I found an old “sonnet” I was forced to write when we were learning about Shakespeare. It’s shit, but the concept behind it…well, I just want to give younger me a hug for the effort. I hate poetry, to be honest, unless it’s like…John Donne. I love Donne.
I feel like I’m throwing my childhood away.
All this stuff I kept for a reason, and now I can’t remember why.
Except the money. I know why I kept that.
I found my lovely fake Rolex from Hong Kong. I never wore it because it was too big, but I love the style. Now it doesn’t work. And it’s still too big.
Taking it to the Chinese jeweler to see if he knows how to fix fake Rolexes.
I would love to know what possessed me to believe that hiding over a hundred twenty dollars in my tea set bag was a good idea.
(And no, it’s not there anymore.)
My advice to twelve-year-olds around the world: When you get stationery, use it right away. Don’t worry about using it up and not having any more like I did, because you will find it later and regret not taking advantage of all the pretty paper.
And you won’t be able to use it any more.
Because it has little crowns and hearts all over it and says, “Princess.”
Cleaning your room is a good thing, because you find all the money you hid away as a child and thought you’d find when you needed it. I have money squirreled away all over my room, but I don’t remember where it all is.
I do know that I’m up ten bucks now.
The contents of a file folder.
Ninety pages of worked-out three-digit multiplication problems from fourth grade, plus one page of someone else’s homework.
A card my old friend wrote for me that says Casie on the front, and on the back, “She is nice, fun, she taught me that reading is fun. She’s the best.”
A list of independent study projects our fourth grade teacher made us choose from because me and three other kids kept finishing our work and causing trouble.
Four dress-up sheets that I drew, which were basically body parts and clothing for girls that people could choose from and which I would then draw.
An essay about what I did during the summer before fourth grade.
A certificate for a spelling bee I lost to my best friend on the word, “rustic.” She ended up misspelling “lattice” at district.
A bunch of diagrammed sentences. I loved doing that.
About five billion copies of Scholastic News.
A Spanish “interview” with Monica Bellucci and George Bush.
A list of the books I read in fifth grade that actually counted in the school’s database totaling 11, 894 pages.
A worksheet showing that I apparently learned the Dewey Decimal System at one point.
Several spelling quizzes with notes from the teacher telling me I was writing too small.
Five analog clock worksheets.
An information sheet about alcoholism.
In case, you know, anyone’s interested. I’ve been doing a lot of ridiculously long posts lately. I’m sorry. I evidently can’t do anything in a timely manner.
Clearly, I was a very mature child. I made fun of this girl who, admittedly, kind of deserved it because she was a mean girl in third grade, and my friend and I would write these fake journal entries and sign them with her name.
And yes, all those spelling errors were intentional. Like I said, she was mean.
I am a sad, sad individual. I don’t know, I feel kind of bad about this, because she turned out to be a not-so-bad person.
Well, shit. I just found a twenty euro cent coin. What do I do with this?
I guess this can count as a series for now, since I’m cleaning my room. I’ll just tell you about all the junk I throw out. And since this is number one, I’ll tell you that I have no idea how my little-kid mind worked, because apparently I thought green crayon on notebook paper constituted the proper tools for counterfeiting money.
I ought to take pictures. But ugh. I hate uploading stuff.
