Aaaahhh what would a girl do without her little diary? Granted as a mature woman I now refer to my daily grumblings as “journaling.” Cute. Nonetheless, I have diaries/journals dating back to the second grade. Yes, the entries of an 8 year old are quite fascinating… “nana ate the last orange… my brother sucks…emily frank is a bitch…” Yeah? I know, right? I was calling girls bitches in the 2nd grade? I was obviously never THAT naive. While most of the teenage high school entries revolved around my latest crush my college pages usually recounted the previous drunken evening and my everlasting state of insanity.
So what do my post-college memoirs contain? Curious to revisit my recent years of wisdom I leafed through today’s entries in both 2008 and 2007.
July 13, 2008 (living in Barcelona) 1 year ago:
Waking up to such an intense, strange dream…
Brad Pitt? What! Yes, Brad, I think we are together or at least dating, but do not know each other well. He brings up/reminds me that I’m such a strong person because I’ve lost both my mom and dad, and I’ve forgotten that my mom’s dead so I freak out and remember and then I’m crying so very hard and nanny is there and she is crying and so I woke up today thinking 2 thoughts:
1. Brad Pitt is hot
2. Oh God, Mom never die, it’d ruin me.
The RAT TAIL, Barcelona, what is this!? I desperately want a pair of sharp scissors to run around the city slaying these horrific long lonely strands on the back of both men and women’s heads. I am the Rat Tail Slayer.
July 13, 2007 (Des Moines) 2 years ago:
Bender today, was doing so good what happened? Just watched a movie, I am feeling worthless. I need to do something with my life. Peace corps? Shower? What the fuck did Anne Frank do all day? Poor girl. Remember that place? Amsterdam, London, getting shitty. I think I’ll end up a crackwhore. hhmm A boyfriend in Vegas, interesting direction to take but definitely refreshing, running again, feels good. Flying to Vegas Wednesday, wait twice in 3 weeks is that too much of sin city? Sick of the bar scene, learning to be by myself. How can I ever be someone’s wife? Someone’s mother? Eeewww.
Conclusion: Ummmmm, maybe “wisdom” wasn’t the most accurate word to describe my post-college journaling… but there’s always my late 20’s, surely I’m not destined to be Bridget Jones… Right?