Maja is the only person I have actually threatened with a blog post, and actually followed through with it… I often say to my friends “Don’t make me write a blog post about you!” or “This is SO going on my blog!” …But usually, it’s an empty threat; an attempt at humour, except when it comes to Maja.
Usually I also preempt a blog post with a Facebook status anyway – so the main figurative cat is out of the bag before I sit to write a blog post.
My last post was much the same, and as per usual, she acted scandalized that I would do such a thing – calling me a bitch and threatening to kick my shins or whatever for every subsequent sarcastic comment.
Luckily for me, she is is Sweden and will likely lose count of how many times she’s supposed to kick me by the time I finally get to see her in person again, haha.
This post, however; has her blessing. During our phone call this evening, we discussed some more teachers briefly – she said the current Principal of our alma mater is a teacher I have on my friends list… I hadn’t been aware of that… and told her last I knew it was someone else – when I contacted the school and attempted to get a copy of my Senior “Special Project.” It was long gone with the absence of Mr Powers and the teacher that had overseen my project having just recently retired. Apparently files were cleaned out, and though I contacted her she had cleared her files when she retired as well.
Both Maja and I did our Special Projects in English –
“Do you remember my Special Project?” She asked me.
I scoffed, “Of course I do,” I said. “I remember being pissed at you about it.”
“What? Why were you pissed?”
“You seriously don’t remember? I stopped talking to you for like two weeks.”
“Yeah… I remember that… but don’t remember why…”
So this is what this post is about – a memory prompt for Maja. She asked me sarcastically if I was gonna write a blog post about this… I told her I just might… In which she responded with a laugh that I should go ahead, so she could recall the details.
For our Special Projects I wrote a fictional novel and she wrote her autobiography, but with the twist of using common slang vernacular – playing off of Trainspotting style, but accommodating for the millennial text form of writing. It was a risk, but she got a good grade in the end.
So why was I pissed at her about her writing her autobiography? That’s a legitimate question you’re asking… and here is my rational explanation for you:
She had me read her draft, to garner my opinion and help with some editing when I came across a passage which included a private conversation between us both – about Dan and something that had occurred in our relationship.
“What the HELL, MAJA?! How could you put this in here! Eileen knows Dan! Anyone that would read this would know who we are! GODDAMNIT!”
She apologized profusely, but that didn’t satiate my rage. She explained as it was about her life and I was her BFF, girl talk conversations with me were a big part of her life and she had to include me somehow in her manuscript. Again… My anger was not to be quelled. We had so many other inconsequential conversations that could have been added.
Come to think of it now – this occurred the year Dan and I had stopped talking – my rage was likely stemming from that stressor more than from Maja’s manuscript. Though, regardless, I didn’t want the world as we knew it to know anything about me and Dan. I had a rep to protect, man.
She told me she would change it, and that she said no one else would read it besides Eileen anyway.
She changed it quickly, showing me that she left a conversation in it’s place – but made it random and without focus. I was glad she had at least changed it, but still remained on edge from the situation.
Later that afternoon, I saw Vladimir reading it in the courtyard, discussing it with her.
“I had Vlad reading it?” She interrupted my memory, “did he like it?!”
“I don’t know, Maja! I was pissed at you! I just remember thinking Oh, no one but Eileen is going to read this, huh, MAJA!?! and that you were soooo lucky you had already changed it to exclude Dan.”
Several copies had been made over the course of the year as drafts were updated, because apparently several classmates were interested in reading her project.
So lucky she had taken Dan out of the equation.
And lucky for me I was BFF girl that had been the first to read it and nip that in the bud before everyone else got their hands on it.
Obviously, though it took a couple of weeks to cool off, I forgave her for nearly outing my feelings about that boy.
Little did I know, that a decade and a half later, I’d be outing myself to the whole world – Dan included – about what my true feelings had been, and though I never allowed him to see me physically cry – I outed my tears. I allowed him and the world to see them in black and white, written across computer screens and published on the pages of my own manuscript.