smells like teen spirit 1981-1991
This was the first time I'd read this stuff since I wrote it. It was fun to read my 11 year old self up to my 22 year old self. I start out by talking about the hostages in Iran coming home. That was neat because I'm reading a book about the hostages right now. I'm glad that it was important to me.
REO Speedwagon is the best! AC/DC is ok. - 6/11/81
I loved it when I wrote about books, music, movies (some of the worst titles you can think of, and I'd usually follow it with comments like 'good' or 'cute'), and friends. I wish I would've written more about them.
I'll give you a run through of the various themes in my journals:
jeff, matt, steve, tony, tony, mike, matt, rod, andy, tony, sean, sam, david, david, curtis, sean, tony, larson, byron, calvin, david, David, DAVID. I married david, David, DAVID.
Now, I understand why I wrote mainly about boys. I had enough pride not to do it in real life, and it was nice to have a place to talk about it and figure out stuff. But sheesh. There are times I want to shake myself. Write a little more about that book you are reading, what about your friends? Don't forget the jokes. Scribbling Violent Femmes lyrics was better than I hope he calls.
Sometimes I drew the clothes I liked. It really is funny to see all these puffy shirts (with buttons down the sides), argyle sweaters and skinny ties. I drew a picture of my hair when I started ratting it up (yes, for a little while, I did that 80s thing. I talked about wanting "theater hair" which was long and flat, but instead I permed it and ratted it. oh boy.). I briefly wrote things like "Gross me out the door" and "Like hi". But that was just fun. I drew a picture of the outfit I wore on my first date with my first boyfriend and what he wore. I wrote about when I first discovered thrift stores and bought myself a trench coat and cardigans.
My memory about what I read in high school was pretty good. I mention the books I read, but rarely comment on them. I'd write things like: "I read 1984. It was really really good." I wrote this about Dickens on 10/4/86:
I'm starting to get into Dickens. He is pretty flowery and at first it's hard to get used to. But he has a sense of humor and a way of understating things to seem commonplace but he's really showing you how terrible it is - the commonplace is terrible. It's hard to express. It's good.
The weirdest thing about reading this was to realize how messed up your memory can be. And I think of myself as having an excellent memory. There was a lot of stuff that I remember really well now that I've read it again, but if I hadn't written it down, it would be long gone. And, then there's stuff that even after reading about it, I'm still saying, "Huh, when did that happen?" "Who was that guy?" "What am I talking about?" When I was 21, I wrote about my first day of kindergarten and I'm telling you there is zip left of that memory. No idea.
I also have this notion that in high school and college I did nothing but make jokes. I did make a lot of jokes, but there's a lot of talk about studying and research papers and stress. When I was 15, my mom got sick (polymyalgia rheumatica, a rare condition that is similar to arthritis) and I write a lot about helping out. Which surprises me.
In 11th and 12th grade there were a lot of really busy days. I'd go to early morning seminary, school, have play practice (or speech or knowledge bowl or swing choir), come home and practice piano for an hour, clean up the kitchen, study Adv. Math (or Physics or Adv. Biology or Chemistry), work on a paper, do personal reading, read my scriptures, write in my journal and go to bed. I also found time to talk on the phone a lot and write letters - I never do that now. I'm sure there was plenty of downtime ('cause that's what I remember), but I wasn't a total slug.
It's funny how time, distance, and knowing what happens in the end give you such a different perspective. Although the only advice I'd probably give myself is Don't get a perm.
Sitting in the Wishing Chair (Watercolor of mine from 1990)
The only time I cried was when my husband broke up with me. It's a little strange because I know it has a happy ending, and it all works out, but I felt bad for me.
It made me really grateful that we did get married. It could have gone the other way and while I'm sure it would have worked out in it's own way, I'm beyond happy that things settled where they did.
I thought reading all of this would make me incredibly nostalgic. It did, but more than that, it made me really (like, really) grateful.
