i have very patient and indulging friends. nearly all of them, upon some preliminary visit to my apartment, are subjected to reading what i like to call a coffee table book: "got to be me," a fill-in-the-blank sorta early education thing that children fill in with adorable answers in nearly illegible scrawl, and then when they grow up to be sane people, they file away in some unthought about place. i, however, force this book on people (if i can't get them into my house to read it, i will at least tell them about it in animated detail), as if they care nearly as much as i do about the mental state of (like maybe) 7 year old rachel.
well, friends, get ready for a whole new syllabus for rachel morgan 101, because i am now the proud owner of various other ridiculous things that i wrote as a child! you will be happy to know that themes 1-3 of "got to be me" are strongly recurrent, but for those of you who may have fallen behind in your reading, here's a refresher: 1. cats. specifically the longing for one. ex: "i'd use a magic wand to: get me a cat;" "i like to play: cats;" "i would be happier if: i had a cat." 2. hating my brother. really, its all about the fact that he exists in general. ex: "i hate it when: my brother talks;" "i would not like to have: another brother;" "what really bothers me is: my brother." 3. how much i love myself. in pretty much every way. ex: "two of my favorite things are: cats and me;" "i really like: me;" "one of the best things about me is: everything." for further background on "got to be me," please see me after class.
seriously, i just unearthed a construction-paper "book" i made when i was 6. it is called "my book about me," and the first page says, "my name is rachel. i am 6 years old and i have already lost 4 teeth! i like myself." omg, i am so totally bustedly predictable with the self-admiration. several pages later, in the midst of discussing my rigorous academic schedule (dogs and hebrew, apparently), i write, "i want to learn about cats." ok, so at least there's no hardcore brother bashing in this book, but two out of three isn't bad, right? in case you need further proof, here is the last page of the book (although there are multiple cat-and-self adoration instances within): "i like many things about myself. i like being jewish. i like being a part of my family. i like books. my face."
finding this second piece of evidence that so strongly mirrored the first, i was forced to take a moment to take a hard look at myself, ask myself some serious questions, and mainly, laugh hysterically at the fact that if nothing else, i'm consistent. sure, i've grown up and realized that it's good to have interests in things other than cats, and that no, my brother really isn't all that bad (although, truthfully, that animosity was a slightly lingering phase, but now like toootal 180! xoxxoxox, hjb), but this blog is essentially a grown-up version of these books in which i fondly write about myself (note that i didn't mention anything about not being slightly in love with my own awesomeness anymore; i think i just say it out loud less frequently now).
(parenthetical paragraph: as i kept throwing those parentheses in that last P, i couldn't help but mention that parenthetical writing, when combined with my intense narcissism, has made me a lifetime believer that someone is reading, and doubtlessly loving my endless witticisms. the evidence for that currently is in... um, nearly everything i write, but i've recently discovered that i was an early convert, when i came across "room 31's how to book," in which my classmates and i instruct a reader on how to do things like: "how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, by d. stern (dumb girl);" "how to try to get out of eating vegetables, a. kaufman (fat kid);" "how to drive a car, by j. shanaberg (yeah, right);" and of course, "how to make a book, by rachel morgan" (fucking nerd). anyway, i must admit i was slightly shocked when i read the first sentence in my how-to-book-it: "hello, fans! (thank you, thank you)." UM OMG. i'm 99.9999% sure that i've written that exact sentence somewhere in this blog. well, i probably would've thrown in a fancier word or two, but the little me was totally awesome, and i was pleasantly surprised to see that i thought highly enough of myself to assume that i had a readership, even at that young (and apparently delusional) age.)
i guess i can no longer ignore the fact that although i'm grown up, livin' the high life with a genuine, amazingly adorable kitty that the 6 year old me would be insanely jealous of, i've still been known to dote (practically coo) on her with just a little bit of that kid-obsessed-kid-crazy-eye-thing that the 7 year old me would likely do (and lets face it, probably 70, but seriously, guys, i promise to never be a crazy cat lady!!). i can admit to maaaybe having a healthy dose of self confidence too, but i rarely do things like devote entire blog entries to writing about myself and comparing my current self to my younger self by pulling direct quotes and pretending they're primary sources for some sort of made up class about myself?
yup, when you boil it down, i'm the exact same person i was 20 years ago. except i like my brother. and i have boobs. and a cat (suck on that, kid me!).
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