Dear Diary

I am going through my belongings and tossing the weird things I have kept for no reason.

I came across my childhood diary. It spans ages 9 to 11.

It comes with a stern warning for any who might dare to read what is written on its pages:

WP_20140707_19_28_03_Pro

But have no fear. I will not prosecute you for reading the excerpts contained in this blog post. I herein absolve you of all liability. No skulls or crossbones necessary, today.

There is plenty of sibling rivalry to be found:

July 20th, 1995 –

Sarah is reading her book report outloud. She is really annoying me. We have to do at least one book report in the summer, and five in the year. I’m on my THIRD book report this summer.”

There were early warning signs of narcissism:

July 21st, 1995 –

Sarah said she would play Mastermind with me when she finished a chapter in her book. She didn’t. 13-year-olds, sigh, sigh sigh. Sarah is eating a sucker in front of me. Emily is going to someone’s birthday party. She got her a Lisa Frank diary. This diary is better. Sarah just tried to convince me there was a spider on my boxers, and that there was a pink blob on my pillow sham. This diary entry is the longest entry I have ever written. Mrs. Cook, my fourth grade teacher, says I am a very fluent writer. I guess she is right.”

I don’t remember wearing boxers…

Sorry, Mom, but it does seem like most of my diary entries were written after you put me to bed and I was supposed to be sleeping:

July 23rd, 1995 –

It is 8:23pm. We have to start going to bed at 8:00pm. Can you believe it? What a drag! I am not tired. I cannot go to sleep this early. I am thinking about piano. I am glad I get to quit piano lessons. I hear someone coming.”

The issue may have been that our bedtime was way too early, and my opinion about that has not changed at all in the last 19 years.

One thing that has not changed at all is my train of thought that makes absolutely no sense to anyone but me:

July 28, 1995 –

I am going to go to heaven to be with my Savior. I am one day closer. Today we watched the Maury Povich show. It had the people who did Wilma and Pebbles voices on the Flinstones. The lady was OLD.”

And my ability to turn mundane events into major drama:

July 30, 1995 –

We had Hamburger Helper for lunch. I only ate the noodles. My Dad got my shorts all wet because I had cheese on them. Big deal. Nobody cares what your shorts look like. They won’t dry.”

Things I don’t remember caring about, but apparently, I did:

July 31, 1995 –

Today in school I start reading a book called ‘The Story of Inventions.’ I am reading about James Watt. He invented the steam engine. (Thank goodness!)

And just general hilarity:

July 31, 1995 –

We have to go to bed at 8pm. It is 8:11pm now. Me and Sarah just did this thing where you lay flat on your back and lift your legs straight up in the air, and you try to touch your hands to your toes. We also did sharks, leg lifts, sit ups, and jumping jacks. We always exercise right after we are put to bed.”

August 1, 1995 –

Today in school I had to do reading. I still haven’t finished the chapter on James Watt. In spelling I had to write sentences. In Language I did specific words and antonyms. In History I don’t know because I wasn’t paying attention to what I read.”

August 2, 1995:

It is 8:17pm. I am in bed. Me and Sarah just finished our exercises.”

And, in closing, a…personal ad?

February 28, 1996:

Tomorrow is Thursday. I hate Thursdays. My name is Allison. I am almost twelve. My turnoffs are smoking, drugs, and drinking. My favorite singer is Michael W. Smith. I don’t like to be dirty, but my room is never clean. I love little babies. They are so cute.”

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Dear Diary

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s