I am starting this because I want to start documenting the things that don't fit anywhere else.
That's not to say it's going to be a journal-like, deeply personal out-pour, (I hope not) but you never know...
I am currently reading Anne Frank's diary. I always wanted to read it and hoped to do so at school. It never happened. Lord of the flies never happened either. But that was a long time ago now. I'm not bitter, honestly.
Anyway, back to Anne Frank's diary: I am enjoying it so far. I bought it months ago from the works and wanted to wait till I was in an appropriate mood for it. I'm not one to bury my head under the sand over what a terrible world it is... or complain that 'it's not right and shouldn't be allowed' for charity adverts to be put on television about tortured animals and blind, deaf, mute children just because it 'ruins everyone's holidays' - but I wanted to just make sure it wasn't going to be something that had an overly depressive effect on me, so in order to prepare for this possibility, I picked up two books.
The first was 'The Twits' by Roald Dahl and the second Anne Franks diary. The plan was to start off with Anne Frank and then use The Twits as my emergency book should Anne Frank's 'mood' not be compatible with my own.
'The Twits' were returned to their right
ful place on the Roald Dahl section of the bookshelf and will wait another time (in the manner of a toy story toy) until I need them again, such as if I ever dare pick up any of the 'child called It' books ever again.
Anne Frank is great so far and I wish that at 13 years of age, I had even half her intelligence. Were children just more intelligent back then or what? Probably.
Her style of writing is very enjoyable. It's difficult to believe at times that they are written by a young child and her age is only really revealed when she starts talking about which boys she'd like to marry and that sort of thing. When I write here, I would like to aim for what I write to be similar to her writing style. As though I am writing to someone who might actually read it. Like a letter. She had Kitty. I have you.
Lots of love,
Girl from Winter Jargon.
P.s
This is the page I always remember the most from 'The Twits'.
I toyed with the idea of scanning it and hanging it up somewhere in the house. Though for some reason, with Roald Dahl, I always seem to want to do this with his books. For example, in Charlie and the chocolate factory there are some poems about how books are great and television is rubbish. I wanted to scan the pages there and bluetack them to my television and bookshelf...
Just one of many of my ideas that never make it from my head to actual life.
Anyway, it amuses me that I was able to go on google images and immediately find the very page already there. Someone beat me to it, proving that the sentiments here are universal and widely appreciated. Because it really is true. If I had a penny for every person I saw who based on physical appearances, ought to be very attractive looking but actually are not to the extent where I should be able to see beauty but just can't... because the person just so happens to be completely stuck up, and doesn't care about anyone but themselves or some other sot of personality defect which makes them not so likeable... and all I see is... 'Urgh'... I just don't even like to look at them. They end up being an offense to my eyes.
Of course there is also the personal lesson here of having to banish all ugly thoughts, of which there are many, and telling them straight that they simply cannot take up permanent residence in your head and must leave immediately...
Hopefully when I am an old person, I will be one of those cute elderly ladies that wear purple, and not one of those haggard types that are yet still complaining about how rubbish it was at school because they never got to base any of their English coursework projects on Anne Frank's diary or lord of the flies... Don't give up the good fight people.
Goodnight.
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