05/2/08
You can tell a lot about a girl through her diary.
Every so often when I get a chance to go home to Topeka, I hunt down my little black leather diary I bought with my Christmas money many years ago and read the novel of my life.
Each entry is another phase in my life, and it is amazing to see how much I have changed since my first entry on Dec. 26, 2000.
I was in eighth grade at the time, and the way I described myself to my diary was, “5 ft. 6 in. tall, brown hair, blue eyes, glasses, and dating a certain someone.”
That certain someone was a common name throughout my diary but began to filter out my junior year of high school after having my heart broken multiple times.
At different points in my life, I wanted to go to an Ivy League school; I was going to become a Navy aviator, doctor, and even at one point, a youth minister.
I grew up in a youth group, which is where I made many of my best friends. I walked away from God multiple times but wrote many prayers asking him to forgive me for whatever I’d done that week to drive my parents insane.
On Jan. 7, 2001, I recorded one of the funniest entries in the diary, “Well, I got my first kiss today. I couldn’t tell you if it was good or not, I have nothing to compare it to.”
I’ll never forget how worried I was about my friends who started experimenting with drugs and alcohol. “Today, (name goes here) told me he tried weed last week, and he tried tiquilla, or whatever it’s called.” By tiquilla, I meant tequila.
I helped my sister celebrate her 17th birthday on May 9, 2001. She’s about to turn 24 and is getting married June 28. Crazy how time flies.
My life was jolted March 13, 2001, when my friend and teammate, Brittany Tucker, was killed in a car accident on her way to church. Through her death, many of the girls became closer with her parents and family, and I’ve been lucky to be able to watch her sister, Kimberly, who now plays at MidAmerica Nazarene University, grow into a beautiful young lady, just as her sister would have been.
June 22, 2001, was one of the hardest days in my life until then. Our foreign exchange student, who was like a brother to me, left to go back to Germany after a year in our home. I’ll always remember what he was wearing – a Hawaiian shirt we gave him for part of his graduation present. “As he started walking down the tunnel, he turned around and yelled, ‘I love you guys.’ Then he was gone.” I still tear up thinking about that day and saying goodbye to someone who’d become such a big part of my life.
After graduating from high school, we flew to Europe and spent a month with him and his family. I e-mail back and forth with him and still consider him my big brother.
After making it to high school, my biggest worry was making the varsity basketball team my freshman year and whether the boy and I would make it through the week still together after multiple rumors he’d kissed my best friend, which unfortunately turned out not to be rumors.
It’s funny how my worries have changed from sports and boys, to paying bills and preparing for the real world, while still balancing college basketball.
Five summers were spent working with an autistic boy named Ryan Ondracek, playing endless hours of basketball and lounging by our pool with my best friends.
Now, after working two jobs every summer and taking summer classes, it’s amazing if I get 20 minutes with friends once a week, let alone a few hours to lie out and get a tan.
On October 27, 2003, I complained about my friends being mad at me because I got in trouble for drinking with some other girls. That was my one and only encounter with alcohol in high school, and I’ll never forget the feeling of knowing how disappointed my parents were.
On May 18, 2004, I documented my first college visit ever. “I’ll move out in about a year or so, which is scary. I went and visited Baker University yesterday in Baldwin City. Not a big town, but it is nice I guess.”
Now, I worry about a year from now visiting other cities, and finding the place I want to live and work.
The worst few months of my senior year are all in there. The week after signing to come play at Baker, I dislocated my kneecap and sat out almost my entire senior season of basketball.
I remember crying every night while writing down my progression in physical therapy because I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t healing and asking God why all this had to happen to me.
After discovering I’d torn many different parts of my knee in the process of popping my knee back into place, three knee surgeries later and dislocating my other knee my sophomore year of college, I’ve learned you suck it up and use lots of Icy Hot and get used to ice baths.
On Jan. 11, 2005, I declared to my diary that I would eventually become a journalism teacher. I knew my life should consist of working with students, and I have continued working toward that goal even today. “I will either look back at this in a couple years and laugh because I became something else or smile because my dream came true.”
During those days, I thought my life was so difficult. Now, more than anything, I wish my biggest worries were summer basketball, and what my friends and I were going to do at night.
On March 7, 2005, at 10:38 p.m., I officially signed off on my diary, ending it with a note that will forever remind me of my journey to Baker. “I graduate in two months. The thought of it only brings on more stress. Throughout this diary I have loved, lost friends, made best friends and most of all, learned from my mistakes. I can’t wait to move on to a new chapter of my life. I love my parents and entire family. Go Wildcats.”
Now, instead of spending every night writing in my diary, I use the time to write 10-page papers and write stories for the newspaper. I’ve resorted to using pictures to tell the story of my college career.
Who knew I was such a smart kid growing up, but I wish someone would have warned me of all the new stresses college brings.