I’m not really a pack rat, but I do tend to keep things that mean something. For a really LONG time.

Today, as I was packing my Vancouver life into boxes, I found my old diary. This thing is old. Dates back to 1991 and my tragic High School days right through my move to Vancouver. This thing is better than a bottle of wine, sending me into fits of hysterical laughter. Life was just so much drama back in the day.

I am very happy to be long past the days of being a teenager. Although I’m not 100% sure I am any further along at understanding boys… or life in general for that matter.

But I have come along way since my journey out West back in 1996. I don’t care anymore if you don’t call me back,  I no longer need to drink to have fun {although it does make for some funny stories so I continue to do it} I drink coffee like a grown up, I have a career that seemed to come out of nowhere but really if I’d paid more attention in High School I would have figured it out way sooner… but most importantly I like me.

It’s going to be weird to see all the people who made appearances in my diary again. Now that I’m me, not the messed up kid who filled all those pages with her craziness.