My Inevitable Psychotic Teen-Girlness Leads to This…

When I first got a phone, one of the first websites I visited was my dad’s blog, Amishrobot. (Hi, dad!) It was a delightful insight into his life: full of little anecdotes, stories, and thoughts that trailed around and followed his whims of storytelling. I bookmarked it immediately and spent the next several years digging through his blog whenever I got sad, so I could lose myself in his corner of the world. (And, somewhat selfishly, read whatever little snatches I could about how he perceived me.)

One of the things he said was “Maybe by the time our little girl (Anna?) is a teenager I will have become so mellow that her inevitable psychotic teen-girlness wont bother me?” The mellowing out and calming down are a small price to pay for being a father.”

Well, I hope I don’t bother you! The truth is, I’m not a very psychotic teen girl. (I am nineteen, when I write this.) I don’t think I’ve hit much if any of the classic Teen Girl milestones, and I’ve got almost all of my teen years behind me.

1. Get into a screaming match with my parents. I’ve never done that. (Gosh, I hope! My memory isn’t always the greatest.)
2. Sneak out of the house. (I never understood this. If you want to leave, just ask!)
3. Try drugs/alcohol/etc. (No. My body is already a mess, why would I chuck something else in there? I can barely process dairy!)

I’m sure there are others. And I’m not bragging about being the perfect daughter either. I know that a lot of my time at home was/is pockmarked with my often-grumpy attitude, inability to understand a joke until it’s too late, and my excellent ability to say very rude things before I can call them back. But, I can safely say that I always did my dishes.

My desire to make this blog comes entirely from getting to read Dad’s. That was something I always did when I was sad. (And I still do.) Believe it or not, moving away to go to college can lead to plenty of sadness.

Besides, I like the idea of having my own little golden record out in space. That’s why I chose to call my blog (still clutching tightly to the hand of my father’s blog, a very apt metaphor for the way I’ve been getting through life) “The Molten Record!” It’s a similar idea– all the thoughts, music, writings, etc. That make me who I am. But, a little more “in progress” than our own species’ golden record.

So, here it is. I love you dad, thanks for helping me make this. I think I’m a lot like you. (I hope so.)