When my mother was twenty, she got married. When my brother was twenty, he moved permanently from Russia to America. When I turned twenty, I was convinced that something special would happen to me too. So I kept a journal that I would eventually turn into a memoir, because quite obviously by the time you are twenty you have already had so many fantastical life experiences that your life story is definitely worthy of a memoir that the world is itching to read. Basically I was under the impression that I was Michael Phelps, several years younger and not a single Olympic medal to my name. You know, illusions of grandeur and only-child syndrome and whatnot.
Not sure what compelled me tonight to open that file and skim through it. Here are some excerpts that really just CUT TO THE CHASE.
January 12, 2004
Men are like parking spots – the good ones are taken and the rest are handicapped.
April 22, 2004
Went to the engineering library to do research for my honors seminar term paper. My thesis will be that in the 1960’s the Soviets won the overall space race even though the Americans won the race to get a man on the moon. It’s really stupid but the professor never reads the papers so whatever.
May 31, 2004
I had a dream that I was in some class and the assignment was to take a shit and then make a little sculpture out of it, like clay. My plan was to make a model of Rodin’s The Thinker, but make it a girl with a ponytail so it would look like me. Unfortunately, there were only 4 stalls and many people in the class, so we waited for our turn sitting on the floor. There I was, waiting for a stall to take a shit in to make a mini Rodin The Thinker statue, and then I woke up.
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