further evidence of a delusional childhood

Further evidence of my highly delusional childhood has recently emerged from the wreckage of my parents basement. A series of revealing documents were discovered just last night by Beth Nelson. The documents were contained in a "lockable" hard cover diary sporting the image of three vaguely depressed puppies.

I, my current self, have often encountered the writings of my much younger past self and have wondered what the hell was wrong with me. Was I somehow brainwashed? When? By whom? The sheer delsuional optimism and gullibility I seem to emenate as a child often seems hilariously sarcastic. It is not. It is most delusionally dead serious. Luckily, I am not wholly (if at all) to blame for this. My mother is. Allow me to further demonstrate.

First off, everyone loves my mother and by everyone I mean all of my friends and most janitors. For a large portion of my existence I have gotten shit from my friends and certain janitors concerning how I treat my aforementioned mother. At times their criticism of my seeming "cruelty" has gotten to the point where I've even questioned my own reasoning. Still, I stand by the fact that there are times when my mother needs to be brought back down to earth and there are times when my mother needs to be intercepted. There are also times when my mother needs to be outright stopped. Unfortunately, there was a period in my life when I was severely unhip to this very real reality.

My impression of others impressions' of me leads me to believe that I am, at current, a pretty skeptical person, a characteristic which does not jive with my childhood impression of myself. I now believe my current self is the result of a long rehabilitation from my childhood self.  In my youth my mother often made absurd promises to me (e.g. on my sixth birthday I was very upset at the prospect of turning six, so my mother promised me I could just stay five forever and that, in addition, she would stay five years old as well). When I was too young-dumb to know I was being (quite shoddily) tricked, I believed a lot of shit my mom told me was true, and though she didn't neccesarily believe in my future singing career, she wildly encouraged much more grand (and ultimately inconclusive) delusions.

In short, I was lied to.

I now present to you as evidence of this theory a diary entry from April 26th, 1998:

"Well, I guess it's tomorrow. This is one of the things I wanted to tell you. We might adopt a baby!! (Insert smiley face below the prior double exlamatives) Me and Mom wanna, we just have to ask Dad. We're waiting for the right time. One of the other things is that I've decided to start a band. Maybe we'll be so good we'll rocket to stardom. I sure hope so. Anyway I just won a c.d. from a Gatorade bottle. Pretty cool, huh?* Oh, and schools almost over for summer. vacation.  I wonder what teacher I'll get next year. They Tell you on your report card for some reason I wish it's a boy. (lack of punctuation makes the previous sentence open to interpretation) I've never had a boy teacher.

                                                                            my last   Good NIGHT
                                                                            report     I Can't wait
                                                                            card        till summer

                                                                                        inner tube

                                                                          (insert "drawing" of "innertube")

*Dear eleven year old former self: diary's do not talk back...idiot