This weekend, I went to the place I like to call ""home-home,"" that is, a wooded and wet six acres of land in the township of Rudolph, 15 minutes north of Wisconsin Rapids and two hours north of Madison (Madison is ""home""). I took the opportunity to find out what I was thinking about 10 years ago, at age 11 and a half.
On April 22, 2001 (the closest to today's date that I could get), I wrote the following:
""We went to the carnival. First we [my female friend Harley and I] went on the Tilt-a-Whirl and then Muzz [my mother] went to shop for clothes. Then we went on the Sizzler and then we played a game and then went on the obstacle course. Then we went on the Space 2000. Then we went on the Tilt-a-Whirl again and the Sizzler again. Then we had cotton candy and went in the mall and got some nice soap and candy and a Puffkins [a type of stuffed animal] red fox named Franklin and Harley got two Puffkins eagles named Jake. Then we went back to the carnival and then we went on Space 2000 again. Then we went on the Sizzler again and the Tilt-a-Whirl. Then Muzz came back and we all went on Space 2000 again. Then we went home 'cause it was raining.""
The journal entry, written in silver gel pen on black paper and containing zero paragraph breaks, ends with a peace sign.
Having found my writing from 10 years ago thoroughly dissatisfying, I moved on to a journal from five years ago, when I was 16 and a half.
On April 26, 2006, I wrote,
""I dreamed the garage possessed cave-like qualities: dirty, rodent-infested and dark. On the stairs to the attic I witnessed a vole's squealing death. The tail of some vermin wrapped itself around a bottle of oil.
""Outside the garage, walking toward the road, I realized the situation in the garage was out of the ordinary.
""On the road, I looked across the ditch onto the property [across the road]. Gus [my boyfriend at the time], in long underwear (top and bottom) and beret, leaned against a tree. I said, ‘You're quite the Scottish punk,' and awoke.""
Two things strike me about the rodent-infested garage: A) Our garage is already dirty, rodent-infested (though the cat keeps the population down) and dark, and B) I did not dislike seeing the rodents.
When I told my mother about the dream I had five years ago, she remarked that Gus leaning against a tree in long underwear and beret is completely in character.
The 2006 entry continues on to describe my plans for the rest of the week, which involve some bald-faced lies:
""Friday, I tell parents staying @ Jessie's and that she will be going to ‘Oklahoma' the musical w/me, but really go to Gus' and the musical w/Gus, stay overnight at Nate's [my boyfriend's friend's], Jessie drives me to bowling in the morning.""
In the entry, I continue to plot my week through Sunday (""Sunday, accomplish something""). The next paragraph begins: ""WORST CASE SCENARIO"" after which I describe anything I can think of that could go wrong with my plans. The most ironic part is that I didn't think of what actually went wrong.
I remember my parents called Jessie trying to reach me. She told them she had dropped me off at the alley, but, for some reason, there wasn't bowling that morning. I remember my father asking me in the car why there was a discrepancy in mine and Jessie's stories. I felt sick to my stomach as I replied, ""We were up most of the night. She probably isn't thinking clearly.""
In comparing the two journal entries, five years apart, the obvious conclusion is that a person evolves a lot in five years, especially the five years between ages 11 and 16. For instance, the quality of my writing increased dramatically, as did my capacity for considering future actions. As for the deception of my parents, the five years that intervened between age 16 and a half and the me of this moment taught me to look on my cruel treatment of them with the sweet sorrow that comes from learning the hard way.
I feel awe when I think about the enormous effect five more years has on a person. Particularly, I wonder what I will think of this article in five years. I will probably think, ""Yeah, you understand the basics, but this deserves 1,500 words at least, not just 600!"" And then I will write about it.
Have any comments or want to share your own childhoood journal entries? E-mail Angelica at aengel2@wisc.edu.
