December 25 1987
Friday
The first “journal” I ever started writing in was a bright orange diary that I received on Christmas morning in 1987. It has Lucy from the Peanuts cartoon on the front, holding a green book with a dialog bubble that says, “KEEP OUT!”. On the back is her booth from which she would give advice to other Peanuts characters that says on top: “psychiatric help 5 cents” and on the bottom, “the doctor is in”. It had a lock on it that broke somewhere along the way.
I wrote to that diary like it was a friend. I started every entry with Dear Diary, Dear D, even saying, “hey babe!” as I began to write or “Sorry it’s been so long” when I didn’t write for a while. I don’t know what that personalization means…it’s interesting that I personified my diary - made it a friend. I wrote things I would never say to anyone else. So was I writing to myself or was it the act of writing that I was befriending?
Here’s the very first entry…written in my best 10 year old cursive, in pencil. It’s a 10 year old brain dump of Christmas joy and as I read it, I picture my chubby cheeks and little braids and am struck by two things: my little kid sweetness (I feel so tender when I remember there’s a little me inside of me) and my straightforward judgment (assessment?) of other people. My personality already showing up on page one. No one was gonna be spared on these journal pages.
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Dear Diary,
Merry Christmas! I got everything I wanted & more. J. my uncle’s girlfriend’s dauter* is pushy but nice. I am having the best christmas ever. I love Jesus & all the saints. Me and J. are having a good time. Santa** gave me good things. I am tired. The lock will keep everyone out!
Happy,
Micky
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*I think kid spellings are cute so I kept it.
**I don’t remember believing in Santa or Santa being a big deal in my house, but apparently I did.