Looking back...

I went through some files of old story ideas (some from when I was 13), papers I wrote in college (just the ones I wrote for myself...I didn't bother with the ones I wrote for money, just threw those away), letters and cards I've kept...

There was an 8 page letter from my mother explaining how she was proud of me for moving out on my own at 17 even though it scared her and Dad to death. And how she was proud of me for going off to college 6 months later when I realized that I didn't have to do everything the hard way.

There was a letter in there from my grandmother...I'll never know why, but she explained a lot about her relationship with my grandfather (the dying one in Texas who left her & their 5 daughters to be with his mistress), and about her 2nd husband (they were married and divorced shortly before I was born) and how she was "old enough to know better," but that she was also lonely.

It was fun to go back and read some things I'd written in early high school, then watch how my ideas changed through high school and into college. I can't say they're any better now... :P

But it was...nice. And I was surprised to see just how some things haven't changed. How a lot of my ideas then had similar themes to my ideas now. I was a happy kid, a happy.moody.caring.tantrumthrowing.funloving.rebelious teenager, and I'm a generally happy adult (though I still have tantrums now & again :). But for some reason I've always written about unhappy people. I didn't remember doing so quite so young...but it makes me feel...better, I guess, about what I've been writing lately. For some reason I'm just not good at writing about happy, wonderful things.

Maybe because constant cheerfulness can be tiring. :)