January 01, 2003
old journal one: review
I found my some of my old writings from middle school.
The poetry notebook is so bad, I'm not even gonna touch it. I mean bad. This is the kind of poetry that I make fun of nowadays (although in my defense, I was twelve when I wrote it, whereas the writers I make fun of for writing it now are usually fifteen or so). The novel attempt-- yes, like every other preteen girl, I tried to write a novel, although mine did not involve horses-- is... well, it's not that bad for a twelve- or thirteen-year-old, but it's still... bad. Let's just say that my writing has, thankfully, evolved beyond that point. Some of the stylistic things I can see the beginning of, but others... whoo.
So skipping straight to the old journal. This dates back to about sixth or seventh grade. I never dated anything, but one has later annotations dated in July '98-- apparently I've gone back over them once before. Since then, though, they've pretty much been in a box under the bed. I think that by eighth grade, I'd given up journaling. So these are old indeed.
Starting with the note inside the front cover--
Do not read.
THIS MEANS YOU.
Relations are not exceptions.
Neither is curiosity, biographies, or any other excuse you come up with.
Unless I'm dead, and since I'm 12, I still have a loooong way to go.
(picture of face with tongue stuck out)
Yep, that'd be me. Not only secretive, but SARCASTICALLY so. Apparently still under the delusion that a note inside the front cover would stop anyone.
... ooh, this one has a date! 1996. Lemme see, that'd be... early sixth grade, two days after my twelfth birthday. And my handwriting is actually much more legible than it currently is. Ah yes: pentropymanship.
Hello. My name is Liadan. Sometimes I really wonder if America is all it's cracked up to be.
Milestone: Already politically disillusioned. Kind of.
They promise you privacy in the Constitution (and obviously didn't take into account my older sister), they said no cruel and unusual punishment: I washed all the dishes for two weeks. Now tell me that doesn't count as cruel.
You know, I don't even remember what I did to merit that punishment. I still think it was mean, though. *pats twelve-year-old self on the head*
They say all men are created equal. Yeah, right. If that was true I wouldn't be Creekside's Most Scorned of the year, and I wouldn't be sitting here with a sister that treats me like a room that needs redecorating
... I have no clue what that simile means. *shrug*
and a mother who thinks I should act like a sitcom kid (i.e. worship her and be perfect).
Yes, Reader: even as a twelve-year-old, I used phrases like "i.e."
Another example of cruel & unusual punishment - Mom cancels my piano lessons because I wouldn't practice after she called my playing awful. I was sight-reading, for pete's sake!
Wow. I remember that. I was trying to practice something, and Mom came in and sat down and WATCHED ME PRACTICE. Which just made me nervous and even less able to concentrate on what I was doing, which made me worse, so she told me my playing was horrible and left me in tears. Then she canceled my lessons. Frankly, I probably would've quit within the year anyway, since I never really liked piano.
She tells me to load the dishwasher, I load it, and miss a couple of glasses and bowls, big whoop, she blows up, I end up putting about five additional items in there and washing the pots/pans AND wiping the counters, all the while listening to her call me pathetic and lazy and slobby and good-for-nothing... You get the idea.
I think she only actually used the first two words, and I'm pretty sure that I was being an annoying kid anyway. I do remember having to clean the whole kitchen, though. It was a pain.
I go upstairs to read, only to find Dymphna shaking her flabby little butt and toothpick arms and wiggling what little fat and/or muscle she has.
I think... she was doing an exercise video. I'm not sure. She could have been dancing around my room to irritate me.
I sit down and turn on the radio, she screams in my face.
-end-
So much for a conclusion paragraph. "And they all lived crappily ever after"...?
What I still find funny is that as a twelve-year-old to whom the word "butt" was still taboo, I used euphemisms like "pete's sake" even in my private journal. I still don't really swear that much.
The poetry notebook is so bad, I'm not even gonna touch it. I mean bad. This is the kind of poetry that I make fun of nowadays (although in my defense, I was twelve when I wrote it, whereas the writers I make fun of for writing it now are usually fifteen or so). The novel attempt-- yes, like every other preteen girl, I tried to write a novel, although mine did not involve horses-- is... well, it's not that bad for a twelve- or thirteen-year-old, but it's still... bad. Let's just say that my writing has, thankfully, evolved beyond that point. Some of the stylistic things I can see the beginning of, but others... whoo.
So skipping straight to the old journal. This dates back to about sixth or seventh grade. I never dated anything, but one has later annotations dated in July '98-- apparently I've gone back over them once before. Since then, though, they've pretty much been in a box under the bed. I think that by eighth grade, I'd given up journaling. So these are old indeed.
Starting with the note inside the front cover--
Do not read.
THIS MEANS YOU.
Relations are not exceptions.
Neither is curiosity, biographies, or any other excuse you come up with.
Unless I'm dead, and since I'm 12, I still have a loooong way to go.
(picture of face with tongue stuck out)
Yep, that'd be me. Not only secretive, but SARCASTICALLY so. Apparently still under the delusion that a note inside the front cover would stop anyone.
... ooh, this one has a date! 1996. Lemme see, that'd be... early sixth grade, two days after my twelfth birthday. And my handwriting is actually much more legible than it currently is. Ah yes: pentropymanship.
Hello. My name is Liadan. Sometimes I really wonder if America is all it's cracked up to be.
Milestone: Already politically disillusioned. Kind of.
They promise you privacy in the Constitution (and obviously didn't take into account my older sister), they said no cruel and unusual punishment: I washed all the dishes for two weeks. Now tell me that doesn't count as cruel.
You know, I don't even remember what I did to merit that punishment. I still think it was mean, though. *pats twelve-year-old self on the head*
They say all men are created equal. Yeah, right. If that was true I wouldn't be Creekside's Most Scorned of the year, and I wouldn't be sitting here with a sister that treats me like a room that needs redecorating
... I have no clue what that simile means. *shrug*
and a mother who thinks I should act like a sitcom kid (i.e. worship her and be perfect).
Yes, Reader: even as a twelve-year-old, I used phrases like "i.e."
Another example of cruel & unusual punishment - Mom cancels my piano lessons because I wouldn't practice after she called my playing awful. I was sight-reading, for pete's sake!
Wow. I remember that. I was trying to practice something, and Mom came in and sat down and WATCHED ME PRACTICE. Which just made me nervous and even less able to concentrate on what I was doing, which made me worse, so she told me my playing was horrible and left me in tears. Then she canceled my lessons. Frankly, I probably would've quit within the year anyway, since I never really liked piano.
She tells me to load the dishwasher, I load it, and miss a couple of glasses and bowls, big whoop, she blows up, I end up putting about five additional items in there and washing the pots/pans AND wiping the counters, all the while listening to her call me pathetic and lazy and slobby and good-for-nothing... You get the idea.
I think she only actually used the first two words, and I'm pretty sure that I was being an annoying kid anyway. I do remember having to clean the whole kitchen, though. It was a pain.
I go upstairs to read, only to find Dymphna shaking her flabby little butt and toothpick arms and wiggling what little fat and/or muscle she has.
I think... she was doing an exercise video. I'm not sure. She could have been dancing around my room to irritate me.
I sit down and turn on the radio, she screams in my face.
-end-
So much for a conclusion paragraph. "And they all lived crappily ever after"...?
What I still find funny is that as a twelve-year-old to whom the word "butt" was still taboo, I used euphemisms like "pete's sake" even in my private journal. I still don't really swear that much.
# posted by Liadan @ 5:45 PM 
