It's like a Time Capsule, kind of. Ish.

A few days ago, after a conversation with the lovely Harper, I decided to look at some of the old notebooks I have stashed away on my bookshelf. Now, the thing is, I love spiral notebooks. I do. I've been writing in them since I was old enough to hold a pen, and because I want to have an archive of my life (read as, "I'm a pack rat who never throws anything away"), I've still got almost every single notebook I've had since middle school.

Anyway, talking about how we've "evolved as writers" made me want to look back and see how far I've come. Here's what I've learned so far:

( Abondon All Faith, Ye Who Enter Here... )

As embarassing as some of these things are, it's good to see that I have actually grown as both a writer and a person since I started these notebooks. But just because I've "accepted" this, it doesn't mean that anyone else will ever see how bad everything was until I'm dead and no longer have to suffer through the teasing that would inevitably follow. I still might have to haunt them, though. Just for kicks. :o)