I know I haven't blogged for these past few days, and there's really no good reason for it. It's not that things have not been happening in my life, for they have. Actually, I've been kind of in a funk, as depressed as I can generally be and in downcast moods. Further, I've been trying not to use the Internet during the day (only at night), and I'm only breaking the rule today so that I can watch Juan Diego's canonization on EWTN--and also because my dad kicked me off last night before I even got half an hour of Internet time! I think my face can feel my stress, in any case, for complexion problems abound. That is not what I want to blog about, though, nor is this to be another marathon blog to update you on everything I've done this week and past weekend. Rather, I want to reflect upon some of that teenage angst stuff that Walker seems to enjoy so much.

Yesterday while in the shower I was thinking of when I was 13 and had a crush on this boy, whom I will call "C." C.'s sister, "M." (I know this is puerile, but bear with me) asked me flat out once whether I liked C. I remember that I lied and told her no. I was thinking in the shower how, while a lie, that answer was the right one to give: first, she didn't have have any right to ask me that, and second, if I had said "yes" or "none of your business" (which would have amounted to the same thing as a yes) it would surely have gotten back to C. somehow. It's strange how one's memory plays tricks on one, because later last night I read through my journal from that time, which is much more interesting than my current, nonexistent, journal, and I discovered that though I had said no to M., several weeks later someone else asked me and I said, "Sort of." Actually, reading that journal was like watching one's own alien abduction--was that really I?! It brought back old feelings of stupidity and shallowness and general embarrassment. Do you know there's nothing more embarrassing than the realization that you have done extremely stupid things and fancied them perfectly rational? My journal is even more embarrassing, though, because it's filled with the same verbose language I use now, but I was such a child! I still am. It's feelings like this that remind me that I have feelings. :) Anyway, I think I'll give an excerpt from the journal, not because I particularly want to expose my stupidity, but it's good to keep oneself humble, right?

This should be a startling lesson of how good I am at swallowing my pride:

June 18 [1999]: Dual Meet w/ [anonymous swim team]

I went to the swim meet with one objective: having fun. I think I succeeded. The meet itself wasn't so great, it was the picnic afterwards that really made me glad I came. We ate lunch really early--around 11:00--so we had plenty of time to play and hang out. I unabashedly played with [some other boy I knew] and C. on the playground. It was a lot of fun--just like a park day back in Austin. I beat C. at tictactoe on one of those plastic turning things. At least I can beat him at something! But he was so cute today, in that sky blue shirt that brings out his eyes and that ridiculous hat. I get warm fuzzy feelings just thinking about it. The highlight was riding on the...train next to him, though it could hardly be called romantic. We kept picking up sticks and things from the ground and throwing them at ducks and people! Today I was beyond caring what anyone thought or said about me--I wanted to have fun, so I did. But almost everyone was gone before the train ride, lucky for me. Maybe, just maybe, he likes me.

Gosh! That makes me smile and wince at the same time--but mostly wince! How could that have been I? It doesn't add up; it is illogical in every way. Something else illogical and embarrassing, namely why exactly I was thinking about this, I will not tell you. Suffice it to say that although I like to distance myself from ditzy teenage me as much as possible, I have not been wholly cured of immaturity. Does anyone ever make a full recovery, I'd like to know?

These reflections sparked other reflections last night, about how it's so stupid of me still to fight with my sister the way I do, and still to make such smart-aleck remarks sometimes. In addition, it's hypocritical for me to sneer at preteens and teens for the way they act! That last one stings the most. If there's anything I love, it's patronizing younger teens and laughing at them immoderately. However, I know that that is just the thing I would hate from another entry in this diary: "That is the one thing I can't stand--being patronized." It truly is humbling to know that I was (and probably am, still) every bit as humbling as the giddy, boy-crazy girls I know.

But I'm not, really! I'm perfectly normal and rational and sane! :-D