I was looking for an e-mail today and stumbled upon some journal entries from my sophomore year of college.
Cj often accuses me of being dramatic.
Not in the "I'm so mad at you, we're fighting" kind of way. More in the "everything is either the worst thing ever or the best thing ever" way.
I usually try and deny it, but after reading these journal entries he just might be right. I think it comes with the territory of being a poet. I got feelings, you know?
Here are some highlights:
#1. The part where I made a list of all the dumb things I had done that year.
The list includes everything from drinking 64 oz of Powerade in 22 minutes because Robby Mildau dared me to, to peeing with the stall door open in the basement of the JFSB because I didn't think anyone else was around and I thought "well, it's now or never."
#2. Making lists of all the things I like about my roommates in an attempt to stop being mad at them.
One item on the list was "She has very pretty hair, when she decides to shower."
Obviously it was working.
#3. The nine separate times I quote Radiohead in an attempt to express my teen angst.
They, like, seriously spoke to my soul.
#4. The three-page, single-spaced entry I wrote over my horror at turning twenty.
The second page includes a short piece about how I sat in the grass by myself outside my friend Jenna's house when it turned midnight so that I could stare at the stars and mourn in peace. That is real. I seriously did that.
When I think about it, this was all only four years ago and it is probably a little too soon to be bringing these things into the public eye.
I guess I am just putting a lot of trust in the fact that I have grown up at least a little bit in the last four years.
Except for the Radiohead part. Who am I kidding? They will always speak to my soul.