More 3rd Grade Journal (Thanks for Indulging Me)

I think my writing ability peaked between ages 8 and 9. Here are some quotes:

"I'ev been intrested in boys cince I was a little girl, that is when I was three or two or one! Because I'm still eight. "

"But one I used to love was "T," but he's mean now. We'ev practicly gone to school with each other and it's awful! I practicly hate it because he's so rude!"

"It's September again. I'm in third Grade and I seem every day abit depressed because poorness is what everyday is. "

This one is dedicated to all latch-key kids everywhere: "I tried to amagine Mom meeting me half way and milk and cookies for a snak, fresh milk and cookies. But it seems to always make me go soft."

"I feel sort of let down [about my 9th birthday] not like I don't apresyate my presents but I wish I had more family members."

"I have a hard time in school because I love G now and every day seems like a strugle to keep my mind on my work."

This one is for my mother: "I went to the mall and had a fit over something small why do I do this! Why can't I just controll myself."

"I'm learning to hate Miss H more and more. We have sort of a mutual agreement, we both don't like each other!"

This is for Kacy and Chris Clark: "Kacy has asked me to ask dates to Morp for her and her friends. I had to dress up in my dance outfit and sit on the boys lap! The night came, I was ready and on my way! I had buterflies in my stummek! First we went to Criss Clarks. I was shaking in my boots, I wasn't wearing boots, but I was shaking."

On attending my grandmother's funeral: "I knew that there was going to be a funeral, but I didn't think I should go. I had to. Seeing the rest of the family was weird. They weren't happy, but most of them hid that. We were going to the viewing. The air was cold and sent chills down my spine. The room had big chandeleirs and deep plush carpeting, two men were very nice and helped us to our seats. the white cascet was over on the other side. I couldn't look, I just couldn't. I sat down and my cosoun came up to me, there was nothing wrong with her! She was jolly and cheery and glad, it seemed so. I sat there for a moment and started crying, I couldn't help it! No one else seemed as upset as I did and I thought the night would never end."


Okay, okay, I will stop. I could go on. I guess I am a little bit obsessed with my 9 year-old self. That is a nice break from being obsessed with my 32-year-old self. What a sad, strange little person I was. But look at those details! Why can't I write like this anymore? Maybe I'm too happy? Maybe the best writing happens when "poorness is what every day is." ?? Maybe I have lost the ability to "go soft"? Maybe I have learned that it's possible for other people to be as upset as me? Whatever has happened, I am nowhere near as unself-conscious a writer as I was back then. I miss myself dearly.