Old journals, old feelings?
This weekend at my parents' house I found three old journals. This is further evidence that I am pretty religious when it comes to journal writing in a real book. I was so happy to see them and upon seeing them, even just the decorated covers, a flood of old feelings rushed back.
The first, dark green with glitter puffy flowers applied by yours truly was from around 1995. I was 13 and in 8th grade. A little bit of freshman year high school was in it too. As I read, I laugh at my ridiculous problems, my crushes, my falling outs with several friends, and my anger at my family. I wrote about being on the edge of being sent to a catholic high school. I was a bad kid because I talked back a lot. I had back surgery that year. I surprisingly don't talk about it that much. I reflect on my "trippy" experience with morphine, however. Some of the pages are nibbled by my then parakeet, Stool. I drew in the margins.
Then came another year book after every inch of the dark green one was filled. This one was red and had a warning on the cover regarding respecting my privacy. Later on in the journal, this warning is justified because a former friend had snooped and read it. This journal lasted about 2 1/2 years; half of freshman year, into junior year high school. Again, my ridiculous upperclassmen crushes, fights with family, new jobs, school stress, first "boyfriend" (if you can call it that), and general reporting of fun times had by my friends and I, along with funny things that happened at school. I report about numerous bomb scares in 1999 which forced our school to hold classes outside in the parking lot. I write about ditching school. I write about getting good at drawing. I begin to hone in on my socialist nature and how I feel about politics and society. It's hilarious to read some of my political entries.
But what's really interesting is a crush I had and still have to this very day, which started sophomore year in Biology class. I talk about this guy so fondly, but yet switch topics every single time it seems like I'm about to come to terms with my feelings for him. Only in one entry do I profess how I feel about him. I start off with, "I know this is weird but, I think I like [him]!" I like him because he listened to me, he was interesting when he had something to say, and he was talented in music and appreciated my drawings. He shared my political views. And, as my 15 year old self would say, he was cute too! It's like I couldn't lose! But consistent with high school behavior, a mutual "friend" who liked me, kept us apart. Not just that, but he straight out sabotaged any chance of us getting closer. I didn't know at the time, and as I was seeing signs that my crush may have liked me and entertaining the possibility (then switching to a different topic), I was also writing about things this other "friend" said that would tear us apart. I look back and get so angry about it. What a dirty game. My life was not supposed to be malleable for someone else's wants and desires. Especially someone I had no interest in.
Then my crush dated another girl and I moved on to another journal. Black, with red pen on the front that read various quotes from my favorite songs; mostly political, and some magazine cut outs of pseudo-left wing illustrations. I hem and haw over my crush for a good portion of the journal and how I was stupid to not make a move. I shoot my own self-esteem down. And sadly, I remain friends with the very person who killed my chances with a truly wonderful guy. The rest of the journal is a struggle between my liberalism and the constraints of modern society, along with not having proper outlets aside from my art work to channel my ideas and feelings. Then I go to college.
I've grown up so much in 11 years, but my feelings haven't changed all that much. Obviously I'm still very liberal. And not so obviously, I still have my crush. Ok, I'll admit, I forgot about him for a long time. I delved into college life, getting involved in the feminist group, getting involved with other liberal artsy guys, calming down my anger and finding a good medium with my artwork. But I met up with him again. My feelings were stirred. I had the same feelings towards him that I had 11 years ago, but instead of switching to a different topic, I let myself really feel them. This is something I learned to do over the years and I must say, it really helps. I thought about what I liked about him then and now. I entertained the idea that it was just old feelings, but as it turns out, I like the person he is now. New feelings. I don't know what is in store for the future; the immediate future that is, but having become an appreciator of existentialism, I can only guess that I will allow myself to feel and speak freely of my unabashed feelings. What do I have to fear anyway? My only fears are death and regret (ok, and thousand legger bugs).
The first, dark green with glitter puffy flowers applied by yours truly was from around 1995. I was 13 and in 8th grade. A little bit of freshman year high school was in it too. As I read, I laugh at my ridiculous problems, my crushes, my falling outs with several friends, and my anger at my family. I wrote about being on the edge of being sent to a catholic high school. I was a bad kid because I talked back a lot. I had back surgery that year. I surprisingly don't talk about it that much. I reflect on my "trippy" experience with morphine, however. Some of the pages are nibbled by my then parakeet, Stool. I drew in the margins.
Then came another year book after every inch of the dark green one was filled. This one was red and had a warning on the cover regarding respecting my privacy. Later on in the journal, this warning is justified because a former friend had snooped and read it. This journal lasted about 2 1/2 years; half of freshman year, into junior year high school. Again, my ridiculous upperclassmen crushes, fights with family, new jobs, school stress, first "boyfriend" (if you can call it that), and general reporting of fun times had by my friends and I, along with funny things that happened at school. I report about numerous bomb scares in 1999 which forced our school to hold classes outside in the parking lot. I write about ditching school. I write about getting good at drawing. I begin to hone in on my socialist nature and how I feel about politics and society. It's hilarious to read some of my political entries.
But what's really interesting is a crush I had and still have to this very day, which started sophomore year in Biology class. I talk about this guy so fondly, but yet switch topics every single time it seems like I'm about to come to terms with my feelings for him. Only in one entry do I profess how I feel about him. I start off with, "I know this is weird but, I think I like [him]!" I like him because he listened to me, he was interesting when he had something to say, and he was talented in music and appreciated my drawings. He shared my political views. And, as my 15 year old self would say, he was cute too! It's like I couldn't lose! But consistent with high school behavior, a mutual "friend" who liked me, kept us apart. Not just that, but he straight out sabotaged any chance of us getting closer. I didn't know at the time, and as I was seeing signs that my crush may have liked me and entertaining the possibility (then switching to a different topic), I was also writing about things this other "friend" said that would tear us apart. I look back and get so angry about it. What a dirty game. My life was not supposed to be malleable for someone else's wants and desires. Especially someone I had no interest in.
Then my crush dated another girl and I moved on to another journal. Black, with red pen on the front that read various quotes from my favorite songs; mostly political, and some magazine cut outs of pseudo-left wing illustrations. I hem and haw over my crush for a good portion of the journal and how I was stupid to not make a move. I shoot my own self-esteem down. And sadly, I remain friends with the very person who killed my chances with a truly wonderful guy. The rest of the journal is a struggle between my liberalism and the constraints of modern society, along with not having proper outlets aside from my art work to channel my ideas and feelings. Then I go to college.
I've grown up so much in 11 years, but my feelings haven't changed all that much. Obviously I'm still very liberal. And not so obviously, I still have my crush. Ok, I'll admit, I forgot about him for a long time. I delved into college life, getting involved in the feminist group, getting involved with other liberal artsy guys, calming down my anger and finding a good medium with my artwork. But I met up with him again. My feelings were stirred. I had the same feelings towards him that I had 11 years ago, but instead of switching to a different topic, I let myself really feel them. This is something I learned to do over the years and I must say, it really helps. I thought about what I liked about him then and now. I entertained the idea that it was just old feelings, but as it turns out, I like the person he is now. New feelings. I don't know what is in store for the future; the immediate future that is, but having become an appreciator of existentialism, I can only guess that I will allow myself to feel and speak freely of my unabashed feelings. What do I have to fear anyway? My only fears are death and regret (ok, and thousand legger bugs).