I Cry Over Spilled Water // First Day of High School Horrors

So, as you can see here and here and here, I'm obsessed with blogging about school starting lately.  I'm trying to face my fears head on, and I really see no reason to stop because I'm all about fueling my obsessions and ignoring all attempts at "balance."

I started my senior year of high school yesterday, and thinking about that reminded me of my horrible first day of freshman year.  Okay, horrible first few hours.  It was rough.  So, because blogging is cheaper than therapy or whatever, I should probably handle it and just blog it all out.  Thanks, you all, for being my therapists.

The day started off innocently enough with pictures in front of this lovely tree in our front yard that has faithfully backgrounded our first-day-of-school pictures for the last 12+ years of my life.

(I was planning on putting my first day of school picture from freshman year right here, but it's trapped inside my mom's old, dead computer so I'm really sorry about that.  You can just look at this one from last year if you want.  It's the same tree and the same people, so it seems like basically the same thing to me!)

I had my backpack all ready to go with all my brand new binders and pencils and scrapbooked pictures to hang in my brand new locker, which, by the way, I learned how to open like a pro.  Being the super prepared student that I am, I even had my brand spanking new, customized (with a Sharpie, whatever) JV volleyball water bottle, filled to the brim with ice water, stashed in my backpack to hydrate.  I mean, I was kind of adorable.  Unfortunately, the lid-bottle connection part of that water bottle had a mind of its own and was a prankster and thought it would be fun to randomly detach itself.  AND IT DID IT.

It would have been less horrible if I'd have noticed it an hour before I left, but I obviously didn't. That evil drip didn't show itself until I was en route to the car.  I opened my backpack up, and there were like two inches of water in the bottom, making a mess and dripping all over everything and drowning all my new supplies and ruining the cute binder covers and scrapbooked pictures that I had worked so hard on.

 You had better believe that I got a little teary about that sitiation.  So teary, in fact, that my mom forced me to use    offered me one of her purses to carry my stuff in for the day.  It actually matched my carefully-chosen first day of high school skirt really well, come to think of it, but at the time I was just terrified that I was going to be pegged as The Girl Who Carries Her Books in a Purse forever and ever, amen.  And that, my friends, is the stuff of  X-rated horror movies and terrifying nightmares.

I kind of got over the purse thing (not really, because X-rated, remember? X.) and allowed myself to be taken to school.  I walked in with my heart beating with all the cardiac muscle power it could muster and began the task of trying to remember which of the four hallways in the entire school had my locker in it, which is harder than it sounds.  I mean, I had looked for that thing for a good ten minutes without finding it.  Understandably, I began to lose hope. The freshman hallway obviously did not exist.

  I couldn't even find another person I knew, much less another freshman.  I'd walked into school with my friend who was on crutches and in an immobilizer at the time, but she had somehow gotten away.  I kind of wandered aimlessly around, asking for a girl on crutches under the pretext of "wanting to help her."  Ha, ha.  I'm sure everyone could tell that I was the one in desperate need of help.

Fortunately, my wandering eventually landed me right in front of my locker, from which point I found a friend who had all the same classes as me and followed her around for the rest of the day.

  That worked out well.  I'd recommend that. I'm pretty sure the rest of the day worked out fine and I returned home, thoroughly exhausted and prematurely jaded toward high school.  And here we are.  Senior year, and, if nothing else, I no longer carry my water bottle inside my backpack.

Allie

P.S. I can't be the only one - any memorable first day of school stories?