Family

I should preface this- although my family has not always been the caring, loving and supportive group that the title implies, they have at the very least been a consistent source of comedic gold, which I have mined relentlessly, and plan to keep doing.

….

Up in my attic room I came across my sister Diane’s diary- one that she kept in middle school, when I was still in elementary.  The diary was Secret Garden themed, with illustrations from the book on the cover.  It was locked.  Without hesitation, I did what any self-respecting little sister would do: I jimmied the lock and poured over the entries, looking for juicy bits of early ‘90’s gossip.

What I came across probably should not have surprised me.  There were only about three entries.  None dealt with early teen angst- my sister was too high-brow for that.  Instead, I found entries about how it was hard to be so smart and work so hard.

And then, there it was: an entry about me.  The anti-irony of the words smacked me across the face.

What Diane wrote was this:

In case you can’t read my sister’s backwards-leaning psychoprose, here is a transcript:

I like 2 people _______ and _______.  I’m gonna leave their names out because Lauren is always snooping around in my things.  I thing [sic] she needs a personnal [sic] (only for her) kind of shrink.  She’s a schitzo!  She is whacked!  Maybe she is going through some kind of change.  Maybe she is deciding wheather [sic] to be gay or straight. Next topic!

So, lesson learned:  when you go snooping in your sister’s diary, be prepared to find an entry about how you will be snooping through your sister’s diary.  This is like Webster seeing a picture of himself looking himself up in the dictionary.   How my snooping led Diane to the conclusion that I was an 11 year-old schizophrenic lesbian is anyone’s guess.  For the record, she is now pursuing a PhD in clinical psychology, and I am still snooping through her things.