I was going through my things the other day, and I found the journal I kept during the Summer of 1996. It wasn’t a surprise to find this journal. I’m so obsessively organized that I could run through the inventory of my apartment on demand. But, even though I knew this journal was sitting there next to the others, I hadn’t read it in a long time.
I decided to crack the baby blue spiral-bound notebook open for a little look. Oh, wow. My first reaction was total embarrassment. First of all, I spell almost every word wrong. Second, I appear not to be a big fan of punctuation. I might not even have known of its existence. Third, yikes at some of my thoughts, And, fourth, I was twelve! This seems like the work of a seven year old. The more I looked through the notebook, though, the more I realized I haven’t changed that much at all. My handwriting has improved drastically and I’ve now got grammar on my side, but I’m still thinking, still questioning, and still writing.
Okay, now I still have these super obvious thoughts that sound so profound in my head, but before putting them to paper, I usually realize they’re not profound at all.
Ouch.
What’s weird about this is that I remember the exact moment I wrote this. I was sitting on a bench in the park near the rec center in my town. I was just about to go back to school for the year. The grass was so green. It was Western Washington after all.
I was really surprised to read this. I guess some things don’t change.
I love this one. It’s weird to think now that when I was twelve, I was still trying to figure out what I liked and what I didn’t. I listened to music because of the image attached to it, and not because it did anything for me.
Again, ouch.
The house we lived in at this time had huge windows that looked out onto the rest of the neighborhood. This older couple lived in the house across from us, and we always talked about how the old man was always staring out his window at us. Now that I think about it, we were always staring out our windows at them, so maybe they thought we were creepy. The woman always seemed so unhappy to me, but I was somewhat impressed that she mowed the lawn.
Rick is my brother. He’s nine years older than me, so he was into his twenties when he said this. It’s weird to me now, because this doesn’t sound like something he’d say. I guess I was feeling guilty for spending my time outside playing when I thought I should be doing something more mature. I talk a lot about maturity in this journal.
Always so sensitive, even to bees.
I think I’m talking about the same neighbors who always stared at us through their windows. I always thought the guy was weird, because he wouldn’t let kids play on his lawn and was always kind of mean to us, but he was super nice to my parents. I guess I wasn’t having that!
You read that right. I asked if this guy (who?) only got a tattoo out of rage? What? In this journal, I ask a lot of questions about what other people are thinking. I’m not sure if I was genuinely interested or just trying to sound deep.
Finally, I was something of an ~artist~. I’ve since retired. You’re welcome.
{ 17 comments… read them below or add one }
I love looking through old notebooks. I do agree that they can be embarassing, though.
I love reading my old diaries. I was such a creeper as a little kid.
I used to have three diaries from when I was little and I’d read them for fun, although I did have plenty of secondhand embarrassment when I did. I felt like I was a different persron in each diary. I don’t know where they’re at now, though. I think I hid them a little too well.
I absolutely love this post. I wish I had old journals from my childhood.
This post is such a trip- it’s great. I always feel… weird when I read stuff like that from when I was younger. But it’s so funny how you can see the person you are now sort of shine through in that littler, younger you.
I like that “Samantha” doesn’t have a head, just a face. You were definitely more deep than I was in my journals at that age.
Good post! I always love looking back.
Oh wow, this is so great! Thanks for sharing these, it brings back memories of my own awkward tween years.
That was so fun to read!
This makes me want to grab my old notebook and read through it. But alas they are still at my parent’s house in MN. But then again I’m glad, because they were awkward years and I had HORRIBLE spelling. However, I still have my poetry books from junior high and high school. I might dig those out….
Thanks for sharing!
That’s awesome! You were such a deep 12 year old. If I had a journal when I was 12, I’m sure it would have been about my dog and how much I looooovvvveeedd school.
That was awesome Ashley! I may have to copy you on this one :) I love looking back and seeing all my misspelled words because I remember being so confused about things like to, two, too, haha. I love how you noticed if people were smiling or not and just generally wondering the motives behind why people were doing things. I still do those things :)
Don’t you just love re-visiting the past? I really liked this post :)
I really liked reading this. It was fun to get inside your 12 year old head. I read my old journals a couple of weeks ago too. Its strange to reread what you wrote such a long time ago. It sometimes feels like, “Do I really know this person?” Its like a different person but the same in so many ways. Did that make sense?
Quite interesting to get into someone else’s preteen mind. I’ve found journals like this that I wrote a decade ago or so, and it’s so interesting to read.
However, it’s more interesting to me than anything how much my writing style hasn’t change. I can notice differences that come with more education, but I can still hear me in every word.
What great excerpts! I never really kept a journal when I was a kid, but I did write when I was angry or upset. Unfortunately I usually destroyed those, so there is very little to go read through.
Your entries were far more profound than mine anyway. Mine used to just describe everywhere I’d happened to see whoever my current crush was that day!
i love this. i really want to go pull out my 12 year old journal now, too.