Twenty Year Old Girl

 

March 25

The theme for break was repression. Repressing thoughts of Brett, not allowing myself to work from sad to regret to self-contempt. And knowing that I'm deliberately not thinking of him creating guilt.

"Don't bury it! Face your feelings!" But I'm afraid of focusing on it and blowing it out of proportion. Maybe that's what I'm doing -- trying to make it smaller in proportion than it really is. But. I really had it. Stuttering, I ask Sonya, "D-did you ask Brett if he did some coke?" And for a while I could remember that and really turn cold inside. I did! I did!

At KU in Tonya's Human Sexuality class, we saw films of masturbation. I can't believe it. The prof thought he was some daring, stand-up comic w/his stories of a party for his daughter's first period & bad language. Becky said she asked for boyfriend 2 do it in front of her since she was so intrigued by it. 

March 27

Oh yeah, and the night before I left coming back from chicken enchiladas & Beverly Hills Cop & conversation as easy as I hope it always will be, Tonya & I saw Greg & Kyla at the gas station on Wornell. 

We chased them for half an hour but couldn't find them. Looking back, it seems so simple & obvious what to say to him. Why did We played games and now I think it would be so easy to be honest w/him. 

I'm tired of pretend. It's so simple: Something like "No, Allen, I'm not mad at you. I don't really feel anything for you. If you want to fool around with me, you're going to have to make me like you again."

March 31

I've got it! I felt so bad always calling myself stupid whenever I was in tight vicinity to a M.O.S. But I'm not -- what it is, I get scared. I'm paralyzed with fear. If I get in good, I'm so afraid of losing it, I don't dare make a false move, so I do nothing. I sit there w/a look locked on my face, agree w/everything & try to guess what he wants my reactions to be. I don't do anything. I let the relationship develop or die, without any say. I just agree to everything. Look, look! It fits, oh how it fits! I have found my problem & named it. Now I can work on it. It's just a question of being brave. Brave enough to be myself.

(April 10 --- Hallejuiah!)

April 3

Hello. I'm looking forward to this long weekend for a lot of work. 

I love Michele & Diane (one n!) & Joe so much! Sometimes I can't believe it & I'm tempted to ask that nagging housewife quesion, "Do you really love me?"

But the reason for this -- I forgot to tell you about the video I saw over break: "I'm having so much fun, my lucky number is one!" Tribute to happy independence!

There's no one here! I can't figure it out -- am I not meeting enough people, do I know too many? Are these different sort of people, am I haning around w/too many intellectuals? (Not to say I don't like it  -- not having a crush, that it, I don't really have any feeling about it.) Have I grown up? Have I left behind strong emotions? Oh! Is this what The Repression did? 

All I know is that this is the Easter After Sean & Mr. Ed that I didn't give anyone a Easter basket or even want to. Maybe I just feel very loved & that has taken the place of a need for something 2 adore.

I am not looking for someone.  

 

April 7

Happy Easter.

It feels like the past couple of weeks my memoriy has been in high gear. I'm spending lots of time remembering whole sections of past. Some of these things I haven't thought about in a long time. Some aren't so nice, some are rather.

I love good stories. Last night, Monica: I took a taxi to Michael's, crawled in his window & I said "Michael, let's run away 2 St. Louis, I've wrecked the car. And he said, "okay, go to sleep for a while and we'll get up & run away 2 St. Louis."

 

April 9

Ooh that pisses me off! Tonya tells a boy sheh doesn't want to sleep w/him. She tells him she's a virgin. "But why?" he asks. BUT WHY?!! 

April 10

Brown -- maybe I should go 2 a gynocologist. None of my periods are the same anymore. 

How about: Nothing could surprise me anymore, except love. 

Wow. I like it! I like it!

Spring Nights, 1985 in South Bend

 

March 9

Tomorrow is Tonya's birthday. Tomorrow I'll call her. Yesterday she sent me a shirt with Goofy on it & I got a letter from (sweet, sweet darling!) Chuck.

Now that I have London, what goals do I have? Summer school -- and I guess by the time I get that straightened out, some new conflict will present itself to become the new undercurrent of my mind.

Last night I went to dinner, bright & excited & (happy?) in my Goofy shirt & pink scarf & Keds & blue jacket. The sun was finally out & the quad echoed w/music and shouts & frisbees. At dinner I ask John if he wants to see a movie. I swear! Don't be quite so eager, hon. And there's Allen. I check out where he's sitting, push my tray away & wait. 

When he gets up, I'm ready. I touch his arm. 

Hello, Cindy, he says, barely surprised, calm, oh so calm (ooo that pisses me off! and I can't even say the right words -- what exactly got me about its lack of message, of anything, like, like, like we were friends of friends, like he had had to make an effort to remember my name, like he was my roommate's ex-boyfriend, like we had met last week at a party he thought was boring & left early. Cool? Like Reggie? Like Rick?) (I felt such satisfaction when he didn't accept Sheila's invitation to a dance. Such.)

"Hello, Benjamin," I said, my voice good and low. Ha! But then I was supposed to change moods & laugh as I said Rejection builds character! but I muffed my lines & rolled my eyes as I diluted the impact with "You know, rejection is good for building character." And walked away. 

He could easily not have heard or understood all that I said. My heart hasn't done such prancing for months -- I don't remember when. I was shaking.

I read for an hour, went to Michelle's party, took off for the worst flick I've ever wasted an hour on. 

Leaving, I change clothes & return to be hyper at Michelle's! I know I scared off Jed, I know I should have been more calm when he knew the rest of the Van Morrison line, but to tell you the truth, I'm not going to stress out over a guy who like Diane, his bad teeth and needs a haircut. Plus, he's not that wonderful to change myself for. I'm beginning to think less & less people are. 

Anyway, I could have said I'm sorry, but sometimes I feel so alone, liking him when no one else I know even knows who he is. Or something to that effect. And I pick up Jim. 

We had a good night. Jim is strange, whining, funny, clever Jim. A couple of times, standing against each other, he's say something and I could feel it, the sudden squeeze inside, He invites me up in his bunk when we go to bed. We giggled & whispered like little kids. I swear, everyone should sleep with someone else at least sometimes. Best comfort & heater in the world. I rested my head between his shoulder blades, moving as he breathed. 

When we got up, "Are you two dating?" 

"Date her?" 

"Are you kidding?" 

"Then why...?"

"It's all very sick and Freudian," I reply and we talk of weird things, homosexuals & "I was sort of a male slut" and underwear & embarrassing moments & Trivial Pursuit. 

Later Jim & I snuck to the bathroom & he came in with me. We laughed and peed in the stalls next to each other. 

March 10

I'm writing in the morning; it's only 9:15. This is my first wild period in a long time, maybe since September. For the past few months, I've almost had to make an effort to remember I was OTR & so write in red. There's no way I could forget this time. 

Time is moving very very slowly. I must be moving quickly. I can't tell if I'm tired or not. Last night I woke up at 3. At first I didn't know what woke me. Then as I lay there, the uncomfortableness grew and there was weird pain, not sharp, almost unfindable? (Fix that!)

I finally got up, lay in a steaming tub with only a dim light. I slept in there for an hour then crept back to bed, soft & warm, thanking God for the relief I had prayed for. 

March 11

I will not fulfill my expectations. I will not stay up thru another nite of hell. I will not be miserable.

The wind pounds outside.

Why do I keep tearing at my skin? on my fingers, my face, inside my mouth? I bleed. I am not whole.

I may be irreverent now, Lord, I know and I'm sorry for it, I may be far away, but I thirst for justice.

 

 

March 14

I don't know what this friendship with Michele (she writes her name with only one "l") is doing to me. Sometimes she reminds me of Tamar with her emotional reactions, her cussing, and I think we're going 2 end the same way -- I can see it. Sometimes I hate her for making me look as if I care 4 her more than she cares 4 me. And I feel hurt by her indifference. And then there's the times it clicks & we shake hands & walk away smiling. And then she's an immature child, embarrassing me. I find myself blurting out things with her before I think them out. And doing things that would embarrass, mortify me too much 2 do them w/anyone else. I don't like being loud & obnoxious, I don't like being childish -- what's wrong w/me?

Tomorrow I go home. Hm! Compare this w/the last entry before Fall Break! I don't really feel any expectations. I just want to read. I really do. I've been thinking of calling Jim Messina and/or Mr. Ed, but I don't think I will. Of course Christy.

Watch this -- "my answer, a yawn." Oh I want that! Because I could say a knotted stomach or clenched fists (for a day & a half after Michele & I wrestled on the hill in front of the PW dorm, whenever I thought back about it, my fists actually tightened) or wanting 2 throw something.