Item: 1 9 1/2 x 6 3/8 red notebook

I don't know why I keep an entire box of old journals, because I very rarely look at them. The few times I have gone digging through the box looking for something in particular it's either been a) because I wondered what my first impressions were of somebody or something, or b) because I'm trying to pin down when or where something happened (though this is not usually productive because I am cursory on facts and all about how it feels).

I just pulled this one at random from out of the box. It covers the dates October 3, 1989 to February 1, 1990, which would have been the middle of my sophomore year in college. Out of the 4 years, this happened to be my least favorite. I note from a quick scan that during this particular time I worried a lot about a Biology final and the mutability of the previous year's friendships and alliances. It was all of us changing, growing up in different directions, unsteady ground in Armington Hall.

It's surprising looking through it how much unhappiness comes off the pages. I knew it was a hard year, but I guess I'm removed now from daily life in my dorm room, sitting on my mattress (which was on the floor that year - part of our 3-girls-in-a-room furniture arrangement) not feeling at home and writing prolifically about it. It's also clear from this vantage point how much I brought some of the hard times on myself.

Like I said, I don't know why I keep them. Some people who write in journals throw them away once they're full, having served their function. Even I, the most sympathetic audience possible, am not that interested in reading in such great detail what I was obsessing about 7 years ago. But I haven't yet tossed any of them away. A lot changes; a lot stays the same.