Journey of self-discovery

I'm amazed I ever even kept a journal, but the only reason I started doing it in the first place was because it was a religion class assignment during my junior year of high school. As I recall, the teacher, Mrs. Phelan, didn't actually read what we were writing, she just flipped through to make sure that we were actually writing in them, and we had to have a certain number of pages written.

But in honor of my birthday, I thought it was interesting to read what I wrote in my journal on Sept. 16, 1997 -- my 17th birthday. Items in parentheses were added by me today.

"Great, Mrs. P just gave us a sheet of questions which we have to address in our journals (it really bothers me that I didn't include the necessary comma before which). Sounds like fun. I really hate that these are supposed to be our own things and we can do whatever we want, yet we're supposed to answer a whole list of deep and thought-provoking questions. It seriously annoys me. (wow, talk about teenage angst -- I feel the anger). Oh well, today is my birthday. I choose to be happy today. I won't ruin it by trying to answer depressing questions about the state of my life and my goals and whatever."

I then go on to talk about how two random guys in my class wished me a happy birthday. Yada, yada, yada. Then it picks up with:

"I feel much happier now, even though I have a cross-country meet tonight and it really bites. If I run a good race, maybe it'll be OK, but it's a really crappy way to spend a birthday."

Ahhh, high school. Those were the days. A crappy birthday involved having to run in a cross country meet. I only wish I still was in good enough shape that I even had the capability to run in a cross country meet.