This moment summoned from RantWoman's past, the hoary mists of Last centruy by meandering thourgh a social media moment involving the brave modern--or not so modern--world of middle school:
One of RantWoman's odd memories from seventh grade was a girl who must have been in one of RantWoman's classes but who did not sit near enough to RantWoman to know each other well.
RantWoman has a vague memory of this girl being a bit of a stoner. RantWoman does not remember why she has this impression except for one funny momeny in a stairwell between classes or after school.
Other girl: "Wanna fight?"
RantWoman "No. (huh? we barely know each other certainly not well enough even to know whether we have anything to fight over.) "
Other girl: "Wanna smoke weed?"
RantWoman: "NO. (Don't smoke weed with strangers--probably NOT a message RantMom would have thought to offer, but nothing about the conversation made RantWoman remotely interested anyway.)
Upon sober reflection, probably just as well RantWoman did not say something like "Wanna go to the library and read Flatland?"
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Gratitude from Junior High long ago
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