"I like my kisses dry and my wine sweet"

February 11, 1985

What would Freud think of me? I don't masturbate, my parents died when I was about 5 so I have no recollection of seeing them having sex. I moved in with parents who never touched each other sexually, I can only remember one time being embarrassed by seeing them lying together on the couch watching TV, and she was past menopause, or at least going through it. I was slightly surprized at pictures in Playgirl so I didn't have experience with naked males. Or maybe I just don't remember these things. All I know now is that sex is not yet natural w/me. Even kissing a boy changes my opinion of him. 

I like John C., but kissing him had absolutely nothing to do with him. 

Lately: Ah, my friends! My friends! I have friends! Sometimes I'm so grateful & love them so much I could cry. Making me laugh, caring, remembering, calling me Cindy Lou.

(Actually, it's tomorrow morning, but...I think I am getting to like these marathon all-nighters. Self-indulgent. All these hours to think about my life.)

Like:⤴Our personalities are fusing. I've picked up Diane's "What the hell?", touching her mouth when she eats, Joe's pointing down at a good point, his high pitched "uh!" and Michelle's bad language. 

Like: I like my kisses dry and my wine sweet!!

February 18        RED

A group of friends. Have I had that before? I actually turn hot & cold w/fear when I think about March and our letters saying whether we go 2 London or not. Oh dear

"Gee, that's swell!"

Tonite is Satyricon. Ha! And Wed., apropos, is the beginning of Lent.

Since The Breakfast Club on Sat., I keep thinking of Mary Beth and Jim. Little Jim, whose memory I'm mixing up with the movie, dreams and my new friend Jim MacDonald. And the passage in East of Eden where the boy lays his head in the girl's lap and cries because she pats his cheek & calls him son. I feel maternal and yet, I want to pull him into a dark corner...Oops! This is red! Jim's father has cancer

Later: Bad nite

February 26

Oh silly girl. I want to console you. I'm here to console you, dear. Look! 

London application Pros: Good reference from Prof Dana & maybe Vacca, English major, good grades, open to either semester choice, I knew fine arts in my interview. Cons: average application, average composition, "no, I'm not a theater buff."

Oh well. I feel good about this. Three days.

 

Brett wrote. So nice & friendly that the way my mind works, couldn't help building up the fantasy that he's had a fight w/Miss Chicago & wants to go back. Silly girl. Don't hurt yourself.

I'm finally catching up on my work since the beginning of the semester.  

 

Perhaps - the reason I'm so contemptible afterwards is that deep down I do feel guilty, I do feel bad & so my subconscious is asserting itself & making me look bad.

I'm an adult fluctuates with I'm been dicked, doesn't anyone care? with Ha ha rejection builds character with indifference with guilt for corrupting another with slight warm stirrings with wasn't this nice? wasn't that?

February 28

Tomorrow I will know.

I never thought I'd say it but it's a relief 2 have strict parents when they help make a difficult decision. I want 2 go 2 D.C. but I'm afraid of never seeing Brett again.