Once I start Pilot Butte though, I see another side of Robin. At school she is popular. She's tall and has an asymmetrical haircut streaked from the summer sun. She wears braces and so many cool clothes that she can go three or four weeks without repeating an outfit. Her best friend is Bianca Weston. Bianca and Robin went to Juniper Elementary together. Bianca is skinny with straight light brown hair. She lives in a huge house on Revere. Bianca has great clothes too and she doesn't repeat outfits forever. Kim Mitchell is their other friend. She went to Buckingham, and she's tiny (even shorter than me). She has shoulder length, wavy blonde hair, and she's a spaz.

I don't know how everyone knows in the first week of school, but already Robin, Bianca, and Kim are popular. Maybe it's the clothes and jewelry that only kids with money can afford, or where their dads work, or the size of their houses. I don't know exactly what it is, but the differences between the popular girls and the rest of us are clear.

Popular girls have Polo shirts, Guess jeans, Swatch watches, Trapper Keepers, rubber jelly bracelets, and Lip Smackers. Popular girls have a different attitude. They smile and laugh as they walk through the sixth grade hall. At lunch, they sit with the cool boys and ignore the rest of us. They are in the best class with teachers who are young and cool.

Not-so-popular girls have Levis, hand-me down t-shirts, bare arms, plain blue three ring binders, and chapped lips. We walk nervously through the halls to our lockers. We grab brown bag lunches and sit with girls from lame teachers' classes.

Still, Robin waits for me every morning for the walk to school. Even though my family isn't rich, even though I don't wear exactly the right things or carry the right supplies, I think maybe, just maybe, I could be popular too.

As Robin and I walk down Jones Road, we leave behind the girls we are with our families and head toward the girls we are on our own. Clouds of breath appear and disappear before us as we talk about school, teachers, and mutual friends. Half way down the hill on Revere we stop at the two-story house with a circular driveway and a broad front porch.

Bianca's mom answers the door in her bathrobe. "Morning girls," she says sleepily as she lets us into the warm entry hall. The Weston's house always looks and smells clean. "Bink! Your friends are here," Mrs. Weston yells up the stairway. "Hurry up!" Then Mrs. Weston turns to us.

"Cute sweater, Robin."

"Thanks."

Robin and I look around the entry hall and wait.

"Sorry, guys," Bianca yells. "I'm almost ready."

"Your nails look nice," Mrs. Weston says holding my cold palm in her warm hand. She studies my fingers and the pale pink polish. "Where did you get them done?"

I've never had a manicure. "I did them myself," I say quietly, worried that doing your own nails isn't very cool.

"I wish I had the patience to do mine," Mrs. Weston says examining her French manicure and the red polish on her toes.

My mom files but never paints her nails.

Bianca rushes down the stairs, a messenger bag flung over her navy pea coat. Mrs. Weston looks her daughter up and down. "Your shoes don't match, Bink."

"Mom, they're fine. We're going to be late."  

Sometimes Bianca makes it out the door, sometimes she sprints back upstairs to change. I walk with Robin and Bianca, the two most popular girls, up the path by the irrigation ditch toward school. We take our time, walk slowly, and I start to understand: If I want to be popular I have to be patient. It's totally not cool to want to be cool. I have to watch for a pattern and figure out what it takes to be popular.

52 Poems: Week 14 Pablo Neruda

Love the language of this poem... we used it for a call of words in class this week and wrote about what I will remember, what Kiara will someday remember, where nothing is waiting and everything is.

You Will Remember
By Pablo Neruda  

You will remember that leaping stream
where sweet aromas rose and trembled,
and sometimes a bird, wearing water
and slowness, its winter feathers.
You will remember those gifts from the earth:
indelible scents, gold clay,
weeds in the thicket and crazy roots,
magical thorns like swords.
You'll remember the bouquet you picked,
shadows and silent water,
bouquet like a foam-covered stone.
That time was like never, and like always.
So we go there, where nothing is waiting;
we find everything waiting there.

2012: It's a Wrap!

Well, there goes another year of blogging. This has been my least productive year as a blogger, but you know what? I had a lot going on, so I'm not going to worry too much about it.

I started the year reading/reviewing The Chronology of Water a memoir by Lidia Yuknavitch. It reminded me why I love to write and that I want/need to push myself to that raw, honest place where Lidia goes. If you still haven't read this, I highly recommend it.

Then I started nesting in preparation for Kiara's grand entrance into my life. I painted a mountain mural, and readied the nursery.

And then I spent the bulk of the next couple of months getting Overdue Apologies ready for publication. I hate book promotion, but I love making play lists so I put together three soundtracks, one for each part of the middle school memoir. If you're a fan of 80s pop, these are the mix tapes for you. I published a few excerpts from the memoir and hoped it would move, but I didn't do enough to promote it, didn't properly release it or stage readings, so although it sold in modest numbers, it hasn't done nearly as well as Through Eyes Like Mine.

Then, on April 1, I had a baby. April Fools. No, really, I did. You can read Kiara's birth story in three parts. The link starts with part three so if you want to read them in order scroll to the last post first. 

When summer arrived I read a book: Looking for Alaska by John Green. I liked it, but took issue with a section where he referred to basketball players as ape men. He doesn't think it is racist. I think it is. You can read the whole deal here. Again, the original post is after all of the conversation which followed.

I haven't written much since. I am a new mother struggling to figure out how to make the writing fit. I also tore my Achilles tendon which sucks. Everybody stretch. You don't want to tear, or strain, or rupture that tendon! But I wrote the draft of a novel during NaNoWriMo, and that helped me learn how to sneak in time at the page no matter what else I have going on.

So, thanks for hanging with me in 2012, and here's to 2013. Happy New Year.

ESA On Ice!

I can't believe 2012 is almost over. It's been a big year and as I procrastinate my end-of-the-year blog I decide instead to post about this year's ESA ice skating trip.

It was our second year taking middle schoolers to Santa Monica to skate and hang out on the promenade. For the second year I didn't get to skate, but I still had a blast watching my students skate, stumble, and slip around that little outdoor rink.

It's the closest I get to sharing a Central Oregon winter with them and until we get a college trip to Oregon, I guess it will have to do. Here's a link to my post about skating last year with an excerpt from Overdue Apologies about ice skating and Spin the Bottle. 

I Need to Write...

I've been gone too long. I could blame it on motherhood, or the start of the school year, or the torn Achilles' tendon. But what this down time reminded me was that I need to write. Need. Like oxygen.

Because even as I lay here with football on TV, and a blue cast on my leg, and a brown dog, and a baby asleep in the other room, as much as life changes, I still need to write. So I'm writing.

Because it makes me feel just a little bit less trapped.

Because it keeps me a bit more sane.

Because it helps me make sense of this life.

Because I have to.

My friends, family and students keep reminding me. They are reading my books, or blog posts, or Facebook posts, and they are talking to me about them. Every time they do I remember why I write. I have a story. I have stories.

I need to write.

But I also need you, so thank you. Thank you for reading. For reading the books, and the blogs and my little tweets and status updates.

But even if you didn't read, I'd still write, because, well, I need to.

That is all.

and if you'd like to read more, check out www.norikonakada.com

Milk and Words are Weird Like That or Three Things Breastfeeding and Writing Have in Common, No Four!

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In the first few days after Kiara was born, I posted on Facebook and twitter, "I always thought writing was the hardest thing. Nope. Breastfeeding is harder."

It was true, and although it got easier, those first weeks of breastfeeding drained me physically and emotionally. Now, as I struggle to get myself back to the page, I'm thinking about all of the connections between writing and breastfeeding.

1. Starting is the hardest.

I hate staring down the blank page, not knowing what to write about, or just unplugging from the internet and getting to real writing hurts.

Where the milk goes.

Same with breastfeeding. Getting a good latch, engorgement, and the godforsaken nipple pain! I'm already dreading having to start breastfeeding again if we have a second baby.

2. It gets easier.

Despite how awful the beginning is, thankfully writing seems to get easier once I have something written to start and the trick of stopping a writing session mid-sentence is great for getting me back into a piece.

Where blogs and books begin...

There is a learning curve for new mother and baby, but after a few weeks, we seemed to figure things out. And thank goodness.

3. The only way out is through.

If there is a problem with a work in progress, the only way to solve it is to keep writing. Read it. Reread it. Reflect on it. Revise again. Come at a different angle. Read it.

If there is a problem breastfeeding, a plugged duct or diminished supply, the solution always seems to be, keep breastfeeding. Just keep at it and it will get better.

Where blogs and books begin...

4. Keep at it.

No matter how long I stay away from the page, the words always seem to come. They might not be the best words, and they aren't always in the right order at first, but they come. They have yet to let me down.

Somehow the milk keeps coming. If I latch/pump, the milk comes.

Words and milk are weird like that.

They say (and they are pretty loud about it) breastfeeding is best for the baby for the first year. Well, if you're a writer and a mother, my guess is writing, even in the exhaustion of these early months, is probably best for you too. So take care mother-writers out there, whether you are breastfeeding or not.

Kiara's Birth Story Part I

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So, here's a first glimpse into how Kiara Harper came into our lives... The images are courtesy of David. You can check out more of his pictures on his photo blog. 

She waited like we asked. I’d been counting the days to spring break, checking items off my lengthy to-do list and on the last day of school before spring break, four days before my due date, I shed my mucus plug in a filthy faculty restroom. I looked in the bowl at the cloudy mess and thought, well, maybe she is on her way early. Good. We are ready. 

We thought we were ready. 

I thought I was ready. 

Apparently, when they say you’re never ready, they speak truth.

I didn’t know what contractions felt like. Sure, there was “tightening” around my abdomen, but I expected pain. I experienced a little cramping, but less painful than the first day of my period. I had contractions, but walked through them, breathed right through them. On Friday night, three days before my due date, something felt different. I stood and walked restlessly. The tightening started happening more frequently, and then there was a trickle. A dirty brown liquid trickle. It was no gush, but it was enough for us to call the hospital. It was enough for the nurse at labor and delivery to tell us to come in.

In the car we started timing the tightening sensations. They happened about every three minutes. That seemed too fast, but I was unconvinced this was labor. Where was the pain?

We parked the car and walked to labor and delivery. A nurse hooked me up to monitors and told me I'd just had a contraction. David watched the monitor and told me contractions were coming every two to three minutes. The nurse slid a bedpan under my hips so the doctor could see how far I’d dilated. A woman in another room screamed through a contraction.

“Only two centimeters,” the doctor said, “And a lot of bloody show so I can’t tell if the water’s broken.”

She took a look with the ultrasound. My fluid levels were low. She admitted me. This was game time. This was actually going to happen. 

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It was a full house that Friday night at Kaiser’s Labor and Delivery. We settled into the last room. An IV was inserted, and I was still able to walk around and keep breathing through the pain. I knew if I kept moving it would help things along. David and I walked around the quiet halls. Time took on new meaning. It was about 2:00 am when we settled in to try to get some sleep.

It’s impossible to sleep through contractions coming every two to three minutes.

I kept breathing, focusing, checking the monitors to see how close together the contractions were coming. They started me on Pitocin to try to move things along. I should have known then, things were not likely to go the way I imagined.

 
Click here for Part II

A Life in Revision...

As this past March came to a close, I knew life would be changing with baby on the way and Overdue Apologies finished. I decided to take advantage of an opportunity to workshop my writing with Lidia Yuknavitch (whose memoir I wrote about in January) even though I would be overwhelmed by life with a newborn.

Kiara came into our lives before I could submit work, but in the past two weeks I've had the chance to send her work and in an email exchange she said of childbirth, "what a revision it is of all the chapters of your life."

In that one line, Lidia captured precisely how I'd been feeling since the moment Kiara arrived. She changed everything. I'm not sure who I am as a writer, or a woman, a teacher, a mother, a wife, a daughter, or sister. Everything has a new context. All is subject to revision.

I don't even know who I am as a blogger! Is this a mommy-blog, a craft-blog, a baby-blog? I don't know anymore, and although I've been writing Kiara's birth story, I'm not sure it belongs here. And with David starting his own Daddy blog, I'm not sure how much of my baby-girl I'll be posting, but she has arrived, and she has changed everything. We'll see if I figure any of this out come next blog post.

Preparing to Give Birth

It isn't the best idea to try to give birth to a book and a baby at the same time. Unfortunately, I'm past the point of no return.

The book is finally done. I was too long in the works to abandon, and since I can't imagine having the time or energy to get back to it until our little girl is, I don’t know, a teenager or something, I made myself get that book done. It's a middle school memoir. It's taken over six years: endless cups of coffee, hours of painful reminiscing, more hours at coffee shops, and dozens of reads by an amazing group of friends and family. With all of that work and much help, it's finally here.

The baby has been growing for nine months. The whole getting pregnant process, well, that took much longer, four years, five if you count recovering from the miscarriage. At first there was grief, then there was the excitement of trying followed by mild disappointment each month. There were tests, and more tests, and more trying on our own followed by growing frustration. We eventually sought out help again. This time, with hormone shots and a long straw filled with cleaned semen, we finally got that positive test. Now we are days, maybe hours from her arrival and ready or not, she's on her way.

The book is here.

The baby is almost here.

Thanks for waiting with me. 

I couldn't have done either without help.

You should read this book. Then again, maybe not.

It's ready! Overdue Apologies is now available @ Amazon and, well, I think you should read it. Then again, it's a middle school memoir and I do some things in this book I'm not so proud of. I wasn't the nicest middle schooler.

If you grew up in Bend, or were in middle school or junior high in the 80s, this will definitely take you back. I know, middle school might have been pretty awful. Maybe not the whole thing, but I bet everyone had their share of awkward adolescent moments. You might be scared to revisit that time, but don't be scared. You should read it. Everyone's reading it, so you should too. 

If you are raising a middle schooler, you'll recognize this world. It might make you think twice about letting your teenage daughter go to the movies this weekend, or force you to sit down and have that sex talk you've been putting off.

If you teach middle school, you might want to wait until summer. You live this book everyday, but this will remind you what your students are really thinking about in class (it's not US History or Algebra).

And finally, if you are a middle school student of mine, you should NOT read this book until you graduate and I'm no longer your teacher. Seriously. I will not discuss this book to you if you go to Emerson.

But other than that, yeah, you should totally go get this book.

"Everyday it's a gettin' closer, goin' faster than a roller coaster..." Buddy Holly

After many months of planning, I get to check a couple of big items off the to-do list. The final edits Overdue Apologies are in and in a matter of days the book will be available for purchase. And the nursery is ready. I didn't think we'd be the kind of parents to put together a room for the baby like this, but we did. Now we wait, for the book and the baby. Here's a peek at the nursery and an excerpt from the book.
 

 

The End and Beginning 

On the last day of summer Mom and Dad plan what Chet needs for college. Laura has a boot on her foot and hopes that in a few months the stress fracture in her foot will heal for basketball season. School starts tomorrow and although Mitch and I will both be at Pilot Butte, we'll do what we usually do: ignore one another.

 
I shut my bedroom door to everything going on in the house on Jones Road: Chet packing, Laura clomping up and down the stairs; Mitch brewing a quiet hatred of me. I slide the Stand By Me tape in my boom box and Buddy Holly sings, "Everyday it's a gettin' closer, goin' faster than a roller coaster, love like yours will surely come my way."

 
Earlier, at Jamie's house, we decided on our outfits for the first day. We have to look accidentally perfect; like we stumbled upon these clothes and don't care all that much about what we wear on the first day of school.

"Everyday seems a little longer, every way loves a little stronger, come what may, do you ever long for true love from me?" 

I hum as I lay clothes out on my dresser and pack the canvas bag I'll be using this school year. My new notebook is stocked with notebook paper, dividers, new pens, and pencils. I slide into bed but can't fall asleep. I push the window open and look into the clear, cool night. The light in Robin's bedroom across the street glows in the darkness. I wonder what she's wearing for the first day. We haven't talked about it, but I know in the morning Robin and I will meet on Jones Road. We will turn our backs on our families and walk to school. We'll check out one another's outfits and hair. I'll make sure Robin looks okay and she'll make sure I do too. We'll discuss new schedules and possibilities for the school year. Seventh grade will start just like sixth grade ended: Robin and I walking to and from school together. 

Overdue Apologies: Seventh Grade Mix Tape

Here's the second installment of my 80s memoir mix tape to get you in the mood to read all about the joy, intensity, and horror of middle school. Enjoy! Overdue Apologies release is coming soon!






Scene: My first tape from my brother Chet: Sting's The Dream of the Blue Turtle "Russians."



Scene: My music education continues even with Chet away at U of O: Midnight Oil's "Blue Sky Mine"




and U2's "Pride."



Scene: Every time Jamie and I hung out at her house we listened to Wham!



Scene: Best middle school fast dance song... Billy Idol's "Mony Mony."



Scene: From Spring Dance and the Top Gun Soundtrack: Berlin's "Take My Breath Away"



Scene: The last Jamie and Nori show in Ms. Wilson's class: Howard Jones' "No One Is To Blame."



Scene: The Oregon State Fair and my first concert... Crowded House. "Something So Strong"



and "Don't Dream it's Over."