When I was a kid, Charlottesville had three sections of schooling: Grade school up to grade 5, middle school for grades 6 through 8, and high school for grades 9 through 12. There were a number of grade schools, two middle schools, and one high school. I ended up at Walker Middle School, which was a few blocks from my house, just on the other side of US-250.
The school had what they called a block system. Students were divided into two blocks, which never saw each other. Even at lunch, you had to sit at the table for your homeroom, which was determined by your block. One block had all of the kids who were in orchestra or band, the other was the rest of the kids. What few friends I had left over from high school were in orchestra or band, so I never saw any of my old friends during the school day. Being the weird freak with the long hair after the Diary Incident, I didn't really make any new friends. I fell in with a sadistic jerk who used me and abused me. I don't want to dignify his name with any Google hits, so I'm just going to refer to him as The Asshole. He was a the instigator the Rodent Tortures, although I must accept full responsibility for what was done myself. He was also a major reason that I picked up the moniker Pyscho.
This was the glorious, horrible time of puberty. It didn't help that I was a freak. It didn't help that after the The First Divorce, that I was stuck in the house with a raging feminist. Then, of course, was The Sex Ed Incident, and the memory of The Tick Incident. All that left me a little messed in the head about sex and girls. (They were girls back then. And, yes, that statement is a nervous twitch.) My addictive obsessive-compulsive behaviors started to manifest themselves, and I started to masturbate heavily. I had some porn that a friend had given me, after supposedly finding a grocery bag full of it in the woods. But I think that got trashed after I got caught at the Rodent Tortures, and I ended up gravitating to what was at hand: lots of women's clothing catalogs, especially the lingere sections. I would sneak them out of the stacks in the kitchen, cut out the tight clothes and the silky robes, and put them in a three ring binder to masturbate to. At my worst, I would sneak into my sister's room and jack off with her underwear. I feel really bad about that. Kara was a good sister, and didn't deserve something like that. In the end, I think it's pretty clear why I have a clothing and lingere fetish to this day.
I remember having a strong desire not to be at home in the mornings, although I can't clearly state why. I would show up at school early in the morning, before classes even started, and hang out in the empty hallways, waiting on the stairs.
Those are the broad themes of my time at Walker. There were lots of little bits that I remember, here and there. Most vivid was probably my beginnings with Deconstructionism. Of course, thought my part in it was very short, Bloody Jeff Greene is certainly seared into my brain. And I would be remiss not to mention the Second Suicide Attempt. If that was in middle school as I remember, I guess the start of Breaking and Entering was back then, too. I'm sure others will come to me in time, and I will add them to this paragraph.