Exceprts from my 2005 Diary: PART 1

Alright, so I've decided to shake things up a bit and share with all of you some more excerpts from my alarmingly embarrassing journals from my tweenhood, however, this particular excerpt is from my 2005 journal. I have no idea how, but the excerpts from this journal, in which I am writing as a grade 10 high school student, are even more embarrassing and cringe-worthy than the excerpts from my journal two years prior. I am distressed to admit that I was living a sad life that consisted of an odd vocabulary, troubling priorities and a rather skewed perception of what was socially acceptable or "cool," possibly even normal, as a teenager. This particular excerpt, as mentioned above, is taken from my grade ten journal, and is the first entry, recorded on Monday, June 27, 2005. It appears that I have taken a break from packing for a trip to jot down some of my most insightful and pressing thoughts. Later in the entry, I confess something of which even I found shocking. I would like to point out that nothing has been modified, and this excerpt is unfortunately presented in an identical fashion to that of the original copy in my pink journal, apart from the alteration of certain people's names .

"Ahh, a new journal, how lovely is this! And Kacey's gone to camp so I won't have to hide you 24/7. I must admit this journal is quite snazzy. So, I am in the midst of packing for the best trip of my life: SAN DIEGO!! I'm going with my soccer team, I can't wait. We fly out this Wednesday @ 9:00 am and we're going to Los Angeles and from there we're driving to San Diego. And tonight is the biggest game of our lives! At 8:30 we're playing St. Catherines. Oh man I'm nervous, but pumped. Except, I won't have my contacts , which sucks, but I'm getting them tomorrow for San Diego, so it's alright. Anyway, school's out for the summer, as of last Friday! WOOT! It felt so good to be done my exams...yah, I had three of them, poooo! But this summer is going to be amazing. But back to the trip, I am so bad at packing. I can't put any outfits together until the last minute, let alone a week before. I'm just packing a variety of my nicest clothes and keeping my fingers crossed! Me, Kelly (1 of 3 best friends), Emily and Katie are all sharing a room at the hotel for 5 nights. That's a lot when you think about it. Oh wait, it's actually 6 nights, oh man! Emily's great, but her mom is the female version of Hitler. No joke. Every ten minutes she'll be in our room checking up on us. Cool! My mom isn't coming, she's still at school. Teachers don't get out until the 29th or 30th. Anyway, I need to get away from my mom for a nice little week. Just a small break, not like she doesn't need it either. But anyway, shes going to kill me soon enough. I'm just starting the pill (no, I'm not having SEX yet) and it's only a matter of time until she finds out. I'm so sneaky though. The birth control has so many bonuses. Apart from the fact that I might gain 10 pounds (hopefully it goes right to my chest) it's going to clear up my acne and regulate my period. I do feel bad though for lying to my doctor and to my mom. Oh well, sometimes a girl just has to take matters into her own hands. Sucks though if this backfires. How? In what way? I don't know but with me something always goes wrong. But I'm trying to be positive. My god, it's hot! I'm going to collapse tonight at the game. Ohh, the game, I almost forgot! I'm going to continue packing and drink some water. Bye!"

I didn't realize how mortifying it was until I was actually typing it out. What a terribly sad life I had as a teenage/human being in general. To think that going to San Diego would be "the best trip of my life" is truly worrisome. I mean, really? And I'm really happy that having outfits picked out for "the best trip of my life" was something that actually induced stress in my life. As I recall though, soccer at this time in my life was in fact the center of my universe. My summers literally revolved around my soccer team, League Cup and life-changing trips south of the border. I was convinced I was the next Mia Hamm. Thus, my apparent intensity and passion, including sentiments of nervousness and "pumpedness," are very understandable. Although I sound somewhat like a enormous loser, I do recall how important soccer was to me and am able to accept using phrases such as "Oh, man" and "I'm pumped" when talking about soccer. However, as a twenty-one year-old looking back at other parts of this excerpt, in particular the ones addressing my new prescription to the "pill," I am beyond ashamed and will continue to cringe every time I read it. As I recall, I was convinced that the only way to banish my acne was to take "matters into my own hands" and start using the pill, something of which a friend told me would solve my skin woes. Furthermore, I'm really glad to know that gaining ten pounds and "hoping that it goes to my chest" was one of my top concerns about starting the pill, and not something along the lines of I don't know, my mother finding out and jumping to the conclusion that her baby girl is some loose promiscuous tween- which, let me tell you, I definitely was not, I mean I was too busy playing soccer, right? Upon reading this entry, it appears that I went on the pill for the joint purpose of clearing my skin and augmenting my cup size. Regardless of my senseless reasoning, this news is appalling. My poor mother. Had she found out that her soccer superstar daughter had not only gone behind her back to their family doctor, but about something as serious as starting the birth control pill, she would have had a heart attack or a stroke. Jesus Christ I had a lot of nerve. I also find it rather alarming how quick I was to switch topics, and to have used such words as "snazzy" and "pooo," along with the unnecessary addition of o's. I am curious as to whether or not my sister, despite being away at camp for the summer, ever got her paws on my journal from 2005. I can only pray that she didn't because if I read something similar to this in her journal, I probably would have gone directly to my mother to report such foolish behavior and thinking. RIP my Grade Ten soul; may no one ever share an identical frame of mind.