Saturday, March 14, 2009

Digging in the Past

Recently I went into our storage unit and pulled out my old memory bins looking for photos for my newly completed memory board, see here. While digging for photos I ran across some of my old journals that I have not looked at in years. The mortification of some of the things I wrote, I cannot believe I used to think this way let alone wrote it down incrementally on paper. I wonder if that is how I will feel about some of the entries of this blog when I am 60.
There are a lot of memories here but some of them really showed how selfish I was. For instance:

“I am such a calm bitch. I haven’t really loved any of them. They were fun but love, not really in the picture, not the love that I want anyways; it is more of a fondness, but no more than something else that I can easily get rid of. They are just simple amusements. I have more important things to worry about than finding Mr. Right, I just want to have fun with Mr. Right Now. They see a flashy bold as brass brunette and they have this need to posses to tame me. But I just toy with them like a cat does a mouse. I am sorry with the way I treated some of them, because I was so cruel. All I ever do is think about myself. It is all such a game. A game I am getting tired of. I am sick of it all. Or maybe I should just keep on going, because I will only be young once.”

OMG, I just wish I could reach back to my 19 year old self and smack her upside the head. I know I was young, I know I was just experimenting, but to use men the way I did. To toy with them. I was pure evil.

And then there are sweet touching entries that make me smile with tears in my eyes like what I wrote on Sept 24 of 1999 about Ms. Ivy League. Next to what I wrote is a poem she had mailed me to cheer me up, because that is how she is, perfect.

The Poem
To laugh often and love much,
to win the respect
of intelligent persons
and the affection of children;
to earn the approbation
of honest critics;
to appreciate beauty;
to give of one’s self;
to know even one life
has breathed easier
because you have lived -
that is to have succeeded.

"Little things like this make me believe so much in love. Ms. Ivy League is one of the best things that ever waltzed into my life. Her sincerity so true, her intelligence and wisdom, her honest is cutting. She is what I aspire to be more like, for when in her company I feel an enveloping blanket of peace surround me. Nothing I say is wrong, nothing I do is considered odd, my dreams are to be helped built into reality and my deeds to be that of a saint. To have a friend that gives me so much and demands nothing in return is a think in which everyone strives to obtain and find and keep close. Those that know us so well and still love us. Thank you for making me a better person, for being the person you are, and for being one of my true friends."

There was a glimmer of a real person in those old pages, and even though I would like to tear some of them out like the first entry, I will not because that is someone I was in the past. I just would rather remember the later than the former part.

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