You might not want to read this one...

I spent the other night doing something extremely self-destructive. At fist glance, it didn't seem to be so harmful, more like a casual stroll down the yesterday road, but memory is a very powerful thing. (I really hope that you're interest is peaked with this ridiculous build-up!)

I was at my parents house about a week ago, and my dad found my "special box" for me to go through. As I pulled out various pictures and keepsakes, I was bombarded with memories and feelings. Some of the items included: a recorder I got from my parents when I was in grade three, my handkerchief that I embroidered for the Cardston Temple dedication, a large green bottle that I have no memory of purchasing, a stuffed raccoon that had Jessica's name on it (oops!), many report cards from elementary and junior high school class pictures, and the best discovery of all, my journals from junior high and high school.

I took my journals downstairs with me to read before bed. I hoped to have a good laugh at my angsty rants and endless descriptions of boys who I liked. I was not disappointed with the latter. Each entry from junior high was filled with Baby-sitter's Club-like descriptions of the boy that I was obsessed with. Yes, obsessed. The saddest part was that I would describe every minute encounter with a boy, especially the one in question, in great detail. Unfortunately, due to my crippling shyness with the opposite sex in junior high, the meaningful moments almost always went a little like this:

"Today I saw (boy in question, I am sure Andrea will know who I am referring to) and he looked at me." There was never much more that this. Maybe a prolonged look after which we both "flicked our eyes away", a la The Fascinating Girl. I also ended each entry by writing, "I hope (boy in question) likes me.

Really? Really?

While Junior High merely made me want to vomit, High School was a little more thought-provoking. By then, my writing skills were somewhat more improved, but I expressed a lot of feelings which I have hoped never to feel again. In High School, I spent a lot of time being jealous of friends who always seemed to have no trouble dating, and my feelings of being left-out and left behind came rushing back. As I look at myself today, I like to think that I am a somewhat successful and self-adjusted adult who feels fulfilled with the life she has chosen / been blessed with. Unfortunately, that self-conscious and disappointed girl is there, just under the surface. She usually stays pretty hidden, but as I read through my experiences from that time, she came to the fore-front, and I am having a very difficult time keeping her at bay. As much as I would like to be happy with being single, sometimes I can't let go of those feelings of everyone else moving ahead with their lives, while I am left behind.

I think the moral of the story is to keep the readings to a minimum, and remember that I had a pretty great time in High School. I had some amazing friends, and I started a life-long friendship with my sister, Andrea. How grateful I was for her friendship then, and throughout the years.

I am considering instituting a regular series here on the blog, which would include excerpts from the slightly less embarrassing Junior High posts.

Is anyone interested?