Allison's Private Journal

Dear Journal,

I haven’t written in a while, so I guess I should have tons to write about.  But theres not too much.  Well anyway I’m now officially an 8th grader, so i guess i must be special.  Mike is on my team + we’ve gotten way closer.  Jeez, I guess 5 years apart makes you really miss someone!  On the 19th me, mike, maddie, Craig, Ashley S., Jess P. + eve are going to Factory of Terror.  It should be awesome.

I’m still single!  Damn I gotta lose weight.  Just 20 lbs would be a dream come true.  I’m 146 and a size 10.  I’d just at least like to be in single digits!  I work out but I think I have like some sort of eating disorder.  I must!  like after school I just want to eat and eat, but I never am satisfied.  I just want to throw away everything except fruits + veggies.  or sumthin lol.

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If only my eighth-grade self could see how much I’ve gotten laid at 160.  Shit, man.  I am kind of glad I didn’t foresee this phenomenon at thirteen; I might have five kids by now.  I wouldn’t call my sex life excessive, but between a pretty intense awakening sophomore year in college and the rest of my time in college/this past post-grad year, I have done relatively well for myself.  At least, I’ve done well enough for sex to be something I’m trying to prevent for a while these days.  I’m not even twenty-three years old.  I just don’t know how girls can rack up 20+ notches on their belts and be okay with the way their lives are going; I’m convinced sane people do not act this way.  The whole Sex and the City mentality, I’ve decided, is a complete fabrication made for commercial success that women dabble in because it looks kind of fun.

Take Jackass, for instance.  Spike Jonze, Johnny Knoxville, and the whole gang (with the exception of Steve-O) knew what they were putting out there. Jackass was over-the-top, insanely dangerous, and not anything to be mimicked by the general public, but it was fucking hilarious and addictive to watch.  Well there should be similar warnings played before an episode of Sex and the City before it’s aired on E!.  It’s AWFUL.  Has anyone realized each character on Sex and the City goes through some of the most horrible unsafe-sex-induced problems?  I am pretty sure every one of the characters has an abortion at some point, except Miranda who decides to keep the sweet bartender’s child–like Steve is realistic in the first place.  PFFFFT!  No wonder he’s my favorite character.

Anyways, Miranda also gets Chlamydia, Carrie gets fucked over about eight thousand times, Charlotte makes me feel like I can be delusional and end up with the most caring bald dude in the world (only at the cost of converting to Judaism), and Samantha just makes me feel disgusting.  Of course, Samantha, that old bag, gets with the hottest dude in the world and he actually LOVES her!  He buys her a fucking plant of love when she gets breast cancer!  I’m sorry, I really am, but a 45-year-old washed up sexpot is not getting loved that deeply by a 25-year-old Herculean model.  No.  Fucking.  Way.

So much for not commenting on these entries anymore.  I also just wanted to point out how revealing my old journal entries are about my life today. It’s incredible.  If you can dig up any writing, or drawing, or videos you made, anything from a young age, you’ve got to go back and take a look.  I recently hung out with an old guy friend something like four times in two weeks after having not spent much time together in… years.  A lot of years.  And this is one of my best friends from high school, a real true blue.  So reading about how much closer I got with this guy Mike in 8th grade after being separated for quite a bit just warms my thawing Ice Queen heart tonight.  It’s a special thing to reignite old flames (note: flames that have never, ever hurt you in the past) whether they be platonic or romantic, or something in between.  Life is all about living, and it’s those kinds of relationships that make it worth the long haul.  I guess I could have told you that ten years ago.