28 7 / 2014

Julia had a somewhat unique childhood, as an American living in Caracas, Venezuela. Nonetheless, her diary entry from 1994 shows she is dealing with the exact same things most 13 year-old deal with: figuring out how to shave, navigating love, mean girls, and trying to fit it all into multiple postscripts.

Here’s a picture of Julia straight out of the Escuela Campo Alegre international school yearbook.

Note how Julia turns into “Julla.” Julla just can’t win.

Julia is a writer, performer, and storyteller  based in NYC who hosts Happy Hour Story Hour every Monday at UCB East at 6:30pm. Follow @JuliaWiedeman

25 7 / 2014

I guess I spent the entirety of August 28th, 1992 determining the name of my future child.


21 7 / 2014

After a rather decadent lunch, this Sunday was dominated by roller skating and chores.

I have to admit 2 1/2 hours of skating in circles with my church buds does seem a bit long. Holiday Skate World was fun and all, but there was only so much to take in at this cinder-block and concrete preteen palace. By hour two, we had undoubtedly cycled through the Ghostbusters theme song, the Hokey Pokey and the entire Ace of Base catalog. I probably would have left earlier, but faced with the prospect of more bathroom cleaning, skating was by far the better option.

P.S. There seemed to be some confusion between bathrooms and dishes.

P.P.S. By the look of the postscript, I apparently had one too many margaritas at the roller rink.

18 7 / 2014

Due to your incredible support, My 1992 Diary is coming to a bookstore near you in Spring of 2015!

With tons of never-before-seen entries, cringe-worthy photographs, and all new in-depth commentary, My 1992 Diary will continue to embarrass me for years to come.

It will answer such timeless questions as: What heights will my bangs reach? Will Dan ever take a hint and ask me out to TCBY? And what did I have for lunch on February 9, 1992?   

A big-time THANK YOU to all those who have read the blog and my publisher Abrams.

17 7 / 2014

In this epic diary entry from 1995, a 14 year-old Michael reviews Cats.


Michael notes, “I have now seen Cats well into the double digits. The one time I did hear Barbara Streisand in concert she didn’t sing Memory.”

Michael has been one of my best friends since around the time of this entry. In junior high, following in the footsteps of Andrew Lloyd Webber, we took to writing our own musicals. The most masterful of these was called The Cow. It tells the story of a bear who is suspected of murdering a young girl’s cow. Despite this betrayal, the bear and the girl fall in love but question their cross-species romance in a power ballad aptly titled, “Two Different Species, One Romance.” Luckily, they overcome their differences and go on to mate and have squirrels.

It also didn’t sound even close to Joseph.

Michael now lives in New York  where he is a theatre director and producer. He and his husband Tom D’Angora are the producers of Newsical The Musical, currently running Off-Broadway. They have a dog named Liza Minnelli.

Here’s a picture of young Michael, his sister Kally, and Mr. T.


14 7 / 2014

Like many Nebraska preteens, I was involved in 4-H (well, at least until the fuchsia pantsuit debacle). However, from the beginning I was clearly only in it for the snacks.

My notes from this particular meeting (rescued from my 5th grade school journal) express my excitement over our club’s upcoming field trip to the most educational of places.


Nothing says, “I pledge my health to better living” like a deep-dish meat lover’s.

10 7 / 2014

Teen, Seventeen, and YM were my favorite rags in 1992. (Move over Disney Adventures magazine!) I’d scour them to learn the secrets to becoming popular, getting voluminous bangs, and what kind of jeans to wear for my body type (i.e. lack of a body). I’d delve into the embarrassing stories told in “Why Me?” and “Say Anything” and get totally jealous of that girl who got her period at a co-ed pool party. But mostly, I’d stare longingly into the faces of the featured heartthrobs and pray that they’d move to Lincoln.

Here are the August, 1992 issues to which I refer:

With not one, but two stars from my favorite show, obviously I was in heaven. And thank goodness at 11, I was figuring out the lies guys were telling me for sex.

07 7 / 2014

In this dramatic entry, Holly recounts a slumber party in which her dad saves the day by delivering Grease on VHS, and a successful levitation ritual leaves Holly mystified.

Holly recounts, “I remember this sleepover party vividly. Clearly it was urgent that we watch Grease immediately… This was the first time I realized my dad would drive great distances to bring me things he didn’t realize were entirely unimportant - like a musical starring John Travolta.” 

"As for the levitation portion of the evening, I believe the plan was that one girl would stand there with her eyes closed while another did a lot of clapping/snapping/waiving of hands in front of her face at which point her arms would inexplicably move. It definitely seems like "bone tension" is a reasonable explanation for this phenomenon."

Here’s a picture of preteen Holly reading to her dog.

Holly is from Long Island originally, and lives in NYC. She just graduated from law school and is currently spending long hours studying for the bar exam and reading old diaries.

Thanks Holly!

If you have an old diary entry you’d like to share with the world, I’d love to help! Submit here.

03 7 / 2014

The Fourth of July has always been one of my favorite holidays. In my younger years, it was spent in Seward, Nebraska (prestigiously nicknamed “America’s Fourth of July City”) where my cousins, siblings, and I would ride in a parade to promote my grandpa’s aerial spraying company.  Nestled in the bed of his pick-up truck, dressed up in bug and plant costumes, we’d throw sunflower seeds at throngs of disappointed children.

Eventually, we changed our holiday ritual to a day of boating followed by the Holmes Lake fireworks show (Lincoln’s premiere fireworks extravaganza). Afterwards, we’d return home to host our own, slightly less grand, fireworks show in our driveway.

However, on Independence Day of 1992, things weren’t quite going according to plan.

30 6 / 2014

The hottest kitchen appliance of 1992 was, of course, the bread machine. I gleefully observed my parents unwrap our Sunbeam beauty during the Christmas of ’91. As I tucked away my own presents of Where’s Waldo books and a bright teal Caboodle, I envisioned all of the amazing bread in my future.

Always a carb lover, I knew the bread machine was my ticket to delicious, homemade bread every day of the week - or at least every day the first week of 1992, until it was retired forever.

One of the inventive and insatiable creations to come from this wonderful machine was root beer bread. However, I found out quickly that good things don’t always last.

P.S. Apparently the spelling of the word “dry” was still beyond my grasp.