So last night I spit dozens of random photos at you from an unorganized hard drive. Well folks, I've hit the mother load. Where my photos were a discombobulated wreck, my documents are pristinely ordered and labeled.
And these aren't new documents--but writing pieces, journal entries, and written missionary letters that cover about a eight year span of time starting my sophomore year of high school and into my college days. Oh. My. Dramatic.
Perhaps I'll trot some of these goods out; or perhaps in an effort to save face I'll keep what was meant to be private private. 60 pages of typed letters to a boyfriend missionary? 45 pages of Olympic Volunteer stories? 10th grade chatter? Scholarship essays, church talks, bitter diatribes. It's all there. So. Dramatic.
Un/Fortunately, people from all periods of my life read this blog, so I'll have to figure out what can and can't be posted. I will tell you that my best HS friend Matt (the lone consistent figure from AZ with whom I'm still in contact) and I had a laugh tonight as I cut and pasted him snippets of writing.
To be honest, more than anything else, I'm glad these pieces of my history exist, but I really wish I could tell that sweet, insecure 16-year-old girl not to worry so much. Life is good, funny, beautiful, and meant to be enjoyed.
Now who wants to read how I got dumped from Guatemala?