Monday

Boy wait 'til you hear what happened to me this weekend!! Things have gotten just steadily worse and worse. Actually, Saturday was fine. I slept fifteen hrs getting up at three in the afternoon. That was very nice. In the evening SU came up and made bread. Sunday was Disaster Day (capital Ds, you may note). Being an (I thought) dutiful child, I took my responsible self down to the drug store to buy the Globe and Times. On the way out I flipped a little latch I thought I should to lock the door. Surprise + shock when I returned and my key would open none of the doors. I went over to the M's first and there was no one there, so I spent the afternoon at K's house. I left a note on SU's door asking her to call me as soon as she got home. I presumed that Dad (or Mom too) would be home at 10:00 or so. Dad got home at 7:30. He got very upset, he didn't see the note. He broke into the house. He figured out where I was, he got me home and yelled at me. I went up to my room and cried, then I went down and took the note off SU's door. I watched TV, Daddy did a half-apology. I didn't expect anything more.

Now we come up to today, which in it's own subtle way has been just as traumatic as yesterday (subtle, my ass). I went to school (my alarm clock is busted, it didn't ring, I had a glass of orange juice for breakfast, and meditated on the trolley). In English, D gave me the contact sheet of m photos. Nice guy. Nothing much happened until after lunch, and that's when my day really fell apart. (Mr. M sat at my table for lunch, nice.) I started talking to Mr. K, and somehow got very emotional, I guess it was accumulated stress, and JG took it upon himself to listen, and for some ungodly reason I didn't object. (You know, Pascale, stop beating around the bush!) I guess I made a bit of an idiot of myself. Goddamn, I'm always doing dumb ass things like that. Shit, fuck, piss. Then I came home and got sopping wet in the rain. I talked to Mr. W and he flattered me down to the fingertips, that made me feel really good. Everything was OK until Mom came home, although I looked forward to it all day. About the 10th thing she said was "Well, did you do any cleaning?" I explained why not. I don't understand why neither of them understood. 1) Saturday I wanted to sleep. 2) Sunday I was locked out. Also, you'd think that people who'd already had 2 other children would realize that you can't expect willing + eager automatons out of your kids. And if you can or do then something is wrong. I got very upset, it was like the whole thing of last night all over again. Were they all model golden kids themselves? Probably, if one believes Nana. HMM.

The whole thing I guess it was that really got me was the wonderful independence of Sun. morning, going down to get the paper, the sinking feeling I had when I couldn't get into the house (which I think was more than partly based on the realization that I'd created a situation where I could no longer be by myself). And then my father yelling and saying I couldn't handle that kind of responsibility, and then crying, and then his apologizing and then the thing with JG and Mr. K and then mom and OH SHIT IT'S JUST BEEN TOO FUCKING MUCH!!!!

I had to practice in order to keep from crying again, and even that I couldn't concentrate on because I wanted to talk to someone, so now I'm spilling my guts out here. And Mom comes in here + makes little mother comments. Oh God, don't make me make my family life difficult, and inspire them to do likewise! I will get down on my hands and knees and pray to the Lord God Almighty to listen to me, and just give me one of the things I ask for. What I've really got to have is a stable love relationship with someone outside family + school. Where can I find it? There is no solution. I feel trapped and within my self I'm not a vicious circle, but a vicious spiral tightening in on a tiny kernel of my sanity and squeezing it to death.

I talk to myself alot especially walking to school or on my way home, trying to solve my problems verbally, I guess. Talking to myself + answering back silently, arguing points and questions. It's like the same thing, what I'm doing here. An almost futile gesture. Not to mention in certain ways a waste of paper and ink. But if it's an outlet GOD KNOWS I need it.

Hermine is very interested in meditating. Sara Freiburg's sister committed suicide. A sort of brave/cowardly way of backing out + saying the ultimate NO. For me, who is essentially a chicken, something that JG said surprised me. Standing very close "You're very brave" ~ to what was he referring I still don't know. But it's not true, in just about everything I chicken out. I take the easier way, I don't go the whole route. OH SHIT. I really feel as if I'm badly depressed, it's like the depression I get at camp, or in a vague way, that at Hancock, or it's the same sensation as a love depression. God almighty knows there must be some way out of all this. Meditation is fine, isn't there something faster + more active that will make me look as if I'm not just treading the same goddam treadmill over + over again. Where is there an end? How do people like DM, G (in a way), Mr. K, Mr. M, Ms. B + E, JiG HOW DO THEY PUT IT TOGETHER? I don't want it to come with time, I want it now, now, now, now, now!! and where did they get the patience, or did they suffer through it all the way I am. If so that's too hard an experience, and I reject it. Other than a natural-born together head, which must account for some of it, there must be another way, there must, there must.

This is the kind of thing I spewed, even more torturedly if possible, to those two. I know Mr. Kaplan understands but... OH FUCK. Now I'm upsetting myself again. And for some probably totally unsymbollc reason I keep wanting to spell "NOW" like "KNOW." If I could just stop blathering and go study for my Spanish quarter. I would if I didn't feel so highly charged. It almost seems as if these last pages should give off an electric shock. I'm not going to read them over, now or for quite a while. I want to see if I still get the same jolt (positive or negative, I don't know which) when I reread it, long after the immediate memory has faded, as I did when I was writing it. It remains to be seen, or felt.

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Last updated: 11/10/02; 2:23:36 PM.
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