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one-liners from 1997

Here are some pull-quotes from my Diary #3. 16 years ago I apparently had an overdeveloped sense of melodrama, but a stunning ignorance of cooking and nutrition.

I'm not going to live the unenlightened life. It may be swell, but it's not for me. It's worse than getting fat of the body because it's getting fat of the soul. Because you get packed in by small talk and tennis and easy-bake ovens until this big bubble of marshmellow fluff closes in around you and crushes you.

Apparently I thought an easy bake oven was something adults used to cook with. My mother hated cooking, so I grew up thinking a birthday cake from a box required a great parental sacrifice of effort. I was also similarly oblivious to the constancy of marshmallow fluff. In real life, as far as I know, the substance has never bubbled.

JR has a pole up his butt. Dan and I decided it is a Venician barge pole.

What a sweetie Dan is, to bring a global perspective into my insular misery. Plus it still seems logical that Venetian should be spelled with a "c."

This weekend I've been thinking a lot about love and marriage. My grandparents got married when they were 17 and 18. My parents married right out of college. I would like to get married young. Except, I just can't think of Dan as someone I would ever marry. We'll see what happens.

What do you know, you dumb little bitch, you think marshmallows cook in a pink plastic box powered by a battery.

Almost all I ate today was a large coffee and I was freaking. I felt all jittery and I couldn't sit still. Note to self: Next time order medium coffee.

Because less food will make your brain function better, obviously.

Things I have to worry about:
Dan (and whether he wants me)
School + grades
... everything else

I'm glad I had my priorities straight back then. Always put those studies first. Let's see, I wonder what I worry about these days?

Things I have to worry about:
Zion waking up before I finish my 30 minutes on the exercise bike
Dan (and whether he wants to eat lentil soup for dinner)
Car / buying a new one before the baby is born
Homeschool curriculum (just kidding, I don't worry a lick about this)
... sleeping

I'm still in love with JR, and he just DOESN'T CARE. It's like, if my skin were a plastic container, I would be filled up to the top with pain.

Writer pro-tip: When you're coming up with a metaphor, try to discern whether the comparison object you're using typically does the thing you're imagining it does. Is it the essence of a plastic container to be filled to the top? Might a glass container, such as a drinking glass, be something humans more frequently overfill? Furthermore, if you are comparing your skin to a water container, pause and wonder whether you're skin is already pretty much a water container. Then maybe choose a different metaphor. Your body is a tupperware so full of pain that the lid can't close, perhaps? For further examples of metaphors not to use, see easy bake oven reference above.

Everything just goes back to sucking. Sucking the dry, powdered milk of discontentment from the bruised purple tit of life.

I see you've taken nothing from my metaphor clinic.


Sadly for me, your sixteen-year-old diary, with its strange spelling and crazy metaphors, is still a more interesting and engaging read than my dissertation.

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