March 5, 1973In which leaves are turned and shelves are built

{2} Monday
I think I'll turn over a new leaf this six weeks. I don't know what about - but I feel like being different; quieter? nosier? shyer? bolder? neater? I don't know.

I wonder what in the world I did with those dumb questions. I think I put them in the waste basket Saturday and Kevin dumped the wastebasket in the garbage bag and mother put it outside and our nighttime visitor (he looked just like Morris the finicky cat) ate them. Oh well, since I have to clean up the mess I probably night find them.

I am so happy I have a vanity in my room. (how nice - a real convenience, too} I have always wanted one. And Daddy finished the bookshelves. Now my room is beginning to look like and fee like me. {great!}

I saw Peter Pan last Friday night. Of course I cried at the end (like always) but not for the same reason as I did six or seven years ago; but because I realized that I was growing up, just like Wendy did and there were things that I would have to leave behind. {what a common feeling among all of us mortals} I want to take everything with me. Oh, it's so hard and I'm so frightened.

Note:
I don't remember what I chose to change about myself, but the first part of the entry is written very neatly.

Don't know what questions I was talking about.

I grew up in a two bedroom bungalow. For years my brother and I shared one of the bedrooms, his bed folded down and slid under mine. When we were too old to share my parents expanded the living room and he slept in a nook in the expansion. Finally my father made true to his word and refinished the attic and made a room up there. I remember the first night I slept there (before it was completely finished) I had a bloody nose (probably from breathing sawdust all night) and was too frightened to move so I just bled all over the sheets.

The room was dark. It was paneled in a dark honey colored wood and had only one window and few lights. My mom recently painted it white and took up the old shag carpeting. It looks a lot better now.

Watching the television play, Peter Pan, was one of my yearly rituals, as was watching The Wizard of Oz. I would sit in front of the television and sob at the end for Wendy's lost youth. My dad would tease me about it which would make me angry. Recently, after seeing the movie version of it, I wondered if perhaps Wendy made up Peter Pan.