Dear Diary...

Hello readers,
It has occurred to me that the way I've formatted this blog is like a public diary. I never have had much luck with diaries in the past--usually my hand would get tired before I'd fully finished a thought, or I'd only pick it up when I was angry or upset, and so looking back on it it would all seem utterly trivial and I came off completely wrong. So I have all of these books with about three to five journal entries in them, and then tons of [really shitty] drawings, which at the time I thought were totally avant-garde. Even so, I was always pretty fascinated with the idea of the habit of keeping a diary. I immersed myself in the diaries of various other little girls, Anne Frank, of course, Zlata (who was a little girl living in Sarajevo in the 90's), Robert E. Lee's daughter. Any time that I would try to do any creative writing, it would often be in the first person, in journal-entry form. I was convinced that I wanted to go to Columbia University to study journalism, because there I might learn how to effectively write a journal of my own.

As an aside, the benefit of this forum is that I am "composing" my innermost thoughts and secrets for a group of hopefully open and understanding people to read--and so there is (believe it or not) some minor censorship/editing involved. (In reality, I'm super petty and get frequent hand cramps--ha). Frankly, I'm surprised I've made it over a year now with not infrequent posting habits.

Well, getting more to my point here, as my parents are moving out of their house, little dust particles of my childhood are bursting forth in plumes--both good memories and bad. I did, however, have the pleasure of re-reading the various diary entries of a precocious and somewhat lonely little girl, and so I thought I'd share some of them with you. (They are only slightly embarrassing, but mostly pretty funny and, like I said, utterly trivial--e.g. awesome!).

Here is a transcription of the full contents of my 1997 Diary. I was 10, going on 11.

Private
Keep Out!!!
Go Away

January
I've found you in the pile of books by my bed. Oh what a treat it is to have some one to talk to. I'll call you Herry, and I hope we will have good times.

[It should be mentioned that Herry was the name of my favorite stuffed animal, a pink beagle, who has been a good bedfellow to me now for twenty-four years.]

January 24, 1997
Dear Herry,
Today was great. In the morning I was cheerful, as well as in the afternoon. I talked with Sara a bit at recess. At home I don't have to wear my orthodics.

Saturday the 25
Dear Herry,
Today I got squeak, the hamster. Zolin is here to babysit. Chris's pinewood derby was today, tomorrow is Superbowl Sunday.

I <3 Brad Renfro [scribble crossed out J.T.T.] and D.C. [all triple-underlined]

January 26
GreenBay Wow!!! [double underlined]

January 28, 1997
In a baby picture of Sara she is wearing a bicinni [bikini] that is Pink with lips on it! [There is an illustration included, obviously I thought that this was scandalous. I was, and still am a one-piece girl, with a brief hiatus during highschool and college.]

February 1st, My Worst Day.
I'm not selfish. Chris is such a jerk, so are all of them, I don't want to move. I love this house. I did touch it within three years! It's not His at all. Jerk, Jerk, Jerk! They think I'm having a dandy time, But I'm not. Chris hides his devilish deeds behind my parents. I'm so angry. A whole bunch of jerks!

[I'm assuming this is about my dad giving away something to Chris that he assumed I "hadn't touched in three years." A not atypical occurrence. Somebody must have called me selfish. I also am realizing that I loved writing in cursive, and used a lot of Big Fancy Capital Letters]

Feb. 3
Dear Herry,
Mom is going to have a baby! We're not moving after all.

Thoughts for March
It hasn't become March yet, but I feel since I didn't choose to do much of February I wanted to get a head start on March. I just discovered that I can't sketch as well as I can draw. The boys went outside so they can't bug me. I wrote the winning speech for Caitlin.

[Caitlin, like Sara, was one of my best friends in the fourth grade. I wrote her speech for class president elections because I was too nervous to run myself, and besides, I had little interest in politics. Not sure what I meant about sketching versus drawing. I'm assuming that sketching meant drawing from life, and if that is the case it's still true. I can't draw very well from life, but I can draw from my imagination pretty well.]

March 7, 1997
Oh, I'm so sorry I haven't even written to you since February. I'm going to conquer Les Miserables.

Sara's A.g. [American Girl] party is on the 15th the day after her B-day. It is her first sleepover B-day party--I can't wait!



Aaaaaaaand that's it for 1997! In the back are the telephone numbers, sans-area codes for my three best friends: Sara, Caitlin and Meghan. Some practice drawings of horses. Guess sleepovers and Hugo must have hijacked my life. Annie was born in September, and all of a sudden I was the babysitter. Ch-ch-ch-changes!