So it’s been a while, but nothing overly exciting. Finished the school part of school, just been waiting for the graduation part. Took a little detour to the beach where I saw a beached 35-ton whale that had been dead for weeks rotting in the sand. Yeah that smelled like microwaved death. Also came out of a McDonald’s and saw two seagulls…um…”wrestling” on top of the ice cream place next door.

But that’s not important.

I’ve also spent the last few days going through some boxes of papers and artwork from elementary school. My mother kept just about everything there was from those days, and I’m trying to get all that cut down to the really interesting or really bizarre stuff.

So far, there has been a recurring theme. Who I was in 1st grade is not all that different from 2nd grade, 3rd grade or 4th grade, and even now. In my box from 3rd grade (that was Ms. Stellabotte for those of you scoring at home), there was a stack of birthday cards — one from each person in the class. Now it wasn’t reallllllly my birthday since that comes in the summer, but May 3rd was close enough for me and I appreciate not being left out.

Apparently the class was able to write whatever they wanted and decorate the card however they pleased. Some drew airplanes, others just wrote “Happy Birthday!” (or some spelling that let me know that’s at least what they meant). But two of the messages really stuck out as right on the money. One had a picture of a spaceship, and underneath it says “Aliens from outer space, and Chris your [sic] one.” Sounds about right. Another is a little more direct, “Chris you are a very different boy from the rest.” Why thank you.

There’s a poster from Kindergarten where I was apparently the “Star of the Day!!!” On the poster, there are messages like “You are nice,” “You are Funny,” and my personal favorite, “I like to go to the cafeteria with you.” Apparently I was a good lunch date back then. Some girl also apparently liked to use the computer with me. Not sure what that means.

Two things I noticed haven’t changed a bit since then–my handwriting and my artistic ability. I really should have just stopped in 2nd grade. Neither one of those things improved measurably after that. Thank God for the advent of computers.