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If you are not familiar with the “My Diary” series, click here, here and here.  And here. Just kidding. Made you hover. Basically, I take an entry from the diary I kept when I was ten years old, post it here for your viewing pleasure, and attempt to make fun of myself more than the diary already does for me. 

In honor of pre-season football starting, here is the fourth and the last entry from this particular diary
(I know, I was such an overachiever.):

Breakdown:

First of all, it’s pretty obvious that you’re forcing this whole diary-writing to happen.
The first three sentences you’re only giving the reader an unenthusiastic, striped-down summary of what literally happened.  If I could go back in time, I would like to ask myself: “Why are you even bothering?”.  What is the purpose of a diary if you don’t write down all the personal details that you would never tell anyone else or that you want to remember twelve years later?  “We had a lot of fun.”  Yeah, ten-year-old Brynn? Why are you trying to deprive me of my childhood memories?

Secondly, the Seinfeld-esque* rant on the Super Bowl didn’t even sound committed.
What is it about football that you don’t like, ten-year-old Brynn? I don’t remember the last Super Bowl game that I didn’t completely enjoy, so can I at least get some insight on why this event perplexed you? (The first part of the last sentence was an untruth). Maybe you don’t understand sports because you prefer reading and lack hand-eye/foot-eye/brain-body coordination, but if your gonna criticize, put some passion into it, okay? And no, elongating a word with extra vowels does not count.

Lastly, your transitions show a lack of expertise and unconcern for this entry’s readability.
You jumped straight from “Julia” to the “Super Bowl” to “Max’s friends” to “Ian’s caterpillars”. And then you just abruptly and informally conclude.  Yes, the average reader could infer that you brought up the SB because you were breaking down this day’s events, and that possibly Max’s friends came over because of the game.  But where does Ian’s caterpillars being “crystalight” fit in? Did mom turn them into a beverage that you enjoyed at the game? Did watching them provide you reprieve from the shenanigans you believed were occurring? Did they stir any emotions that inspired you to write this diary entry? I’m afraid the reader was left confused, detached and possibly even angry.

*Imagine me standing in front of small comedy club at the age of ten: “The Super Bowl. I mean, what’s the deal with that? It’s just football!”.  Then imagine some boo-ing. No, not ghosts.

What was your favorite pet/animal growing up?

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