Thursday

The passed rather uneventfully, with the nagging fact that my cold has returned (with a vengeance, I might add). I am going to meet B and M in Copley Sq. at 11:30 tomorrow. We'll have lunch somewhere and go to see The Sting.

As for things around here, they've gone pretty well. I slept until noon, and the sort of frittered the day away because I'm not feeling as great as I could. I only practiced about an hour and a half because my throat and lips kept getting so dry. Mom cooked one of her old real dinners. We watched The Autobiography of Miss jane Pitman with Cecily Tyson. It was impressive as a story, and she acted very well. It didn't spare the blows and didn't make the life of this character easy in very many ways. Her husband gets killed while she tried to save him, the boy who she saved from the massacre when they were both young gets shot. Another young boy she got attached to gets shot in the civil rights movement. We are shown a lynching, and I must admit that was one of the more horrifying things I have ever seen in my whole life. It looked very real, as did the reaction of the woman who witnessed it. The whole movie was very powerful and moving. Of course, I'm a very emotional person, but I felt weepy in several places. The one thing that didn't ring true was the fortune teller, but if you take it as her way of explaining the unexplainable or unacceptable then it's okay.

If you are wondering why I used black ink on the other page it's because I ran out in school Tuesday morning and had to go out and buy some cheapo Parker crud to take my Spanish exam with. I've really gotten attached to this brown ink. It has style, and it writes smoothly and fairly dark. The other stuff's kind of grainy looking, and it doesn't flow as easily. It's supposed to "clean your pen while you write" but it doesn't seem to. Also it's not really opaque, jet black. If I'm not going to use this brown I want my ink at least to be opaque. The Koh-I-Nor ink was at least jet black. I really like Artone ink, which is the kind I use in this pen. Next time I buy ink (when I run out of brown) I'll get the Artone ink for technical pens. But if I decide that there's just no way I can give up the distinctiveness of my brown ink (it's Sepia officially) why then I'll get more of the same. I guess my real reasons are 1) I'm used to it 2) It looks good in these brown notebooks for the ink to be brown too, and 3) it's fun to write and be different in. Mrs. K said that my papers were getting hard to read because the writing is so small and I have a wide nib and ink that flows well. It's fun to write a good paper and make them struggle to read it. Well, that's not really why. But I really like this size point, and I don't intend to change it. The nice thing about rapidographs is they have lifetime guarantees. I can have this one repaired or replaced any time I want.

During project week I'm supposed to keep a journal and and hand it in at the end. What I'm going to do is keep it in here as I always do, uncensored, and type out those sections I think the school will be interested in. (That reminds me, I forgot to call Mr. K back and tell him about my latest project discovery. I figured what's so different about acute angle triangles, well, they're orthocenter is in the interior of the triangle. So, I said to myself, let's see if the base of the altitudes ~ the pt. where they intersect the sides ~ aren't the vertices of my inscribed triangle I'm supposed to be finding. Now, maybe all I have to do is prove it!) It's late and I'm bushed. Good night.

Friday

Poor B was late, it took her two hours to get to Copley from Arlington. She caught up with us at Brighams where M and I had just finished eating lunch. We walked over to the S7 and saw The Sting, which I enjoyed. Then we went to feed B at a different Brighams. Then we went to school where I tried to talk to Mr. K, but missed him.

The Awaji puppet theatre was very good. I got a ride there with JO. We talked about Spanish and various teachers and whatnot. He's a nice kid. I did get to tell Mr. K and he was delighted at my insight. Now, if I can just prove it. That could present a rather large problem. Ah well, it's a challenge. Tomorrow I have to finish reading Pnin I'm supposed to have it read by Monday, and I know I won't have any time on Sunday. I wonder if they'll give us the audition results. I guess I really would like to win ~ at least I'm able to admit that although i don't expect to win. I'll nevertheless be slightly ego damaged if I don't. But I guess it's about time I was taken down a rung or two.

Me and M and B removed all the names from the Graffiti Wall that had denigrating comments attached. I really resent that kind of sneaky attack. It just means it's something you don't have the guts or conviction to say to the person's face. That wall should be a place for witticism or even inanities, but not personalized insults. That's not nice.

Lately I've been finding it easier to accept people. That's really a nice sensation. There is however one kind of person who I can't accept. There was this guy on the subway on the way to the puppet theatre. He wanted to "share" my one seater. I politely asked him if he wanted to sit down, and said I'd give it to him if he wanted. This sort of took him aback, no, he had just wanted to share. Then he struck up a conversation with a girl next to me and fed her a sob story about how he was 43, divorced, had to go to prostitutes but hated it, spoke seven languages ("enough to get by") had been around the world etc. This dumb broad fell hook, line and sinker. You could tell she was one of those "sweet young understanding things." He was talking about his daughter having a baby, and hinting about money troubles and she said, "I hope to have children some day." He finally wangled it so that by Park St. he was holding her hand. I booked out of there fast. It wasn't 'til I was safely on the Red Line that I realized how scared I was. That's a weird reaction because the guy couldn't have hurt me, but I was feeling for that other kid (she looked about 23). The whole thing was just gross. I didn't believe things like that really happened. I quit, I'm too tired to write anymore.

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