"She's like the wind. Through my tree."

Thank you, Patrick Swayze. Your lyrics make me feel all warm and loved inside. She's like the wind. Through my tree. I don't know how you thought of coupling your words together like that. You truly have a gift. Thank you for sharing your gift of song with the talentless people of the world. "Through my tree." GOD HAS TRULY BLESSED YOU WITH RADICALLY AWESOME LYRIC CREATION.

So this weekend I went to Schreiber with Sarah E and Brad. Sarah E and I went through all of my old stuff. I learned some things I'd forgotten about myself as a child. For instance, I was a huge loser who lived mainly in a fantasy world. We went through roughly five boxes of my childhood writings. All of these writings reinforced my idea that I was born to blog, because if I didn't have all y'all to tell every mundane detail of my life to I might have to resort back to writing letters to fictitious characters I made up in my head.

Case in point, my letter to Melissa Edwards. She was a character in a novel I wrote back in Grade Five / Six. Dear Melissa, the letter began, I have horrible news. Aunt Madeline has been murdered most foully! I believe you are the only one who truly knows why this terrible misfortune has befallen dear Aunt Madeline, and I can only surmise that you should have let others know the awful secret that you have been keeping for her for years, the one that ultimately lead to her ghoulish murder! ... and it goes on in that vein for some time, never revealing what the horrible secret is.

I wrote all the time when I was a kid. I have notebooks piled with all of my writings -- fairy tales, murder mysteries, ghost stories where I took many, many paragraphs to describe interesting tidbits like what the flesh looked like peeling off the ghosts ethereal form. I wrote tons of letters I never sent to people, most of the time letting my pure dork shine through on paper. For fun, sometimes, I'd make my own boardgames. The most hilarious being a game dedicated to Elizabeth Simcoe, a diarist who traveled around Canada in the late 1700's. Elizabeth Simcoe, seriously. How bloody obscure.

Because my parents are moving I'm getting their old World Book Encyclopedia set. I am so excited you just don't even know. When I was a kid I'd get absolutely fascinated with certain people / historic periods / places and I'd research them. I'd take the information I learned and I'd put them into journals, adding photographs, illustrations and references. I was endlessly enamoured with Anne Boleyn, the Bloody Mary urban legend, Greek and Norse mythology, dragons, Elvis Presley, the Condor, Italy and the Tasmanian Tiger. Aka, I was a HUGE DORK.


And this was all pre-Internet, so everything I learned I learned via libraries and the World Book Encyclopedias. Among the written treasures there were also half-finished novels. I wrote a short novella in the style of a castaway's journal -- a castaway who somehow found the means on her small island to build a mansion. When the ship came to take her away she decided she didn't want to go, and lived the rest of her days in island solitude. I also found the short play I wrote for my Grade Eight class. I couldn't even read it. Honestly. I don't think I'll ever live that particular embarrassment down, especially considering I got up on stage, promptly forgot my own lines and froze completely. RUINING THE LIFE OF ALL DRAMA LOVING GRADE EIGHT'S EVERYWHERE.

I actually got rid of a large portion of stuff -- there is just no place to put the entire bulk of writings and exceteras I collected over a decade plus. Of some of the exciting stuff I did find, however: the Joey McIntyre doll I must have stolen from Mel back when we were ten, (Sorry Mel, you were right all these years.) green slippers knitted by my Grandma, two books given to me by my Grandma (Jane Eyre and Little Women; I seriously think Jo March and I lived on the same damn wavelength.) and a letter written to me by my Grandfather five days before my Grandma died. "We both send our love," he wrote, "and I'm hoping Grandma can come home for part of the time soon. I think she's getting better." Saddest thing ever.

(I also have further adventures to discuss, but this entry is long enough so will write them later. You will love them. The whole seemingly random Patrick Swayze reference will make sense, as well.)

Labels: Suitcase of Memories