When I moved out, either before college or when I left for college, I left a couple storage boxes with my aunt, and it has taken me around 5-7 years to pick those up from her garage. Most of it was junk, a lot of it was Enrique Iglesias paraphernalia–from teddy bears, to books, to my embarrassing scrap book. But there were also some goodies:

Among these: my “yearbook” from Santa Teresita in Guatemala, from 1993, and my tea cup set that I never really played with, but still think it would be cool if I had it around in case I ever have a daughter.

But the biggest find was my first diary. I started it after my 8th birthday, so my handwriting and spelling are terrible. It’s actually pretty entertaining to read through it with Jeff–including all my boy crushes, ha. Here’s an excerpt so you get an idea about the deep and meaningful things I wrote about:
So in case you can’t make out my terrible writing and spelling, this was on Monday, July 1 of 1991. And I write: “Dear diary, yesterday my mom showed me how to drive a reall car. Today I had four little taqios (I’m sure I meant taquitos) in the kids combo. I was suprised (spelled phonetically, I’m sure) I at all that! in 25 more days I will be with my mom. I’m counting the days. The end Alex 9”

I’m still surprised at how much I eat sometimes. At least some things never change.

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