Saturday, June 30, 1990

This made me laugh too. I was being so random.

Dear Diary,
I need to shave my legs. I don't know why I am writing this but my legs are gross! I'm just sitting here looking at them. I wish they looked like Elsie Schneider's legs.

You would just have to know Elsie Schneider to really appreciate that. I'm sure you each know an "Elsie" from some point in your life.
Elsie was a girl in my class who everyone liked. Not only was she friendly but she was a natural beauty. I thought she was close to perfect. She was tall and blonde. (every short brunette's dream!)
I wonder whose legs Elsie wished for. Girls out there: love your legs. They are yours and you're stuck with them. Be glad you have legs and stop wanting different ones. YOURS look beautiful on YOU!!!
(Trust me)
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Thursday, June 28, 1990

This entry made me laugh a little.

Dear Diary,
Mom had this little drama fit today on how she wanted me to be happy AND she wanted me to like her. I don't hate her anymore. But this is my new saying...
To understand a parent you must be a parent.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Wednesday, June 27, 1990

Dear Diary,
Today I'm not going to write about how I love Joe McIntyre or how I can't wait to see Dax.
All I know is that for the last 15 minutes my mom and dad have been yelling and screaming. I don't know if they're yelling and screaming at each other or what. All I know is that there is some big thing going on with mom's family. I think Lucy and Gracie are scared.


Looking back, I think I was scared. Mom and Dad didn't fight in front of us. They rarely raised their voices to one another. But if there was a problem, everything would be secretive. If something was going on in the family, they would discuss it behind closed doors. My sisters and I were left in the dark about many things. "Protected". I get wanting to shelter your children. But I think my parents went too far. I didn't see it at the time. I started to understand the difference among families, the dynamics, after I started spending time with my husband's family. But, that is a long ways off....
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Sunday, June 24, 1990

Dear Diary,
My parents say I'm no longer fat. I just have a bad attitude.

Well, there's an improvement. I think.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Friday, June 22, 1990

I hesitate to post this. It feels very private. Yet, I created this blog to be honest with myself. I wanted to see my life from another angle. This just wasn't the angle I was looking for.





Dear Diary,

I know lately I've been acting like a real jerk. Sure, my parents have been a little rough on me but maybe,just maybe, I deserved all of it. My mom might have done me a favor when she told me I made her sick to look at.

For some reason, now, my parents are being nice to me. That makes it kind of hard to wanna run away.

I wondered today what would really happen if I ran away. It rained all day today and I imagined myself cold and wet. Then I thought of the waste of starving myself and freezing only to find out that there is nobody out there who would want me. No one wants a runaway.

Then I wondered if my friends would miss me.

Maybe I can sort things out. Maybe. My life is a maybe.



That was tough to own up to. I am in denial about struggling with depression as an adult. Could I have been depressed as a kid? I think this is what depression looks like when written down in black and white. Why don't I remember writing this? Why didn't I write more? I can't imagine my mom saying I make her sick. I love her very much and I know she loves me too. Our relationship was strained back then. But what caused all that? I remember my childhood as happy. I remember my teen years as emotional. I cried a lot. But isn't that how it is for all teen girls? I'm not clearing anything up for myself. Just asking lots of new questions. I think I need to talk to this girl who was me so many years ago.

1990

It seems this year began pretty much the way the one before ended. Again, I think it is best if we just highlight the happenings. It will spare you boredom and leave me a small amount of dignity.

I continue to make eyes at a boy named Jeremy who does not return my affections.
I paused to celebrate Dax's 15th birthday. I longed for summer to come so I could turn 13. I was sure that when I was 13 Dax would look at me a little differently.
I found out that Grant liked me again. My list of boys to adore was too long to give Grant any time. Besides that, my friend Tori had started to like Grant. So, he was off the market for me for a while. I think Tori thought I was crazy when it came to boys (she was right). She was much more conservative and loyal with her affections.
I went to my first middle school dance. A boy named Jamie asked me to dance to a slow song. I had never given a thought to him before but was happy to have my first slow dance experience.
I find that I am not immune to the craze overcoming young girls. I become smitten with the boy band, New Kids on the Block. More precisely, I become obsessed with one of the members of this group, Joe McIntyre. Jeremy, Grant and even Dax drifted to the back of my mind as thoughts of Joe McIntyre filled my head. My obsession was further fueled when I won tickets off of the radio to one of their concerts. Despite my parents thinking I was too young to go to concerts I was allowed to go to the concert with one of my friends and my mom.
I could easily out do any Elvis fan with my affections for Joe McIntyre. I had it all, every album they'd made, books, magazines, t-shirts, hats, videos, pins, my own homemade scrapbook of all things Joe, posters adorned my bedroom walls. I lived, breathed and dreamed of Joe McIntyre. I tried my darndest to be his number one fan. I was sure my steadfastness would finally pay off. I would meet him, we'd fall madly in love, be married and live much more happily ever after than Elvis and Priscilla. (Side note to young girls....this won't happen to you. It didn't happen to me. A crush like this is a waste of good young years-but it may possibly be some sort of rite of passage. I'm still not sure)
I have been formulating exotic ways of running away from home because I am positive my parents will never understand me and even possibly hate me. ( However, none of my running away plans involve me be hungry, dirty, or without money and shelter. Hmmm. )

Well, that wraps up the first part of the year. I will review the second half and post it sometime.

1989

After reading ahead in my diary, I have concluded that nothing significant happened to me during the rest of the year. And if something significant did happen I didn't write about it nor do I remember it now. I will give you the brief overview. I promise, you aren't missing a thing!



I continued to have spats with my mom. I didn't understand her moodiness or my own.

I continued to pick fights with my sister Lucy. I decided she was too young to hang out with me. I was 12 now.

I joined our middle school volleyball team. We lost all of our games.

I started feeling mushy about Grant, started going with Grant, dumped Grant. I stayed at a friends house and shaved my legs for the first time.

I went a bit boy crazy going with or having crushes on: Carl, Jeremy, Grant (again), Travis, back to Jeremy again.

Through all of that there is still a name that appears on the majority of my diary pages, Dax. We spent time during the summer together at camp again. I loved every minute with him but nothing hinted that we were becoming more than friends. He sent letters to his cousin Mindy more often now always sending a "hi" along for me. Mindy would bring these letters to church for me to see for myself. I remember sitting there studying his handwriting, trying to read more than just the word hi that was scripted on the paper.

And sadly, that completes the year of 1989.

Saturday, July 8, 1989

Dear Diary,
I really blew it!!! Today I was upstairs watching Gracie. Dax was supposed to be visiting Mindy's family today. She said she would get him to call me. Someone had shut the ringer off on the phone upstairs. I could barely hear the phone ringing downstairs in the kitchen around 4:30. I ran downstairs as fast as I could. When I got to the phone and picked it up, no one was there. I'm sure it was Dax. How could I have missed that call?!?

How could I have missed that call? How was I not sitting right by the phone? Why didn't he call again? Maybe he didn't want to call in the first place and was relieved I hadn't answered. Maybe he was feeling shy or nervous and couldn't work up the nerve to call again. Maybe he and Mindy went out for pizza and never thought of me again. Maybe...

Saturday, June 3, 1989

Dear Diary,

Again, it has been a long time since I've written. Maybe I should get an award for forgetting!! There are some things I should catch you up on.

1. School is out now.

2. My friend Mindy,from church, is going with my cousin James. (Lance's brother)

3. James is going to get his drivers license this summer so they will be able to go on real dates! We are going to have so much more to talk about during church!!

4. Starting on June 5th, I am going to a type of summer school for smart people.

5. Mindy told me that Dax has moved to either Illinois or Missouri. She is going to get me his new address soon.

That's about it. I guess. We spent the day at Granny's. Lance and Cory (Lance's little brother) had a boy over named Tyler. Tyler seemed to like Lucy but Lucy didn't like him. I'm not sure why, he seemed okay for a little kid.



OK, ok... Laugh a little.

I am out of school for the summer but have opted to go back to school. I guess I was kind of a nerd. (Not the pocket protector, thick glasses kind but the cute, lovable kind) My school called this Enrichment. I have heard that other schools have similar programs. Many of my friends went too, so being "enriched" all summer didn't seem so bad. We dissected things, did fun science experiments that were too messy or complex to mess with during the actual school year, we had lots of guest speakers and went on endless field trips. Call me crazy but it was fun.

Most disturbing but not surprising is that I am still chasing after Dax - or the idea of him. What was I thinking? He had not written me once but I was in full pursuit of finding his address so I could send him another childish love letter. For all I knew he had moved just to hide from my silly letters. Where is my dignity? Where is my pride?

Lesson: love makes you do stupid things no matter what your age. There is no dignity and no pride when you think you are in love. That's part of the reason it hurts so bad at times.

A little about Grant

I don't even know where to start when talking about Grant. I don't think I can accurately describe how things were with us. Here's my best shot.....
Grant and I went to school together. He was with me from kindergarten until graduation. I don't remember very much about him until about 5th grade. I think he sat in front of me in class, or vice versa. I also think I remember some check yes or no notes passed between us. These notes had to do with his best friend and his cousin more than with him.
Something happened between 5th and 6th grade and our notes became more about us. Grant was always good to me. Maybe too good. He called me frequently and bought me things. This annoyed my parents which made things awkward for me. In fact, I distinctly remember breaking up with him because he bought me a pretty pair of silver heart shaped ear rings and I didn't want to face my parents with this token of his affection.
Grant was an okay looking boy, a bit scrawny. He had brown hair, a few freckles and an impish smile. What I liked the most were his eyes, deep chocolate brown, that sparkled a little when he was clowning around.
Boy, did he clown around. That got to be a source of agitation. At times it felt like he could not be serious. He was funny. Part of the reason I liked him was because he could make me laugh. But at times-in front of his friends-he could get too carried away. I felt like he didn't always act like the 'real' Grant I knew. And I liked that Grant the best. I probably broke up with him for that at some point too.
Our on and off relationship lasted through middle school and our freshman and sophomore years of high school. Grant and I got along wonderfully when we were not a couple. He and I could have been really good friends. If I could go back and do it again, I would try harder to be his friend. We would have been soooo much better as friends than as a couple.
I blame myself for our relationship never working out. I was a silly girl that didn't know what I wanted. I was too boy crazy for one thing. For another thing, Grant always wanted more from our relationship than I did. Remember we were just kids. So when I say he wanted more, don't read into that too much. I can't remember if we held hands or not. We probably did at some point. I do remember that he told my friend Tori that he wanted to kiss me. I broke up with him for that too.
There are two pictures of Grant and I that I like. They are not the best pictures of us, not typical couple pictures. These pictures are worth a thousand words. All you have to do is look at our facial expressions and you would understand our whole long relationship.
The first picture is of us as freshmen. We were at a party at a mutual friends house. It is a close up of us. We were leaning in very close to each other. I was happy, looking at the camera, smiling. He was happy, looking at me and smiling.
In the second picture we are sophomores, all dressed up at our first formal dance. The picture is a candid shot of us. I am sitting on his lap, leaning away from him a little. My face looks perturbed, my eyes look empty. His eyes are dancing with laughter and his arm is tight around my waist. But we are both looking in opposite directions.
I guess we were always going in opposite directions..........

Wednesday, February 15, 1989

Dear Diary,
I haven't written in a long time! Sorry. Let me catch you up.
1. I dumped Grant.
2. I'm living in a new house.
3. My life IS falling apart.
Why is my life falling apart? Well, ever since we moved, Lucy and I have been fighting alot. It's really getting on Mom's nerves. So, today after Lucy and I get in a fight for the zillionth time, Mom got mad. Or at least I thought she did. Later Dad tells me that Mom's been crying! Wonderful. Now I feel rotten and guilty! I know I am the bad guy here but it seems as if Mom thinks everything should go perfectly.
IT DOESN'T !!!!!


I do not remember this and really don't want to own up to it. I'm not sure how to explain this one. I am not feeling overly witty today.
What I can tell you is that Grant will inevitably be back if you hang around long enough.
Lucy and I did start fighting more after the move. I don't think it really had much to do with the move. It was more our ages. I was about to be 12 and she was almost 9. I was ready to be a teenager and the two and a half year difference in our age started to feel like more than it was. Even though I fought with her, it bothered me because we had been bestest friends up until that point. She had been my playmate and confidant. We shared everything...until I outgrew her. It was kind of a rotten thing for me to do. But we had moved. I now had my own room. Lucy and Grace began sharing a room. I think Lucy and I both missed each other but were too stubborn to call a truce. And apparently this was driving our mother insane too.
Lastly, I suppose "my life falling apart" was a little dramatic. But I think I was a little dramatic back then. Ugh.

A little about my house

I thought it was one of the worst things my parents had decided to do. I couldn't understand what they were thinking. Why would they want to sell our house? It was OURS. We belonged there. We were happy there. We loved there. We cried there. We had gathered many memories there. How could they want to leave?
My house was a small, red brick house with a small yard and small garden. The house sat at the end of a small street, a few small blocks away from the town's small Main Street. Of course, at the time I did not see any of the smallness. In my child's eye, the word small should have simply been substituted with perfect.
We lived in the middle of Nowhere, USA. I walked to school with my sister daily. I often walked to the post office or the Corner Grocery for my mom. I rode my bike all over the small streets of town. I'm not sure I would allow my children to do those things now, alone. But times were different then. There was nothing to fear. I always felt safe.
As my parents had searched for a new house there was always something not quite right: wrong neighborhood, wrong floor plan, wrong price. I started to hope it was fate to keep our tiny house. But then Mom and Dad found a plot of land near the closest city but still in our current school district. They deemed it perfect and went to work on house plans.
I didn't want to like this new house but the process of building fascinated me. I watched this new house rise up out of the dirt, a skeleton at first, transforming in front of my eyes into not just a house but a home. It felt like a betrayal to go to this new house and pick out colors for the walls of my new room.
I remember how sad I felt the day we left the little brick house. This house held ALL of the memories of my life. I remembered getting in trouble for coloring part of the house with my crayons. I remembered writing the name of a boy I liked on my bedroom wall in a spot where only I knew it was. I remembered pets, christmases, snowball fights, sitting on the porch while it rained...so many memories. How could I leave it all?
But I had no choice. Mom and Dad put us in the car and we drove away. I think I was the only one who looked back. I HAD to look back. I said goodbye to the little brick house silently as we drove down the street. A few tears ran down my cheeks. I wanted out of the car, to run back and stay in my safe place just a little longer.
We moved. It didn't feel right for a long time. Now,twenty years later, I love the house my parents built. It has become just as special as my first house. I always feel welcome and warm there, at home.
I understand my parents better too. They weren't trying to ruin my world by moving. They had dreams. My husband and I have dreams too. I realize what that is now. I look around my small home and I know I won't always live here. I long for something bigger, grander. I long for something new for me AND my children. So, I guess I will have to admit that sometimes our parents are right in what they do. It is odd to realize my parents were once just like me or that now I am just like them. I'm not sure which is which.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Tuesday, October 18, 1988

Dear Diary,

Sorry I haven't written lately. We've been busy with the house. Grant and I are doing fine. Right now I feel like Grant's the greatest.

Dax hasn't wrote. I decided I'm not writing until christmas unless he writes first.

Sometimes my mom gets on my nerves. I try to ignore her but sometimes I have to have a good cry. Is that normal?







Time to narrate...

When I said we were busy with the house, I am referring to my family building a new house. I had very mixed feelings about this. I loved our old house and didn't want to move. But, I did find the building process exciting. More on all of that later. Also, I promise, more on Grant later too. I just haven't quite figured out how to explain our relationship yet.

Is anyone surprised that I am still thinking of Dax daily? I had it bad for this boy. If I could go back and talk myself out of pining away for him, I could save a lot of heartache later. But that's life. (Sigh)

Tuesday, October 11, 1988

Dear Diary,

Today I got it! Grant's necklace! I will put it on when I get on the bus and wear it during school, then take it off on the bus. Someday I'll tell mom and dad about Grant, if we last long enough.





I don't think kids still do this (maybe they do?). In my day the boys all had chain necklaces or bracelets. When they got a girlfriend they would give her their necklace to wear. It was kind of like swapping class rings or class jackets. We were just too young to have any of that stuff. But oh, every girl wanted to have a shiny chain around her neck. I, regrettably, was no different. I felt very grown-up and cool wearing Grant's necklace. It all seems trivial now.

Why so secretive you might ask. My parents were rather strict with me growing up. I think part of it was that I was the oldest child and somewhat of an experiment for them. They always frowned upon "boyfriends". They said I was too young. Now that I am an adult, I would agree that 11 is too young to have a real boyfriend and go on dates. However, what Grant and I had was hardly a real relationship. It was kid stuff. We said we were going together but in reality we didn't go anywhere. The only thing we did was write notes to each other in school. Harmless. But mom and dad wouldn't see it that way. I needed to be focused on my studies.

Did anyone notice that I took a boys necklace (a commitment) but doubted that the relationship would last. Does that make me fickle or wise?

Saturday, September 17, 1988

Dear Diary,
I started !!!!!!!!! I had my period !!!!!!!!!!! 6th grade, a new house, braces and now this !!!!!! HELP !!!!!!!!!

What girl doesn't remember starting her period? For months I had heard of other girls getting their periods and I had hoped for mine. I remember my disappointment when it finally happened and I had horrible cramps. I didn't feel suddenly grown up. I felt messy. I felt grouchy. I felt a little depressed. I just laid on the couch with a heating pad and thought that someone should have mentioned that getting your period really isn't fun. That "Blossoming Into A Woman" class in 5th grade was very misleading.

The week of Sept. 5th

Dear Diary,

We didn't have to go to school today because of labor day. Dad took us to Granny's. I got to see Lance again. We played his nintendo a lot. I need to write to Dax soon.

Dear Diary,

Mom has been taking me to the orthodontist. I may have to get braces. Oh no! I will find out tomorrow. Dax won't hardly recognize me in the summer. I'll have braces and I have decided to let my hair grow out.

Dear Diary,

Mom got me out of school today to take me to the orthodontist. Before I left school, Grant told me he'd write me a letter. The orthodontist was fine. He says I don't need full braces, just some in the back and some wires behind my teeth. So Dax shouldn't be able to tell that I have them! When I got back to school, Grant did give me a letter. It said "I wanted to tell you that I still like you". I like him a lot too.





Oh my.....did I really just talk about two boys at the same time? Yes, I did. This was the first time I have mentioned Grant. He was my on again, off again guy. You will hear more about him l am sure. He was around for several years. Ours was a strange sort of relationship.....

Wednesday, August 31, 1988

Dear Diary,
Today in reading class, I got hit in the head with a book. (A book flying thru the air). Then I went to health class but I was really supposed to be in study hall. I hope tomorrow goes better. I keep thinking about what I should write to Dax.

Okay, I just think that was really funny. Does reading that make you think I am blonde? (I'm not). Here is a lesson learned: if I had not been constantly thinking about a boy I might have been able to dodge the flying book (avoiding a headache) and then able to go to my classes in the correct order (avoiding embarrassment). Thus eliminating the need to worry about if the next day of school would be better (avoiding unnecessary stress at age 11).

Saturday, August 27, 1988

Dear Diary,
Today I went with Dad to a church meeting at the camp ground. I got to see Lance. We had fun together, but we always do. Being at camp made me think of Dax again. Its been a few weeks since I wrote to him. I keep wondering why he hasn't wrote back. I might write him again in the beginning of September.

Note to self: if you write boy and boy does not write back, stop writing boy!

Monday, August 22, 1988

Dear Diary,
Today I started school. I thought I was at the wrong bus stop because I was the only person there. I was at the right stop though. I only got lost at school once. It seems silly now that I was so nervous. In fact this is sort of fun! It is like going to kindergarten again in a way.

I wish I would have learned something from this a long time ago. Things generally don't turn out to be near as bad as I anticipate. I spent too much time worrying over things as I was growing up. I wish I could go back and relax a little more.
And how big of a nerd am I, comparing middle school to kindergarten?!? I did like school. I made good grades and had fun with my friends. I didn't understand how some kids could not like school. (Have I mentioned yet what a sheltered life I led as a girl)
Good thing I documented that I didn't have bus stop issues. That could have changed the whole course of history.

Friday, August 19, 1988

Dear Diary,
Not much has happened since I last talked to you. So, I'll make this short and sweet. Mom went to the doctor today and after that she took us to look at a house. We're selling ours. It was nice but I just want to stay here in my house.


That was short and sweet, I guess. Oh the house drama....I guess this might be a good time to mention that I am a very sentimental person. I remember being very angry when my parents made the announcement that we were going to be selling our house. This might have been the beginning of the period in my life where I started to believe that my parents were crazy and didn't know what they were doing.

A Little About Dax

Dax Samuel Masterson....I can't pinpoint one certain thing that attracted me to Dax. It was the whole picture. I adored and idolized everything about him. He became the stuff that all of my little girl day dreams were made of. He was the image I conjured up to compare other boys to.
I don't think Dax would be considered really tall. But he was tall enough. I remember that I could lay my head over into his shoulder. It was as if I were made to nuzzle right there. (not that there was a lot of nuzzling, there wasn't) But I do remember that he wore Polo cologne and that smell is still comforting to me.
His eyes were blue. Not just blue but tropical ocean water blue. I would look up into those eyes and get lost. Do you know what it feels like to float on your back in the ocean? To lie there engulfed in the water feeling relaxed and safe, only your face and toes feeling the wind blow, total quietness, total peace...this is how it was to look into Dax's eyes.
His hair was a nice sandy blonde color. His hair combined with his blue eyes and golden tanned skin, I thought,made the perfect work of art. Dax took pride in his hair and the other guys liked to tease him for being so "GQ". I thought he was adorable. I didn't care if he had a slight addiction to styling products.
He did have a flair for style. He was usually dressed in the height of fashion. But even when he was only wearing a t-shirt and cut off sweats, his clothes hung on him in a way that made it look like each piece had been made especially for his body. At 11, I had never seen a more perfect specimen.
His looks weren't the only thing that drew me in. He had a wonderful sense of humor. I always laughed at all of his jokes. I found his smile to be contagious. All it took was a little grin from him and I would answer with a dopey, love sick, smile. I wonder if he knew just how much I liked him. I know that by the end he knew I had feelings for him. But was I as easy to read as I felt? Probably.
I never could fully read him. He would slip into melancholy moods at times and I just couldn't guess what he was thinking. This didn't put me off. It made Dax more of a mystery to me. He was a mystery that I so enjoyed trying to solve. I don't know how good of a friend I was to him during those summers that we were together. I hope he would still call me a friend. Many times I would be at a loss for words when it would seem like Dax was really needing something. I was quiet but steady. I was always by his side. He never seemed to mind. He never blew me off. Maybe I was his silent comfort. I like to think I was.
Dax and I both played the piano. He was much better than I was. I am sure he had been playing much longer than I had. I think he could play by ear, if not then he had a good memory because I don't remember him having sheet music around. There was a very old, out of tune piano at the camp. Dax spent a lot of time sitting at that piano. This is the most vivid memory I have left of him.
I would sit next to him on that old, creaky piano bench and listen to him play. It never got old for me. I think we were the envy of some of the other campers during these times. When he was playing and I was sitting beside him, we were in our own world. The two of us could shut out all of the other kids, all of the other noise, and all other activities. It was all about his music.
Because we were different ages, we were split into separate classes and activities. I could always hear his music. It called to me, distracted me from my own thoughts. I found reasons to leave my classes to go sit with him while he played. Other girls might gather to listen to him too but it was understood that only I sat with him. He taught me a few little ditties that we could play together. That was fun for me. We would be in sync with each other. Playing the piano with Dax bonded me to him.
I enjoyed listening to him play alone too. I remember that he played Fur Elise and Moonlight Sonata quite a bit. I went home from camp and taught myself to play Fur Elise just so I could continue to feel that closeness to Dax. Moonlight Sonata is the song that brings back memories of him the most. The melancholy tune seemed fitting for Dax. I studied him many times while he played it. I watched his body move with the rhythm. I watched his fingers caress the keys. I watched his brow furrow and his jaw tighten with concentration. He didn't just play the music. He was the music.
Watching Dax play the piano stirred something inside of me. At my young age, I had no idea what that stirring was but I liked it. Still today the sight of a young man playing the piano gives me a tingle. Dax was even writing his own piece of music. I can't remember the tune of it now. I remember I thought it was beautiful. I wonder if he ever finished the piece. My fantasy used to be that we would meet again and he would play it for me in its entirety. Then he would turn and give me that heart stopping smile and say, " I finally finished it. I call it Kate."

Thursday, August 18,1988

Dear Diary,
Today I came home from Granny's. Nothing else happened. All I think about is Dax. He should be headed home by now too.
I am worried about school starting too. Being a 6th grader is going to be a new experience. Hope I make it.

Okay, that makes me laugh. I am seriously worried about surviving the 6th grade. If the 11 year old me knew what sorts of things I would survive in my life, 6th grade would seem like cake! I guess that is the way of life though. First you have to survive the 6th grade. Then you start to learn what you need to know to get you through high school, college, marriage, jobs and children. Life is full of baby steps and 6th grade is one of them!

Wednesday, August 17, 1988

Dear Diary,
I got Dax's address!!! I was at my granny's house and I called Dax's sister's house. I got to talk to Dax for a long time. (30 minutes) It was great!
My cousin, Lance was there. I bugged him about his new girlfriend. We watched to movies together, "Monstor Squad" and "Private Eyes". I had gobs of fun!

Wow....a 30 minute conversation with a boy! How crazy am I? Funny that now I can't remember anything about that conversation but at that time it was so important to me.
More background info: Lance is my age. I feel more like we are brother and sister than cousins. Lance is 9 months my elder and in my eyes, those 9 months made him incredibly wise as we were growing up. I always enjoyed trips to my grandma's house to spend time with Lance.
And, "gobs"????? Did I really say "I had gobs of fun"?

Tuesday, August 16, 1988

I am skipping a few days here. But remember, I am 11. Not much happens between Saturday and Tuesday.

Dear Diary,
I got back from my friend Tori's house about 10:00 this morning. We had fun. When I got home I found out that while I was gone everybody had to gone out to the camp ground yesterday. Lucy told me that Dax was there! I would have rather seen him than go to Tori's. What made me most depressed was that Lucy said Dax seemed to recognize them and came looking for me. ME! Lucy said he asked about me and she told him I wasn't with them. She said he looked sad when she told him that. Boy, I wish I could have gone with them!

Maybe I should try to clear up a few things as we go along here. Tori is a friend of mine from school. I will tell you more about Tori later. Lucy is my sister. She is two years younger than me. We were pretty good friends growing up besides a few ugly teen years. We are still very close today. Why was Dax still at camp you might ask? He spent a big portion of the summers with his sister and brother-in-law who lived on the camp grounds. His sister and her husband took care of maintenance of the grounds and helped run the different camp activities during the year. So there you have it; clear as mud. Boring, I know. But, you can't build a story without background information.

Saturday, August 13, 1988

Dear Diary,
Today I didn't do too much. I thought about Dax alot. Mom took me shopping. I got a new pair of blue jeans, a tape, and mom got a piano book. I can play a few songs in it.
I am afraid I will not be able to find Dax's address. I forgot to get it from him before we left camp. Then he will think I don't like him because I didn't write him. But, tomorrow is Sunday so I can ask Mindy at church. (they are related somehow)


So, now the embarrassment will begin. I didn't have a flare for writing back then. But do you see that already Dax is starting to consume my thoughts? How do boy-crazy, 11 yr. old girls make it in this world? (probably a question we will all be asking alot as this saga continues)

Friday, August 12, 1988

This is my first entry... the one that started it all!

Dear Diary,
Today I got back from camp. I had gotten sick Tuesday and Wednesday and didn't feel good. I met some new friends at camp. I met a very special friend too. His name is Dax. He is 13 and is fun to be around. When I was sick, he came and sat down with me. He stayed with me for 2 hours! Dax is the kind of guy that doesn't care if you're a girl or not. We spent lots of time together and on the last day we gave each other a big hug. I will start writing to him now.

Well, nothing earth shattering in that entry. I guess you can't look inside your soul and answer your deepest, darkest questions by looking at one diary entry.
I think its safe to tell you that Dax captured my 11 year old heart almost instantly. I think he was my first real crush. Not the elementary school, will you be my boyfriend- check yes or no, crush. But the, make you wish you were older so you could really act on your feelings, drive you crazy, make you daydream constantly, crush. Ever had one of those?

Hi. I'm Kate.

I have always been an avid journal keeper. It was somewhat of an obsession with me as I was growing up. My mom gave me my first diary when I was 11. It made me feel all grown up and secretive. The diary was blue with a picture of Snoopy on the front. It was truly one of the best gifts I ever received.
I'm not sure what made me such a faithful writer but every night before I went to sleep I would write about my day. I was convinced that my hum-drum life might have some significance one day. I was positive that even though I was only 11, I might stumble across the answer to one of life's big questions. I looked at myself as a historian of sorts and took my writing very seriously. I mean VERY seriously. We're talking matching the color of ink I used to the color of my mood. That is way serious for an 11 year old girl.
I was faithful with my writing all thru my high school years. I still wrote during college but not as often. Then I got married and my writing really slowed down. I got older and older and life did not spare me of some pretty crappy moments. That's when my writing ended. My precious history got boxed up and shoved in the back of a closet.
I found that box the other day. I sat down and started thumbing thru volumes and volumes of my thoughts. Some of it made me cringe (was I really that big of a dork?). Some of it made me laugh (yes I was that big of a dork). Some things made me laugh; others made me cry. Most importantly, reading my own words made me remember that I loved to write. And maybe there was a good reason that I kept all of those old diaries. Maybe I will learn something from myself if I reread them from the beginning to the end.
I suspect this will be embarrassing and somewhat incriminating. I hope I will learn some things about myself. I hope there will be readers that follow me thru this journey. Maybe just maybe I can help myself and others too by doing something that I enjoy, writing.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Testing

Testing....testing......is this thing on?
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry