Friday, April 02, 2010

Life Lessons

When I was twelve, I had this Keith Haring journal. It was white and had his signature multi-colored dancing men all over it. I'd scribble all of my exploits in it. ALL OF THEM. I wrote about the sneaking out, the smoking, the drinking, the drugs, and the boys...oh the boys. Every. torrid. little detail. 

One day, I went skittering off to a friends house and then suddenly felt this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Did I stuff my diary back in between my mattress? (how original) 
Yeah, I must have, no worries...

I didn't. I'd accidentally left it out. My mother found it. *GASP* She read it. Every. torrid. little detail. I came home and her face was white, null. She called me into my room and I spotted it, there, in her clutches. 

"FUCKING TRAITOR! I can't believe you told her all of my secrets!" I shrieked in my head.

She broke down in tears and told me how she couldn't believe how I could've turned out to be such a bad kid. The watering continued as she told me how she couldn't believe how she could've turned out to be such a bad mother. 

I started bawling, too. I just tucked up into her side and apologized profusely while begging for forgiveness. I said I was so so so sorry and promised to be good. 

After we dried out and she assured me that she still loved me, she told me that I was stupid and if I was going to do bad stuff, then I should NEVER WRITE IT DOWN.

A great life lesson. Don't self incriminate by leaving a paper trail. 

After the incident, I ripped the diary to shreds with my bare hands and flushed it down the toilet. That was the day my mother became my best friend. We lived happily ever after. Part of me wishes that I still had it. It would've made for such a good read now-a-day.


  1. I was never cool enough to have torid details, but I always ripped my diaries to shreds when I was younger because I was always so ashamed of my thought process. Little did I know...

  2. Mine had garfied on the cover and a lock (the kind that could be opened with a safety pin). The contents contained what my crush wore every day for TWO years and love poems. Bad ones. Then I matured - a spinal notebook detailing my fantasy love affair with Jonathan Knight (btw I just found out last week he is a fan of the other side and the whole Tiffany thing was a hoax)...I was definitely more partial to Debbie anyway. Yeah, I was a total geek.
    Another thought does anyone even write in diaries anymore? Or do they just start blogs?

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  4. My mom is my best friend too, at least that came out of the diary reading. I agree with your mom, its such a bad idea to write down details, unless you are insane like me and keep all the diaries locked in a tiny portable safe like some kind of memory-miser.
    I really enjoyed reading this.

  5. This makes me suspect you have a secret double life like that chick in "Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl". Not that I read that sort of book, of course.

  6. Although I've never met you--and I'm not quite sure how I landed on your blog in the first place--I'm sure we'd be BEST friends in another life...

  7. It's adorable that you and your mother ended up being closer as a result.

    I wrote diaries as well, I sort of want to get back to writing journals, just because it is good to keep your thoughts somewhere, they can always serve as inspiration...

    I think I've destroyed the ones from my youth though, I always think too much and imagined what would happen if my parents found it.
    Shame really.

  8. thank you for sharing.
    I felt the fear at the pit of my stomach while reading it. I'd have been some nasty little monster and pulled some triangulation against her for "invading my precious privacy".

    I'm glad you became best friends for it.

    Ps: I had a KH spiraled red&white journal too.
    It's still in my childhood closet.

    I might bring it and share with you.

    Pss: Now I have "badkids" in my head.


  9. 1. You were a pretty bad-ass 12 year old.

    2. I LOVE real parenting like this. Of course she flips out about her daughter's exploits, but wraps it up with with a little conspiratorial advice. loooove iiiiit. My mom would've been researching all-female Christian boarding schools in that situation.

  10. ha. i didn't get *quite* so mischievous till 13 or 14.

    but when i was a freshman my best friend lived with us. i wrote a note to her detailing a ditching adventure (with a boy). the note ended with "****don't bring this home*****"

    of course a day or two later i walked in to find it open on the dining room table, presumably fished out of the laundry room garbage bin.

    sigh, good advice.

  11. i had the *exact* same thing happen to me when I was about 15, but my parents chose to burn my diary.

    all those memories, pictures, ticket stubs, stories... GONE.

    i love my parents dearly, but to this day, I'm still livid that they destroyed the memories of that part of my life...


The divine PB&J in me, salutes the divine PB&J in you.