March 2, 2008

on me, years ago...

I have another blog that I kept on an almost-regular basis for several years: from 2002-2006. Periodically, I enjoy going back to read through all my romanticized notions and hopes and dreams. The great part of writing things down in a journal, be it online or not, is having the luxury of being able to go back exactly four years ago and read the details of what was on your mind. It's rather enlightening. I make myself laugh, I make myself want to shout, "NO! Don't like him! He's nothing but brown eyes and a pack of lies!", make myself miss what it was like when I was at home with my family.

Most of all, when I look back on what I wrote, I find myself liking myself. It's almost as if, at this point, they are the words of someone else. I mean, six years ago. That's a long time. Seventeen felt so old, and in some ways I don't think I've changed that much, but I know so much more now. Naturally. When I read about my heartaches and struggles, and rediscover that undying hope that has always been at my core, I can't help but smile.

And really, from what I can see now, my head was in the clouds for a good three-four years. Always a true romantic. Dreaming up what life held for me. Spending so much time people-watching, and wondering about the secrets others held. Wondering what my first kiss would be like, what my first love would feel like.

I was a "good girl", though, and that's something I never regret. (I'll take naive over hood rat. As most people would, I hope.) In fact, it's almost appealing to go back to that point in life where I genuinely believed there was good in everyone, and that it could all be a fairy tale if I wanted it to be. Not that I don't think my life is spectacular, because it truly is. However, it's not all musicals and fluff. I've lost some of that spark, and it's rather sad to think about, actually. Yet, at the same time, I realize that so much of that is just growing up.

That's what heartache, full time jobs, balancing a checkbook, making friends and losing friends, falling in and out of love, experiencing betrayal, experiencing the genuine heartlessness of people and diving into your twenties in a city who-knows-how-many-times-larger than the one you grew up in will do to you. It's only natural that I wouldn't stay in my bubble forever.

That's not to say that I'm some haggard, calloused person now. I still have joy. I still have hope. Except that there is more of a sense of reality thrown into my perspective now. And I guess that's okay.

what I was writing exactly five years ago:

"I GOT CAST IN GODSPELL! I'm so incredibly elated. I'm
especially delighted because I know for sure I have a speaking/performing role.
"Call-backs" were last night, and everyone they called back was going to be cast
in one of those roles -- it was just a matter of shuffling us around so they
could figure out who would be who. I'll find out on Thursday, when I go pick up
my script, which part I actually am. I'm so thrilled! I can have two lines and
be on cloud nine, I swear! He had me read for "Robin" more than anyone -- which
is the part I'd love...she even gets her own song, which would be great. But,
I'll be happy with anything. This whole thing makes me see just how well things
can fall into place. What I have planned hardly works out...I just have to wait
for what is in store for me that I don't even know about. I'm so

I have a story, but I'm going to risk sounding like a 14
year old if I tell it. Ah, well, I'll risk that. Here it is: I was at Jake's*
yesterday -- I was pretty drained, and didn't feel like doing anything but
sitting on his couch and watching tv. So we sat and he played this one game on
my cell-phone for a full 20 minutes -- he conquered about 4 levels, which shows
his persistence. I finally confiscated the phone because I was bored. Then we
watched all those mid-day re-runs -- Home Improvement, The Fresh Prince of
Bel-Air...all those good shows. His ex-girlfriend, Em, showed up...which was
awkward. She still likes him. I'm suspicious of him liking her, although I
shouldn't be. I don't bring it up, though. Anyway, she left, and we continued
watching tv. We were cuddling, and he kept kissing me on my forehead and my
face. Aw, the forehead kisses. Love them. Anyway, we were so close to actually
kissing -- and he asked me what I was thinking. (Yeah, this is where it sounds
like a 14 year old's journal. Many apologies.) I told him I wanted to kiss him.
I was quite happy at this point, being 99.9% sure that I was going to get my
first kiss. And then he said, "Me, too." By then I was thinking about who I was
going to call after I left, to tell them about my moment of glory. THEN he said,
"But not yet. We should take it slow." I was quite taken aback. I mean, isn't
that MY line? He's the one who's made out with a dozen girls (more? maybe.) and
I'm the one who's never been kissed. Psh. What's that all about?

So, that's my story. Not as exciting as I made it
sound...but intriguing just the same. Okay, I have to go pick up my sister at
work. I'll hopefully have time to write later."
* Names are changed to protect the innocent. I chose the name Jake, because I kind of don't like that name. It goes back to this kid in second grade named Jake, who was seriously irritating and had a big mouth and this poofy mullet. To this day, he's all I can think of when I hear the name Jake. Don't you hate that? Anyway. Point being, I chose this name for this particular guy because things didn't end that well between him and I. Perhaps I'll tell you the story sometime.

** That's right, I wasn't kissed until I was seventeen - or wait, maybe it was eighteen. Wild, eh? I mean, it was worth the wait, but gah. You hear about nine year olds making out these days. I'm going to lock my children up.


  1. I was 17 before my first kiss!
    Then I became a bit of kiss whore, but that's about it.
    lock those kids up good and tight!
    i wish that reading anything i wrote six years ago would be so gratifying.
    you're cute.
    and your pic over there on the left of your blog is FANTASTIC!

  2. oh my. i've been blogging online since 03'. i have to go look back at what i've written now! :o)

    growing up sucks. i want my rose colored glasses back.


  3. ohmigod. you said it so perfectly. it's like reading another person. it feels so strange reading words that were once yours. they often feel so foreign.

    it's so good to go back in that time capsule.

  4. I was at least sixteen before my first kiss (yay for being a: socially awkward, and b: homeschooled for most of my life--thus aggravating the awkwardness).

    And I'm with you on the old blogs...It's so bizarre to go back and read my old livejournal posts. It's definitely like reading a completely different person.

  5. Ditto on locking children up...


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