Journal Entries, Angst, And Teenagers
Jun. 24th, 2006 12:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tabular_rasaI was just reading some of my old journal entries, way back from my Diaryland diary (Click the title link, and then I recommend "Older Entries" and starting at the bottom, if thou wilst :-P).
I wrote them from the end of 10th grade (mid-2003) to mid-senior year (the beginning of 2005). I focused on the very first few months, what would be the end of 10th grade/summer between/beginning of 11th grade-- basically, the year of 2003, which was actually quite am eventful year for me: some bad fighting with Nichole, a trip to Japan, arguably first love (I was new at it I wasn't really sure what is was at the time :-P), a lot of deep maturing; I really did change a lot between underclassman and upperclassman, perhaps even more than I did between high school and college.
I judge this by the fact that as I read some of my entries, I still feel for my old self. When I go back and read my 8th/9th grade (written-- and pratically the only one I ever kept as such) diary (which I only wrote in when I was terribly angry, terribly depressed, or terrified the world was about to end-- such as on September 11th, lol . . . ), I usually just laugh at myself. I was even able to show it to Tiffany, who was insulted several times over in it, lol . . . It was all fighting with Amber, fighting with Alison, fighting with Tiffany, wishing Tiffany would stop being so stubborn and proud and just say she's sorry (which she still has never done :-P). Yet in these old entries, I'm still, "Aww, I feel for you, barely-16-year-old Amy; that really did suck." Maybe I was more rational than people told me I was at age 16. Not that that helped; it made me miserable, nonetheless, however so right I might have been.
I think I have a weird relationship with angst. I've never really minded it. For me, it's an all-things-in-moderation thing. I am still lingering in angstful moments now, but, back in days when my peers wallowed in it, I was still at about the same level of angst as I am now. Therefore, I feel like perhaps I'll always have a little connection to that teenage soul. I sat back with a tempering restraint as my peers (so many with pseudonyms like Broken Angel and Bleeding Heart of Darkness) would rip at themselves (and others-- I do have to admit, that is one act I did never and never shall approve of), speaking of a world that was cruel and cold and never understanding. Yet, now, as they laugh nervously (embarrassed? For what? Their true untapped feeling at that time? Whyever for?) at their former selves, I still pull out my old Evanescence and Linkin Park CDs (they're not ever even dusty :-P) and feed into the emotions as I listen to them. To be quite honest, I don't ever want to lose that connection to that raw passionate emotion we feel as teenagers that we as adults so often pack away. My mother says we "mature," the emotions "mellow." I think that's bullshit; I think we're a bunch of Freudian suppressive nutcases. Now I'm not bashing expressing emotions in a more temperate way (didn't I just explain I've always ridden the temperate wave, rather than flooding and then droughting?), but I get the feeling a lot of adults really do achieve the wish they angsted over as teenagers: "To never feel this pain again."
(Here's to the drama kings and queens we all once were-- and some still are ^_^)
I really like teenagers, actually; on my way out of being one, I can say that I really do. I thought they were awful, the way they were made out to me, when I was a little kid; then, growing into one, I never minded myself (or, particularly, my peers) and I don't mind them anymore. Teenagers are better than adults in so many ways. They're passionate; they're emotional. They feel to the extreme; hell, they even feel numb to the extreme. Some of them have learned to lie, but they're still so bad at it, and for the most part retain their childish earnestness. Some are stupid, too, sure-- but so are a hell of a lot of adults. Teenagers have the wit and capability of understanding of adults, just not the control on it yet. They live life like an epic, not some bland, preset sitcom episode. You can see it in the literature, the music, the activities; teenagers live for the new, the exciting, the bold, the emotional. They have life.
God damn it; I'm still part of *them,* but only for another year )-:
Maybe this is why I like Romeo and Juliet so much? It's certainly not a *deep* play. It's a play of passion and human nature-- which I think you can derive the most depth out of, actually, perhaps even more so than something political and pondered over. Take it from someone quite unfamiliar to the subjection to the throes of passion, who, though immensely passionate, has somehow (well, almost) always managed to rationalize herself out of the most irrational passions there are known to man's existence: anger, physical attraction, and love (sad, but true).
(Heh, I can put a stopper on love but I can't get over the brief injustices I face upon daily life . . . I am really seriously turning into my Andy character, lol . . . I'll be dead by the time college graduation hits O.o . . . )
I wonder what would happen if I stopped analyzing became spontaneous. I tasted the slight, brief fruits of it last year-- but not nearly enough. Yet I'm quite fairly positive if I stopped willing it all into perfect place, it would really fall apart-- but, then, for some reason, would it turn out even better than before? Am I willing to risk it?
(I really have become a hypocrite when it's come down to "never writing cryptic entries," lol . . . )
I think I'm really bored that I feel more connection to my 16-year-old journal entries than I do pictures from college. I'm losing college. Ack; come back!
I wrote them from the end of 10th grade (mid-2003) to mid-senior year (the beginning of 2005). I focused on the very first few months, what would be the end of 10th grade/summer between/beginning of 11th grade-- basically, the year of 2003, which was actually quite am eventful year for me: some bad fighting with Nichole, a trip to Japan, arguably first love (I was new at it I wasn't really sure what is was at the time :-P), a lot of deep maturing; I really did change a lot between underclassman and upperclassman, perhaps even more than I did between high school and college.
I judge this by the fact that as I read some of my entries, I still feel for my old self. When I go back and read my 8th/9th grade (written-- and pratically the only one I ever kept as such) diary (which I only wrote in when I was terribly angry, terribly depressed, or terrified the world was about to end-- such as on September 11th, lol . . . ), I usually just laugh at myself. I was even able to show it to Tiffany, who was insulted several times over in it, lol . . . It was all fighting with Amber, fighting with Alison, fighting with Tiffany, wishing Tiffany would stop being so stubborn and proud and just say she's sorry (which she still has never done :-P). Yet in these old entries, I'm still, "Aww, I feel for you, barely-16-year-old Amy; that really did suck." Maybe I was more rational than people told me I was at age 16. Not that that helped; it made me miserable, nonetheless, however so right I might have been.
I think I have a weird relationship with angst. I've never really minded it. For me, it's an all-things-in-moderation thing. I am still lingering in angstful moments now, but, back in days when my peers wallowed in it, I was still at about the same level of angst as I am now. Therefore, I feel like perhaps I'll always have a little connection to that teenage soul. I sat back with a tempering restraint as my peers (so many with pseudonyms like Broken Angel and Bleeding Heart of Darkness) would rip at themselves (and others-- I do have to admit, that is one act I did never and never shall approve of), speaking of a world that was cruel and cold and never understanding. Yet, now, as they laugh nervously (embarrassed? For what? Their true untapped feeling at that time? Whyever for?) at their former selves, I still pull out my old Evanescence and Linkin Park CDs (they're not ever even dusty :-P) and feed into the emotions as I listen to them. To be quite honest, I don't ever want to lose that connection to that raw passionate emotion we feel as teenagers that we as adults so often pack away. My mother says we "mature," the emotions "mellow." I think that's bullshit; I think we're a bunch of Freudian suppressive nutcases. Now I'm not bashing expressing emotions in a more temperate way (didn't I just explain I've always ridden the temperate wave, rather than flooding and then droughting?), but I get the feeling a lot of adults really do achieve the wish they angsted over as teenagers: "To never feel this pain again."
(Here's to the drama kings and queens we all once were-- and some still are ^_^)
I really like teenagers, actually; on my way out of being one, I can say that I really do. I thought they were awful, the way they were made out to me, when I was a little kid; then, growing into one, I never minded myself (or, particularly, my peers) and I don't mind them anymore. Teenagers are better than adults in so many ways. They're passionate; they're emotional. They feel to the extreme; hell, they even feel numb to the extreme. Some of them have learned to lie, but they're still so bad at it, and for the most part retain their childish earnestness. Some are stupid, too, sure-- but so are a hell of a lot of adults. Teenagers have the wit and capability of understanding of adults, just not the control on it yet. They live life like an epic, not some bland, preset sitcom episode. You can see it in the literature, the music, the activities; teenagers live for the new, the exciting, the bold, the emotional. They have life.
God damn it; I'm still part of *them,* but only for another year )-:
Maybe this is why I like Romeo and Juliet so much? It's certainly not a *deep* play. It's a play of passion and human nature-- which I think you can derive the most depth out of, actually, perhaps even more so than something political and pondered over. Take it from someone quite unfamiliar to the subjection to the throes of passion, who, though immensely passionate, has somehow (well, almost) always managed to rationalize herself out of the most irrational passions there are known to man's existence: anger, physical attraction, and love (sad, but true).
(Heh, I can put a stopper on love but I can't get over the brief injustices I face upon daily life . . . I am really seriously turning into my Andy character, lol . . . I'll be dead by the time college graduation hits O.o . . . )
I wonder what would happen if I stopped analyzing became spontaneous. I tasted the slight, brief fruits of it last year-- but not nearly enough. Yet I'm quite fairly positive if I stopped willing it all into perfect place, it would really fall apart-- but, then, for some reason, would it turn out even better than before? Am I willing to risk it?
(I really have become a hypocrite when it's come down to "never writing cryptic entries," lol . . . )
I think I'm really bored that I feel more connection to my 16-year-old journal entries than I do pictures from college. I'm losing college. Ack; come back!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-06-24 01:45 pm (UTC)Come on, cryptic entries are fun (especially when I know what you're talking about ;-) )
I'm interested to see you as an adult and how you will change (and in some ways, you probably won't).