That Graduation Party I’d Rather Forget

        – That Graduation Party I’d Rather Forget –

Lost means having gone astray or missed the way; bewildered as to place or direction.
distracted – distraught – desperate – hopeless

Why in the world did I bring that word up? Because a few postings ago my journal revealed how I felt when I was eighteen, somewhat lost in all the world going on around me. I also there shared my journal on how I felt knowing I was a solid believer and follower of Christ.  (1*)  (The best feeling in the world, by the way)

I first want to share one of the reasons I felt so ’empty’ inside after graduating from High school. It was during that summer my heart began to see life wasn’t what I though it was going to be.

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Yep, time to graduate from high school. YIPPY ! I felt so ready to take on all that was ahead. The graduation ceremony went great, with a fancy dinner for many of us afterwards. After that, just a few of us girls went to one of my friend’s home to have, what I thought, a cool and simple celebration night.

 

 

 

This should be fun. All us ladies, officially out of high school, gabbing away for hours. Maybe all of us grads will have some beer, too. Hay, I’ve graduated. I can do that.

I couldn’t wait. That is, until the few of us girls got in my friend’s car. As soon as the last door was shut, out popped . . .
“Wooohooo! Ready to party!” one of them hollered with the others cheering her on.
She must just be talking about us cutting loose a bit more than normal. I’m game! I’m sure I threw in a few “Yay!  Here we go!”
“The guys will be there right around the time we show up,” one of the graduates said, “Hey, Samantha, did your older brother get the drinks he said he could get?”

I began realizing how that evening was turning into something I didn’t expect. What took place was exactly what you see in a movie where the parents go somewhere overnight, trusting their daughter will be fine having a few girlfriends over. But then it turns into a wild party. I began thinking to myself a mile a minute.

Oh, my. What’s going. On? What am I getting into? I thought just us girls were getting together?

“Time to party away,” my so-called friends said as we got out. My ‘let’s party’ face I showed sure was different than my thoughts as I saw many senior boys, plus more girls, showing up.

Speaking of partying away, I was blown away! I never thought some of these people I considered my friends would be doing anything as wild as this. I had never done anything like this my entire high school years.

I felt I was invisible, floating around all these people, watching them eat, drink, and be merry. I wasn’t friends with them all but knew most from school. All were flirting big time while showing off any extra skin they could. I had to hide my shock with a fake smile. After all, I didn’t want to look ‘square’ and seem like I didn’t want to belong. I had to look cool and act totally comfortable with all that was going on. Hour by hour went by.

I can’t wait till this is over. I cant’ wait till this is over.
What I will never forget was seeing different guys pulling different girls behind different doors, knowing it wasn’t just to compare final test scores.

12 o’clock – 2 o’clock –
I wish I drove myself. Come on, clock. Go faster.
The entire time I felt like running away, but couldn’t, so I just acted like I was having a ball, pretending I was drinking, even acting a little buzzed.

clock 1

 

 

2 o’clock

 

clock24 o’clock
I looked at my watch every five minutes.

Finally! Time for this movie to come to an end. You can probably picture what took place. The parents come home unexpectedly early that next morning. It was the best thing I had seen those last six hours. As all were silently grabbing their personal belonging, after hearing two angry parents hollering as they stood inside the door pointing outside, I was most likely the only person secretly smiling ear to ear. I loved that ride home.

FINALLY ! That pressure was off! The worst night I’ve ever had was over! I left that party having stayed sober, clean, and a virgin. I felt so stupid realizing that most of my friends weren’t really the type friends I thought they were.

How dare they all do that?  Man, I’m so glad to be home! But those thoughts, sad to say, were balanced off with feeling cut off from them all. Should I loosen up a bit? Am I too goodie goodie?  

severing ties and boycott

 

But I knew from then on I’d be uncomfortable around any of them, wanting to avoid any conversation about that night, and relieved there was no plan to see any of them soon.

 

 

Another event I did not write in my journal feeling it was a night I did not want to remember. I often now wish I had, wanting to read those thoughts that my pillow soaked up those next few days. But you know what? I really didn’t need a journal at that point. No way will I ever forget that night.

So the word ‘lost’ fits in right here because after that night I felt lost. Those people went off my ‘true-friend’ list. I felt a bit empty. – like the definition said, I was bewildered as to place or direction. Distracted; distraught – desperate – hopeless. What I thought would be my best day, turned out to be my worst and empty summer. – I was lost.

Can you think of an eye opening experience you’ve been through? What did you learn?  My next writing I will explain what feeling lost lead me to.

1* Click here to read my before and after posting. 

Marianne Petersen’s book God and Your Pillow is now available. (Amazon) – You can follow Marianne on Twitter at @marimemoirs and read more on her blog, marimemoirs.com.

 Why You Sometimes DON’T Write in Your Journal

      Why You Sometimes DON’T Write in Your Journal

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Journal or Diary. Ever wonder what the difference is between the two?

Basically it’s like comparing the difference between reading a newspaper and reading poetry . . .  sort of.
The difference between a journal and a diary can be explained by saying that a journal is writing ones feelings, emotions, fears, and most intimate thoughts; whereas a diary is like a news report about you.

In a diary you write about your days or experiences. It’s more of a disciplined writing. You pick it up at the end of the day and log the events that happened. -Your assessment, your goals, your achievements, your failures, your targets. It’s about life happening everyday as a routine.

But in a journal you write about how you felt, or about a particular person, or just one thing that happened that affected you emotionally. Okay, maybe more like two or twelve things that affected our emotions. No editing, no thinking, just continuous thoughts pouring out on the paper.

So what was mine then, a diary or journal, when I started writing when I was 12 years old? Let’s see what you think. My last post (1*) showed the very first thing I wrote. Here are a few more that followed.

December 26, 1979
Tonight me, Mom, Kelly, and Susie went to Jack McGoverns Music Hall. It was GREAT. For dinner before we went to Black Angus. David and Dad went to Vancouver, Canada for one night. Me, Mom and Kelly went shopping all day. I got a dress and some sweaters. Bye… until tomorrow.

December 27 1979
Today I spent practically the whole day over at Eyde and Willmas house. (two dear friends down the street back then) I won the Monopoly game we played. (tons more stuff about that day but I’ll spare you and not jot it all down. Your welcome)

I think you can agree that I started it as a diary.
But as days and weeks and years went by the diary transformed into a journal.
Now, don’t laugh.

February 24, 1980
Diary – Today me and Willma went into Burien and bumbed around. the Olympics end tonight. It’s really been nice having them. I don’t want to go to school tomorrow cause it’s so boring and, well, very uninteresting. I was thinking more about Tim and thoughts of him don’t sound so negative anymore but it’s hard not to think of Jeff though. I say to myself that this is love and if it isn’t, what is?

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I said don’t laugh!

 

 

So many ‘him this’ or ‘he that’ or ‘I feel this way’ or ‘I feel that way’ or
‘I think that…’- ‘Why can’t I . . .’ or ‘I hope some day I’ll . . .’ in and out on every page.
So much more of my thoughts that were soaking inside my twelve year old brain.

But what I notice is that some of my most unforgettable events I did not write down.
Why? I think because I was at a loss for words on how to describe how I felt. But I think mainly because no reminders would be needed . . . ever.

Let’s see if you would need to write anything down to remember this.

Sax_625Let’s pretend you played saxophone all through high School. You played in the orchestra band and Jazz band. Of course you never got tired of playing in the marching band as well. (except when it rained during half time while marching all around)

 

Now, pretend it was the end of your senior year. The last High school concert you would ever be in took place, chairs filled to the brim with the student’s, families and friends. All the instrumental and singing groups performed. Now let’s say the last group preforming was the Jazz band. Time for the last song for the night. You felt honored to be the only one playing those last few notes that entire night. You even got the privilege of standing up as all the others sad to hear those last few pieces of perfectly played notes. My, what a privilege! You were a bit nervous of course because those last few notes of that last song you were to ever play you felt had to be perfect.

Time to stand. Time to start those four notes.
I can do it. These slow, easy notes were perfect when ever we practiced them.
1st note played- ‘Good. That was easy. Done.’
2nd note played – ‘Good. Done.’
3rd note played – ‘Oh what a relief – Good. Done. One more. I have to hold it longer, though.’
4th note started – ‘WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED ! One entire note too low! I can’t stop now and correct it! AND I have to play it LONG! HOW- EM.-BAAAAARRASSING !!  My LAST note I’ll EVER play is WRONG !”

So do you think YOU would ever forget that? No.
Do you think you would think ‘oh . . . I better write this down cause I might forget it.’ No.
I’ll tell you. I probably didn’t want to write it down hoping I WOULD forget it and wanted nothing to bring it back to life. Well, that didn’t work. I can still picture it all. Almost too perfectly as you can tell.

I will end my story by saying how that one incident still holds the award for the most embarrassing situation that’s ever happened. I now wish I did write what happened down, wanting to see what my vocabulary would have been like in my writing. But again, maybe it’s best I didn’t.

I’m thankfully laughing right now while typing this, and I think God is giggling right along with me.

What is your most embarrassing experience? Come on. Tell all. I dare ya.

1* – click to read why I think all should keep a journal.

 

Marianne Petersen’s book God and Your Pillow is now available. (Amazon) – You can follow Marianne on Twitter at @marimemoirs and read more on her blog, marimemoirs.com.

 

Why Keep a Journal?

                – Why Keep a Journal? –

 

diary one

Many ask ‘Why keep a journal?’ My answer –  Why NOT keep a journal?
After all, our mind is crowded with a million thoughts every day, and not able to really sort through them. Years ago I thought like might go better if I could just throw my thoughts down on paper, making room for those other thoughts still wrestling around in my head. I started keeping a journal in 1979, when I was only twelve years old. Looking back at the joys, trials, frustrations and excitements I went through has been funny, sad, encouraging, and even a bit embarrassing.

Want to see what my very first writing was?

December 25, 1979 (8th grade)
Well diary, today was Christmas and I got lots of neat stuff like clothes, jewelry, a cool lamp, calendar, makeup and this diary! I’m so happy. Tonight our family seemed to be really close. We told jokes, played games and brought back memories. Bye until tomorrow.

Sweet and simple. But now let’s see how that changed as years went by: my two favorites. One is the last time I wrote before God opened up my heart, making me one of His.

—————————

May 14, 1985
Well, sorry. It’s been a while since I last wrote.  A quick update. I graduate from Highline High school in twenty-nine days. I’m Eighteen years old and no, life is not easier at eighteen. I have my own car, a Capri. Attend  Occupational Skills Center course and love being there half of each school day for the Visual Communication class. Work for Doug Fox Travel driving people to and from the airport while also being a ball girl for the Seattle Mariners. I will be going next year to Highline Community College.
Here. Let me stop. All sounds pretty great don’t ya think? Well . . . the next sentences alters that sound just a hair.
But I am now more confused about the love life. — I have spent the last week-end visiting my best friend and her dorm life. Now listen, love is confusing. As the song goes ‘I’m Hooked on a Feeling’ after that one week-end with the guy I met there.  UG! 

 

But now, the most important part. Keep reading.

 

 I’m on my journey to understanding Christianity and what Jesus can do for me. With my two best friends being religious now, it’s all just kinda weird but I’m learning. Is living with love important? Do I depend on finding love too much? God will reward me but when? What’s the Answer? I shall write again. Maybe when my questions are answered.”

I was right because 1 1/2 years later was my next writing, and I’m ever so thankful my questions were answered.

January 2, 1987
How to even begin explaining the past year and a half. The best way to explain is that I got the answer to my last journal-writing’s many questions – I am a new creature and will be rocking for Jesus for all eternity! My two best friends aren’t so ‘religious’ to me anymore. We are all Sisters-In-Christ now! Being Nineteen years old, I now can grab a hold of God and leave the world and my hunt for love behind.

———————–

Yep – My hunt for love had ended because God showed me that the most important love I could ever find would be from Him. And even then, I didn’t have to hunt for that. He gave it to me. He chose me to finally feel what sin and love truly was.

Man, did it feel heavy all of  a sudden, realizing my sin that had built up those eighteen years. I pleaded for forgiveness.

woman_praying

He then had me feel that, hard to describe, feeling of forgiveness. The weight felt lifted off. Man, did that feel good, feeling that I was then one of His adopted children. Many of those questions before totally made sense!

 

Ezekiel 36:26  — I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. (NKJV)

I plan to write a bit how that all happened but for now I just want to share how good it can be to have, on paper, how God carries you through life. I bet He’d grin ear-to-ear looking back with you as you read all about the small, medium, and large blessings He had done for you in the past. What’s also valuable is noticing how you felt about Him years ago vs. how you feel about Him now.

writing1

If you have a journal going already, keep it going. So glad I’ve kept mine going now almost 40 years. But what if you haven’t? Well, it’s never too late.

 

Marianne Petersen’s book God and Your Pillow is now available. (Amazon) – You can follow Marianne on Twitter at @marimemoirs and read more on her blog, marimemoirs.com.

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Was Mine a Journal or Diary?

 – Was Mine A Journal Or Diary? –

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Journal or Diary. Ever wonder what the difference is between the two?

Basically it’s like comparing the difference between reading a newspaper and reading poetry… sort of.
The difference between a journal and a diary can be explained by saying that a journal is writing ones feelings, emotions, fears, and most intimate thoughts pouring out on paper; whereas a diary is your assessment, your goals, your achievements, your failures, your targets. It’s about life happening everyday as a routine.like a news report about you.

So what was it then, a diary or journal, when I started writing when I was thirteen years old. Let’s see what you think.

December 25, 1979 (8th grade)
Well diary, today was Christmas and I got lots of neat stuff like clothes, jewelry, a cool lamp, calendar, makeup and this diary! I’m so happy. Tonight our family seemed to be really close. We told jokes, played games and brought back memories. Bye until tomorrow.

December 26, 1979
Tonight me, Mom, Kelly, and Susie went to Jack McGoverns Music Hall. It was GREAT. For dinner before we went to Black Angus. David and Dad went to Vancouver, Canada for one night. Me, Mom and Kelly went shopping all day. I got a dress and some sweaters. Bye… until tomorrow.

So I think you can agree that I started it as a diary.
But as months went by, the diary transformed into a journal.
Now, don’t laugh.

February 24, 1980
Diary – Today me and Willma went into Burien and bumbed around. the Olympics end tonight. It’s really been nice having them. I don’t want to go to school tomorrow cause it’s so boring and, well, very uninteresting. I was thinking more about Tim and thoughts of him don’t sound so negative anymore but it’s hard not to think of Jeff though. I say to myself that this is love and if it isn’t, what is?

I said don’t laugh!

So many ‘him this’ or ‘he that’ or ‘I feel this way’ or ‘I feel that way’ or
‘I think that . . .’ or  ‘I hope some day I’ll . . .’
So much more of my thoughts inside and less of what I did day after day.

But what I notice is that some of my most unforgettable events I did not write down.
Why? Because I knew no reminders would ever be needed.

Let’s see if you would need to write anything down to remember this.

Let’s pretend you played saxophone all through high School. You played in the orchestra band and you even came an hour before school officially started to be in Jazz band. Of course you never got tired of playing in the marching band as well. (except when it rained during half time as you marched around on the field)
Now, pretend it was the end of your senior year. The last High school concert you would ever be in took place. All the chairs were filled to the brim with the student’s families and friends. All the instrumental & singing groups performed.
That evening did have to come to an end, however. The last group, Jazz band, preformed the last song. You felt honored to be the only one playing those last few notes. Those last notes of the entire concert. You even got the privilege of standing up as all the others were sitting so all viewers would be noticing who to watch as they heard those last few pieces of perfectly played notes. My, what a privilege to show your talent, and in front of so many! You were a bit nervous of course, being those last few notes of that last song you felt had to be perfect.

Time to stand. Time to start those four notes.

the-saxophone-girl-6c81fecd-210c-48a1-8bf1-ef176a9ae9b9
You thought to yourself ‘I can do it. These slow, easy notes were perfect when ever we practiced them.’
1st note played- ‘Good. That was easy. Done.’
2nd note played – ‘Good. Done.’
3rd note played – ‘Oh what a relief – Good. Done. One more. I have to hold it longer, though.’
4th note started – ‘WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED ! One entire note too low! I can’t stop and correct it. It has to go at least four beats, too! HOW.. EM..BAAAAARRASSING !!  My LAST note I’ll EVER play is WRONG !”

Do you think you would ever forget that, and  think ‘oh… I better write this down cause I might forget it.’
I’ll tell you. I probably didn’t want to write it down hoping I WOULD forget it. Well, that didn’t work. I can still perfectly picture that one incident as it still holds the award for the most embarrassing situation I’ve ever experienced.

I’m thankfully laughing right now while also thinking God’s probably giggling right along with me.