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February 24, 2012

Last night, I had the pleasure of joining several friends (including my friend Stephie who goes all the way back to middle school) to see Mortified. This is a stage performance where real-live people read from their old diaries, share their childhood artwork, and other mediums that are utterly embaressing. It’s an awesome organization– they encourage everyone to “dig up their diaries (songs, letters, lyrics, etc.) and share them aloud with just one person. Even if you have zero intention of reading in a live show. It’s a funny, fascinating, and freakily therapeutic experience. Just do it.”












There were a ton of hilarious acts, and the brief overview is as follows:

Reader: Jenn Wehrung

  • Dreamed she’d be: a dancer, author, fashion designer
  • Grew up to be: a nanny
  • Jenn wrote an awesome school assignment about her dream husband, children, and career. She somehow accomplished everything and had a perfect life. She would grow up to be rich, successful, and everything in between. It was hilarious, and made me wonder–as children, do we ever envision our futures as flawed? I certainly do now, or I at least have a greater understanding that life is complicated, but growing up I always imagined to have everything work out just fine.

Reader: Joseph Price

  • Dreamed he’d be: a hero
  • Grew up to be: A little less than
  • Joseph had a personal website waaaay before they were cool. It was called the Hero’s Domain, and he used it as a place to divulge all of the secrets of his imaginary relationships with his many imaginary girlfriends. Ultimately, his friends would start to wonder why they had never met said girlfriend…and they would always have an imaginary break-up soon thereafter. I’ve definitley lied before to myself and others, especially in middle school. Those were the best years for exxageration. Although I never had a fake boyfriend, I did sign my yearbook as other people who I was too scared to actually approach about signing my yearbook. Awkward. It’s clearly in my handwriting.

Reader: Adam Ruben

  • Dreamed he’d be: a supermarket checkout clerk with lots of puppies
  • Grew up to be: an author and molecular biologist with no puppies
  • Adam’s reading was by far the most hilarious. He grew an odd pre-teen obsession with his guinea pig, who was then featured in all of his art projects, videos for school and fun, and research papers for class. As his pet tastes grew more sophistocated, he even created a computer code to convince his parents to get him a dog. When I was much younger, elementary school years, my friends and I were all in a hamster club. Even though I didn’t own any hamsters, I drew cartoons of them riding in cars and eating at dinner tables. Weird, but I guess every kid has an obsession of one kind of another.

Reader: Jessica Heinzelman

  • Dreamed she’d be: a spy charged with infultrating the most powerful enemy households through charm and flirtation
  • Grew up to be: a development aid specialist
  • Jessica gave a detailed, graphic recap of losing her virginity. From the length of that special moment to the length of his special member, she spared no details. Her girlish descriptions of the entire experience were really fun to listen to, but reminded me that many times kids can make adult choices. In no way am I trying to sound preachy, it was just an observation that often times, as teenagers, we may not even have the vocabulary to articulate the new experiences happening to us and with us. Luckily, dear readers…I am going to spare you the magical and horrifying recaps of my first sexual experiences. Needless to say, we all have an embaressing story or two.

Last night, I was incredibly proud of these strangers. Details of your life that at one moment felt entirely too personal to share with anyone besides the pen and paper, are now put on public display. What a bizzare, and fun, experience that must be. The next time they’re auditioning, you can guarentee that I’ll be on that stage!

What’s in your diary– and what would you be willing to share with the world at large? And do you agree– is it “freakily theraputic” to laugh at yourself from the past?

Author: Colleen

Nonprofit enthusiast. Eternal optimist and dreamer. Lover of show-tunes and fun facts.

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