Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind

I have a habit of looking back through my journals every so often, in a search of perspective and hilarity, hoping that maybe I’ve learned something since then, or perhaps I had some wisdom in the past I could use now.

In January of 2000, I starting writing in my journal religiously. I would write an entry every night before I went to bed. Unfortunately my dedication to quantity often left the qualtiy lacking. But it just so happens that exactly nine years ago to this day (holy shit do I feel old), I was crossing the Atlantic to begin my adventures at an English boarding school.

Upon re-reading these entries, it turns out I was absolutely petrified about leaving my home, my friends and family. My city. My country. Clearly a reasonable reaction for a 15 year old girl taking this huge life step. Alone. But it surprises me nonetheless as I have this uncanny knack to completely forget certain things. I forgot that I was scared and nervous. I forgot that my mom forgot her raincoat when she left me to fly home after I was settled in. I forgot that I signed up to the 6:50am time slot on the shower schedule, which frankly leads me to believe that I also forgot I was insane.

I do, however, remember crying. I remember holding my shit together as best I could after saying goodbye to my mom at the train station. Trying my best to hold back all my tears while my House-master drove me back to school. I remember curling up on my Ikea loft bed and silently sobbing until I had nothing left.

But, in spite of my shaky beginnings, by the first day I was in fine form. I present to you my (slightly abridged) journal entry from my first day of boarding school:

September 6, 2000

I look like such a fruitcake in my uniform. I feel like I’m walking along with a bunch of flight attendants. Breakfast was pretty nasty, but I was nauseous anyhow. I did end up finding Frosted Flakes, so I’ll keep those in mind for tomorrow.

Some of the guys here are pretty hot, but lots of them have acne problems which makes me feel better. Heh heh. One guy looks like a Johnny Depp in training. Raow Raow.

We had our tying a tie lesson this morning. I decided to just not ever untie mine so I never have to go through the hassle of tying it again. Then there were lots of different speeches about what to expect now that we are in the Sixth Form, which I don’t think anyone was paying attention to. I had trouble not falling asleep.

I called home and left a message with my answering machine. Then I called again and my mom answered. I spoke to her until I was interrupted by some guy WHO WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE UP HERE in the first place, but apparently all the girls had to go downstairs so Mr. Boothby could talk to us. Boring.

Bon Soir!

Ahhhh I was so young and innocent.

Cue music, and….


seb, me, jamie, raphie

Yeah, that’s me! And my friends. I am wearing my fancy Business Studies Society tie, which, inceidentally I learned how to tie in more than three different ways! I am also sporting my lovely cat-piss blazer. My mom bought it for me at Club Monaco, and it was made out of wool, but it was kind of stretchy. Whenever it rained, or misted or some form of moisture got near it, which being in England was ALL THE TIME, it would smell like cat piss. It was disgusting. Luckily Febreeze had been invented. PHEW.


1 Comment

Filed under Musings

One response to “Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind

  1. Ailsa

    mags this is so cute! i love it, more 2000 diary entries please! xx

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