07 May 2010

7 take two

last night, KC and i went to MORTIFIED. in keeping with the theme of the evening, we awkwarded up like it was 1997 all over again.

which reminded me that i had a plan last fall to revisit the journals of my youth. a plan that totally never came to be. so here we go again. the great journal project of 2009... version 2010.

(sidenote: croftie does does a far superior job on the angst front at the far superior laraehrlich.com, so go check it. now.)

and with no further ado, i give you 7 april 1989. the day i learned to write in cursive. alas, i did not know how to spell.

7 comments:

Les Savy Ferd said...

to be fair, it is quite challenging to waite in cursire.

I hope Diory was a good friend to you and your lerereel experience.

I certainly would have shown you haru to had I know you then.

oline said...

hooked on phonics did not work for me.

Les Savy Ferd said...

there is such a perfect struggle in the lerereel part. like the word it self was you learning how to write it.

oline said...

i do like how it segues from print into cursive mid-entry. like i needed to ease into the cursive lest dear diory be skeared (a word that shows up with alarming frequency spelled precisely that way).

Meggie said...

I'm just amazed that your handwriting has actually gotten worse. Practice clearly did not make your handwriting perfect. LOL.

Acer Negundo said...

Beautiful. Just beautiful.

Funny, I am at home and I've just been going through my first journal! I was seven years old. I wrote stories about Cludrick the Pencil, Mae the Leaf, and Jennifer the Turkey. My favourite is "The Bee who lost its Buzz."

They all start off with "once there was a..." (insert inanimate object or animal).

They all have pretty much the same story line. Everyone is captured by a bad guy and escapes. Chris the Pig wound up in the belly of an old man who lived in a cellar, though. So sad.

Lara Ehrlich said...

Ha! I love your old journals. We still need to have our own personal mortification night. Cupcakes and cringing over our pasts...