I love PostSecret. (www.postsecret.com). For those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about, a brief history.
It was started by a guy named Frank (still is run by Frank) a few years back as a college project. He asked people to anonymously write down their secrets on a postcard for others to view. It has spun into a phenomenon. He is sent thousands of postcards weekly and each Sunday picks a loving handful to post on his website. You read total strangers (so you think!) secrets. Their Wants. Desires. Dreams. Fears. Deepest-darkest-secrets. It's voyeurism at it's best. I was let into this secret society about 2 years ago by a dear friend and my faithful few, I'm hooked.
Every week, I long for Sunday. I squeeze out 5mins. of me time and escape into someone else's secret. I, of course, am too much of a chickencrap to send in my own (one day...one day), but love the almost naughtiness of reading someones inner most thoughts. Some make me hurt. Some make me laugh. Some make me weep. But it's the simplicity of the idea that captures my soul.
I was out of town this weekend so I wasn't able to sit down and enjoy my ditties until this morning. One of this weeks card captured my attention and led me to my thought of the day.
I started thinking about what I would say to my 8yr. old self...hmm...
Right off the bat, I know I would tell my little self to enjoy every minute with my dad. To not give him such a hard time (but I gotta keep things interesting!). Because I'm really gonna miss him when he's gone.
But I think the one thing I would tell my itty-bitty-pre-pubescent version of me is to enjoy, I mean REALLY enjoy being a kid. Things change so much when you grow up. Don't get me wrong, I love being a grown up (and out of high school-YUCK!), but I do miss the simple days of being a kid. Playing kickball with my daddy every day after school until dark. SUMMER VACATION!!! Playing dress up with my cardboard box-bigger-than-me full of barbies. Tricking the icky boy (An-jello) next door to eat my freshly made chocolate pie (that was *shh*, secretly made of mud...bah-hahahahaha!!!). I miss that.
But in retrospect, I am tickled to think that there's really nothing I would tell myself not to do. I really don't have any regrets. (OK, maybe to not drink SO much that I throw up in the backseat of my friends mom's minivan because Lord knows I haven't (and won't ever) lived that down!). I know that everything I've done, survived, been thrown at, has made me who I am and I could never change that. (nor would I want to)
So my few but proud, I leave you with this to ponder...what would you tell your 8yr. old self?
I would tell my 8 year old self... hmmm... to not give my dad so many chances. I know... kind of dark. Oh and I'd tell my 8 year old self that when I'm 13 a diary is NOT necessary. Because no matter where I think is the BEST SECRATIVE place to hide it - my mom will find it. And she will read it.
ReplyDeleteI love this post! Wow! I would tell my 8 yr old self to not be so shy! (I know, hard to believe now, right?! lol!) I was terribly shy as a child. Just love this post! Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteI LOVE LOVE PS. Its so awesome. I have the book and I've sent one in that made it in on the site! But its top secret, maybe I shall someday.
ReplyDeleteI'd tell my 8 yr old self: those beyatchs just be jealous you are getting boobies already and they don't. ;)
Thanks for stopping by, I'll def be back!