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This weekend in Spokane I poked through the remaining boxes of my stuff left there. Among random books I decided I just couldn't leave behind, I found several unarchived relics of my past.
First was the journal I was forced to keep during my 4th grade Europe trip. (It was part of the deal that got me out of school for a month.) It's now transcribed into my personal events journal. While it's great to have real dates to go with events, the entries themselves are almost useless. Obviously a product of coercion, with little insight into my character at the time. Oh well. From what I remember, it didn't have a lot going for it beyond potential.
There was a nicely bound short story I wrote in sixth grade, complete with hideous illustrations. It is, of course, about nuclear war. Not even a fun survival story, just the end of the world and as much hopeless despair as I could convey. I'll have to scan as well as transcribe, but I don't plan on inflicting it on anyone.
I surprised myself a bit by grabbing the yearbooks. The comments people wrote in them are very illustrative. They nicely plot my evolution in the 8th to 11th grade period from loner nerd who was tolerated as mostly harmless, to a not-so-loner nerd with a few friends, to a blossoming geek with a fairly strong circle of friends and a wider group of people who genuinely liked and appreciated him. Pretty weird to read in quick succession. My defining act of personality engineering described through sound bytes.
Finally, I grabbed an old printout of my middle school poetry. It is, of course, pretty horrible and completely obsessed with entropy. My dorky little implementation of gothdom. But on a re-read, I realized that one of them could make a pretty decent Spiritrover post. Nice to find a use for it. Weirder is to think what that would mean to my 14 year old self. He wouldn't have been too insulted by the implied parody -- he never took himself or his angst that seriously. What would he think about the modern internet, blogs, and the spacer journal phenomenon? It's nice to be reminded that not only am I living in the future, but my life would impress the pants off most of my younger selves.
First was the journal I was forced to keep during my 4th grade Europe trip. (It was part of the deal that got me out of school for a month.) It's now transcribed into my personal events journal. While it's great to have real dates to go with events, the entries themselves are almost useless. Obviously a product of coercion, with little insight into my character at the time. Oh well. From what I remember, it didn't have a lot going for it beyond potential.
There was a nicely bound short story I wrote in sixth grade, complete with hideous illustrations. It is, of course, about nuclear war. Not even a fun survival story, just the end of the world and as much hopeless despair as I could convey. I'll have to scan as well as transcribe, but I don't plan on inflicting it on anyone.
I surprised myself a bit by grabbing the yearbooks. The comments people wrote in them are very illustrative. They nicely plot my evolution in the 8th to 11th grade period from loner nerd who was tolerated as mostly harmless, to a not-so-loner nerd with a few friends, to a blossoming geek with a fairly strong circle of friends and a wider group of people who genuinely liked and appreciated him. Pretty weird to read in quick succession. My defining act of personality engineering described through sound bytes.
Finally, I grabbed an old printout of my middle school poetry. It is, of course, pretty horrible and completely obsessed with entropy. My dorky little implementation of gothdom. But on a re-read, I realized that one of them could make a pretty decent Spiritrover post. Nice to find a use for it. Weirder is to think what that would mean to my 14 year old self. He wouldn't have been too insulted by the implied parody -- he never took himself or his angst that seriously. What would he think about the modern internet, blogs, and the spacer journal phenomenon? It's nice to be reminded that not only am I living in the future, but my life would impress the pants off most of my younger selves.
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I think that's at least one good measurement of success =)
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Old poetry is great fun as well - I have stacks of jr high poetry, all about death and unrequited love and angst, horribly good stuff. I liked the one you posted though!
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;-)
Shame on you!
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