Thursday

I watched the match between Bobbie Riggs and Billie Jean King ~ the so-called "Battle of the Sexes." It was no battle. Billie Jean ran him into the ground. One ended up feeling sorry for the middle-aged (55) chauvinist clod, a former super-champion. But more power to Billie Jean. With wry curiosity I wonder at her husband's feelings. She had flung her racket into the air and put her arm around B. Riggs. I'm sure her husband was glad she won, but how did he feel about Riggs (and a bit of what he stood for) losing. I hope they love each other very much.

The new French girl I find charming. I want to be friends with her. I hope I do not blow it. Also, in general at school I have got to stop yelling. Tomorrow is orchestra I must remember my flute.

Relatives may not come up from New York on account of Mom's passing and dad's coming cold. HMM! I should have practiced I feel very guilty and incomplete, as if my day was not whole. Alas the temps of TV!! I will however, practice double time on the morrow. Speaking of which I had better go to sleep for I must rise and it is 20 of 11. Have to check el alarme first.

Friday

I talked alot with H, on the bus to the soccer game. She tells me about France, herself, her past voyages; all in beautiful English and a healthy attitude. As of yet I have nothing to say bad about her character, as I do about just about everyone else I know.

Had the funny feeling as I walked home that some real romantic break is coming up for me. I must say, the idea sounds pretty good. HMMM! Oh yes, it may have begun because I successfully avoided one enounter with Mr. H. It was awful, I had a premonition he would be there.

Speaking of premonitions, I was calmly observing at the JV since someone on the other team got injured that someone on our team would get hurt to make it fair. I said, "But let it be someone unimportant like JR." Three minutes later JR was clutching his stomach on the ground. I was flabbergasted. I tried similar tactics at the varsity game but... no success. It must have been just a weird coincidence.

We had a wonderfuly effectiveless class meeting, talking about the drug problem, which there is little point discussing. They either will or they won't, and all the talk and threats will not stop those who are really determined. Seeing the school as an institution that has to be protected is perhaps the most tactful and intelligible in a class of ineffectual strategies. Ah well, perhaps by learning from this H the spring H will be all the better. HMM.

I backed out of a "diplomacy" game on grounds that I was going to sleep, work, and perhaps see a couple of long lost friends. That reminds me, must write M, JG, and P (about the music). Perhaps Grandma J (?) I already wrote Nana.

Mr. B was at the game. I like the man. Il a du charisme. J'ai trouvé que je veux parler francaise de plus en plus. Peut-etre je deviens etrangere dans mon propre pays. HMM! J'aimes beaucoup Rhinoceros, et aussi notre Professeur Mmme. R, au laquelle Hermine a dit, "Elle est tres francaise." Quand Hermine parle le francaise elle baisse la voix beaucoup, et ca la rend tres douce. C'est jolie. J'ai fatigue, je feux dormir mal que je suit en train d'ecrire. Alors bonne nuit et bonnes reves ma chere, dit nom ideal, en sermant dans le lit. Si cettte passage (au-dessus) et mysterieuse, bien! Ca serait quelque-chose par-dessus le marché.

Saturday

I slept 15 1/2 hrs, and still felt sick. We went to see "Memories of Underdevelopment" which I thought was an excellent film. It provoked a lot of thought, especially as it came out of Cuba, and rather unexpectedly, it seems to me. We ate and then I watched "Rosemary's Baby." I was rather non-plussed by it. (I still don't know the dictionary definition of that word.) I wish I had practiced instead of watching it, but I don't know about that with this wicked sore throat.

I am tired, I am very tired. The more I sleep it seems the more I get tired. I have alot of homework for tomorrow, specifically that English essay. I think I have some pretty good ideas for that. I want it to be good because it is my first English essay of the year. I also want to impress Mr. D. HMM! The wind rattles my windows, the clock ticks at me and says, "Look at me it's seven of twelve." And I say yes, I have alot to say, but I'm too tired to say it well. Maybe tomorrow, although chances are all my writing will get done late at night... I want to write more, and I suspect all the little sounds will keep me awake but I'm going to turn out the light anyway. GBYSO tomorrow!

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Last updated: 11/10/02; 2:23:14 PM.
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