I moved around a lot as a kid. I wentto a new school every year, sometimes two a year. I never really got to be close to anyone because I knew I'd just leave them in a few months. And that was hard. I never really fit in because I didn't grow up with them. I was always the new girl.

I found little ways to cope at each place. Childish ways to cope, mind you. At one school I convinced everyone that my name was Mackenzie. (I don't know why, I just liked that name.) At another school I sat in the back of the class and didn't talk. At yet another school I decided to form a little penelopian club with code words and special recipes and mascots. I, of course, was the president. And at one school I even built a teepee in the nearby woods and started to tell everyone that I was of Native American decent. (I think that was less of a coping mechanism and more of a pure dork mechanism.)

And at one school I started a magazine. (Really, it was more of a newspaper... a bunch of stapled black and white copies I passed out.) I stayed after school to put it together and had to pay for the paper and the staples that I used. I did a lot of chores to earn extra allowance.

I named this so-called magazine Kids Style. Well, Kids Style was passed out bi-weekly. It had games, puzzles, drawings, stories, and cartoons. And I did calls for submissions: "Send Kids Style your favorite bed time story", "Make up your own cartoon and submit it to Kids Style"...That type of stuff. Besides myself, my brother was my biggest contributor. Some of my peers sent in submissions, too, though. Mainly drawings of California Raisins (remember them?...) and other things like that. It thought it was a big hit. I still have a few copies in my tote o' kid stuff (because we moved so much, I don't have a ton of kid stuff, so this is really a feat.)

This magazine made me feel like I belonged. I made a few friends. Made a few enemies, too... But I was part of it. I never really fit in, but I found a way to use that to my benefit. And I was happy.

(Then I moved a year later and that's another story for another time.)