Thursday, April 7, 2011

Dear Diary


June 2, 1986.....

My first entry in the Diary above. I have been recording my thoughts, feelings, happy moments and crushing heartbreaks in some sort of journal since 1986.
Inside you can see plenty of little sparkly stickers.....love notes from random testosterone filled boys, candy packets pressed flat from years between these pastel pages.....blue pen, purple pen, pink ink...tear smeared writing,  excited teen tummy butterflies as well as teen angst,.....loving my parents..and two pages later hating them. I even attempt to create some sort of code so that if my Mother happened to find my beloved confidant she wouldn't be able to decipher my mysteries.
Except the code wasn't all that elusive. It was downright easy to figure out once you look on the back cover to find the "key". Silly girl. What was my 10 year old self thinking?! You are smarter than that Karlita! Argh.
Okay, back to the boys thing. Yes I had love notes from boys when I was 10.  I'm flirty now, I was flirty then. In fact I was quite a tease leading to endless pages of a distraught teenager desperate for Phillip to come back to her, among others.
You see....good old pimply faced Phil dumped Karla because she didn't french him at the roller rink. I swear people. It is written in baby blue ink right on these pages.

Jerk.

As I go through the thousands of pages in journal after journal I learned my lesson from that situation. Easy became my middle name. Thanks Phil.

JOKE. geez. Don't get your Thursday panties in a bunch.


I cannot thank my young self enough for being so diligent about writing each and every night. I would have zero memory of my childhood had I not.
It drums up so many emotions going over my old scrawl.  It is quite amazing how hurtful things can be at 12 years old. How 1 event can change the course of your life for the better or worse. How 1 snotty blonde popular girl can ruin your 11th birthday party by telling the entire 5th grade not to go, then only a year later end up as your best friend for the next 20 years.

My favorite quotes from my My Melody Diary...

"11/5/1985
I like this kid in my class his name is Dominic. He likes me too. What should I say to him? He has black hair, brown eyes, nice teeth, but a very stinky personality."
Well that explains a lot.

"6/2/86
I'm so glad that I'm going to camp cuz my bratty brother won't be there to bother me...plus I want to meet some guys."
Yes, I literally wrote those words. I was 10 people.
Madonna was my idol so I guess this is not surprising.




My personal favorite....
"6/3/86
Mr. X likes me because in class he always gets yelled at for staring at me. I feel so embarrassed when he does that."
Embarrassed? Yeah right.  Holy ego Original Batman Show.


Oh and there are soooooo many more where those came from. Please comment if you would like to see more.

I have slacked on my Diary writing  the past few years.  I guess blogging is sort of a journal, right? Thing is......a true Diary is not meant to be read by anyone else. A diary is meant to be private so I feel as though I was more honest with myself than I could ever  be with the rest of the world. Precisely why the writing was so pure and unself-conscious. (yes, that's a word.)

All this blogging, and twittering is so narcissistic really. We all think we are so witty and clever. So funny and irreverent. Its so self serving in a way. It has not much to do with sharing our thoughts with others but to make ourselves seem interesting.

I digress.

Yes....the photo above includes a TELEGRAM. Or what was supposed to be a telegram.
Yes, I'm ancient.  At Mineola Middle School On Valentines Day students sent Pink telegrams to one another to express their love and affection.  We didn't have texts, or emails, or twats...well we sorta did have those. We didn't have immediate gratification. We had lined paper and pink telegrams. We had Hello Kitty Diaries. We had pens.....and paper and heartbreak.















1 comment:

  1. I TOTALLY WANT TO SEE MORE!!! WHAT HAPPENED WITH DOMINIC? AND MR X?

    ReplyDelete