Diary of a Madwoman
Well, it's day two on the journey into the centre of my deepest, darkest thoughts. Everybody ready for the gruesome?
July 17, 1984 (age: 14 - writing: fat, slanted to the left)
Oh by the way, Jenni & I have been best friends since grade 2 and we will be friends forever. I can probly tell her almost anything. I'm going to buy her a card to show how close she's been to me. Night!
Actually, Jenn and I have been friends since grade 1, and yes, we're still friends. Granted, now she's got a husband and three kids and we live in cities four hours away from each other, but we're still friends. I saw her a couple weeks ago when I was down in Windsor and we had a very nice time together. I really should get around to that card one of these days.
July 18, 1984
Well, Jenni & I went to the river on our bikes. We saw these two guys. They weren't bad. We hung around for awhile. They were fools, as are most boys my age. They tried to hit birds with stones. Trying to be cool. Then one guy went swimming. What a fool! I wouldn't let Sissy [our dog] swim in that water if I can help it. Well, goodnight. I'm tired. Oh, I'm really telling you about the 17th. I put 18th because it's 1:51 am. Night.
I really never thought of myself as boy-crazy, but in re-reading my diary I've discovered that it was pretty much all I wrote about for the longest time. And invariably I was displeased with them. They either paid too much attention to me, or not enough, were too stupid or were trying to be too clever, etc. (sound familiar guys?) Perhaps by the end of the diary I finally figure out what it is I want from them. I wouldn't bet on it, though.
Oh, also, the river I refer to is the Detroit River. And it really is pretty scary for people to swim in. I wouldn't recommend it. Not even for your dog. Seriously.
July 24, 1984 (writing: thinner, still slanted to the left)
Last night the dog bit me. It hurt. She bit me in the nose. I went to give her a kiss and she bit me instead. I'll live. I guess it does sound pretty funny.
Despite my obvious concern for my dog's wellbeing and my diligence in keeping her from the clutches of the evil Detroit River she still brutally attacked me, and for nothing more than loving her. Can you believe that shit? Well, I guess that's what I get for trying to forge a close relationship with a beast who cannot communicate or express real emotion. I'm sure that sort of thing never comes up again...
Tomorrow: Prom Night Horror
July 17, 1984 (age: 14 - writing: fat, slanted to the left)
Oh by the way, Jenni & I have been best friends since grade 2 and we will be friends forever. I can probly tell her almost anything. I'm going to buy her a card to show how close she's been to me. Night!
Actually, Jenn and I have been friends since grade 1, and yes, we're still friends. Granted, now she's got a husband and three kids and we live in cities four hours away from each other, but we're still friends. I saw her a couple weeks ago when I was down in Windsor and we had a very nice time together. I really should get around to that card one of these days.
July 18, 1984
Well, Jenni & I went to the river on our bikes. We saw these two guys. They weren't bad. We hung around for awhile. They were fools, as are most boys my age. They tried to hit birds with stones. Trying to be cool. Then one guy went swimming. What a fool! I wouldn't let Sissy [our dog] swim in that water if I can help it. Well, goodnight. I'm tired. Oh, I'm really telling you about the 17th. I put 18th because it's 1:51 am. Night.
I really never thought of myself as boy-crazy, but in re-reading my diary I've discovered that it was pretty much all I wrote about for the longest time. And invariably I was displeased with them. They either paid too much attention to me, or not enough, were too stupid or were trying to be too clever, etc. (sound familiar guys?) Perhaps by the end of the diary I finally figure out what it is I want from them. I wouldn't bet on it, though.
Oh, also, the river I refer to is the Detroit River. And it really is pretty scary for people to swim in. I wouldn't recommend it. Not even for your dog. Seriously.
July 24, 1984 (writing: thinner, still slanted to the left)
Last night the dog bit me. It hurt. She bit me in the nose. I went to give her a kiss and she bit me instead. I'll live. I guess it does sound pretty funny.
Despite my obvious concern for my dog's wellbeing and my diligence in keeping her from the clutches of the evil Detroit River she still brutally attacked me, and for nothing more than loving her. Can you believe that shit? Well, I guess that's what I get for trying to forge a close relationship with a beast who cannot communicate or express real emotion. I'm sure that sort of thing never comes up again...
Tomorrow: Prom Night Horror
posted by Alanis at
7:51 AM
1 Comments:
I was wondering if anyone else would get that. I didn't think that it would come across, but looking back through the book my writing styles make me look like an extremely indecisive psychotic chicken. Glad to know I wasn't the only one.
By
Alanis, at 3:01 PM
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