More Pictures of Home

Long ago, I was a teenager. This is where I spent four years of it. Pretty, no? It is lovely. Very art deco, certainly nicer than any of the other schools in town. Unfortunate that we are known as the Redskins. *sigh* There is even a terrible war dance/cheer that I will not describe.

Since my worst years were in middle school, I have fond memories of high school. It was not perfect, I was not Homecoming Queen (robbed!), and I certainly had a long list of adversities (wah wah wah, but that hasn't changed), but it was nice enough. And I've kept some lovely mementos from that time, like yearbooks, poems (funniest shite ever), and two gay boyfriends who I love like sunshine and kittens.

This is the tallest building in my hometown. Isn't it cute? Don't you want to dress it up and make it tea? So teeny and bitty.

Finally, my grandparents old place. Oh the drama. I lived here during the absolute worst year. There were yellow roses on the wall. I spent my time blasting Wham! or Queen's Night at the Opera (see? problems) and trying to think up new and convincing ailments that would keep me home and away from the Bad Place. This is where I learned that the thermometer against the lightbulb trick does not work. Thanks, Steven Speilberg, you poot.