La dolce Vika
My parents have been doing some spring cleaning lately. And by spring cleaning, I mean my mom called me and said, “We have five boxes of your crap in the attic. Can we throw it out?” My crap being everything I’ve ever generated artistically or scholastically since first grade.
“Why can’t you keep it,” I asked, distraught. “Because we are trying to clean out the attic,” my mom said. “The Germans did too,” I muttered, “And look what happened to Anne Frank.” “What?” “Nothing.”
“You should take this stuff,” my mom said. “You can keep it in your home.”
I tell everyone we are minimalists because it makes me feel smug, so I said, “I’m a minimalist. I can’t possibly have all this crap along with all the other crap I have lying around. Even though it’s not crap but my priceless childhood thoughts and dreams. Don’t you care about your only daughter’s priceless childhood thoughts and dreams,” I tried to guilt her.
But, as everyone knows, you can’t guilt a Jewish mom, and the end is result, as you can see from the picture on this post, is that I now have three boxes of crap in my attic that I am going through slowly. I’ve found at least four of my diaries, all of which show that I was just as neurotic and melodramatic as I am now, only there weren’t blogs to show me that there were people even weirder than me. Also, Jesus Christ am I glad blogs didn’t exist back then.
Fortunately, in my junior year of high school, I got hit by the Italian bug and started learning Italian. I was super-into making scrapbooks of things, and I found that scrapbook. This Italian which will be very helpful when we go on vacation.
As you can tell, math wasn’t a strong suit. Although LOVE and FATE and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? Sure. Oh god, that pun.
I also did a bit of song translation:
How disappointing that YouTube didn’t exist back then. I just watched this song that I translated for the first time ten minutes ago and it all came back to me.
I have reams and reams of paper to prove what a huge nerd and social outcast I was. What will future generations have? Their Tumblrs? Please.
Thanks for the memories, mom.