Well, it’s been a while…
College has been treating me fine, I’m not failing, and I just survived my mid-term exams which in itself is an achievement. After nearly three mental-breakdowns in the same week, I was tempted to write “This semester has been brought to you by folgers, starbucks, and the Mayo Clinic Mental Health hospital”.
Several days ago I finally decided to clean out my desk. Armed with only a few garbage bags, I unearthed layer after layer of detritus from the depths of the file folders. Finding stacks of old artwork meant I had to throw away some things and (maybe) keep others. After digging, sorting, and tossing paperwork and old drawings for upwards of an hour, I came across my first grade journal.
When I was In first grade my teacher would give us handwriting practice by giving us ‘journal time’. We’d have a half hour to doodle and write in our little spiral notebooks. Most of my entries were an unreadable jumble of doodles and messy handwriting. Now, for the record, I had plenty of friends when I was in school. Which is why I was a little bit confused when I found this in my journal.
At first glance, it appears that the depressed stick person labeled ‘me’ is sitting on a set of bleachers looking forlornly around an empty playground, but according to my teacher I drew this because I was the only kid who could climb up and sit on top of the monkey bars. As for the message scrawled across the top of the page, I think that the semi-transparent figure seen hovering beneath the monkey bars was intended to be one of the ‘friends’ mentioned. Either that or the playground was haunted.