After weeks of slowly going from room to room and throwing things away, giving things away, and packing things away, I think I’m done packing my apartment. And if I’m not, it’s just staying there. Good luck, next tenants.
However, one of the wonderfully surprising side-effects of packing up 12 years of my life into about 15 boxes was that I came across pictures and letters and cards and memories that I’d either forgotten about accidentally or on purpose. There is a lot of life packed into that 500 sq foot, lopsided Brownstone, and yesterday I spent a great deal of time reminiscing.
And then I was stopped dead in my tracks when I happened upon my diary from 1990, when I was 12 years old. Shockingly to no one, it had a picture of a cat on the cover, and so I had this exchange with CB.
Anyway, as I opened up the thick binding and saw pages and pages of pre-teen emotions spelled out in bubble letters, I couldn’t help but laugh. So, I took a few snapshots to share with you. Please note that I have not, apparently, changed since I was 12, which is both comforting and completely terrifying.
|First of all, did I think I was European? Why is the date backwards?|
Secondly, I'm pretty sure I didn't have to beg people in pink pen not to read my cat diary.
They could likely tell just by looking at it that there was nothing there to see.
|I love that I added artwork via the "You're Special" sticker.|
Also, I'm glad I included the cats in there so their feelings wouldn't be hurt.
|My love for Whitney Houston has been there for more than 20 years.|
Also, I think it's important that I made note of my love for Leonardo DiCaprio and crossed OUT those
who I no longer loved. Helped me keep track better.
Happy Monday, everyone!
*I have some crazy deadlines at work this week, so please forgive me if these are shorter posts than normal.