I just got a very nice reward for cleaning my own room. I found my old journal from 15 years ago - written entirely in French. Ok, not entirely. The proper names are encoded in Cyrillic.
Even though my French has gotten a bit rusty now, I could see some grammatical errors. But wow, even now I couldn't believe at myself (yet feeling smug at the same time) for recording an entire school year of my life in a foreign language. It's really strange and interesting - and sometimes embarrassing - to read about what happened in your life more than a decade ago, even the seemingly insignificant events: my thoughts as I had my first taste of Dairy Queen's Blizzard, the happiest moments with friends I am no longer seeing now, my three consecutive strikes in duckpin bowling, the loneliest moments of college life and those times when I just sit in a corner of the canteen listening to my cassette tapes. I found myself sighing and cringing and giggling all at the same time. Here I am, looking at me when I was yet so clueless with the world.
Posted in: watery reflections
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