dear diary,

here's some funny shit from a diary i had back in 1991.* let's see, that would make me 13 years old, give or take.

*the author would like to note that these are real entries from when she was a self-conscious, boy-obsessed, braces-wearing teenager. she would also like to note that she has allowed herself some creative editing and splicing and a little add-libbing here and there for your reading pleasure.

from l to r: scrawny adolescent girl that looks like a boy (me), the source of my jealousy (boobie girl), scary brutish girl with big neck (my sister)

6-15-91
"I hate being jealous. It makes me feel so rotten. oooh, hush your filthy mouth My sister's best friend and one of my friends, is one person I am jealous of... All of a sudden, after she turned 16 everyone seems to think she is so pretty. I guess the main thing that has made me jealous of her is that she has boobs and i don't. yes, i was being completely serious. i don't think my since of humor developed until later, along with my breasts I guess that is the one thing I would change about myself. I would have bigger boobs. i weep for you young, superficial jenna; influenced in your naviete by ridiculous media sterotypes I hate that word still do but what should I call them then? breasts, tits, melons, gazoongas- whever the fuck you want other than "boobs" I guess I'll just say that I wish I had a better figure."so that every short, pimply adolescent boy i knew would fall hopelessly in love with me and want to make out with me all the time ...

6-16-91
"I was thinking, the only reason we are here (and all other creatures, too creatures? what a dork. oops, that's me i'm talking about) is to reproduce which means that at the time i considered myself a waste because i hadn't fullfilled my obligation to the human species. hadn't even come close. That makes no sense. What good are we doing? good? who ever said anything about people doing good stupid-head? Oh, well. I don't understand it at all." and likely never will

and for the grand finale... some bad peotry written by an overly romantic 13 year-old. me! (seriously, i'm almost too embarassed to put this in, even now, 14 years later but it's just so bad and so funny. how can i resist?)

6-20-91
"Would you like to hear two lines of my unfinished poem? no, please spare us
While moonbeams dance along the darkened shore
I dream my dreams but wish for more retch, vomit
I'm not too sure about the second line or the first line for that matter, I understand it but will anyone else? trust me, its not rocket science It's suppossed to mean that dreaming is not always enough how deep... well anyway, it makes sense to me." and to anyone else with half a brain you fool


well, that's about all i can handle of myself in 1991. something about confronting your younger self is discomforting even when its also funny. i guess its because, as much as i'd like to pretend otherwise, that girl was/is me. now that's some deep shit dude.