Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Time Machine: 1994

I'm in a slump and I have been for quite awhile. This is probably the longest slump I've ever had. I wonder if the slumps we experience get longer and longer the longer we live and the more we see and experience.

I'm not one to use my blog to go on and on about how I'm feeling so miserable. I want to write because I miss it so I'm going old school until I get my groove back.

I've kept a journal since I was 6. They're all around our house in different boxes or hidden in boxes in my mom's garage. My first one was a spongy white book from the dollar store. It had four balloons on it in primary colors and said "MY DIARY" on the front. There was a cheap metal lock on it and you didn't even have to try to pick it. All you had to do was jingle it back and forth a bit and you'd get in.

That's when I started writing warnings on everything. I had 3 siblings who were always trying to get into my journals:
Age: 11
The others had different things on them: a sun, a famous art piece, a puppy... it all depended on my age, angst, and perceived coolness level. I'm going to post some of my old journals here for the next few weeks. My friend Elaine suggested it to help me start writing non-academic prose again and I'm extremely thankful for the suggestion. I needed something. Plus this is making me gives me the opportunity to clean out some boxes.

Year: 1994

 October 15, 1994
My brother is dum. He's always acting like a two year old and he's practically a teenager. Me, I'm just a regular eleven year old. Well, not really regular. Now we're going on a color tour, but there's not many trees. That's because we are still in the city. Otherwise, the trees are bright reds and oranges. My favorite color is that bright, bright yellowish orange. The branches are turning bare and the weather is turning cold. We must be in the country because there isn't many stores. The roads are also very bumpy as you can see in my handwriting. The houses are big and beautiful.

October 18, 1994
Today, after school, at 6:15, we went to Peace Lutheran and I got to see Mr. Kreuger's best student. His name is James and he's really cool. When he was playing the piano I saw his hands flying up and down the keyboard. I want to play like him when I get older. By the way, James in a senior in high school and he's been taking lessons for 11 years.

I couldn't spell "dumb," but damn, did I know how to write in cursive. I might not have thought so at many times during my childhood, but I was really lucky. My handwriting, spelling, and comma use was better at age 11 than many of my tenth grade students. 

I think my favorite thing about these two entries is the quote, "Me, I'm just a regular eleven year old. Well, not really regular." At least I knew it then!

I ended up playing the piano for 12 years. I really need to get back into it. 


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