Friday

I didn't write yesterday, I don't know why, because for once I had plentyof time. I watched The Graduate on TV. Nothing much spectacular happened. Today, well today was interesting. Everything went normally until after lunch when I got the soccer shit together for the last game. (H came to keep an eye on W, more later) then Sr. JG asked me to come shopping with him for the party. We walked over to the Star in the Prudential Center and bought 6 gallons of cider and carried them back, conversing pleasantly all the while. Then we went to the soccer game, and during the game and afterward he was distant, almost as if he were doing what I said I was going to do the other day. Either that or perhaps, as usual, I was just coming on too strong.

H has decided that W is hopeless. She's probably right but I encourage her anyway, god know why. She says I "have talents" in these departments. I couldn't disagree more. Oh well. I guess that I'm not going to the party Saturday night, although I'd like to bop around with M. D is going, and he's OK but I can just imagine the same thing happening to me this year as it always did last yr., not fitting in, not belonging to the scene. The only way I could enjoy those parties was to be bombed, and that is not for me at this time. I want to find my way clearheaded first, and add later, if I want to, out of pleasure, not necessity. Meditation's worth a drug fixation a zillion times over.

I should get checked at some point. I thought of asking W but I would feel kind of weird about it. I should drop in at SIMS sometime pretty soon. Mom says she wants to go shopping tomorrow. GODDAMN it's such a hassle trying to fit all these things together. Mr. K says I've got to become more efficient. Don't I get an adolescence or at least a time of real freedom without the slavery of work nagging at my back all the time. Well, I want to go hop into a bath so gooden nacht. (Fancy huh? Gark!) Je suis très fatiguée. Estoy cansada.

Saturday

It's actually already the 11th, but we'll ignore that for the moment. I cleaned and read and ate dinner and watched TV and practiced and ... Well I meditated for close to half and hour both times. I wonder where all that time went. I spent about twenty minutes just now buffing the top joint of my flute with a plain cloth, or a little spit and 4711 to see if I could get some shine. It worked a little bit. If I keep it up I may actually get back down to the original shine. (In about a year.) I'm getting a little sick of all the ribs that people give me about how grubby my flute looks.

I really should go to bed right away. The later I stay up the more wrecked I'll be tomorrow morning at eight when I get up to practice.

I am glad I didn't go to the party. What I'd really be looking for would be a little sex, and I'd rather not get that at school. It seems that I have to look away from any intimate group of people, like AH kids, or kids at school, to the people on the periphery. I don't know, the whole thing is a disaster. I should write to lots of people, then maybe i would get some mail. The Cs still haven't written, perhaps I should try again.

Can you believe it? I actually considered writing a poem, like the one about DM, about JG! That would be so out of place. I figure the best thing is to not even think about it. To ignore the problem and hope that it will go away. And is it really a serious problem? No, I don't think so, it's just a game I am playing, mostly with myself. And I'm the one who'll pay the price. I have a funny feeling that he heard H + me talking in the bus. I would blow something the dumb way like that. Oh well, like Ii said, it's not that important that I should worry about it a long time. The worst the whole thing could do would be to inflate his ego incredibly and make him ignore or scorn me. I can take both, because I'm not that serious. And if all this sounds as if I'm trying to convince myself, I probably am, but I really do think that I don't care.

My parents just came in, and they're going to raise holy hell because I'm still up. Oh shit. Well here they come. What am I going to say? I'm going to get ready for bed. Good night.

Sunday

Well, I called M and asked her about the party. It was OK I guess, but I probably would have been miserable. I got up at eight, washed my hair, ate breakfast, practiced for two hours, rushed to GBYSO, came home and ate, and helped Mom get ready for her party. P is bring her Louis Lot flute. I am just dying to try it out.

GBYSO was OK. I have made pretty good friends, I guess, with a girl, another flutist, Rosanne. She has a really rich tone and is technically proficient. She's probably better than me; she's been playing for six years.

I called up M and left her dangling about my latest fixation. I made a mistake telling her anything, I don't want to really talk about it to anyone but H. That's strange, isn't it.

Mom + Dad have decided to impose an 11:00 curfew. I kind of resent it, but maybe it will force me, as Mr. K says, to be more efficient. but it does imply that I wouldn't do it myself, and although I'm not not sure I would, it could be tried.

M thinks that I'm after D. It's funny even though I'm not really wild about the guy, I don't want to see him with B or anyone else. I want him to be on the market as it were. It's strange that there should be jealousy without real interest, but more as a matter of principle. It doesn't speak too well for me.

I don't know. I guess I'm so mixed up anyway that it doesn't really matter. Unsure about more things than I can worry about at once (thank god for small favors).

I've been thinking about some handwriting analysis books that I've seen advertised. I wonder what they'd say about me. From the samples I saw it'd be pretty off base.

I wonder if winter sports starts this Monday. I'm not going to bring my suit until I know for sure.

Did I say that S had bought me some Boursin cheese? I love it, but it makes my breath foul --

I just tried P's flute. Nice, but nothing spectacular. I just decanted my Apple liquor now somewhat cidery but very high in alcohol content. I'm sipping on straight club soda.

MM is here. He grew a mustache. It makes him look a little like Charlie Chaplin, and less sexy. He's still a very attractive man, even with gray hair and pottish belly. I envy his wife, not personally though, but ideally. I'd like to come up with someone like him, the only problem being then every other woman is running around trying to get his attention too.

I put the liquor into an emptied Club Soda bottle and I have it in my room. I don't know what I'll do with it since it does taste pretty foul. I wonder if it would be good in cooking. If I could distill it then it would be great. All I have to get is some plastic tubing and a thermometer. It would be a pity after all that work to end up with Cider Vinegar. If I could get the vinegar out it would be good.

Did I mention that I got my comments? Everyone said more or less the same thing. Dear Mr. M how I love + am awed by that man. He's another one. What is the mysterious quality in people that makes them attractive? Is it their self-confidence? or their inward nature? or their physical good looks? or their mind that understands? or that which is in common? or that which is not? It is very intriguing.

Au reverse, là bas il y a SA qui j'ai dejá mentioné un autre jour passé. Quest-ce que c'est qui rend un homme totalement abhorrent. C'est encore curieux. Je veux jouer mais je ne peux pas parceque j'air trop d'autre choses à faire. Toute à l'heure, alors. O RESEVOIR! <- Boy is that dumb. <- Boy is this dumb. <- You can't win, can you?

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Last updated: 11/10/02; 2:23:51 PM.
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