a theme in my childhood & adolescent diaries is self-definition: endless lists of things about me. some of them were never true. many of them still are. this is from August 2001, the summer between my junior & senior years of high school.
I feel I should Describe Myself, to give you an idea of what you’re dealing with. I am seventeen going on eighteen. I love books. I love catharsis. I like brown mustard on my sandwiches. I wear shoes only when forced and almost never socks. I can’t count the number of times I’ve fallen in love, but I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve fallen out. I want to be an English major when I grow up, and to have Babies. I like high school. I’m a Virgo… I’m a Humanist and a Pragmatist and a Feminist and that’s about as far as I go with -isms… My beloved is a jeweler and a musician… She has a big heart which is the biggest compliment I can give anyone… I’m much too Quiet, and I eat too much butter… I like to make lists… I don’t listen to very much indie rock. I have long hair, and I never brush it… I like to take long walks (preferably with a cigarette in my hand) in cities I’ve never visited before. I admire Vonnegut’s prose style, and all of my pants are too big. I hate the word pants. I sometimes get a metaphysical tingle in my left shoulderblade. I’ve seen seven different therapists for varying periods of time beginning when I was seven or eight.* I want to get a tattoo of Hokusai’s wave print. I am in love. I am in love with a girl who I know is not the most beautiful girl in the world. I’m obsessed with oceans and words and my feet and food and love and love and love and the past and my faults. I have a little potbelly which I like because it reminds me of my favorite scene in Pulp Fiction… I’m a pen snob… I love to travel, but I hate being away from home.
*and none since high school.