Posts Tagged: journals
7

Black Girls Don't Read Sylvia Plath

It was another muggy summer, the summer I discovered Plath. If I had discovered her legacy later in life, it may have served as a calming revelation, the meat of hindsight. Wonderment not as thorny and beloved.

I discovered Plath through the typical girlhood grapevine: a slumber party. A friend who looked like Stevie Nicks circa Rumors but had suited up in detail-heavy riot girrl gear mentioned Sylvia Plath. She had just finished The Bell Jar. She wanted to know if I had read it. She casually said, like a cowboy flicking a cigarette stub to the side, I think you’d like it.

6

Mortified Nation: Revisiting Our Teen Angst

Diaries and journals are meant to be private, sacred things where you share your deepest thoughts and desires. That is, unless you’re a dead celebrity and whoever handles your “estate” decides to publish your diaries in Vanity Fair or in a juicy, scandalous book for all the world to see. Luckily, most of us will never be dead celebs. Our deep, dark thoughts are safe and sound.

I started keeping a journal in eighth grade, right around the time I embarked on my wildly passionate yet sexless three-year relationship with a dude I’ll call Sam. At the time I was wearing pastel Gap T-shirts and color-coordinated pastel socks with white [...]

18

What Would Susan Miller Say? My Octocalypse Journal

For months, famed free astrologist and amateur soothsayer Susan Miller had been warning in her horoscopes that October would bring Hard Times, because Mercury would enter retrograde.

I know. A free Internet astrologist? One with a website that appeared to have survived the fall of Netscape Navigator, the Dot Com bubble, Web 2.0 over-engineering, and the Great Recession fallout entirely unchanged? Pointing to AstrologyZone.com is analogous to the gang in Scooby Doo! entering a witchdoctor’s house looking for clues—you kind of already know what kind of nonsense you’re getting yourself into. But her mysticism—broad, careful wording, a firm grasp of generational vanity and provincial foibles—isn’t about specifics.

Really, [...]