Another Busy Day

February 28, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear Diary,

Today was a fine day. The ouchy (acne) on my nose is healing nicely, I baby sat for Mrs. Dowell yesterday, and was paid $3.50 (which I thought was a mistake, but later found not to be, tip I guess). Deliah is good, though I feel like I'm neglecting her.

.

Nature is unveiling Summer's lazy covers and I am jealous of Bryce's babysitter 'cause Bryce is a neat kid and I'd like to see him (he's 8, I think, and he lives in Gig Harbor).

My mother tried out a job at Sunset and loved it. I hope she gets the job.

*

I'm still waiting for your precious letter, my dearest

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Early Summer

February 28, 1990 | Diary | Age 12

Dear Diary,

Life is good! I am sitting now on our laundry room steps outside, with my warm feet resting on the newly cleaned patio. A bee has just passed, has it been so long since I heard their buzzing?

Now a helicopter is passing above, the throbbing boom still ringing in my ears. A patch of lazy summer sun streams through my long sunny brown hair. The sky could be no more bluer and the sunlight, glorious sunlight warms my back.

Chattering chickadees churp cheerfully in the dead - but bursting with other life - stags, shrouded in cool, lustrous shade. How sweet a sound the music of summer. It has always intrigued me, the way sunlight silouttes through nature's creations. Summer shadows have always been magnificent. I love them!

Yes indeed, summer is here.

*

Anne - I'm anticipating the arrival of your next letter, my friend.

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Noise-Tingling

February 27, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear Diary,

"Don't fret" said today, "summer is coming. Here, let me show you." And showed did for before me spread a crisp noise-tingling hint of summer day. Complete with a clear view of the Olympic Mts. and Narrows, a brilliant blue sky revealing a sleepy sun, just woken from her wintery slumber.

Even the Early Blooms of purple hue waved restlessly in the refreshing breeze. For they and all, with eager anticipation, could feel Summer in their views, as Winter packed her clouds and frost in her icy bags. Ready to bid her fare well.

*

I always write this entry last. And what I wrote [above] is not at all what I planned.

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Video Interlude

Dearest Readers,

Today I am preparing a whole new batch of diary entries from the 90's just for you. In the meantime, here is a video of me reading for the live comedy show Portland Mortified.

Best, Sarah (January 15, 2011)

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Our Child

February 26, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear Diary,

Well, today was an OK day. This morning I got up right after my alarm. Motivated only by the joy of taking my white robe off the new hook on my door. Really!

Then at school the strings music classes 4th, 5th and 6th grades went to a consert [sic] of the Seattle Symphony. It was great. Also, we started our parenting project for health in school.

We are given a chicken egg to take care of as though it were our child for a week.

I named mine Deliah (a girl) and am really taking this seriously and treating her like my baby. She's sleeping now.

*

Deliah isn't my first child, but my 3rd. My first, me, second Pencilica a Tralaughy (tiny plants) and the...

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Trusting Tricia

February 25, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear Diary,

Tricia is a good friend and person. But I never quite feel like I can trust her. I asked my mom about the diary reading & she said she never did it, I was relieved and I trusted mum.

Tricia, I think, is having some problems at home (with her mom), and maybe that's why she's been acting so strange. Now, I'm not sure I believe her about alot of what she says, I'll just have to be careful, right?

*

Anne, I think this diary should belong to you. But you got to share it.

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Niagara Falls Dream

February 23, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear Diary,

Some of my most scariest self dreams are that of me losing my permanent teeth somehow. Silly isn't it? I guess I'm a dream person.

Once, in one of my dreams, my brother and I were in a boat about to go over Niagara Falls, when I realized it was only a dream and said to my brother,

"Quincy, I'm going down, but you stay here cause you're a dream person and you would probably die."

Going down Niagara was a splendid sensation, cotton-like I'd say. I love dreams.

*

Lucky people live in two worlds, night world and morning world.

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Diary Reading

February 22, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear diary,

Today, at Andrea's house Tricia claimed that one day she came into my room and saw my mother reading this very diary Tricia went on to say that my mother told her "You won't tell, will you?"

Never!, was my first impression but then Tricia swore on the Holy Bible. I don't know who to believe, but I asked my mother and she said long ago she did peep into my diary, though that doesn't really bother me.

The main thing that bothers me is even considering my dear mother defying me in any way. She isn't that way, and I love her dearly. But was Tricia right? I hope not.

*

The reason I leave my diary out in plain sight is because of my trust in everyone.

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Diary Keeper

February 21, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear Diary,

I am probably one of the most laziest diary keepers ever.

I guess I'm not but I hate to think how disappointed I'll be missing all those days. Am I?

In the distance I hear Winkin Blinkin & Nod's soft tread, so good night my friend from you.

*

It really makes me mad when some one addresses me as B.P. That is my private seal, only Jeremiah is allowed to.

*

Many times I have wanted to write to you, but alas, I am too lazy.

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Lucky Abe

February 14, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear Diary,

This is for everyone, but especially for Quincy and my family.

Tonight, when mom and I were finishing up watching 'Princess Bride,' Quincy came in with his hands cupped around something. When he opened them a shiny penny layed [sic] in his sweaty palm. His lucky penny.

He said Abe was sleeping and that he had played 'ski' with Abe downstairs, also that Abe was his new friend. What a cute kid. How'd he turn out?

Dauby, I love you

For that matter, I love everyone

*

True love can never end

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Antiques

February 12, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear Diary,

It tickles me to death to think that someday my work and belongings will be worth something (well they already are), as antiques maybe. Or the misterious [sic] B.P. puzzle of artwork and such all labeled B.P. Well, maybe that is my way to signify it was done by Sarah.

Someday I hope that my life will be an amazing mystery to be unsolved [sic] by future generations. Or is it? Have a try, find my work and there you go, it is everywhere, for always.

*

I wrote you a valentine today, anything match?

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Surprise Treat

February 11, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear Diary,

I layed in bed, stuffing in a bit of last minute spelling word studying (inflorescence, loquacious, Zoroastrianism, etc.), when my mother trotted in with her hands behind her back. "Open your mouth and close your eyes," said she.

Well, knowing my mother better, I hesitated. Then I did it, expecting the worst.

Something cold and soft was then thrust into my open mouth.

First thing that came into my vivid mind was mouse. I shuddered and opened my eyes to see a tad of snow that had bailed out of my mouth. Snow!

*

When I looked outside, the magical frolic of the silent night snow reminded me of you.

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Pride, Prejudice, and Kevin in the Bathtub

February 8, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear Diary,

Last night I had a really neat dream. It

was that of me watching the Bennet girls, from Pride and Prejudice, preparing for some

dinner guests. Everything was so lacey, frilly, and elegant. I could see it all good sometimes it was blurry.

Anyway, in this dream, one of the girls was playing the piano, and when she finished, she suggested that the young boy (guest) might play on the piano for awhile.

In contrast to the first girl's music, his was loud and choppy. But the famil

y didn't object, anything to impress the guests (or keep them happy).

Next one of the girls picked up a violin and began playing Minuet 2 by J.S. Bach (a piece that I have been working on with private violin lessons), and when she finished she set it down.

Then my attention was brought to a couple of girls, one turned to the other, saying "A girl playing the violin?" I believe that is where it ended, but tell me

, was the violin an instrument played only men?

My next dream was of me in La Grande, Or. (my birth town, where my heart is). My Mother, brother and I have gone to some museum that had once been a mansion type of house. I don't remember seeing any art, but only trying to see every

floor (no particular reason) before closeing time.

I kept seeing the snobby girls of my school and when I got to the bathroom (upstairs) I met Kevin. He asked me if I could help him get out onto the window sill because the snobby girls could be seen easier from there. He was holding some flowers, and I thought he was going to ask one of the girls to marry him, or 'go' with him.

By the way, there was a bathtub (old one) with curtains in front of the window that looked out onto first a lawn with bushes and a tall fence (everything was clean cut and neat), plus it was night time.

When I next looked out onto the window, the shower curtains were pulled and all was concealed.

I pulled them away, only to reveal Kevin, with his underwear around his chest like a bra, and some other girl wearing only a bra and underwear.

Their backs were turned to me as they stood on the sill, and I walked out down to the front door and walked out, it ended there.

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Wet Lands

February 7, 1990 | Tacoma | Age 12

Dear Diary,

Ah ha!! I have found you again my diary. You have been missing for a while. And I have written in my other journal (do you know where it is, or is it another mystery?).

This morning it was a winter wonderland (snow!), but this afternoon rain, rain, rain, and not a trace of snow. How fast doth wheather [sic] changeth in thyn Wet Lands.

Today we got the application forms for T.A.G. Their expectations are high, but it will be fun. Though I got a homesick feeling when I read where it was (Eugene), though I already knew.
*
I recieved your letter today. You must have written it when you were angry. Sorry.

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A Note to Sarah

February 2, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma

Dear Diary,

You will smile when you read this. I know because, I know me. Also I heard a special note to me, though unaddressed, and I smiled when I heard it.

Today, my mother found an old tape that I hadn't heard in many years. It was that of me between 4-5. I should tape my children for their benefit. Sarah, I know you are smiling.

And before I age anymore I want to say, I love you.

Just remember for always that your first child (yourself) will always love and be with you. Are you crying? I am, inside.

*

You are 12 years old and it is Feb. 1, 1990, for always my friend --

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