This has been the windiest year I ever remember, it’s grounding me. It’s overcast at the coast, meaning heavy fogs in the Bay. Not sure what to do?? I lied, I’m not in any kind of routine right now besides writing in the mornings. Not a solid routine anyway, I don’t have a rudder.
Someone on FB from my hometown is writing his childhood memories and people are soaking it up. Maybe that’s the kind of writing I should do? Instead of writing a blog about my boring days, write about “back in the day.” If I even remember anything, my childhood memories are fading, they’re black & white memories now where I’m pretty detached. I’d end up bashing people too, I don’t really want to do that. There were a lot of assholes in Manhattan Beach growing up.
Let me see if I can recount a story here? We were raised Catholic, the church has the prime real estate there on top of the hill with a killer view from Palos Verdes to Malibu. Even the parking lot is a gold mine now. People complain that Skechers (the shoes) own a lot of Manhattan Beach, it’s the church. There were always wealthy families there, they just weren’t as in your face. It wasn’t material items, although a few of the girls got VW bug convertibles when they turned 16.
My parents didn’t buy a house until I was in 6th grade, we rented in various parts of town. We always lived in a house, we just rented and I always felt like a temporary resident not knowing where I was going to go to school the next year. By the time they bought a house, it was East of Sepulveda on a busy street. It was a big house for the time, I was thrown into a whole new area of kids I didn’t know at all in the dreaded “East of Sepulveda.”
There was always CCD, the Catholic version of mean girl torture to me. I knew all the girls, we had grown up together through CCD and soccer. I had gone to their grade schools at one point or another, so we all knew each other. We must have been freshman in high school when the popular, wealthy girls of the 70’s tried to enlist me in a little bit of pot smoking after our God training. I declined, not because I was a prude and against it at all – I didn’t trust these girls and felt like it was a major set up.
I was probably right, our CCD sessions were always at a house after the initial meetings at the school classrooms when we were in grade school. One of the guys was kind of an odd kid, I don’t remember his name. I wouldn’t remember him at all if these girls hadn’t told him I liked him and he was acting like an idiot around me, armed with the knowledge I was into him. It was brutal on so many levels, mostly to him. When I found out what happened, I’m really not sure how I had to let him down? I know I did though, his face just dropped, it was awful. He’s probably writing his own blog about the traumatic experience in CCD where I was the bitch. Who knows how his memory of that was? Worse than mine I’m sure.
Not that I was the nicest girl either, I presented a tough exterior at every new school I went to. When my kids were on swim team I was chatting with a woman who stopped our conversation to say, “My daughter was sick last week, I’m going to go help her get back in the group. You remember how hard it was to be out and then re-connect?” I thought about that, no I really don’t. At some point I stopped trying and just started doing my own thing.
I still don’t get girl/women dynamics, I do feel like my experiences really helped me coach high school girls for 5 years. I might not have been the greatest coach, my gift was guiding the girls through that mean girls period of life isn’t unique to MB. That’s what all my childhood Catholic training taught me.