It’s been forever since I wrote anything but I’m just gonna wing it. So much has happened since the last time I posted, but I don’t really want to spend an hour writing a long update…it’s my life, I’ve been living it, I fucking know what happened. Besides, writing that way makes journaling kind of a chore and that’s why I stopped updating in the first place. I felt like I had to have an “idea” for a post, and I’m abandoning that notion. I just want to have something to look back on…something slightly less embarrassing than my teenage livejournal account (which I still don’t have access to, and I still count among my many blessings in life).
Anyway, I used to have a lot more passion for journaling. The reason why I called this a collection of personal writing assignments is because I started it thinking I would use it to refine a lost skill. Writing was something I loved to do as a child and I received constant praise for it. I did the young author’s conference a few times. I remember vividly the day that I realized I could write on a computer and save my work instead of writing in notebooks. I was probably in third grade.
But yeah, I quit doing all that because life got busy and I kind of repressed all of my childhood hobbies and talents…you know how you do that weird thing in high school where you will away anything that makes you differ from your peers, to seem cool or whatever? Okay, maybe not everyone does that. I definitely did, but I don’t really regret it because in the process of willing away my old self, I met totally amazing new people who introduced me to totally amazing new shit that definitely enhanced my personality in the long run. I credit a couple people with contributing to my metamorphasis, I’ll keep them nameless here. I know who you are.
Part of it was that I always hung out with groups of kids that were older than me. I only had one friend growing up who was younger than me, and I always thought she outweighed me in intelligence so it was never something I noticed. People always comment on how mature I am, or rather how mature I seem. I don’t really think I’m so mature; I think I’m more reserved and poised, and I can see how some would mistake that for maturity. I remember one time, at Ed Debevic’s (that restaurant where the staff purposely insults you for laughs) the waitress took my order. I was probably 12. I ordered a salad and a diet coke, cause you know, I had an eating disorder and was utterly repulsed and pissed that my life had reached this crossroads where my awful family was forcing me to eat an actual meal with all of their eyes watching and no where to hide (haha) and the waitress said, “Wow. Are you a 40 year old woman in there?” AND she actually rapped on my head.
My point? I know I strayed pretty far from it…but my point is that I was always the baby of my friend groups. I was cute and naive in so many eyes, that now when I look at people my own age I see them with the same assessment. I wouldn’t call myself maternal though…
caitlin adair 