More from JonJon's Journal

A few weeks ago I posted my first journal entry from my childhood journal. It was sweet and innocent, which is kind of how things went for me all through elementary school. I was comfortable and confident and I was really good at memorizing things and regurgitating them, so I did really well in school. My teachers usually really liked me and vice versa. I can tell you what each of my teachers wore on the first day of school from 3rd through 6th grade, probably because I was so thrilled to be back in school that the details of those days were seared into my young little memory. Mrs. Thurston wore a black and white splotchy dress, Mrs. Hess wore a khaki skirt with a pink and white striped button up, Mrs. Pollock (my least favorite teacher and yes, we made fun of her name) wore a vertically striped dress that was different shades of blue and green, and Mrs. Butcher wore a khaki skirt with a brown sweater. Elementary school was kind of magical and my memories are all pretty much good. I really felt like I was king of my tiny, elementary-sized world.

Things quickly fell apart when I started middle school. In my April 4, 1991 entry, I was just finishing my 7th grade year. I was very adept at eloquently expressing my frustrations. This is what I had to say in very large angry letters: "I HATE SCHOOL IT'S SUCKS! SUCKS SUCKS SUCKS SUCKS SUCKS SUCKS SUCKS SCHOOL SUCKS SUCKS ROYALY SUCKS, WAR HAS ENDED (Persion Gulf with Bush I, I'm thinking) SCHOOL SUCKS IT SUCKS MY TEACHERS SUCK." I'm glad I at least took some time to throw in a current event to give some more context.

Another good entry is June 10, 1992, just after my 8th grade year had ended. Here's my report on the start of summer: "The first few days have been pretty busy - haircut, doctor's, piano lessons, working, and laying out. Lately I've heard about nothing but tans, laying out, etc. - So and so's laying out, and people making fun of people with farmer tans. So yesterday I decided to lay out and get rid of my farmer tan. It didn't do much. I might lay out again today." What?

In my June 25, 1992 entry, I delve a little bit into some medical issues: "I don't know if I've said anything, but a year ago I got this wart-like thing on the bottom of my tongue. My doctor, Dr. Morrison, cut it out. Then it grew back one year later and I got it cut off again this last June 2. Then it grew back again with several other sores. I have an appointment with Dr. Morrison on July 7. I'll let you know about it when it comes around. Well I better go. Auf Vedersehen."

July 1, 1992 starts out with "I thought of something I wanted to write down while I was doing my hair." What 8th grade boy refers to "doing his hair"? A very special one like me. The something that I wanted to write down was an experience I had when the middle school was putting on Bye Bye Birdie. I played the part of Huge Peabody and during intermission, Katie Lyn Lowder (I have no memory now of this girl or that she and I had this conversation) came up to me back stage and gave me a hug and told me she just had to because I was so damn adorable. This is what I remembered while doing my hair that I had to write down. Three months after it had happened, after school was out and I was one month into summer. Clearly, I was hungry for some kind of validation. Then I went on to explain that I wanted to be an actor when I grew up but that I probably wouldn't be one for the following reasons: "There aren't many Mormon actors because as mormons we wouldn't want to do some of the things directors and producers would want us to do. Then you see the lives of some actors who get married and divorced 20 times in their lifetime." Did I mention I was probably a little bit self-righteous as a child? Those were my reasons then, and those are the reasons why today I am not a famous actor.

The summer of 1992 was the summer that we went on a family vacation in the northwest that included a couple of days in Portland. The only other time I had been before moving here almost 8 years ago. This is what I had to say about my now beloved city: "I love it there, but the streets downtown are all messed up."

I've noticed a theme in my entries. They are fairly bipolar. I'm either ecstatically happy or incredibly sad/angry. My journal is littered with entries like this one:

Don't worry, I never physically harmed anyone, although maybe I would have felt better if I had. My final entry in this journal is December 13, 1996, just a few weeks before leaving to be a missionary for two years for the LDS church. At this point I had not told anyone of my attraction to men, but carried a lot of guilt about it: "Satan is working even harder to bring me down. I feel like such a terrible, terrible person. Like I'm no good. Like the Lord has no use for me. Satan is doing his job & doing it well. I will push forward. I will read the scriptures. I will pray. I will keep my mind clear, I will not let doubts get in the way of fulfilling my dreams. I will dedicate the next 2 years to my Father in Heaven. I am His."

There are lots of things I would tell my younger, naive and so earnest self if I could. The general idea though, is encapsulated in these quotes.