Circa 2008 |
Luckily, these days I'm not suspecting bipolar disorder, but maybe just a dash of schizophrenia. A tad? Since I've been home, I can't seem to get a handle on the girl I was before I left. I'm finding it difficult to understand her and some of her decisions completely, and in addition to being mildly baffling, this is also a bit scary. What if, 3 years from now, I'm in the same position, and I can't understand why I felt so strongly about following a path I'm about to choose? Whew... I usually end this train of thought right here, so...
That brings me to a funny little paragraph I found today while I was looking through one of the many boxes of stuff I stashed at mom's house while I was away.
On the first page of an old blue Peter Rabbit journal, I found this gem:
This is a storybook I wrote in my spare time. I wrote all these storys from the insporation of all my animals. My sister Robyn was writing about her cat sugar. So I am grateful.
Come again? Seriously, who was that? I have no idea... but I suspect that whoever it was would probably be mortified that her future self would post it on a blog. Sorry lil Jennifer.
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