An Old Note to Kristen
I dozed in bed until 11:30am today. I've been staying up every night pretty late reading my book, but still getting up at a reasonable hour, usually after 6-7 hours of sleep. 8 hours is better for me, so I think the extra hours this morning was an attempt to catch up. I lounged in bed until 2 reading some more.
It felt good in an odd way. I haven't been that obviously lazy in a long time.
I've been working on household chores since getting up. Maybe the extra sleep did me some good. I've been rather low energy over the past few days.
My mom found an old journal of hers; for some reason there was a note tucked between the pages that I wrote in high school to my friend Kristen. It's seven pages long and written in pencil on regular, blue lined notebook paper. There were a few cringe worthy moments as I went on and on about my crush at the time (I crushed on boys very easily when I was younger and my thoughts would quickly be dominated with fantasies about them. The slightest recognition from them would leave me swooning for days. I still get crushes on boys very easily, but I don't let myself get as carried away as I used to. Somewhere along the line I realized how fruitless it was.).
At one point in the note I go on and on about Eric (the crush) and then abruptly I switch topics for two sentences, declaring, "I love hats. I really love to wear hats." Without further elaboration, I quickly got back to Eric.
I laughed out loud when I read about my dedication to hats. I wonder if I was trying to convince myself that that was true. Well, it's true that I do love hats, and they usually look very good on me, but it's not true that I love to wear hats. I get very impatient with them. I have a somewhat large noggin, so if I find a hat that I LOVE, even if it's a wee bit tight, I convince myself that I'll wear it anyway (I do the same thing with shoes). Only later do I remember that hats that are even a wee bit too tight will give me a headache. Plus I worry too much about hat-head. So I covet them, and occasionally I purchase them, but it's rare that I actually wear them, and it's always been that way.
I wrote about a lot of random things: how I was looking forward to finals, the potential for a trip to Germany that summer, how terrible the song "Rush, Rush" by Paula Abdul is, my efforts to regulate my sleep pattern (go to bed earlier, get up feeling more rested), relationship advice I'd recently imparted to my younger brother, etc. The snowball fight I had with my brothers was a particularly gripping passage, "James, Bill and I had a snowball fight--we found the perfect place for one. Anyway I had just thrown one at Bill and I turned away because I thought he would throw one right back but it had been a while so I turned back and stupidly I had my mouth open--Well all that time Bill was just packing it down really hard and it hit me right on my lips and in the back of the throat. It cracked my lips open and a piece of snow stayed at the back of my throat and slowly melted which made me cough quite a lot and made my throat sore."
It seems I wasn't much of a fan of commas back in high school, and I only held slight more tolerance for periods. When I read that part of my note, I actually remembered the snowball fight. It's odd how there are certain memories that probably would have been gone forever if not for finding an old photograph, reading an old scribbled note, or hearing a casual mention of something that sparks the memory.
The cutest thing about the note for me was the fact that I'd doodled all over it. Maybe every teenage girl does that, but even back then I was creating different letter forms and adding decoration to the page.
I used to cling to photographs and old notes, but I really don't anymore. As amusing as it was to read this note, most likely it'll end up in the recycling bin or the fire. It's nice to be able to grow up, and it's also nice to see that the things that were very important to me back then, aren't on the fore front of my mind anymore. It's nice to know that I've changed and for the better.
It felt good in an odd way. I haven't been that obviously lazy in a long time.
I've been working on household chores since getting up. Maybe the extra sleep did me some good. I've been rather low energy over the past few days.
My mom found an old journal of hers; for some reason there was a note tucked between the pages that I wrote in high school to my friend Kristen. It's seven pages long and written in pencil on regular, blue lined notebook paper. There were a few cringe worthy moments as I went on and on about my crush at the time (I crushed on boys very easily when I was younger and my thoughts would quickly be dominated with fantasies about them. The slightest recognition from them would leave me swooning for days. I still get crushes on boys very easily, but I don't let myself get as carried away as I used to. Somewhere along the line I realized how fruitless it was.).
At one point in the note I go on and on about Eric (the crush) and then abruptly I switch topics for two sentences, declaring, "I love hats. I really love to wear hats." Without further elaboration, I quickly got back to Eric.
I laughed out loud when I read about my dedication to hats. I wonder if I was trying to convince myself that that was true. Well, it's true that I do love hats, and they usually look very good on me, but it's not true that I love to wear hats. I get very impatient with them. I have a somewhat large noggin, so if I find a hat that I LOVE, even if it's a wee bit tight, I convince myself that I'll wear it anyway (I do the same thing with shoes). Only later do I remember that hats that are even a wee bit too tight will give me a headache. Plus I worry too much about hat-head. So I covet them, and occasionally I purchase them, but it's rare that I actually wear them, and it's always been that way.
I wrote about a lot of random things: how I was looking forward to finals, the potential for a trip to Germany that summer, how terrible the song "Rush, Rush" by Paula Abdul is, my efforts to regulate my sleep pattern (go to bed earlier, get up feeling more rested), relationship advice I'd recently imparted to my younger brother, etc. The snowball fight I had with my brothers was a particularly gripping passage, "James, Bill and I had a snowball fight--we found the perfect place for one. Anyway I had just thrown one at Bill and I turned away because I thought he would throw one right back but it had been a while so I turned back and stupidly I had my mouth open--Well all that time Bill was just packing it down really hard and it hit me right on my lips and in the back of the throat. It cracked my lips open and a piece of snow stayed at the back of my throat and slowly melted which made me cough quite a lot and made my throat sore."
It seems I wasn't much of a fan of commas back in high school, and I only held slight more tolerance for periods. When I read that part of my note, I actually remembered the snowball fight. It's odd how there are certain memories that probably would have been gone forever if not for finding an old photograph, reading an old scribbled note, or hearing a casual mention of something that sparks the memory.
The cutest thing about the note for me was the fact that I'd doodled all over it. Maybe every teenage girl does that, but even back then I was creating different letter forms and adding decoration to the page.
I used to cling to photographs and old notes, but I really don't anymore. As amusing as it was to read this note, most likely it'll end up in the recycling bin or the fire. It's nice to be able to grow up, and it's also nice to see that the things that were very important to me back then, aren't on the fore front of my mind anymore. It's nice to know that I've changed and for the better.