reading: Miss Julia’s School of Beauty, by Ann B. Ross. Miss Julia, would it kill you to admit that you enjoy a good hard boinking every once in a while? You’re a married woman; no one’s buying the horrified virgin act. Also, Ann B. Ross, can we cut the bullshit contrived situations that send Miss Julia into a flutter and detract from the main storyline? Love Miss Julia anyway, but damn she annoys me sometimes. That Sam is a saint. A SAINT, I SAY.
Finished last night: Hide and Seek, by Clare Sambrook. Somehow I finished it, but bleh. I don’t recommend it. It was hard to focus my attention on the book, to be honest, and I was thrilled to finish the damn thing.
* * *
The other day when I was cleaning out my desk, I came across my journal that spanned from the end of August 1994 to the end of December 1995. I spent about an hour reading it that night, and lord. GOOD LORD, the angst. The angst, and the constant anger (the journal starts when I was living with Debbie in Lisbon Falls, and then moved to Rhode Island).
So without further delay, I present to you:
Things I wrote ten years ago that either stand the test of time pretty well, or make me cringe. (The poetry – I’m sorry, I mean “Poetry” – pretty much universally makes me cringe.)
8/28/94:
All you said was “Why?”
and I didn’t know
patches of sunlight
warmed your eyes
melted the coldness there
you cried tears of ice
and though I sobbed
my cold-hearted smile
burned your eyes
I cringed in distaste
at your pain
and hated myself for it.
9/24/94:
(I was taking several courses at USM in South Portland) I started school, and although I wanted to just drop the fuck out, I’m proud to say I’ve stuck with it. I’ve actually held conversations with REAL ADULTS, though I’ve had to fight the urge to follow them around like a puppy: “Will you be my buddy, my pal, my FRIEND?” I hope, eventually, to get involved with, like, the school paper, but right now I’m kind of paralyzed by intense shyness and indecision.
1/2/95:
New Year’s Resolutions: To keep on top of issues in the news, To reduce clutter in my life, To read longer to Dani at night. Some pretty reasonable resolutions, in my opinion, though the “reduce clutter in my life” is a little vague. Let’s face facts: A certain amount of clutter will always be in my life. It’s in my aura. I’m not like one of those people who can fit all the important stuff in a duffle bag in ten minutes flat – I need STUFF.
1/3/95:
I got my final back from [my English professor] the other day, and was extremely disappointed to find out that my parody of
Lysistrata rated comments that basically amounted to “Well thought-out, but not detailed enough to prove that you have a f’n clue as to what the hell you’re talking about.” And he gave me 21 out of 25 points! Damn him – he must have a damn concrete block up his ass – I’ve NEVER known anyone with LESS of a sense of humor, I haaaaaaaate him!*
*Let me add here that although the professor told us all what the topic of our final essay was going to be, I didn’t even CONSIDER thinking about what I was going to write until I sat down with the blue book and a pen and started writing. And I bitched about getting a 21 out of 25? What a brat. Heh.
1/6/95:
If you asked me to cry for you
lie for you
die for you
I would laugh great brays of
heaving laughter right in your face
If you wanted me to die for you,
I would tell you to go fuck yourself
DIE for you? Not hardly.
You sure aren’t worth THAT.
But I could manage a paper cut
in the name of love
Or even, possibly,
a hot chocolate lip burn
Maybe a mild case of nausea
But that’s about it.
(bad, bad, BAD, but it still made me laugh)
3/21/95:
You’re born, you die,
this is a guarantee.
But what’s in between
is open to definition.
Some say it’s life.
I think it’s just bullshit.
(OH THE ANGST)
4/3/95:
There’s this guy who calls, every three weeks or so, and he knows me by name, and once when I asked who it was, he said “someone who thinks you’re really hot” or something to that effect. And when he calls, I’m never
expecting him to call, so I get so flustered that I end up hanging up on him. He always says “Do you wanna talk?” And I’m not sure just what he wants to talk about!*
Liz’s take on the situation, which she proclaims long and loud for everyone to hear, is “Robyn has a secret admirer!” I hate it when she does that – I’m pretty sure she’s making fun of me, because who would secretly admire ME?
*I have no recollection of this at ALL. I wonder who the hell it was?
9/5/95:
Danielle starts first grade tomorrow, and I think – no, I KNOW – she’s really nervous. She’s bugging the hell out of me, asking 6,000 questions and just generally being bratty. If she had her way, I’m sure she’d love to have every single step of the way mapped out for her.
Just like her mother!!!
There’s going to be a lot for her to get used to, between going to school all day and probably being in a bigger class. I think she’s a little nervous about the hot lunch situation, too.
I think I’m almost as nervous as she is!
9/15/95:
Of all the souvenirs I passed out,
of everything I handed to
people of hardly any consequence,
no importance in my life,
what I regret most
is that I gave all the pieces of
my heart and soul to those
who didn’t care,
and kept nothing back
for me.
9/26/05:
Nothing you ever do –
nothing you say –
is ever just right.
Everything is your fault.
You do nothing right,
she always says.
Which makes me wonder –
When you gave away your heart,
did she also take your mind?
10/15/95:
Your hands were always cold
your voice always red-hot
dripping with venom.
Your love ran hot and cold
but mostly it was lukewarm
and undependable.
* * *
I suppose this is one way to spoon.
Someone grab the garlic necklace and the wooden stake! We’ve got a vampire kitten to kill!
“Bwahaha! I can SEE why everyone likes that Raymond guy. He’s FUNNY!”
If you compare this picture to the one I took of her
almost three weeks ago, you can tell that her upper lip has vastly improved. When it was all swollen, it almost looked like it was square, and now it’s back to a more natural rounded shape. It’d be nice if this was a permanent solution for her, but I’m not holding my breath.
* * *
Previously
2004: “Oh, my heart,” I moaned.
2003: This perpetually surprised look of Michael Jackson’s makes me laugh until I wheeze.
2002: “YES, JESUS CHRIST! I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS GOING TO BE SUCH A FRIGGIN’ BIG DEAL!” I bellowed. “I NEEDED TO BE AT MY COMPUTER, BECAUSE THAT’S WHERE THE PHONE NUMBER WAS! JESUS!”
2001: No entry.
2000: I’ve visited Wal-Mart three times in the last five days. I think they’re about to name a parking space after me.
1999: F: In Michigan, you can take this bottle to the recycling center and get ten cents for it.]]>