Dear Diary...

Hi blog, how have you been? I can’t believe it’s been over two months since I last wrote on here…

Haha… I remember being in third grade and having a diary. And all my entries would start like that - Like I was writing to an old friend or something.

One certain entry comes to mind every time I think about that teeny pink diary that had a pastel ice cream cone under the words “My Diary”. It also had a little gold lock to which I had the ONLY key. :)

Anyway… in this specific entry, I was in third grade and writing about my current celebrity crush. It went something like:

“Dear Diary,

I really, really, REALLY like Neil Patrick Harris (he plays Doogie Howser on the TV show Doogie Howser, M.D.). He is so cute, and I really wish I could hug and kiss him. I LOVE him! Anyway, I hope you’re doing good, diary, and I’m so glad I can tell you things that I can’t tell anyone else!

Love,

Dani”

So, yeah… That’s all cute and funny and all, but the really funny part is yet to come.

When I was in about fifth grade (maybe fourth - who can really remember those details?), I found the pink-ice-cream-cone diary and read through some of the pages. I was SO embarrassed (we’re talking red-faced and sweat-on-the-brow) about the Doogie Howser post (and I didn’t want ANYONE, especially my parents to find it and read these intimate secrets). So, I tore out the pages and ripped them into little pink-confetti shreds. And then I started the next page with something along the lines of “Dear Diary, Today was the first day of fifth (fourth?) grade, and it was so fun! My best friends are Stephanie, Melissa and Vilma, and my favorite teacher is…”

[Side note: If my parents found and read my diary and noticed the ripped out pages, they’d probably think I had way crazier things going through my head than just an innocent crush on a celebrity… Food for thought.]

Back to the destroying of personal records… HOW BORING, huh?! The funny thing is that a few years ago, after I was married, I found an old journal from high school. Reading it was in one word MORTIFYING. I mean, I was in love with five different boys in five different weeks. And I’m pretty sure I documented every boy I had a crush on or even kissed. So, a few years ago, I was too embarrassed to even read it (WHAT if Ryan read it?!?), so what did I do?

Just guess…

I ripped out the pages and SHREDDED IT!

Geez, I’ll never learn. In ten years, I’ll regret that, won’t I?

So, what does this all have to do with the topic of the blog? Probably nothing. But I’ve been reading Sylvia Plath’s journals lately, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t shred anything. She had balls. I need to grow a pair. Geez.