In Which We Peek into High School Alicia's Brain
Every Wednesday, YA Highway asks their readership a simple question to answer on your blog. Once you answer, you link your blog in the comments for other readers to hop on board. This is Road Trip Wednesday.
First, a big hello to everyone new in The Lurkdom. Please comment often. Second, a big thanks to Lauren Kaycee for our fancy new logo.
So, today's question is to celebrate the release of Kirsten Hubbard's Like Mandarin* where the main character wants to be like someone else. It's more like a statement, really.
My childhood photos are littered with pictures of me sitting somewhere near my cousin Kim, usually in identical sitting positions. She's a couple of years older than me and, therefore, taller. My first grade portrait has me in a cranberry ensemble that used to belong to her. I slept over more times than I remember.
Enter High School Alicia.
One thing you need to understand is that High School Alicia was full of self-loathing. All I saw were the ghosts of braces, over-sized eyeglasses, and a reluctance to pack away my Barbies**. Royal bitchiness paired with shyness were my outer defense mechanisms, but I wanted everyone to like me.
To High School Alicia, High School Kim represented everything I wanted to be: pretty, smart, funny, taller***, and skinnier. Not to mention more stylish and a way more active social life. Oh, and better hair. She was always driven and definitely more confident than me.
I'm pretty sure that looking up to Kim subconsciously informed some of my choices as High School Senior Alicia, College Alicia, and Not-Quite-An-Adult Alicia. This isn't a bad thing.
The beauty of high school, it ends, as does the "if only I was more like so-and-so, everything would be better." Even though I still sometimes see myself as the girl with the glass that take over half her face, I'm definitely more comfortable with who I am now.
Lurkdom, who did you look up to growing up?
If you haven't already, go and enter our Race to 150 contest. Homebaked goods, scarves, an ARC of Divergent, and more are up for grabs!
* You can read the first chapter over on Kirsten's blog.
** No, I'm not kidding.
*** Those few extra inches count. A lot.
___________
Last.fm hit of the day: H.A.A.G. by Saint Vitus
First, a big hello to everyone new in The Lurkdom. Please comment often. Second, a big thanks to Lauren Kaycee for our fancy new logo.
So, today's question is to celebrate the release of Kirsten Hubbard's Like Mandarin* where the main character wants to be like someone else. It's more like a statement, really.
I would have given anything to be like...
My childhood photos are littered with pictures of me sitting somewhere near my cousin Kim, usually in identical sitting positions. She's a couple of years older than me and, therefore, taller. My first grade portrait has me in a cranberry ensemble that used to belong to her. I slept over more times than I remember.
Enter High School Alicia.
Not during the High School Alicia phase. |
To High School Alicia, High School Kim represented everything I wanted to be: pretty, smart, funny, taller***, and skinnier. Not to mention more stylish and a way more active social life. Oh, and better hair. She was always driven and definitely more confident than me.
I'm pretty sure that looking up to Kim subconsciously informed some of my choices as High School Senior Alicia, College Alicia, and Not-Quite-An-Adult Alicia. This isn't a bad thing.
The beauty of high school, it ends, as does the "if only I was more like so-and-so, everything would be better." Even though I still sometimes see myself as the girl with the glass that take over half her face, I'm definitely more comfortable with who I am now.
Lurkdom, who did you look up to growing up?
If you haven't already, go and enter our Race to 150 contest. Homebaked goods, scarves, an ARC of Divergent, and more are up for grabs!
* You can read the first chapter over on Kirsten's blog.
** No, I'm not kidding.
*** Those few extra inches count. A lot.
___________
Last.fm hit of the day: H.A.A.G. by Saint Vitus