I recently saw a great tweet on Twitter: Keep a journal. You’ll never regret getting older if you can go back and check how stupid you used to be.
Last weekend, I found out firsthand how true this is.
I came across one of my old writing journals from grade 12 when I was cleaning out a drawer and was captivated – and slightly humiliated – by the content. Was I actually this naïve? Did I actually think some of the things I bitched about were problems?
Some of them were too naïve, too ridiculous, too 18-year-old-poptart not to share. So, here’s a small selection of the things that either were a pet peeve of mine or were things I thought were significant enough to complain about:
- My stomache growling in a quiet class – it was sooooo embarrassing (Are the five “o’s” really necessary?)
- My favourite pen running out
- Being 150 pounds (Uhhh, this is about how much my right leg weighs now.)
- Paying $10 to go tanning but only tanning on my face
- When chocolate bars made me eat them
- That people didn’t consider synchronized skating a sport (in the space of four months I kept this journal, I wrote about this seven times. SEVEN.)
- People pointing to their wrist when they wanted the time
- The word “swab” and “scab” (by the way, they’re still gross words.)
- When girls wore, and this is a direct quote, “lime green, electric blue or violet eye shadow along with savage foundation, skating blush, eye liner and mascara layered so thick their eyelashes resemble spiders and then insist they don’t wear a lot of make up”.
- Wanting to be held and (insert highschool flavour of the week’s name) is nowhere to be found
- Finding a prom dress for only $400 (Me now: ONLY? That would feed and intoxicate you for a month.)
Other entry topics included getting pissed with my best friend because she went for coffee with someone she said she “didn’t like very much” (four pages of teenage angst on this one), taking my friends to get piercings and tattoos over our lunch hour and “savage parties”, which seemed to be happening every other weekend. Apparently “savage” was the modern day “like”. Oy vey.
So, essentially, I’ve come to the conclusion that I was a self-centered, partying, pretentious, attention-seeking brat who was obnoxious externally yet completely self-conscious. I’m sure some might argue I haven’t changed all that much.
For the friends who were foolish enough to stay in contact with me through these formidable teenage years and beyond: in the name of all that is holy…. what the heck were you thinking? Your hero medals are in the mail.