I do art. I do it for my job, and for fun.
I wanted to start a sketch for my sister, but a pencil in my house is nowhere to be found.
Really?
Not a single pencil in the entire house?
Well, I found one mechanical pencil...
but it was broken.
One broken pencil in my entire house.
I'm an artist, and I have no pencils.
Really?
Lame.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Saturday, May 1, 2010
A Sad Reality
I have just spent hours reading over journals I wrote in between the years 1994 and 1997. I decided to look through them to find some funny entries that I could possibly submit to Mortified. What I found out as I read through book after book after book was, those were some very difficult years. It made me cry, actually.
Now, I know the words of a 13 though 16 year old are almost always going to be over dramatic, especially if you're writing about drama. The sad thing is, so much of the entries weren't about drama with school, boys, friends, etc. It was about family. My family, and the difficult times we had during those years. My entries weren't about specific incidents that happened, but they were about my feelings, and my utter confusion about life and if it was supposed to be this painful for everyone. As I am know, looking back at those years, before re-reading my journals, I didn't think the trials and tribulations my family went through were that painful to me. There are, in fact, so many ways that I am so grateful for everything that happened, and how it happened, because now as an adult, I can take so many lessons from all of what happened. I chose who I would love with a lot more caution and wisdom than I think I would have had I never experienced and witnessed those things in my past. I am grateful for that.
But to read these journals, and discover just how depressed I was about life. I didn't realize. It's sad. I know it's all in the past, but there is just something so strange about looking into your past, and having it dawn on you that you remember it differently fifteen years later, than how you remembered it two days, or maybe just hours later. I feel really sorry for my teenage self, not realizing how sad I was. I'm better now, don't get me wrong. But those journal entries really came as a shock to me. Life was hard for 13, 14, 15 and 16 year-old me, and I don't know if this makes sense, but I feel like I need to make up for it. I feel like being so unaware of this, is doing harm to my teenage self, and I need to make it up to my younger self.
Man. I think I'm going crazy. Maybe I just need to stop reading The Time Traveler's Wife for a little while.
Does any of this make sense? I'm just so shocked that these journal entries came as such a surprise to me. I mean, I wrote them after all! I should have know what was in there, but I didn't. Maybe I blocked a lot of it out. Maybe I need to see a shrink....
All I know is that I can't believe I survived that, and I hope I'm as stable and happy as I think I am now. I mean, I don't want to look at this blog fifteen years from now and think, "Oh my God, I was so sad! I didn't realize how depressed I was!"
Now, I know the words of a 13 though 16 year old are almost always going to be over dramatic, especially if you're writing about drama. The sad thing is, so much of the entries weren't about drama with school, boys, friends, etc. It was about family. My family, and the difficult times we had during those years. My entries weren't about specific incidents that happened, but they were about my feelings, and my utter confusion about life and if it was supposed to be this painful for everyone. As I am know, looking back at those years, before re-reading my journals, I didn't think the trials and tribulations my family went through were that painful to me. There are, in fact, so many ways that I am so grateful for everything that happened, and how it happened, because now as an adult, I can take so many lessons from all of what happened. I chose who I would love with a lot more caution and wisdom than I think I would have had I never experienced and witnessed those things in my past. I am grateful for that.
But to read these journals, and discover just how depressed I was about life. I didn't realize. It's sad. I know it's all in the past, but there is just something so strange about looking into your past, and having it dawn on you that you remember it differently fifteen years later, than how you remembered it two days, or maybe just hours later. I feel really sorry for my teenage self, not realizing how sad I was. I'm better now, don't get me wrong. But those journal entries really came as a shock to me. Life was hard for 13, 14, 15 and 16 year-old me, and I don't know if this makes sense, but I feel like I need to make up for it. I feel like being so unaware of this, is doing harm to my teenage self, and I need to make it up to my younger self.
Man. I think I'm going crazy. Maybe I just need to stop reading The Time Traveler's Wife for a little while.
Does any of this make sense? I'm just so shocked that these journal entries came as such a surprise to me. I mean, I wrote them after all! I should have know what was in there, but I didn't. Maybe I blocked a lot of it out. Maybe I need to see a shrink....
All I know is that I can't believe I survived that, and I hope I'm as stable and happy as I think I am now. I mean, I don't want to look at this blog fifteen years from now and think, "Oh my God, I was so sad! I didn't realize how depressed I was!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)