Not your mother’s journal


Written in 1986 (16 years old)…..recently located material

Journals are something I hated to keep in school. It seemed that no matter what grade I was in, or what caliber of teacher I had, a journal was required. Why? This is the only thing I really want to know now. Why would a grown adult be interested in my life? Are they generally interested in my personal growth in and out of school? Or perhaps, is this some sadistic game they play? I bet when they go home for dinner they play “Let’s read my pathetic pupil’s journal entry today, so we can embarrass the hell out of them tomorrow, or at least try.”

My entries have gone from boring to spicy and to down right lies. For, it is a rare occasion when I  did a journal entry each day. Usually, I tested my memory the night before 50 entries were due. Here are some of my entries from the past. I’m sure the teachers loved them.

1/83: Tonight I watched the Shining. I really thought it would be scary, but it wasn’t. After the movie, my brother and sister and I got into a fight. My brother threw an orange peel on the floor. I wouldn’t pick it up, so he hit me in the head. (TRUE)

1/84: Journal. Today I earned two dollars off my chocolate stand. My mommy said it wasn’t a good idea, but I knew that it would be because I knew when I left to go out, my mom would call all her friends. I could tell she did because one lady bought eighty cents worth. I’m going to go out tomorrow. I still have five gallons of chocolate left. I hope that dad can call up his pals, but they all drink brandy. (LIES)

1/84: I am one of Santa’s many elves. I think he is a heel and a chapped lip on the mouth of life. He really makes my blood boil. I want to kick his sleigh over. I feel like hanging his reindeer. I feel like breaking the light in Rudolph’s nose. My name is Timothy, Santa’s most hyperactive elf. Stay away from me because I am a lean mean fighting machine. I make fun of anyone and anything. I even make fun of my Gramma. I do it right to her face. Journal, you are a stinking lousy piece of dirt. Have a great day and a pleasant evening. (I CAN’T CONFIRM OR DENY.)

1/86: Mr. Mac, why the hell do you always give me a C in my journal? Is it because I don’t write enough or because you hate me? Just kidding. I know you like me. (ha, ha) Still, why a C? Let’s discuss this tomorrow. (TRUE…They let me talk like that?)

2/86: Today, all of us had a major orgy in the library. We had zero clothes, so we used National Geographic magazines to cover ourselves up. Why weren’t you there to stop us? Just kidding again. I did nothing today or I don’t remember. These entries do not portray me in any way. (????)

10/86: Cross country districts, we left school, we got there, we looked at the other teams, we ran, we felt tension, we felt pain, we got second, we go to regionals, we get to do it all again…..(TRUE)

11/86: Do you understand? Sue married Bud!

They had a baby named Jill.

Sue divorced Bud and left him. She got bored with female life and got a sex change. Now Sue is Lou.

Lou met Jill and got married. Lou knew he couldn’t help in the process of pregnancy so he went to a sperm bank. He unknowingly got Bud’s sperm.

Lou and Jill had a baby tick. (Twisted, even back then.)

Well, at least my journal entries didn’t seem boring. I bet they talked about me in the teacher’s lounge and discussed my need for some therapy.

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20 thoughts on “Not your mother’s journal

  1. The idea of teachers wanting to read your journal always struck me as seriously perverted. They were filled with teen angst, hormonal raging, does-he-love-me-if-not-I-will-die. Didn’t they get enough of that during the day?

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  2. I kept a Diary and wouldn’t let my teacher read it. I handed it with the lock intact, accepted the ‘F’ I received. Problem was that teacher was a pervert! I mean really, he set up the class so all the girls were in the front and he could stare up their mini-skirts and down their blouses (gross). He was also a drunk.

    Good stuff, I can’t believe you still have them.

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    1. I have so much written crap and noncrap..even as far back as 3rd grade.
      We had a teacher in highschool (chemistry) that would always call the boys up front and tell the girls to stay seated. He would tell perverted jokes to them all the time. He also talked to his dead wife during class.

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  3. How very wicked 🙂
    How do you mean is
    that all I have to say? 🙂
    Well yes for now, but
    I will be calling back
    again soon so there 😉

    Androgoth XXx

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  4. I never had to do this. I got in enough trouble with my poetry…and my literary analysis. My English professors were always disturbed by what I got out of things…
    Red.

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