January, 1997: Apparently I HATE EVERYTHING.

So I really wanted to post one of those ‘end of year recap’ blog posts. I actually wrote most of it. It had some highlights (my blog went viral! I said the word ‘fuck’ a lot!) and some lowlights (I’ve been kind of depressed lately! I said the word ‘fuck’ a lot!)

And I mean, it wasn’t great writing, but it wasn’t totally tragic. It just turned out to be WAY less interesting than discovering my childhood diaries in a box in my basement.


The diary from January 1994 is the one featuring the creepy child lost in prayer while wearing an elegant nightgown. January 1997 is the one featuring lady cat with headphones (who also owns a dog and bunny slippers which makes me have some questions about the logic of this particular cartoon universe. Are those slippers made out of real bunnies?) I say “January” because in both instances, I began each diary around January 1st and lost interest somewhere around January 5th.

In January 1994 I was eight years old, and that praying child diary is AWESOME. The highlights:

-A rant about my best friend Deirdre being a bitch in some vague and undefined way (“I think both of us want to call each other and make up, but none of us are really giving in. When I called her, she seemed happy I called.”) 

-A paragraph about a boy in my class who had a crush on me and how SUPER WIERD (sic) that is (“I wonder if he was watching Beauty and the Best very carefully. You know, the part where Gaston proposes to Belle and she refuses him. Would he be crushed if I decided I didn’t love him???!? […] I have been reading Luann VERY carefully.”)

Actually, props to eight-year-old me for identifying with the part of “Beauty and the Beast” where Belle was like, you’re an asshole, GTFO.


Come to think of it, that explains a lot.

As does my source material for romantic advice.


The rest of the diary is just my unfinished short story collection, which apparently I wrote while reading a lot of gothic Victorian novels, because it’s kind of the only thing that explains “His real name was Sir Clarence De Mois, but everyone called him The Reaper because was so terrible. Alas! Poor Cecily!” 

Moving on. By 1997, at the wise age of eleven, I had outgrown such childish thoughts. A paragon of emotional maturity. Wise beyond my years, you might say.





Actually, here’s the full text of that last page:

“I had the most wonderful, lazy day. It was great. I lounged around and read cartoons and other books.
I hate Random Acts of Kindness!!!!!”


Lest you mistake my childhood for anything truly traumatic, sample sentences also include “Today I cleaned my trapper-keeper,” “Why don’t my parents have good taste in music? No Phantom of the Opera allowed in the house anymore???!” “Well, I really need graph paper,” and “Basically a regular, boring day.” 


So here’s the thing. I really, really want to wrap all of this into a tidy package for you all. Something that sums up neatly the differences between childhood and adulthood, a list of profound lessons gleaned from these diaries that will serve us all well as we wrap up 2013 and venture into the new year. I want to write something brimming with universal truths, something humorous and then unexpectedly heartfelt, that appeals to all my readers, capturing a triumphant human spirit, giving us some small ray of hope in these dark winter days.

I can’t. There’s really not much to take from this hilarious pile of childhood angst other than “I guess we were all kind of dicks when we were kids,” or “wow, fuck you for reminding me how old you were in 1997.”

But I’m glad you went there with me anyways.

Happy new year. I’ll see you all in 2014.

And for the record: While I still sometimes totally hate my mom, my dad, my life, and my fifth-grade math teacher, I’ve come around somewhat on random acts of kindness. Which is how I think of it, every time one of you reads this, comments, or shares. It truly means a lot to me, and I read every one of your comments. Thank you, so much, from the bottom of my heart.

(But basketball practices are still disgusting. Ew.)



So one of my longtime readers, Miceala, read in one of my previous posts that I had accidentally shattered the coffee mug on my desk that holds all my pens. So she sent me one to replace it. AND IT IS INCREDIBLE.



Ok. Ok. I get it. Hear that, tiny childhood Katherine? Random Acts of Kindness are amazing and beautiful and I’m glad they exist and the world seems like a much  better place right now. (And there ain’t no WAY I’m putting pens in this mug. I’m gonna sip coffee from this thing every day and think, that’s right, art harder, motherfucker).



27 thoughts on “January, 1997: Apparently I HATE EVERYTHING.

  1. Awesome post. I love rediscovering my childhood. Every time I visit my family my mom forces me to go through another box of stuff. I too had a creepy car diary. My friends have taken to having a few drinks and reading passages out of it.

  2. I’ve got a journal that starts when I’m something like eleven and ends somewhereabouts in college. Reading through that journal alternatively inspires profound disgust, reverential awe, painful nostalgia, and uncontrollable fits of laughter. Also extreme envy for my twelve-year-old self’s drawing skills.

    Also, I’m totally with you on basketball practice. Let me tell you about the ridicule fodder the discovery that my coach wore a toupee made for my sixth grade basketball team…

  3. I wasn’t able to save any of my journals, so I am a bit jealous. But hey, life goes on….
    Besides, the past is over-rated. Happy New Year!!!

  4. My journals are nowhere near as exciting/hilarious/interesting. Mostly melodramatic ramblings on god knows what. Anyhow, happy new year!

  5. I found my teenage diaries some years back and was horrified to discover what a hate-filled, negative person I was. Maybe the journals were good though, in that they allowed me to vent all that bile. They may have prevented a homicide.

  6. My friends and I opened a time capsule after ten years (sealed at our high school graduation) with the expectation that we’d captured some essence of idealistic youth, or some such starry-eyed reminiscence wonder writing.

    After a few pages of reading the shared journal we’d kept, it became clear our primary contribution to history was recording how much we hated this girl that sat next to us in English. Yeesh.

  7. hahahaha My childhood diaries have pictures of “the one,” an imaginary boyfriend who was waiting for me somewhere out there… I named him Jonathan because there actually was a pretty cute Jonathan in my 5th grade class. Really clever. Oh, and I wrote the lyrics to “Genie in a Bottle” in the margins, because it’s sooo romantic. Thanks for sharing your diary entries! I’m sure your eight- and eleven-year-old selves would have hated you for it.

  8. Haha, I love this! On Christmas Eve I found a whole load of my old journals from high school in my basement and read through some of them and I HATED EVERYTHING, TOO! Ah, youth. At least I have them to look back on and get a laugh out of every now and then. =)

  9. Hahahaha, I have to wonder what random act of kindness was foisted upon you (or that you were encouraged to commit) that caused such an outburst! ☺️😝
    I’m a little envious that you have access to your childhood writings, I long ago lost track of mine. Although I’m not sure I’d even want to crawl back into young Bradley’s head…he was a bent little fucker.

    Happy New Year Miss K, you are one of few joys I treasure from this past year. Thank you so much for the entertaining and touching words, you really put things down that I can pick up.
    Also AWESOME MUG MICEALA! That’s a two hander.

    B, xo

  10. Happy New Year, Katherine. Thanks for that blast from your past. I think I’ll dig out some of my old angst-filled journals and give myself a laugh or two tomorrow.

  11. My sole diary entry consisted of describing my first period, which I lovingly referred to as “el nino”, and comparing myself to a character from Medieval Times.

    (But what I really came here to say is you’re hilarious and poignant and I too hope my mother never discovers my blog.)

  12. Awesome mug. Also, it takes a brave person to mine through their childhood diaries. I can’t get through more than a page or two without shuddering and hating myself. Your post made me laugh though 🙂

  13. Awesome post AND mug! I read through my livejournal postings from high school and absolutely loved it … remembering how awful everything seemed back then that I would now love to have to deal with 🙂 Thanks for the laugh today!

  14. Pingback: January, 1997: Apparently I HATE EVERYTHING. | One Official Hot Mess

  15. I have a couple of links I want to share here but I don’t know if it’ll think I’m spam – so I’m going to just leave one link, which holds some links within it 🙂


    Love your blog, and the first thing I thought of when I saw the picture was MORTIFIED! I really hope you’ve heard of it, but if you haven’t, you’re welcome! The above link will take you there. I’ve read my old diaries for Mortified and have been to a ton of shows…it is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard some funny things – real people, real old diaries. Please check it out. And if you’re anywhere near a Mortified show, do yourself a favor and go see a show!!

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