Dear diary: Deep thoughts from 14-year-old me.

Inspired by Alvina Ling's tweets from her childhood diary, I decided to dive back into my own diaries for some light reading. I chose my freshman year of high school, since it finally got a little variety in the entries, which had previously chronicled the first five years of a seven-year crush (obsession) with a certain boy named John.

Apparently, I was going to write a novel! (Or a "quirky novel-thing.")

I started this quirky novel-thing and I'm so excited cuz I think I'll actually get through this one! Yeah, I know, ha ha ha. But what majorly sux is that I don't have the time to really work on it! (I don't!) Well, wish me luck over Christmas vacay (if it ever gets here). Feliz Navidad.

Yeah, that "majorly sux." And did I think I'd write a whole novel in a one-week Christmas break?


This one, in which I worry about my future life plans, made me smile:

I'm so upset about my future. I wanna be a writer or artist, but what if I'm not good enough? What am I gonna do? You'd say "journalist" but I don't wanna sit behind a desk. I'd be so unhappy. And photography, too. God, an artist/writer/photographer would be great. I'd mainly be a successful writer, with the other two on the side. I'd have enough money to build a house with a lot of windows and my own studio. My job -- I can work at home, so I'd work and be there for my kids. I'll have a good husband. And a dog. Can't forget the dog. Some people think that that isn't possible, my dreams aren't possible. I don't think so. I will prove them wrong. Go, stubborn me.

14-year-old me certainly knew what she wanted! I especially love the specifics -- a lot of windows and a dog.


And this gem, always thinking about religion and my beliefs:

Okay, so I'm questioning my religion again. I'm thinking Buddhism or Wicca. Or a mix. I don't know! Religion stinks. I'll have Donna-ism. What I wanna do. Oh well.

Wicca? Blame my obsession with The Craft.


And I can thank my psychologist father for my tendency to psychoanalyze myself:

I'm such a perfectionist. According to psychology, that's a sign of low self-esteem. I feel like I can't fail. Like I'd disappoint everyone if I didn't get above a 95. Well, everyone has issues.

I wonder how much I've progressed on the internal pressure front...


Then I found a folded-up note from the second half of freshman year that was passed between me and my friend April about something she overheard:

April: This girl was like, OMG do you know that girl Donna who's ranked #1? Well on the weekends, she goes to keggers and drinks!
Me: I'm so proud. My first official high school rumor. I actually kinda missed them. Tear.

I was valedictorian of my high school, and people liked to pretend my life was way more exciting than it was.


Last but not least, from my freshman dance recap, in which I got my braces off the week prior (finally!) and felt pretty for the first time ever:

Everyone was saying how great everyone else looked, but Anthony's first reaction (to me) was, "Wow, Donna, you look really beautiful." That is the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. By the time you read this you'll look at a picture and be like, Oh my God what were you thinking?! cuz my dress will be out of style next year, but I looked awesome.

Side note -- Anthony was a friend, but he wasn't my date. My date didn't appreciate me. Ah, well. And my dress? Black spaghetti straps with diagonal lines of pink sparkles running down it, and the sheer top layer came down below the straight hem in four V-shaped triangles to the front and sides. Yep, classic style.

Anthony and I, because the date wasn't worthy of the scanning effort.
(And oh, frosted tips. You bring back memories.)

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I had way too much fun reading through that diary. I may have to continue, considering I have a stack of fourteen of them!

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And please tell me I'm not the only one who kept meticulous (and now, hilarious) diary entries all through adolescence! I wrote consistently in mine from age 8 through age 20, I'd say. That's dedication!