Posts Tagged ‘journals’

Beginners’ Guide to Bullet Journaling

As you may remember, I’ve kept a journal regularly since I was 11. So anytime there is news in the exciting world of journals, I take an interest. Bullet journaling is something I’ve been hearing about for a while now, but I’ve always been unsure about trying it for myself. Despite the best intentions, I’ve never written in my journal everyday, but when I do write I go with a narrative style and pretty long entries. The bullet journal is the opposite of that: part planner, part to-do list, part journal. You make entries every day and they should be short and to the point. But, in the spirit of journal science discovery, I was willing to give it a try.

This beginner guide explains things better than I can, and gave me some grounding in how to do things the “right” way. Then I pretty much just took the parts of it I liked and did whatever I wanted. First you’ve got your monthly calendar. Here’s mine for July:


Other people have really fancy layouts and draw theirs, but my journal had a section of calendar pages at the beginning so I just used that. You can use it to plan out your month and to refer back to etc. After that is my table of contents:


Surprise! I’m bad at recording things in a table of contents. Oh well. Then you get down to the daily entries. I would usually start the day (or sometimes the night before) writing down everything I needed and wanted to do that day next to open boxes I could fill in when I accomplished it. At the end of the day, any un-filled-in boxes got moved to the next day. I also recorded stuff that happened that day with bullet points:


Near the bottom of the page I recorded what I ate and what I spent money on too. At the end of the month I could make a chart! Because if you love charts, bullet journaling is all about that. Here’s me recording monthly habits:


I know, pathetic, but I was sick for a while this month. I haven’t made myself a little chart for July, but if I ever do this again, I want to try to use more fabulous colors. On the other hand, some of the elaborate bullet journal layouts you can find online seem, to me, way more trouble than they’re worth.

Overall, bullet journaling really kept me more organized than I have been, particularly with things like chores that don’t really have deadlines but still need to be done consistently. I still wrote more narrative entries below what I considered my “bullet journal entry” for the day, but not always, and often just short sentences elaborating on my bullet points. I’m not sure I’ll stick to this format, but I’ll probably incorporate some elements of it into my normal journaling. Like charts!

Previously: Make Up
Next: Candy

13-year-old Patricia Wrote the Best Story You Have Ever Read

So while giving James Fox a dramatic reading of my 7th grade journal, because that’s just the kind of thing we do, I made a shocking archaeological discovery!! Namely that when high school me started to transcribe my journals she left whole sections out, I assume because she thought they were too embarrassing. Revisionist Journal Transcribing! Shame on you, 16-year-old Me! Shame!!

This is especially upsetting because she decided to leave out literally the best part of the entire corpus of Things I Have Ever Written. I read it aloud to James and we both almost choked to death on our laughter and/or admiration for Middle School Patricia’s genius. This story has everything: love, betrayal, ridiculous unpronounceable names, fake olde-timey language, a commercial break. Oh my god the commercial break. James agreed to illustrate it for me to fully bring MSP’s vision to life. Prepare to be spellbound by MSP’s brilliance. Also her spelling, all of which I left intact.

Aulderon: Penons in the dust


“Twas some time ago,” the elderly hero said, “but it seemth to me that in my youth I was the finest knight on life. I strove to saveth that fair country which once was from sheer turmoil. It hath been many a long year since that time of fair Aulderon. The castles hath all turneth to rumble heaps and the peonons of mine fallen comrades doth lie buried in the dust of antiquity. Why shouldst I repeat those far off memories, that couldth easily hath been but a dream in my withered mind?”

“Please,” begged the small boy, “I want to hear a story, Grandfather. Tell me of Aulderon and its castles, knights, and kings. Tell of your adventures and conquests. Please.”

The old hero sighed. He was not prone to resurrecting the long forgotten civilizations of old. Nor did he enjoy recounting his own history, which had been a tragedy in itself. It was quite a story, though, and the stories of Aulderon would only live so long as they were told.

“Many, many years ago,” he began, “I was deemethed Sir Calebert, Viscount of Trinity and Lord of the South of Aulderon. For indeed, Trinity wasth the largest land in Southern Aulderon. It seemth that I recall five of us. Myself, Lord of the South, Marquis D’Ewartila of Brentell, Gentle Overseer of the East, another Knight, Sir Wartagell of Twarten, Brave Earl of the Frozen North, and yet another knight, Sir Bantaren of Rougen, Tyrannical Baron of the West. It also seemth that I recall a one High King who ruleth us all and all of Aulderon. There wereth many kings. Some wise and just, some it seemth to me a trifle dense. The house of Trinity hath always been beside the king and so I was.

It seemth I was great friends with one of the last Aulderon kings, a fine young man who hadth cometh out of some university in the capital city of Aulderon, Bowinton. He cameth to the throne of Aulderon at the End of the Peace of Aulderon time period. He hadth a promising start no doubt. He seemedth quite capable and always friendly to us Lords. He fell in love a short while later, it seemth, with a young lady at court from her home in Brentall to the East. She was the Countess Derlesia. They weret soon married. She seemth a good enough Queen, a little, or perhaps more than a little, dense, but she servethed her purpose at functions and it seemeth she really didst loveth his majesty. In time she blessed him with a daughter.

She was a beautiful Princess that looked like a sunrise with golden blonde hair made, it seemth, of the finest gold and with eyes as crystal blue as the sky on a cloudless day. She grew with grace and beauty and was keener than both her parents put together at a young age. She spent many a summer in Trinity and I did love her with all my heart.


“That doesn’t make sense, Grandfather,” the boy interrupted. “How could you love her if she was so much younger than you?”

The old man sighed again. “Tis a sad tale you wish to hear, me lad,” he said.

In short, when I was a youth, just recently acquired my knighthood, I went exploring in the forests of the North and happened apoun an old Hag stuck in a tree. I was quiet full of myself, and thinking myself the greatest knight, I rescued her.


“A reward ye be gettin’ for this,” the hag said. “I shall grant ye one wish. But take heed. If thou shouldst proclaim thy wish with ill intent or self gain, it shall not be as thou shouldst expect it.”

I did not heed the Old Hag’s warning, however. I said, “For the deed and service I hath given to thee, I ask in return that none mine enemies shouldst ever strike me down.”

“So be it,” the Hag replied. Then she vanished. So it was. I have never been killed and never will die for my wish was made with a puffed opinion of my own self worth.


It was in the time of the king’s daughter, Arleanna, that I had maintained my youthful appearance for so long. I loved Arleanna and would have given up my lands and titles for her. It appeared that she wouldth have the throne after her father for his wife never had a son or other children.

Unbeknowst to myself or anyone else at the time, however, Queen Derlesia was not as suitable as she seemed. She had for years, in fact, been in love with Sir Bantaren, Lord of the West. She knew that she was trapped in her marriage with his majesty, however, and the sly Baron of the West knew of her love and used it to his advantage. She wouldth performth anything for him and so it was that when he asked for fair Princess Arleanna’s hand in marriage she would not refuse. Queen Derlesia pleaded the case to his majesty who granted it without thought. So it was the engagement between Princess Arleanna, heir of Aulderon, and Sir Bantaren, Baron of the West, was made.


Princess Arelanna was not at all happy about this and managed to escape from the palace and ran to Trinity, entreating me to help her. I knew it was treason. I knew, if caught, my lands and titles would be taken away. But my heart could not refuse Arleanna, for indeed her predicament was perplexing. For a time I hid in my castle, but someone with such unearthly beauty as Arleanna’s is not easily forgotten.

One day a traveler from the East came to my door begging a place to stay for the night. I did not refuse him. He claimed he was going home from a visit to the West. When I inquired upon his occupation he replied that he was a mapmaker and was trying to more accurately map the lands surrounding Aulderon. I gave him a room for the night. Little did I know that the traveler was not a mapmaker, but a spy sent from Sir Bartaren. He had grown furious at the disappearance of Arleanna, and knew where she was likely to be found.

“Now wait a minute,” the boy interrupted again. “If this Baron of the West was so mean, how is it that the king let his daughter become engaged to such a man?”

“Ah, the king,” the old knight sighed. “He had been a good strong King, but as the years progressed he grew feeble and the real ruler of Aulderon was Queen Derlesia.”

The spy of Bartaren crept about the palace that night. He came apoun a small library where Arleanna had a habit of staying up reading. Having seen her he knew the situation and quickly rode off in the middle of the night. We had not known who he was and having not been aware of his discovery, we did not worry.


We’ll return to Aulderon: Penons in the Dust right after this.

Hey Tricia! I like the things you do! Hey Tricia! If I could I would be you. You’re the one and only Tricia, the one and only Trish, You know how to make a breakfast, they’re great! Frosted Tricias, they’re more than good, they’re great!

Now back to Aulderon: Penons in the Dust


When Bantaren’s spy returned to him, he rallied his troops preparing to march on Trinity. I got wind of this and organized my knights. Queen Derlesia was informed of the situation and demanded that I return Princess Arleanna. When I refused, she added her forces of Bowinton to Bantaren’s. She commanded Marquis D’Ewartila and Sir Wartagell to add their military forces to crush me, but Sir Wartagell refused. He had also been a close friend of Arleanna and I, and he was on our side. Marquis D’Ewartila was quite undecided. As I said, he was the Gentle Overseer of the East and sympathized with me, but war and strife were not to his liking. He refused to lend his small militia to Queen Derlesia’s cause, but didst not lend them to me either. He did however, not delay Wartegell’s knights as they traveled to join my army.

We met Bantaren’s army on a plain lying between South and West. Little did I know as the gory battle waged, a spy disguised as one of Wartegell’s knights rode through our ranks and on to Trinity. The gate was opened for him, of course, and being admitted, he kidnapped Princess Arleanna, and under the cover of night he brought her to Bantaren at his camp.

Now Bantaren had his long sought bride, but before marrying her he decided he must thwart me, his archenemy. So it was we awoke to find his army had retreated to Rougen with the Princess. A lone messanger was left. He fearfully informed us of what had happened and offered me Arleanna’s favorite necklace as proof that she was really his. I formed up my men and marched them on Rougen.

Being older than dirt can be helpful, for I knew of a secret passage leading to the cellar of Bantaren’s castle. While the battle waged, I found it and traveled to the cellar. Surprisingly, in the room adjacent to the one I emerged in, I heard talking and one of the voices sounded like my beloved. I peered through a crack in the door.

Arleanna was in there alright, as well as Bantaren. Arleanna was chained to a wall. Bantaren was pacing, talking to her in a distracted sort of way while she wearily struggled to get free. “Your beloved Sir Calebert should arrive soon,” he was saying. “Then we shall see. I have long wondered who had more knightly skill. Calebert has had more experience, but I believe I have more given talent.”

“So I’m to be a prize in a sword contest then?” Arleanna cried angrily.

“No, of course not,” Bantaren assured her. “You will not really be a prize. You are already mine. I will simply by protecting you from the madman.”

“You are the one who is mad,” she argued. “You’ve kidnapped me, and I suppose you’re going to force me to marry you?”

“No, not really,” he replied. “You don’t have to marry me if you don’t want to. You’re mine all the same, however.”

She shrieked. “Your even more despicable then I thought,” she cried.

“I never pretended to be otherwise,” he said. “Your beloved is late,” he mused. “I was almost positive he’d have been here by now.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘Your Beloved’?” she asked.

“Grandfather!” the boy interrupted again, “you said you and Arleanna loved each other.”

“I did not,” he argued. “I said that I loved her. She never expressed such love for me. It had been my hope that some day we should marry and she would grow to love me in time, however.


Anyway, Bantaren then said, “You are ignorant, Princess. Haven’t you noticed? Sir Calebert, a distinguished bachelor, would hardly go to so much trouble if he did not have some inner feelings for you.”

“We are the best of friends,” she replied indignantly. “That is all I will ever ask of him, and that is all he can honorably ask from me. You wouldn’t understand, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” he agreed, “but all the same, it is my belief that the Dear Duke of Trinity has some emotions locked away somewhere for you, my fluffy-brained Princess.”

“Why did you want my hand in marriage then?” she asked.

“I don’t love you,” Bantraen said. “Don’t flatter yourself, dear. Your beauty is beyond compare, but some people want more than a pretty face. What I do want is power. You are the Key to Aulderon. Whoever you marry becomes King, or hadn’t you realized that? I want Aulderon. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it. Even killing your beloved.”


“That’s a stupid plan,” Arleanna said. “Even if you did kill Calebert, you’d still have to deal with Wartegell and D’Ewartila.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “but Sir Calebert, the Immortal Champion, who has triumphed over death itself, or so the legend goes, is fabled to be invincible. When I kill him, the others will surely be afraid.”

“What makes you so sure you’ll triumph?”

“I have his weakness right here.” He laid a hand on her neck and kissed her. I came slamming through the door at that point. “You see, Princess?” Bantaren said amusedly. “Thou art his weakness. Thou art his failure.”

Peenon_08 (1)

“Is this true?” Arleanna asked me, her eyes pleading for the answer to be no.

I sighed. “I wouldst not lie to thee, Princess,” I said.

She sighed. “It is so then,” she said. “I am the cause of war and battle. It is me.”

But I didn’t hear her. Bantaren and I had already rushed at each other, swords aloft. Little did I know, Arleanna had stolen the key from Bantaren, when he had kissed her and even whilst we tried to tear each other to pieces she was freeing herself. When she was free she reached into her cloak and pulled out a dagger. “Lo, good sirs,” she called, “the cause for your strife has ended.” She plunged the dagger into her heart and fell tragically to the floor.


“NO!” Bantaren and I cried, rushing to her side, he for politics, and I for reasons of the heart. Yet she was dead. Newly enraged by this sad turn of events, Bantaren and I leapt at each other. We fought for a while but finally I struck him a fatal blow. He fell dead to the floor, and I was left alone in the cellar to weep.

*~*~*The End*~*~*


Special thanks to James for all his great drawing work!!! And Middle School Patricia for being so incredibly ridic that it still brings me joy 16 years later.

Previously: More journals; More James Fox

November Apology

It’s time again for my annual November Apology for being bad at updating. I like to blame NaNoWriMo for this, but recent evidence suggests the problem goes further back. For instance, of the 14 years I’ve kept a journal, November is easily my least prolific month. May, the month during which I’ve written the most entries, has twice as many.

Of course I made a chart, do you even know me?

In fact, of the seven days on which I have never written a journal entry, 3 (or 43%) are in November:

Also a bunch of them are on the 6th for some reason.

So clearly this problem dates back to 1998, way before I ever heard of NaNoWriMo. Incidentally, since I know you’re curious, the date I’ve written the most journal entries (7) on, is a tie between February 6th and October 17th:

Anyway, this year is my 5th doing NaNoWriMo, so it’s a little less exciting. I write a lot, so I’m pretty good at churning out the required word limit every day. I decided to try to spice things up by writing a Pick Your Own Adventure novel, complete with so many grisly death scenes. This is more complicated and confusing, but actually makes it easier to write a lot of words. I’m already three days ahead.

The green bar is James

He was ahead of me, until the third day, and then never regained his lead. YOU CAN DO IT JAMES JUST GOTTA BELIEVE IN YOURSELF! In case you don’t remember why this is important:

Come on, James, if you can learn the Hoedown Throwdown, you can do this

Anyway, in the meantime, I managed to make a peach slump:

Peach and berry!

Slumps are kind of weird. I like that they don’t require an oven, and therefore seem like less work, but the way the biscuit topping is steamed in the pot on top of the fruit instead of baked gives it a weird consistency that Steven hated and I was just kind of meh about. Probably will not be slumping it again!

Also, this is the tree outside my window right now!!!

Fall!!! I love you!!!

So, yeah, I have stuff going on. Expect reports on how I am still MASTER OF MY OWN THANKSGIVING soon!

Regressing: First Grade Journal Game!

Okay, I lied when I said we were done going through the archive of my life. Because I just found my first grade journal! It’s really short, and mostly pictures.

Once again, awesome cover design provided by Fairfax County Public Schools

I guess because writing is super hard in 1st grade, the format of this journal is: blank space for a picture on top, giant lines for words on the bottom. Each entry is clearly written from a one word prompt, probably written on the board, judging by my strange ability to spell it correctly, unlike every other word. Since I numbered my sentences and occasionally broke up the accompanying picture page so as to illustrate each one, I’m pretty sure we had a minimum requirement of five or eight or something (it seems to change randomly).

Anyway, I’m glad there are pictures, because my spelling is so much worse than last time. Not that the pictures are always obvious. See if you can guess the topic of the following. And *bonus points* if you can guess the one I drew this morning just to fool you! Click the pictures if you want a bigger image, and answers after the cut.


I like how the sun’s expression changes.




At least I tried to give you a hint by labeling that one (badly)


This one is the only entry without a sticker on, which I assume means I failed:


And here’s the hardest to guess, probably because the subject is a little more abstract:


Ready for the answers?: Read the rest of this entry »

Second Grade Journal: Cracking the Code

I was going to give you the July Spam Report today, but then I found something even more amazing and misspelled! That’s right, Spambots, you still have roughly 2 hours of July left to wow me before I write Friday’s post!

When they came to help me move, my parents brought a bunch of stuff of mine that was still hanging around their house, including a box of my old journals. Since I’d already transcribed these, I didn’t bother looking at them very closely, although I was pleased to be able to read about how “LISA IS A BUTT!” in the original gel pen. However!! Today I noticed one hiding amongst them that I definitely didn’t remember transcribing:

I was wondering about my terrible taste in cover art when I noticed the “Fairfax County Public Schools” logo in the bottom right

That’s right, team, this is my second grade journal!! Careful detective work has led me to believe that keeping one was a school assignment, because some of the entries are obviously written from prompts. There are 33 of them, mostly less than a page, between September 8th, 1994 and January 11th, 1995. January 12th, I discovered from reading the last entry, was the day I left school to move to Florida and immediately stopped writing since it was no longer required.

The most striking thing about these entries is how difficult they are to decipher:

Handwriting and spelling combine into a perfect storm of illegibility

So I thought it would be a fun game to give you badly spelled excerpts from my journal and see if you can figure out what I’m talking about. Ready?

Sept. 19, 1994. We went to a prak. The prak had a maz and a salid and sam tiers and sam swe’s and makey brs.

At first I thought I might be talking about a kind of salad. This next one kind of borders on the philosophical/emo in a weird way:

Sept. 21, 1994. I like my class room. thaee is a fox he is mie favirt. He is string at me like sad but happy at the sama time. He make’s me tinek of all the times I was happy.

Clearly I anticipated the ermahgerd meme by a number of years. Here’s a challenge:

Oct. 3, 1994. Yestr day I went to chr. I had kamiyin with my friad.

Also, super elementary school drama!!!!

Nov. 28, 1994. Today Gady is rejndoutid from my friend list!!!! Vaneli is now my 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12 frined. Not that I evr had a 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12 frined’s anyway. and reading this is none of your beeswaks Gady

I think I mean “Gabby”. Still, tense stuff. But nothing compared to December, 5th, 1994. The worst day of my lief.

Dec. 5, 1994. Today is the worst day of my lief. Frist we were going to the Daskaverwe Zone but it was in’t open. Second I found a very petty rock and I call’d Vaneli and on the phone I said I found a crystal so she came down and said it was stupid. Third my mom got mad when my new shert got full of mud and I did’t know why it was there. fourth I got lock’d in thomas toyboxs for a long time and I got hot. fifth here I am doing my homewrok when I don’t want to.

I stand by this assessment. Discovery Zone is closed, no one appreciates my cool rock, I’m hot and muddy AND doing homework? Def the worst day of my life so far. Good call on that, 7-year-old Patricia.

My journal ends thusly:

Jan. 11, 1995. Tomrrw is my last day of school… My mom mand me serll for breakfst. She was sapost to put suger in it but she put salt in it.

Except not quite. Turn a few blank pages and you find, in carefully practiced cursive:

Feb. 9, 1997. I have lived in Florida for two years. Sarah is my best friend here. I’m in fourth grade. I’m an all A student!

Thanks for the update, 9-year-old Patricia.I bet my Second Grade Journal was really wondering how you’ve been.

Answers (that I can figure out) to this exciting activity after the cut: Read the rest of this entry »

Ten Years of Journals

I’ve kept a journal semi-regularly since 1998. Well, except for most of 2001, whose absence I can’t really explain:

Of course I have a spreadsheet about this, why would you even ask?

They’re kind of a weird resource, because they’re definitely biased towards the bad parts of life. It’s way more cathartic to vent about why you’re mad or sad than record in loving detail funny conversations with your friends, so I really think anyone reading them through would probably think I was manic depressive and really unpleasant to be around. Which is totally not the case, right?

I started the project of transcribing them into searchable word documents December 27, 2004. I know the exact date because, duh, I wrote this in my journal:

12/27/04: I’ve begun typing in my journals starting with sixth grade and have decided that I was pretty much an idiot.

Harsh, High School Patricia. I mean, look at this:

5/26/99: . Lisa is a BUTT! She stole my new birthday pen and wrote on the wall with it. Then she tried to put it in her trapper and messed up the feathers. I found it in math. It didn’t work because part of the paint got stuck in it or something.

Trapper keepers, feathered pens, AND calling someone a butt in all caps? Sometimes I just can’t take how awesome I have always been.

Anyway, now that I’ve completed transcribing about 10 years and 12 journals worth, I decided to make some exciting charts! Simply counting the number of times a word appears isn’t really accurate since some journals are a lot longer than others, so all these figures are based on the average number of instances of the word per page per journal. Steven’s overall total was 0.6 mentions per page, which is pretty good since I only met him in Journal 7.

Apparently I briefly knew another Steven in middle school

Looks like I was in the worst mood in 2004. I wonder how many of those are just “I hate college applications” over and over. Journal 8 was during the first year of college, so I’m sure that’s all “I love college! None of my professors take attendance!” or “OMG diary, I love the servery so much, I’m sure I will never get sick of amazing recycled cereal dessert it is THE BEST!”

Like any period of change and excitement, first year of college also marks a dramatic increase in uncertainty and stress:

“I will maybe probably have no friends :-( I’m really worried about it”

The sharp climb in worry at Journal 12 represents the 2 months I spent at home before going to Scotland for study abroad. It’s also the time period I was most prolific, since I didn’t have much to do but write pages every day about how freaked out I was to be going, how being gone for a semester would probably mean I would lose all my friends, and how–I kid you not–I was probably going to freeze to death.

1/24/08: I don’t know who Rachel and I will live with next year! How am I supposed to figure this out an ocean away? Whatever, I guess it won’t matter when I freeze to death walking to Scottish class. And then there’ll just be all these guys in kilts laughing at me while I can’t move because I’m encased in a solid block of ice, at the mercy of the harsh highland yeti bears.

Yeah, Scotland totally did not live up to these expectations. Unfortunately. Because I would love to get a picture with a Highland Yeti Bear.

In the midst of tracking instances of worry and stress, I also recorded what category of thing I was freaking out about to make this colorful pie chart:

High school Patricia really threw off this curve where “school” is concerned

Three journals from now “the future” will be dwarfing the other pie slices, just wait.

And, since this is the kind of thing I do, here is a wordle made from the transcripts of all 12 journals:

It’s weird to me that “French” is almost as big as “English”

Although now that I think about it, most high school drama I recorded probably went down in French class, so that makes sense. Individual journal wordles after the cut: Read the rest of this entry »

Nostalgic Lists

I recently uncovered a notebook I kept I think sophomore through junior year of random lists. I feel a little bit like an Egyptologist since the handwriting is tricky to decipher and half the time I don’t know what I’m talking about.

Made up Positions I’ve Given Myself
Wiess Resident Expert in Speculative Zoology
Wiess Breakfast Rep
Wiess Mr. Potato Head Rep
Co-comics Rep
Resident Witch Doctor
Wiess Librarian
Interior Decorator to the Presidential Suite (after we wallpapered Hiren’s room with water colors, mostly of him being eaten by monsters)
Apprentice Mad Scientist
Wiess Zombie Attack Consultant
Awkward Breakfast Conversation Rep (I still am this)
Wiess Astrologer
Chief Phallic Symbol Recognizer
Wiess Soothsayer
Official BFF to James K. Polk
Noted April Fool’s Day Victim
Noted “the crazy” of the sophomore class by Doward
Wiess Pieologist
Inventor of the Snake Warmer
Wiess Egg Salad Rep
Official BFF to Stephen Hawking

I did so much for Wiess. No wonder I got that award.

Things I’ve Done Instead of Going to Class (first semester)
Homework for that class
Homework for another class
Crossword puzzles
Watch movies
Talk to Michael Curtis
Eat lunch
Stare at people from 2nd Floor Fondren
Buy interesting hats
Watch the rain
Have a dance party
Listen to Rocky Horror Picture Show and sing loudly
Leave anonymous love notes for Steven Wiggins
Look up lame pick up lines online
Have consumption
Flirt outrageously

I assume this was first semester sophomore year, since first semester freshman Patricia was MAD conscientious. Also, Steven Wiggins was IN my class, so it would’ve been hard to leave secret love notes. These notes, by the way, would always say things like “If I said you had a corpus bellus would you hold it against me?” He would usually just correct my Latin.
Read the rest of this entry »

Happy Emo Friday!

While archiving my old journals, I have come across two stellar premiers that have heretofore gone strangely unnoticed by the artistic and literary communities.

The first: my invention of emo comics in 2006, after a coworker at the library invited me to join the “Spinster Librarian Club”. Here was the comic response I drew in my journal of myself exiting the “Interstate de vie” (“writen in French b/c it’s classier”) onto Rural Route Spinster Librarian on the way to Scenic Alonesville. You can see my two library coworkers already ahead of me on the road:
Read the rest of this entry »

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