Folly is vocab word #71 in a journal from when I was 16 years old. It's defined as "the quality or state of being foolish or deficient in understanding."
I wrote a fair amount about food, clothes, boys, and nail biting, and was prone to quoting from "Fanny and Alexander", songs, and F. Scott Fitzgerald books. There are also the requisite bad poems and short fictional pieces, diagrams, and lists.
Random jotting: It's so dumb to say Jesus/God is everywhere. Does that mean that he is, at this moment, residing within my tube of Neosporin?
On babies: I love their firm little patties of feet and their cute little detachable noses which dribble though the winter....My kid will probably look like a molded roll of charmin.
On riding home from Macy's without underwear: It was like air-skinnydipping. Nudist camps must be fun once you get over the initial shock.
The beginning of an entry composed while my parents were having a horrible fight: I wish I could just walk out the front door like some selfish rebellious kid, but I can't. I wouldn't. Maybe this is why [a friend] likes drugs so much.
The end of that entry: At least I'm not a giraffe.