Prepubescent Priorities
I was back at my parents' place for the weekend, and rummaging through my old stuff, I came across a basket containing old trinkets from the crinkly pages of my youth. It was kind of like in the movie Amélie when that one guy Dominique Bretodeau finds the nostalgic tin box she leaves for him in the telephone booth...
The creaky hand grip exercise thing for a better wrestling grip. The Know-a-State memory cards. The "Scientist" activity pin from Webelos Scouts. The beloved red butterfly yo-yo that used to turn the tip of my finger purple when it would cut off the circulation. The notes written in cavortingly cursive script from high school girlfriends, surreptitious correspondence passed ever so furtively from assigned seat to assigned seat. The unsolved Rubik's cube. The action figure of a Christianized Roman tribune, complete with a holy cross on his breastplate (goddammit, I've lost his sword and shield).
Intriguingly, I also came across a diary that I had tried (and quickly failed) to keep when I was eight years old. I'm going to faithfully reproduce it here, exactly as I so eloquently penned the words. We all come face to face, from time to time, with a likeness of ourselves we may not even recognize, but which we must grudgingly accept as part of our singular nature, that which we've become. I might snicker at eight year-old Edwin and his teetering steps toward self-articulation, but there's no getting around the fact that I am he. Just as, for that matter, you are he as you are me and we are all together.
1 January
We had a real blast that day. We had a lot of fireworks. First, me and my family blew some fireworks of our own. Then we went to our neighbor's house and had a real blast. We countdowned to the last second, then boy how we screamed. We screamed as loud as we could. That must of woken up the neighbors. It was a fun and tiring night.
6 January
Today was Ephany [Epiphany]. I got a 500 piece puzzle, Talkboy, this diary, a picture album, one pair of wrist bands, and a set of the world book encyclopedia. My favorite was Talkboy. My worst was the 500 piece puzzle. Then the wristbands. Then the picture album. Then this diary. And then, Talkboy.
7 January
That night, after my soccer practice, my dad wanted to me to take away the soccer ball while he was guarding it. My brother was trying to make a goal but instead, hit me in the thigh. My dad picked me up for about 20 seconds. Then it felt better. The moment he put me down, it began to get hot and I couldn't play. Just because of that I couldn't play Super Nintendo [recent Christmas gift] for the next two days.
8 January
That afternoon, after school, my friend Johnson came over to play. First, Johnson, my little brother Davin and me play Super Nintendo. Then we had a snack. Then we played some more Super Nintendo. Next, we played dominos and made domino spitters [???]. Then we play Connect Four and watched T.V.. Then, it was time for Johnson to go. He put on his rain poncho with a hood because it was a rainy Friday. It was a good thing Johnson came or my dad wouldn't let me play Super Nintendo.
[End of diary.]
Sitting on a cornflake,
Waiting for the van to come.
Corporation tee-shirt
Stupid bloody Tuesday.
Man, you been a naughty boy,
You let your face grow long.
The creaky hand grip exercise thing for a better wrestling grip. The Know-a-State memory cards. The "Scientist" activity pin from Webelos Scouts. The beloved red butterfly yo-yo that used to turn the tip of my finger purple when it would cut off the circulation. The notes written in cavortingly cursive script from high school girlfriends, surreptitious correspondence passed ever so furtively from assigned seat to assigned seat. The unsolved Rubik's cube. The action figure of a Christianized Roman tribune, complete with a holy cross on his breastplate (goddammit, I've lost his sword and shield).
Intriguingly, I also came across a diary that I had tried (and quickly failed) to keep when I was eight years old. I'm going to faithfully reproduce it here, exactly as I so eloquently penned the words. We all come face to face, from time to time, with a likeness of ourselves we may not even recognize, but which we must grudgingly accept as part of our singular nature, that which we've become. I might snicker at eight year-old Edwin and his teetering steps toward self-articulation, but there's no getting around the fact that I am he. Just as, for that matter, you are he as you are me and we are all together.
1 January
We had a real blast that day. We had a lot of fireworks. First, me and my family blew some fireworks of our own. Then we went to our neighbor's house and had a real blast. We countdowned to the last second, then boy how we screamed. We screamed as loud as we could. That must of woken up the neighbors. It was a fun and tiring night.
6 January
Today was Ephany [Epiphany]. I got a 500 piece puzzle, Talkboy, this diary, a picture album, one pair of wrist bands, and a set of the world book encyclopedia. My favorite was Talkboy. My worst was the 500 piece puzzle. Then the wristbands. Then the picture album. Then this diary. And then, Talkboy.
7 January
That night, after my soccer practice, my dad wanted to me to take away the soccer ball while he was guarding it. My brother was trying to make a goal but instead, hit me in the thigh. My dad picked me up for about 20 seconds. Then it felt better. The moment he put me down, it began to get hot and I couldn't play. Just because of that I couldn't play Super Nintendo [recent Christmas gift] for the next two days.
8 January
That afternoon, after school, my friend Johnson came over to play. First, Johnson, my little brother Davin and me play Super Nintendo. Then we had a snack. Then we played some more Super Nintendo. Next, we played dominos and made domino spitters [???]. Then we play Connect Four and watched T.V.. Then, it was time for Johnson to go. He put on his rain poncho with a hood because it was a rainy Friday. It was a good thing Johnson came or my dad wouldn't let me play Super Nintendo.
[End of diary.]
Sitting on a cornflake,
Waiting for the van to come.
Corporation tee-shirt
Stupid bloody Tuesday.
Man, you been a naughty boy,
You let your face grow long.
posted by TheTrayTiger at 12:24 PM
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