Trying to recall the fun and trends we had as a young girl in the late 80s, I was flabbergasted when the word "slumbook" came to my mind. I can't even find an exact definition of slumbook! But I remember the craze back when we were young. Young girls were fixated on finding who's got a crush on whom, and who has the cutest dedication, or who's got the smartest answers. Now there are blogs, tags, myspace, friendster, etc. I am not even sure if there's someone who was born or was a preteen past the year 1989, knew what a slumbook was, or how it looks like. And if they find out, I'm sure they'd cringe and guffaw like we did our parents with their bell-bottoms and afro.
But I hope people my age could remember what a slumbook was. And how we, in our youthful bliss and ignorance, wallowed in the ultimate kabaduyan! So from third grade until 6th grade (the year was 1989, to be exact), slumbook was totally hip and happening. And me and my girl classmates were kind of crazy about it, too.
The cheesiest queries would be: What is your nickname? What is your favorite color? What is your motto in life? Who is your crush? Who is your favorite movie star? What is your secret ambition? What is your favorite dish? Who is your inspiration? What are your likes and dislikes? What turns you off? Have you been in love? Do you prefer long engagement?
Totally, totally old hat. But- a deluge of squeaky teenyboppers were wrapped up into it. Ahh, those were the days. Back when you're cool when you write fucshia as your favorite color, and Phoebe Cates and Tom Cruise (and not, heavens forbid, Sharon Cuneta and Gabby Concepcion) as your favorite moviestars, or to be a (prosaic) doctor/nurse/lawyer as your ambition. Those, are the elements of nine to twelve year olds' minds. And the crushes were mostly just initials, or code names, or Top Secret. Some would even write Jesus Christ as their crush, just to escape the stinging teasing from friends, or cover up a real crush to a dorky kid. The slumbook jazzed all that up. Merry, merry, merry naïveté. Don't you think?
And who could forget those silly dedications at the end? Remember M, remember E, put them together remember ME. eeeeeeeeewwwwwwww. Could there be anything more bakya than that?! Can anyone tell me other unspeakably baduy dedications?
Well, those were the simple years. Back when life as a kid was so much simpler. Back when sunsets are sunsets, pineapple juice is pineapple juice. No complex addendum. No double meanings. Ages away from intricate and oftentimes challenging existence that is called adulthood. It was a different time then. There were no iPods, no myspace, no camera phone and text messages, no blogs. Just unadulterated expressions of youthful innocence. Through the humble, outdated piece called the slumbook.