August 12, 2011 § Leave a comment
So, one thing about living with my mom is that I’ve been reunited with a bunch of boxes of old journals and letters and pictures from my whole life. It is actually this amazing feeling of completion or wholeness or something – I’m so grateful to have chronicled things in such detail for so long, and looking back over that stuff helps me understand myself better, I think.
But in the midst of searching for an old writing project just now, I got caught up in reading one of my journals from high school, and oh my god it was brutal. BRUTAL. I had really forgotten what is was like to be a teenager and take everything incredibly seriously and be surrounded by complicated difficult adult things and be affected by them but not really understand them. I kept an agonizingly precise record of every confusing, angsty, shame-filled, epic feeling. Major themes included tragic gayness and all the girls I loved desperately and unrequitedly, a lot of kind-of-intense existential obsessing over what was “real” and what was “fake”, and about a million tempestuous relationships with other teenagers who were similarly filled with secrets, shame, insecurity, drama, and fear. I feel so grateful to have made it to adulthood.
In other news, everything is amazing. I love summer, I love houseguests, I love my family, I love nature. Here are some beautiful woods and some amazing rocks:
Also, the night before last I was lying on my bedroom floor reading a book and trying to decide whether I should go to sleep or not, and I realized I could hear music coming from downtown, which is very rare in Belfast at 11pm, so I put on some pants and went outside and followed the music down the street and found a huge block party with a live band and probably almost everyone who lives in Belfast dancing, hula hooping, and riding a mechanical bull. That was pretty good.