One of the blogs I frequent is written by a girl who runs a monthly reading called cringe. On her website she describes cringe as,
" ...a monthly reading series hosted by Sarah Brown at Freddy’s Bar & Backroom in Brooklyn. On the first Wednesday of each month, brave souls come forward and read aloud from their teenage diaries, journals, notes, letters, poems, abandoned rock operas, and other general representations of the crushing misery of their humiliating adolescence. It’s better and cheaper than therapy."
I ran across a few of my old diaries and decided to give them a quick look over to see what I was all about back in the day. Cringe is the perfect word to describe what it's like to read about your former self. The diaries I still have range from age 6 to 18. I found the younger I was the more boy crazy I was. I think that's usually the other way around, isn't it?
Here is an entry dated 4/23/1987 proving that even at age 6 girls are confused about how they feel about boys. (yes this was all part of the same entry.)
I Hate Andy. Love Missy
I love Andy for a boyfriend. Love Missy
Question. What do they call a girl in High School that loves this many boys at once? Thank God I outgrew this nonsense by then. For the record I don't remember who any of these boys were. Not a one. Dated 10/31 (1988?) Age 8.
I LOVE BRIAN
I LOVE JASON
I LOVE MIKELL
I LOVE NICOLISE
I LOVE DAVID
I LOVE ROLAND
I LOVE KEVIN
Finally from the diary of pre-pubescent love, this entry dated 1/11/1988 Age 7.
Last time I went to the skating rink I fell in love. The boys name is Kevin. Love Missy
Ah, young love at the skating rink. I still have no idea who this Kevin kid was but I'm sure he was special.
By 10 I had focused my sights in on one boy. It's a good thing too because who can keep up with that many boys? At least with only one boy to remember I have a vague recollection of him being a real person. At this point my diary entries definitely became more cringe-y.
Tonight the 1st of October (1990) is one of the best nights of my life...My heart is now a train. First off Trent* (heartthrob) was looking at me!...
My diary goes on about him for like 6 months, that's a long time for a girl with my attention span. So many boys, so little time.
*Not to be confused with Buffalo Bills QB Trent Edwards, who is also a total heartthrob.
Here are some of my thoughts on Punk when she was 12 (1990). These thoughts are also note-worthy because this might actually be the first time I wrote about something other than boys.
Sometimes Punk can be a pain. I think she's starting to like boys over me and boy is she flirty. Rebbecca stayed for supper. We played barbies and gymnastics and talked and played with Socks (my cat) and the computer.
Punk is also a snob. If there is one thing I hate it's piano. I mean I absolutely hate the piano...
I'm thinking that I didn't make alot of sense at 10. Also I clearly like Punk better now that we don't share a room.
As I got older, I stopped talking about boys altogether and became obsessed with how happy or sad I felt. Very egocentric. While I was never cool enough to attempt to write a rock opera I did try my hand at some poetry and lyrics which I will so kindly spare you the agony of. I also wrote alot of "what I did today" entries which went something like this,
I read a book, I drank a glass of water, I made my bed, I read some more, I went to wal-mart, more water, this time with lemon slices...more reading. Riveting stuff really.
I was a really boring teenager. I never thought I'd be so proud to realize that as an adult I'm more like the 6 year old version of myself than the teenage version. Except I can spell marginally better. I could have really used spell-check at 6.
Dated 4/21/87 Age 6
I am going to see my sistr's play today I am icsidid. Love Missy
Are you brave enough to share something from your childhood?
This Saturday’s Recipes by The Pioneer Woman
3 years ago
11 comments:
Love your diary entries, very innocent and sweet. As for my own, they were burned long ago, didn't see the need to keep any incriminating evidence laying around. And about the Homegirl name, kinda annoys me a little, but after spending almost a week in the 'Hood, i'm feeling a little homegirlie right now!
It has been determined that I do indeed suck, if for no other reason than I can't find any of my journals/ diaries previous to 1994/5. And at that point I was writing a LOT of fiction, and, as far as I can tell, adoring you. So there.
And I remember being twelve. I would have hated sharing a room with me too. Forgive yourself.
I'm so relieved your spelling has improved as much as it has. Even as much grief as I like to give you for spelling "Michael" as "Micheal," at least you're not still spelling it "Mikell." Because, yes, I was disturbingly distracted by that particular entry.
Hey, send one of the kids into the barn to look for my journals, would you? ;-)
In the spirit of Cringe: a poem, roughly 1995:
(I think it has to do with the band Bush, but don't quote me on that because I have no context here)
Why do I cry out?
Gavin
Singing to me and
I'm not listening
I refuse.
Falling backwards
into green sounds.
Hurtleling forward (misspelled! Awesome, right?)
He said there's pain
In your arms.
How little you know.
Will ever know.
Look at me when you sing.
It makes your voice
more mine
Swallowing + Digging
into my skin, as only
your voice can.
Lovely teethed child. (LOL!)
With an innocent face
for your audience, but
we can't understand
where in the heck
innocence came from
We've heard your rumors
You're too skinny
like a cigarette
with hair longer than mine
and a face straighter.
Wait, stand across from me
and let's decide
who sees clearer.
Should I with my glasses or no?
Tall boy, what are you thinking about?
Is this nonsense?
Will you accept me, nonetheless?
Something's bound to choke.
I just know it.
... Cringe-worthy enough for you?
Nice. I'm starting to think that Homegirl was on to something when she burned her diaries.
You are a couple crazy women......
yeahhhh i like that!
Punk, Gavin spoke to my soul too. Him and Chumbawumba.
Birdie
We should talk more about Missy wearing her High School Graduation outfit. Put that into the diary and discuss this. Boy did you look hot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Who is this Bob and why is he testing? Is there a test? Did I study?? What's the subject? Oh No! I've had this dream!! Now it's coming true. *weeping*
You can dry your tears. You scored in the 99.9% on this test too. Even in your dreams you overachieve.
Excellent
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