MEMORIES OF LIVES PAST

After hearing about Brooke and Lexie's Myspace adventures I went on an adventure of my own.
Sadly I don't have my Myspace from yonder years ago because I deleted it about three years ago when all my friends started joining Facebook and Myspace became irrelevant. Plus I was at the point of not wanting all that information floating out there anymore since I was way too honest on my profile.
BUT  there is something I have that is better than Myspace or Open Diary or anything else Internet involved and it is this:

This ladies and gentlemen is my  "Note Box" The one holds all my notes from 5th to 9th grade. I ran out of room so I had to resort to sorting my 10th-12th grade years into their own separate boxes (Converse boxes, of course) because they had way too many things in them. My senior box made me feel extra nostalgic, and even a little sad, since it had every football game ticket from the year including all my spirit bracelets and hair bows that I wore to every game.
And to freak out every boy I "dated" in High School I have a box filled with everything that they gave or wrote me including dried flowers from Valentine's Day, Birthday Cards, love poems, and just everyday "Hey whatz up Baby" (gag me) notes asking how my guitar class was or that he was glad I was back at school after being sick with the flu. Not to mention telling me that I was just ohhh sooo pretty and funny. Man, those high school boys were just so nice! But of course, among the nice lovey-dovey notes, there was always that dreaded "why did you break up with me - I hate your guts" note (disclaimer: I was NEVER broken up with. Ever. In my whole life. I'm proud of that as well as a little bit disgusted.) that tugs at your heart strings and makes you feel really really bad for the guy. Bless their hearts.
It's always fun to look back and remember that awkward situation when you had to give that guy the love note from your best friend because she had been in love with him since he sat by here on the bleachers at the Spring Dance and you would do anything to get her to shut up about him. Or when you, being the Taylor Gass that you are, always had an opinion about every friend's fight and had to take paragraphs explaining your feelings when it was really none of your business in the first place. But there's always those notes when you called that friend a "slut" and you cringe ever so intensely and shake your head and say "if I had known then what I know now".
Then at the bottom of my tupperware I found a box I forgot I even had. It was filled with specific movie tickets, matching friendship bracelets and Myrtle Beach trinkets; notes passed in church, a folded up birthday hat with matching necklace and banner, and mixed c.d.'s in my 'very first pair of Toms' box and I decided it was time to turn around on Memory Lane and come back to the present because somethings are just not worth living through again.
All in all, I can say  it was a rather fruitful learning experience. It taught me that I am even more of a different, smarter, and honestly more kind of a person that I was in those boxes filled with intricately folded pieces of paper with smudged ink and dates of when they were marked. I encourage you to tell your kids to do this sort of thing, because that's exactly what my Mom taught me to do when I was young. She herself has her own note jug and although I haven't been given the honor of reading them I know that I will someday and she'll feel all those things I did when I read my own: Older, wiser, and happier.
Let's be real, School SUCKED.