blue.

Feb, 19, 1991

Dear Diary,

I rote a peom today it is about blue it is a good poem. It rimes I like it. It tells alot of the things that are blue. I know how to drive a fourwheller. The peom is in the front of the book.

(back to the front of the book)

THE PEOM IS MISSING.

Inside the front cover, however, I did write, STAY OUT (or I'll have to beat you up) Sincerely, Miranda.

Fair warning.

Really, more things in my life need to come with that disclaimer, though. Don't cut me off in traffic (or I'll have to beat you up). Please don't stand outside my building at 2am and have a screaming match with your drunk boyfriend on the phone (or I'll have to beat you up). Let me have a cup of coffee before you start make ridiculous demands (or I'll have to beat you up).

Love, Miranda

toona.

Prologue.

I've been writing to myself for sort of my entire life. My mother was a high school English teacher and so I have always had this strange sense of literary importance. Kind of a weirdo idea that the things I think and write are going to one day blow people away. That seems like an appropriate introduction to my very first diary entry.

12-26-89 (I was 8)

Dear Diary

Today I played with *Kate. I went to her house and I whatched movies. we whatched Batman and part of the princes bride. I helped make lunch. We had toona. It was good.

Then I drew a picture of a can of tuna and a piece of bread.

(*oh.. also.. I'm changing names. Not like it will really matter. I'm from a town of like 4,000 people. Everyone knows who I'm talking about anyway.)

On October 15, 1995, after so much "uncomfortable" writing to a nameless journal, I decided to name my diary. The list of names I gave myself to vote on were JJ, Alex, Billy, Mitzi, and Danni. Alex won. You seem so much more real now that I have something to call you! Cool! (not cool).

PS

Side note. Please. Please. pleasepleaseplease. Please do not misinterpret this blog. I honestly cannot read a single of the pages of the three "Alex Diaries" without feeling completely mortified and laughing hysterically. There is not a single shred of me that still thinks I was as cool as I thought I was when I originally wrote them. Oh... I thought I was extremely cool. In fact, I think it was maybe my favorite word.

awesome.

Love, Miranda