Thursday

I think I have made my Spanish teacher uncomfortable. It's sort of amusing. I did not really do it on purpose. I feel self-satisfied. Today was a bit blah, main cause, no practising, I watched TV instead, DUMB!!!! I have a very hard time forgiving myself for that. Secondary cause, I forgot to meditate this afternoon. I will before I turn out the light after finishing this.

Demain, c'est la H. I hope B is well enough to come. Like an idiot I didn't find out from her about A.H. before she left for H by bike. I also don't if we have our tunafish. That could be a problem I must remember to give my permission slip to the office. If I forget, I'm doomed. I must also remember to take the camp phone number. I know I won't remember. I am bringing this journal too, I think. I wonder if that's a good idea.

J'ai envie de jouer au flute maintenant mais c'est douze heures moins quart. Quelle dommage. If the curfew rules are strictly applied I'll be getting more sleep up there than I have here on the average... speaking of which I'd sure as hell like to write more, about JK and LH etc. but I want to meditate and go to sleep pronto. Perhaps tomorrow? Ta da, ta da!! (S'il y aura un demain.. je pense donc je suis ne tien pas vrai pour je pense donc je serai.)

Friday

H much the same only more crowded with unfamiliar faces. I practiced for about an hour or two after I played duets with M. Her tone is thin, I wish she was better. Can't write any more now.

Saturday

I didn't get a chance to write yesterday as you can see. We came up in the bus, I ate on it, a sub from the sub-shop (DUH). Rowdy friends got on my nerves. I lost my book All Quiet on the Western Front after being here about three hours. I practiced in Mr. M's study, and talked to him some. I was embarrassed. I meditated in a room with lots of flies that buzzed perpetually. The movies were really rather dumb. They were better last year. Mrs. McM separated K from us, but she snuck back. The boys downstairs made noise downstairs long after we had gone to sleep. She didn't yell at them.

Woke up to the sound of the breakfast makers making breakfast (HUH). Meditated with S (or Sam as she wants to be called). Then we played the dictionary game. That was fair in a sort of nondescript way. I wonder about Mr. G. Weird. Ah well, je l'ignore.

This yr. I feel out of place, among my friends, among my acquaintances, everywhere. It makes me sad, and quiet and thoughtful, at least inside. I can be loud, just to fit in with peoples' image of me, or to be with crowd. And then I get the teasing that although I used to, continues to upset me. Am I becoming overly sensitive? I really don't think so. Why does my image of what I want to be conflict both with what people think I am and what I think I am and what I want them to think I am. People are so very complicated. For me, it's hard to understand and accept my own complexity, harder than that of others.

I feel like being somewhere else, amongst people who don't know me so that I can start all over again. So that I don't feel as if I'm pressured from the outside into what I am. What am I? This is the kind of thing it's pointless to discuss.

I just don't feel comfortable here at all. I don't fit in. People really don't seem to consider me important.

Hey, I just had a thought. Where the hell is H? Last I saw her she was walking down the road. Oh yes. Now I remember. She went on the hike with Mr. M.

It's empty here. It has no real feeling of purpose, at least I don't. I don't want to feel that way. What can I do? I don't want to make some false gesture of activities for others, because I know it wouldn't do me any good. Is Mr. K right? Am I too self-centered. I hope not.

I talked with Miss S alot yesterday. I really like her. She has such a shy different manner, but is really very nice and friendly.

G plays with J. That's nice. I think Mr. D may understand me better than any of the other teachers. It would be nice to think so. Maybe not Mr. M, although I don't know about that. He argues well, but does he see that words are not the only reasons one has for self-doubt or wondering, or just plain questioning and feeling? I don't know, there is a very lot I don't know, and never will, and I'm feeling it more than ever. What do I say of more? I grow bitterer and bitterer as I write.

Now T teaches J to say "caca." Others play volleyball. Some one tinkers with the electric piano. I sit in the sun, instead of among the flies in the rec room. I feel like lying in the sun and being alone. They keep playing the first few bars of Für Elise and snatches of Bach minuets both unrhythmically and repetitiously. Wrong notes. It does not help my mood. I speak so subjectively. I should try not to worry or think so much. Even though the sun is out I feel sort of cold.

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