When You Were Young

Blog posts like this make me glad I didn’t keep a reliable diary back in the day. Not, at least, in the sense that I talked about my feelings a lot. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing embarrassing to be found in my old “Notebooks,” all of which were inspired by Amelia’s Notebook.

Sometimes I think that you're the only one who understands. If I tell Mom how I feel, she freaks out. A journal won't say anything. Christmas didn't seem "right" last year. It was dull. We didn't see the living nativity, we didn't bake, we didn't go to parties, we didn't see 1 amazing nite, or ANYTHING! I didn't get many presents, just about no toys.

...

News! Family meeting went Okay. I can't get pierced ears, but I can build a website!

I built a webpage called Galadriel's World of Beanies, but all it is right now is a banner advertising my sponser, expage. I'll have to figure out how to add to it.

At least it wasn't Geocities.

Mom is mad. I can't figure out why. Maybe because I told her stop it when she kept grabbing my hand when I was trying to send an e-mail to Dad when she told me to.

As I recall, I was trying to sneakily check my e-mail at the same time BECAUSE SHE WOULD NEVER LET ME GET ON THE GODDAMN INTERNET.

I want to turn 12 already! Being 11 is the pits. You know you're old enough to do something, but your parents treat you like a 3-year-old!

Surely, being 12 will change everything.

These moody fits - are the just adolescence, or are they signs of an artistic spirit? I wish I knew.

It would be several years before I learned that "artistic spirit" was a euphemism for "Borderline Personality Disorder."

On a more holiday-themed note, I'm amazed that this branch has survived for eleven years. (click for big)