Ohmigawd, you guys.

I found all my old diaries from the early 90′s! No! SERIOUSLY! I opened a cupboard in my dad’s office and there they were, stacked with all my VHS tapes. And what better exercise in memories, nostalgia, and embarrassment than typing them out and commenting of them for you to enjoy.

The first diary is black with a grey tabby cat sleeping on the cover. The kitty is also holding a teddy bear. Awww… how sweet. I think I actually remember buying this one from a school reading thing? None of these books are in order. I think I just wrote from one to the next willy-nilly style. I’ll start with one before moving to the next. The keys are long gone to all these diaries, but they have the flimsy, easily breakable locks on them, so it’s not like they were a challenge to anyone who might want to break in. However, it’s honestly not as if I had to worry about that. The only person who might take a diary is a brother, and while I have one of those (HI FINDLAY!) it’s not like he was interested in my thrilling life. Hell, I wasn’t even interested in my thrilling life.
So let’s begin, turning back the clock to February 21st, 1994. When I was nine. Oh, this is going to be good.

Feb/21/1994

I love school! NOT!!! it is sutpid.

Wow, Nine-Year-Old Shannon. You should probably care more about school than you do. Check out that spelling, not to mention capitalization. Yes, this is exactly as it’s written in the book. Also interesting is that my handwriting is actually good. What happened there?

Well, at lest I have you. I love you!

I’m awfully friendly for my first diary entry ever, aren’t I?

And JACOB! (heart drawing, heart drawning, heart drawing)

Yes, there are three hearts drawn here. I actually think I might have an earlier journal somewhere else in the house which has my first ever crush in it (SCOTT!), but he was nothing compared to the (many) boys mentioned in these pages. Jacob was a very sweet boy with my heart in his fist from when I was nine to when I was about eleven. We used to phone each other when the Black Beauty television show was on, and “watch” it together. No, really. We did that. I know, right? Cute.

Oh-no I must go now… I’m back, we are talking about whales. BOOOOING. Gotta go!! By. Shannon

Oh, I must have written this during class time. Shannon! Bad! Also, not the epic spelling of Boring. For some reason, I could NEVER spell this word right. It always looked wrong to me. I thought it needed A’s, or extra O’s. Also, note my long-time love affair with “…”, which continues to this day.

Feb/21/1994/later

I hate school. Scott needs Mantle Help

Well, something clearly happened, obviously involving one of two Scotts in my school… The world will never know. Then there are pages ripped out, which I actually probably doodled on. I was always big on doodling. The next page has a list of Power Rangers (which was the first season then, and also IT WAS THE BEST!) merchandise and how much they are. I suspect I went through a Sears toy section to get these. Then there is an AWESOME drawing of an orange twister thing, which I’m pretty sure I drew while watching The Wizard of Oz, and then… my sanity breaks.

Dear Diary, The grils are tiing to fix the t.v. I feel so… alone zzzzzzzzz….

I… I have no idea. Was this a fantasy? Aha! The next page clearly shows this was me trying to be all creative and awesome and write something really cool!

Dear Diary, I am on my way to Clear Lake camp. My bunkmate is Findlay Hilchie. We will go on a bus, then a plane, then a train, then a boat because it’s on an island. By-By Shannon.

Oh man. If you didn’t laugh at that, you’re better than me. Where the hell IS this camp supposed to be? Sorry for dragging you into this, Findlay. For every girl who grew up reading teen novels from the late 80′s-early 90′s, camp was THE place to go. Magical things happened there. It was a place of romance, friendship, danger, spies, mysteries, horses, boys, bad food, etc. We were raised to worship it.

Dear Diary, I’m here at Clear lake camp. My bunkmates were changed. Now I’m with Tammie, my twin, Mary and Michelle.

Backstory is needed here. Obviously Findlay and I had a fight, and so he had to be replaced. I was never popular when I was younger (I was the Fat Kid), so I had a bunch of imaginary friends. Tammie was one of them, as well as Mary and Michelle, who I’m glad I named here. I had forgotten what I called them. We would go on tons of adventures together, running away from danger, clinging to rafts on rushing waters, and hiding in caves when it was winter. I was so awesomely weird.

Jacob hates me! Boo hoo! I’m going to a pool party.

Wow, I got over Jacob fast. Oh, fickle little me.

It’s for a grade 5! They know I’m alive! Yes! It’s for Jennifer P! I got a chilly bathing sute. It’s very cool!

Oh man, when you were nine years old? The grade fives were so bad-ass. Especially Jennifer. She was AMAZING to me. She had blond hair, was super tall, and was a witch. Ok, not really, but she once convinced me that she could cast a spell that would turn me into a mermaid whenever I got wet. What nine year old who was Obsessed with The Little Mermaid could refuse that? Actually, I remember her seriously warning me against it, because what would happen if I had a bath? Or it rained? She even had a spell book, guys! Oh, the days of innocence. Also, not that I am clearly reading The Baby-Sitter’s Club WAY too much. Chilly indeed.

Dear Diary. I love jacob, but he hates me! I mean, what am I gona do? Beg him. Missing him is Hell. I think he is the greatest man kid alive.

I really did have man and kid written like that in the diary. I was very dramatic over all this, wasn’t I? Missing him is Hell? What am I on?

I would love to dance with will. I mean, Night is great. Hun? Oh well, life goes on. I like Brad too.

I think you could read this out loud at a slam poetry night. Night is Great. Hun? I like Brad. Too. *snap snap snap* Deep.

Dec 12. No year, but I assuming 94 still. Christmas is coming. I am going to the Christmas Dance. It’s magazine Day. Yuck!!! Ew!!! Sick!!! No!!! Bye. Shannon. P.S. Mike is cute.

No, I don’t remember what Magazine Day was, or why I hated it so deeply. However, this entry does have the beginnings of what would be the most dramatic, sweeping romance of my Elementary, Junior High, and High School life.  His name? Mike. Oh, Mike. We were EPIC.

D.13. Yesterday Mike and I had a big fight. I wish we could make-up. I got a motercycle in my Kinder Egg. It actuly moves. I miss Mike. Mike and I made up. I think. Mike has moved.

Where to even begin? Well, the Kinder Egg isn’t too insane, so why not there? My mom loved the chocolate in Kinder eggs, and took total advantage of the fact that my brother and I hated it. So she would buy tons of them, eat the chocolate herself and let us have the toys. It was a simple system that worked for everyone.  I loved those toys. Except the puzzles. I was always pissed when I got a puzzle. When I say Mike has moved in this, I think I mean that he moved his desk. Not his house. Though who really knows? I would also like to point out the phrase “Mike and I made up. I think.” That pretty much sums up everything.

I finesed a story. Mike is reading it. He reads all my works of art.

Modest.

Mike just gave me my story. He likes it!

Why, I don’t know. I’m pretty sure that at that point all my stories were thinly-veiled tales of he and I dating. I did this trick a lot with the boys I liked in elementary. My teachers probably loved it.

Then we rocket forward in time! To March 5th, 1996 and an entry full of pig latin. I must have just read which ever BSC book it is that teaches Pig Latin. I feel like it’s Mallory and the Trouble with Twins. Anyway, I’m not typing that out. But I will type out the beginning of a serial story I began writing in my own diary: Camp Kidstone!

Shannon and Kate were going to going to Camp. They use to go to another camp, but it closed down for some reason. No one knew why. The two had always gone together. Shannon was the adventeres one. with her hazel eyes and brown hair, boys found her very pretty. Kate was careful but she would take some risks. She had black hair and brown eyes. The two had been best friends forever! So they packed everything up and headed for camp! Cont. Later.

Oh, I laughed out loud. I love the drama of the first camp’s closure. No one knows why, no one cares why, it doesn’t matter, why am I mentioning it? Also, I was never adventurous. I was a wuss. I still am. And no boy found me pretty ever, so I guess that was wish fulfilment. Kate was real, however, and we did go to camp together. Camp Kidston for the win! Kate was my best friend in elementary school, and she is totally awesome. I see her at university sometimes. When I think of us at elementary school, I remember the lunch hours spent reenacting Phantom of the Opera on the monkey bars, with a tape deck. NO. REALLY. I was THAT kid.

March/8/1996

I’m watching Home Improvment (Oh My God). In case you don’t know my key is under the (drawing of a fish)(drawing of what was supposed to be a statue)

Yes, that was my code for where the diary key was kept, which was under a statue of whales from Sea World. I love that I’m writing that IN the diary. Where else would I check for information about what to do if I can’t OPEN my diary.

Camp Kidstone. Part 2. When they got to camp they found they were in seperet cabins. They were kind of sad but would still spend time together. They went to their cabins and then had a party! But in the midel of it a counseler came and killed them big. WHAT?! They told the head counciler Oh.. killed them with.. trouble… So Shannon and Kate were in hot water. They were banned from soccor. Shannon loved it! Kate hated it! But that couldn’t stop them! They were fuckin’ rebels, man! Shannon talked Kate into a midnight canoe ride. Kate said it was dangerous, but Shannon went anyway. Kate went with her. It was great, But… cont. later.

What could have happened?! Shannon, what were you thinking? Can nothing stop your reign of horror?! I hated soccer. It was well-known at school, but the reason for it wasn’t. The truth was William got into soccer and forgot about girls. And me. Sigh. I was a women scorned. AH! March 12/1996 isn’t a good entry, but it mentions Sailor Moon, which I was so obsessed with you can never understand.

Next time, we’ll see just what happens in the continuation of Camp Kidstone, as well as more of my tragic love life. Oh, good times.