Santa is a nice man.

When I was young I wrote in a diary, and then that diary became two, then three…. And sometime around high school/college that writing slowed to a crawl and eventually stopped.  Yesterday I found the very first diary.  It was, in fact, not the one I thought was the first.  This is earlier.

And it’s hysterical.

And sometimes pathetically sad.

And sometimes illustrates how dull my life must have been.

It’s filled with scrawling, slanted writing – and every single entry is preceded by a page where I wrote my name and that it was my diary and my age and the date.  I guess I beat dead horses then too.


Here’s a sample:

Dec. 16, 1978 (I was 8 yrs old.) – “Tonight I watched the Love boat.  They had twin sisters.  They swiched fiances.  good night.”  (Btw, all the entries end with “good night”.)


Riveting stuff.


Oh, and how is it I could not spell “switched”, but I could spell “fiances”??


Say what?


Dec. 17, 1978 – “Tonight I watched The Debolts.  A poor girl named Karen, has no arms or legs.  good night.”


Sadly, it seems many of my entries were about TV shows.  And I don’t remember the Debolts, but it appears that I watched some kind of documentary?


And then I assess life…


Dec. 18, 1978 – “Its getting closer to Christmas.  And I’m excited.  Santa Claus is coming soon.  He’s a nice man.  good night.”



The fact that I did not die of boredom is a miracle.  I’ll post more soon, because my love of Battlestar Gallactica was kind of endearing (and sad).


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