Above you can see a journal that I wrote almost 100 pages in from November 30, 1985 to January 22, 1992 – about seven years and two months time span. First off let’s take a look at the cover:
- I stole this from my brother Terry but didn’t do a very good job of hiding his name. Oh sure I scribbled it out with blue pen but without much conviction. It’s not like a journal with nothing written in it would be considered loot.
- “Buff.” Who doesn’t want to be ripped at the sweet age of twelve and a half? We all know that to accomplish your goals you should write it down and put it somewhere that you can see it often.
- The top line of x’s and o’s was how I got to be such a great artist. It all starts somewhere; with me it was here.
Inside front cover:
- My brother Terry has a pretty nice handwritten note from Bishop Fred Mertlich.
- I, on the other hand, wrote, “If death comes over me let Shelly Swart have my journal.” Completely idiotic. I haven’t seen her in 23 years. She might be a hairstylist or something. Not one of my finer moments. I can say this, I didn’t write this when I was twelve and a half. I was older, which is even more embarrassing.
- At least Fred Mertlich didn’t spend too much money on this journal. If Terry sees this he’ll want at least his $4.50 back, plus interest.
Okay, here comes the big, gigantic, huge, GINORMOUS disclaimer: I’ve never studied grammar. Ever! I wasn’t a reader until I was 28 years-old, so I’ve missed a thing or too (haha just kidding – two). You’ll see the evidence of this in my earlier years and my totally creative way of spelling all things. I was, and still kind of am, a phonetic speller. Not a great reading/writing foundation to work with… Here’s one cool thing about this entry though: one bad-ass, long, run-on sentence with only a few misspelled words. A shout out to my good friend Boram Kim.
Don’t judge me to harshly people.