This mortifying entry is from the summer in between my sophomore and junior year. Frankly, I sound bi-polar. The ending just cracks me up. It is 100% sincere.
On Sunday, we went up to Jimmy's "Country Club", as we all call it. [Ed: Jimmy was a beloved uncle - and also my godfather. Truly, one of the most memorable characters you would ever meet in your life. He had a house, and in the backyard was a pool and a tennis court. The O'Malleys would convene onto this 'country club' with regularity during the summer. God bless Uncle Jimmy. He was a true original.]
Gerald is getting married!!! [Ed: Gerald is a cousin. He's a big-wig in the US military with kids who are now adults. So basically what I'm trying to say is I am terribly old..]
Last week was freezing, Diary! [I must proclaim "Diary!" just to affirm how cold it was!] It went all the way down to the 50s, and I was pulling out of my winter drawers turtlenecks and flannel nightgowns! But Sunday turned out to be really warm. It was, of course, another gorgeous relaxing day. Jimmy is such a good host, and we all feel calmed down when we leave. [Ed: Tears. I miss him.]
Oh yeah, on Saturday I went shopping - got pants, 2 sweaters, sneakers, and a Police album. The Police are my new passion. Give me Sting. [I demand it. Give me Sting.] So anyway, I brought my tape of it, and I lay out in the warm sun on the thick grass - I mean, the grass is like a blanket - and I wrote my story beside the pool. I didn't feel like going in, but after a while I went to practice my tennis. Jimmy has this machine that is great - it shoots balls at you - so it's really good for practice. Jimmy showed me the stance, and the grip (I think I'm the only person in the world who loves John McEnroe - I DO!) and I hit back the balls until my elbow hurt - my hands hurt too! They were shaking! I rested for a while, then went back to play tennis.
My dad is so funny. He likes to show off to little kids and get them to laugh. He always goes up on the diving board and demands the attention of all in and around the pool to watch his "Olympic Dive", or his "Triple Sow-Cow". Then he'll sort of fall off into the water with his legs all tangled up, or bow-legged. It's hilarious. [I love my father.]
After a while, I got hot, and I dove in the cool blue water. It felt so good.
We were all in there for so long - doing "Fame" jumps off the board - and Peter Pan jumps - we had SO MUCH FUN!
Riding home, Jean and I sang camp songs ("Have you seen Jesus, My Lord?"), and then the rest of the time - me and Brendan - who have both been reading All the President's Men, asked Mum and Dad all sorts of Watergate questions. [Brendan was 13, I was 15, and we're asking questions about Howard Hunt and Deep Throat. Love it.]
The sky -- The sun had just gone down, so behind us there were clouds with the sun right behind it - so the whole cloud glittered and was outlined in silver. The whole sky was clear -- sort of a soft lavendar color with long strips of clouds -- then there was this wicked vision [Ed: The slang of the time! "Wicked" is still used, with regularity, in Rhode Island.] : the sky had turned all shimmering gold and there were dark smoky grey clouds rising above the gold, and clouds below the gold too - so it honestly looked like a lake reflecting the golden sunset - and the clouds looked like the mountains and trees around the lake. Try to imagine it. It was gorgeous!!!
Then on Monday - when I came riding back from my paper route, Karen hailed me from the B's yard, and I ran over to see her hair cut and after she left, Bobby and I sat on his lawn and talked from 5 to 8:30!!! He is SO wicked! [Ed: That is one of the funniest things I have ever read in my life. "He is SO wicked!!"] He is the nicest boy, and he is so honest. If you want to talk about a real teen-age boy [Ed: Uh ... who are you talking to, Sheila? Also - I'm not quite clear what you mean here. YOU are a teenager. Are you a good judge??] -- he is it. He's worried about how he has no muscles. He told me about that. He doesn't like his skinniness. Really, he doesn't look bad though. He is really slim. He tells me everything. He wants to be a doctor. He really wants to fit in and be accepted in high school. He feels shy, though. I can tell him anything too. It's really great!
Mere likes him (she has for 2 years) and I have kept her secret faithfully. But then - I was just lying there - and out of the blue, he asked, "Is it true that Mere liked me?"
I almost had a coronary.
I just went, "Uh ... uh ..." I was NOT going to say anything. He did all the talking.
I went nuts. I just lay there, heart throbbing, lips shut tight for fear that I might spill something out.
I kept her secret! I didn't say a word!
But we had a really good time. He is a very different kid, whether he knows it or not. A good person. Mere deserves that. She really does.
Yesterday was a nothing day, and today was a "teenager day". [Ed: I was always on the outside, looking in at my own life, saying: "Wow, I am so acting like a 16 year old right now...".]
I went over to Mere's, we walked up to the malls - we were like: Let's totally be teenyboppers today - we had lunch at (where else?) McDonalds - and shopped. We browsed through CWT - I LOVE their clothes. Mere got a shirt. We tried on wonderful Lady Di hats. We went to Weathervane [God, the nostalgia!!] -- there's a pleated skirt there that I am absolutely in love with. Then we left and walked down to Richie's House of Bargains [Ed: A record store. It must be said in the Rhode Island accent. "Bah-gnz.".]. I bought another Police album with a breathtaking profile of Sting on the front. . I am hooked. I have this thing for Sting. I cry. Really I do! I saw a picture of him doing a concert with a broken arm in a sling. Oh, break my heart! Sting in a sling! I guess I have this thing for Sting in a sling.
Also, on Saturday I saw that James Dean documentary again. [Ed: Okay - so add him onto the heap. Sting, John McEnroe, and Jimmy Dean.] If anyone were to ask me: "Who is your ultimate idol?" - it would be James Dean. No one comes close. Well, maybe Marlon Brando. But I like Jimmy better. When they started showing all the funeral shots, with the shiny coffin and gravestone -- he was so young, he had so much going for him. Tears streaked my face. I kept whispering, "Why, Jimmy? Why?"
When you think about it, it is heartbreaking.
This one is almost too embarrassing for me to get through.
When I was a freshman in high school, my parents yanked us out of school - all 4 of us - ranging in age from 14 to 4 - and brought us over to Ireland. I was the oldest. I was a devoted diary-keeper. I read some of this stuff and tears of laughter stream down my face.
As of 10:00 pm I am sitting in a chair after going through that metal zapper machine (without a hitch, I might add) [I'm surprised your braces didn't set off the "metal zapper machine" - which is called a METAL DETECTOR, Sheila.] and watching all the punk white sneakers stroll by. I am crazy about white sneakers (Rick Springfield, Rod Stewart, Blackie Parrish and Darryl Hall all wear them), a contributing factor to my fondness for them. [WHAT???? What are you TALKING about? White sneakers are "punk", Sheila? "PUNK"? Uh ... Are you sure about that? Sid Vicious is punk, okay? Putting one safety pin through the lapel of the purple coat you bought at Weathervane does not make you punk. Also, "white sneakers" were never punk. Ever. Also, the Blackie Parrish reference is KILLING ME. I suppose the REAL appeal was that he 'wore white sneakers'. Jesus, Sheila, that is just so crazy.]
I'm pretty punk tonight with my jeans, purple coat and safety pins. [NO YOU'RE NOT. YOU'RE NOT "PRETTY PUNK". Just STOP.]
But why am I talking about this??? My family is going to Ireland!!! I am going to miss all of my friends incredibly. Mere and Betsy and Beth and Kate. I've never even been on a plane before and I am stocked up with gum.
I went to a Good Works play last night with Mere, Betsy, and Beth. Brian C. was there. OH GOD. I love those three kids so much! Mere, Betsy and Beth.
10:15 pm [ That time stamp kills me. I started the whole entry at "10:00 pm". I then wrote a couple of paragraphs - see above. Then I state "10:15 pm." It's not like a huge gap, like I wrote the first section at 10:00 am, and the next time I mention the time it's 3:00 pm. Like: a lot can happen in 6 hours that would warrant an update. But I clearly had only been writing for 15 minutes! What is the purpose of listing that "10:15 pm"? Obviously nothing earth-shattering had gone down since I had written "10:00 pm". It kills me!! ]
I am now on the plane all buckled in next to Brendan (thrrrills. he's gonna talk the whole way). I have a window seat, nanny nanny boo boo. (Oh, how adult I'm being.) [This whole paragraph is horrifying to me, on multiple levels.]
We have a really nice English stewardess. I like her accent. She's talking to us. Her best friend's name is Siobhan. Imaaaaaaagine that!
A grease bomb just walked by.
I have never been so frightened. We are going a trillion miles an hour. Don't let me die. We are up SO high! I'm really scared, folks. [Folks?? Who ya' talkin' to?]
1:00 am (6:00 Irish time)
We just had dinner.
Guess what movie they're showing ? FOUL PLAY. Is that a coincidence or what? (I am madly in love with Chevy Chase.)
April 4
County Clare
Watching the sunrise out of the plane windows was gorgeous. All the clouds were pink and orange and we couldn't even see the ocean. And flying in over Ireland -oh, it was so pretty! All of the fields divided by hedges - oh, it was so wild. But I forgot to chew gum on the way down and it felt as if someone was pounding on my head with a hammer. [I'm shaking with laughter. I went to the trouble to buy chewing gum to guard against ear-popping during the plane-landing. And then completely forgot about it.]
We had to stand in line at the Shannon airport and wait around. We got this tiny gold car that is so cute. We drove around those winding streets lined with tall hedges and after an hour or so we found a place to stay - McMahon's Bed and Breakfast Place. It is in Ennistymon. The beds are so comfortable (featherbeds) and Mrs. McMahon is so nice. So are all the people here. They all wave. We unwound for an hour or so and then we went down the street to the Falls Hotel. There we found a river and beautiful waterfalls. Dad took some pictures and then we took off in the car for the Cliffs of Moher. The roads were thin and high and we could look down over the hills and thatched roofs . It was great!
But the cliffs! They were SO incredible. I felt quite nauseous because they were so high. I only went up to this tiny stone castle but Jean, Brendan and Dad went all the way up to the top. It was SO FAR DOWN. I almost couldn't look.
We took a different ride home and on the way back we stopped in Kilfenora to watch an Irish football game. We stopped and we asked this girl if we had missed the whole thing. And she said in her Irish brogue, "No, we've got another half to go." I like listening to them talk.
We watched the game and it was not at all like our football. The ball was round and they dribbled and pushed and shoved. It was kind of neat.
But I was wiped out and slept the whole way home. I went upstairs and wrote letters to Betsy, Mere, and Beth until supper. We washed up and Mrs. McMahon served us soup and lamb and homemade French fries. It was delicious. Jean loved the soup but I didn't, so I drank some of my broth, then we secretly switched bowls.
After supper we went upstairs and we took care of Siobhan while Mum and Dad went for a walk.
I listened to my SK Pades tape and then got into my pjs. ["I listened to my SK Pades tape". Now, I am not even sure what I am referring to here. SK Pades is a variety show, put on by the junior class every year at my high school. It's meant to bond the class together so that they can then face the difficult last year. But it's for the JUNIOR class. I was only a freshman at the time of the trip to Ireland. So ... what I am gathering is that I had snuck a tape recorder into the SK Pades of that year, the class two years ahead of me, taped the whole thing, and then hauled the tape around Ireland with me, listening to it like a lunatic. Please remember, too, that this was pre-Walkman. Or, if there were Walkmans in existence, I sure didn't have one. So when I say "I listened to my SK Pades tape" what that means is that I had a little cassette recorder, and played the damn tape for all to hear, which also means that saying "I listened to the tape" is not quite correct. What it means is "I made everybody in my room at the B&B listen to the SK Pades tape with me." I was clearly insane, and probably should have been in an institution.]
I was the only one who got into my pajamas.
God, I am so tired. I'm going to bed.
All Diary Fridays here
I am 15 years old here and I have a LOT going on.
1. Preparing for my confirmation
2. "Co-ed cast party" for a school play - co-ed!! What - had I just moved to Rhode Island from Saudi Arabia?
3. Spinning dreams in my head of learning to play the accordion
4. Obsessing about James Dean
It's amazing I had time to eat or bathe.
Slept over Mere's. I was exhausted. Mere is teaching herself to juggle and balls were flying everywhere. We watched For Your Eyes Only and The Jerk. Oh, Steve Martin. We woke up - Mere's curls were all tousled, and my hair looked like a mohawk. We all shuffled into the kitchen and had an English breakfast - which was like an Irish breakfast - bacon, eggs, toast - except in Ireland we had sausages. We listened to the radio while we ate, and Jayne came in. She has a cold and had to work the night before. Anyway, we ate, and Mere juggled, and we all talked. [That image makes me SO HAPPY] Here's the plan: Mere is going to become a really good juggler and she'll get a job at the hospital as a clown, and her grandmother has a simple octave note accordian and I can teach myself to play it and we'll be a team. Wouldn't that be neat? [Only if your highest ambition is to be Patch Adams. Sheila, do you honestly want to play the ACCORDION at a hospital? Don't you have enough social problems in high school?]
I bought some clothes that make me look really thin!
And then Saturday at 5:00 there's gonna be a cast party for Scapino. Everyone's gonna be there. That'll be so neat! A co-ed party! [What is this - "Bye Bye Birdie"?] I mean, I've been to co-ed parties, but not real ones with cute neat guys. The only other co-ed party I went to was when I was 13, and we played spin the bottle. Hopefully this one will be different. [Uhm, what's better than spin the bottle?]
Then after the party!! AT 11:30 PM!!! JIMMY DEAN!!!! I can't wait! I have been waiting for this day all week. [The entire week of journal entries is interspersed with such outbursts - because I knew that Rebel without a cause being on TV on Saturday night. This is pre-VCR (at least in my home!). So I was dependent on the networks, I read TV Guide every week - I HAD to - because if I missed something, I would then have to wait another YEAR for it to come to television again!]
Friday
God, I have to do some catching up!
First - cast party. It was great. They had the video of Scapino [this was a play done by the Drama Club. And it was, I swear, amazing - I still remember a lot of it. There were SO many talented people in our Drama Club that year.] Everyone was there! Even Matt M! [He was gorgeous, aloof, and seemed like a grown man even though he was 17. Also: very talented. Still in Ye Olde biz, too, which doesn't surprise me at all.] Watching the video was great. I kept glancing at Matt when he was laughing. He is a breathtaking looking person. And T. is adorable. OK, maybe I do have a crush. Who cares? T. had on a black blazer with a Beatles pin and he just looked so cute. After that, we all had pizza, and then watched Stir Crazy. [HAHAHAHAHAHA OH. my. God. I love that movie!! Makes me laugh just thinking about it.] Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor. What a pair they are. I kept watching T. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and his face was intent and curious. But then, of course, there had to be a nude scene. The nude woman was dancing all over the screen - and I can't even explain it - we all just sat there like zombies, and all the girls tried to look blase and cool about it, and I whispered to Beth, "Watch the boys." Oh God, it was a riot. T. kept fidgeting and moving around ... Beth and I almost lost it watching how uncomfortable all the boys looked. But it was fun.
Then I went home and sat around waiting around until 11:30 and then I watched Jimmy Dean. Diary, I think he is the best actor in the world. [Woah. But whatever. Dean appealed to me so much at that time in my life because he was rebellious, unconventional, and sensitive. High school felt cruel to me. Especially boys. So a sensitive guy, who could be gentle, and sweet ... It killed me. His work meant a great deal to me back then. Also: I was learning from him. I was already interested in acting, and ... I STUDIED him. I wasn't just a fan. Not much has changed in my life, actually] I am not saying that in a childish way. I mean it: He is the best actor in the world. [Uhm ... Laurette Taylor? Eleanora Duse? Lawrence Olivier? Brando??] I am not saying this in a passionate moment either. [Oh, I see. You are saying it in the cold clear light of LOGIC. hahahaha I love how vehement I am. I'm STILL like that!] I still can't get him out of my mind. His face is magnificent - this is the first whole movie I've seen with him. [Wow. No wonder I was flipping out.] I was even shocked by him. Like - he was unpredictable. I had no idea what he would do next. GOD HE CAN ACT. He blew me away. I mean, I found myself focusing on his every move, every mannerism, gesture, every expression, every fucking word [Ooh, a rare swear from my teenage self!] ... The man was a genius.
There was a scene where he was drunk and the policeman is searching him and he gets ticklish and starts to giggle like a little kid. And I read where he wasn't directed to do that. That was all instinct. All from within him. Man. That blows me away. And just his tenderness, his awkwardness - He portrayed what every damn person goes through so well. I don't know what else to say!
After, I went up to my room and sat like a blob, feeling inside so much but I could never put it into words. My feelings were so excessive. It was too much. I felt as if I was gonna explode! I still can't get over it.
On Monday, we went up to the Boston Marathon. I took Mere. I couldn't wait for her to meet Lisa. [My cousin] We had a great time. Here were the jokes of the day:
-- ... You are so beautiful ...
-- getting the water and cups
-- running across the street
-- Ken and the wheelchairs
-- Hey, she thinks you're cute
-- These people hate us
You see, I hate to let memories slip by. They're precious. I can't bear to let anything be forgotten. [I have no idea what most of those jokes I just listed are.] Memories are the most important thing to me. I never throw anything out. I can't throw out the memory. I need to have all the frayed stories, dried flowers, and folded drawings - they're what keeps me going.
I think Mere had fun. I'm glad. It was fun. [Mere, I wonder if you showed my cousin Lisa how you could juggle??]
This morning, I got up at 8 and it was POURING. That day I went to URI to spend the day with a drama student - you know, go to their classes, absorb stuff. I was really psyched. I was hoping to meet some gorgeous guys. Andrei Hartt for one. [I have not thought of that name since ... the early 1980s. But suddenly his face just popped back into my head. I loved him.] He was in Academania. He was SO talented. SO SO talented. [Was he as good as James Dean though?] Jessica knows him. He wants to be on Broadway but he's majoring in computer science. [HAHAHAHAHAHAHA]
It was a great day but tiring because I spend the whole day just sitting and watching. But I absorbed and learned more than I did in a whole half-year of Drama class. We watched students do really intense improvisations. Some were just -- I don't know what I was expecting, but God, those kids are great. I mean -- really, they are kids, and they were so ... I don't know. They had so much depth and their acting didn't look like acting.
Then on Wednesday - listen to this day:
10:00 - dentist appointment.
12:00 - 2:00 - shopping for my confirmation dress.
2:30 - haircut
3:30 - orthodontist
I did not stop moving the entire day. At least the shopping was successful. I got two dresses! My confirmation dress is sort of a rough off-white material with a white rounded collar and ruffles down the front. It looks really nice on me and makes my stomach look flat and my boobs look fuller. I mean, I look sophisticated. Then I got this GORGEOUS dress. When it's not on me it looks like a maternity dress, but not when it's on me. [Horrible sentence structure. Horrible dress.] I look like a model in it. It's just like Susan's - the one I told you about. [Then there is a small drawing of the dress] And I got beautiful marshmallow pink heel shoes with a purse to match. I look like a successful career woman. [Uhm ... do "successful career women" wear MARSHMALLOW PINK HEELS????]
On Thursday, I babysat from 8:30 to 3:00 and I GOT $15.00! And today I helped this neighboring woman supervise her daughter's birthday party. It was fun. She paid me 6 bucks. [Jesus. What a bunch of cheapskates.] So I made $21 in 2 days!!!! [Wow. I was excited about that. I think you were being taken advantage of, Sheil-babe.]
And tomorrow is my confirmation.
I'll reflect on what that means to my life tomorrow. I'm too exhausted right now.
[The Catholic Church can wait, basically, for my moment of contemplation. After all, I bought marshmallow-pink heels for the big day ... WHAT MORE DO THEY WANT FROM ME??]
Not really full diary entries, just quotes and snippets and fragments I scribbled in the back of notebooks that I kept during a 4 month period in Chicago. I've posted some of this before. Some make me LAUGH, others make that whole time just spring back to life in a weird way. It was so intense, good lord. It was from a particularly manic winter of my life which I look back on fondly, although it was completely insane and ended up with me making the decision, in around March I think it was - to pick up and move from Chicago and go to New York City. So it was a crazy time.
I won't give too much background - it's funner to post these things without context, I think - except to say that the guy I reference as "M" was my main flame in Chicago, a particularly insane person (the one who would climb through my window at 3 o'clock in the morning) - and he and I had stopped seeing each other for a couple of months - and the details of it all escape me, although I do know that it involved him blocking me out of his bedroom by putting a humidifier against the door - and then me deciding that a good way to retailiate would be to leave a daily haiku on his answering machine. For FORTY DAYS. It was that kind of time in my life. Full of focused and committed frivolity.
Anyway, it appears from the fragments below that M. had reappeared - as he always did, actually - for years on end ... and we had reconnected and were once again thick as thieves. If memory serves, this brief reconnection would be interrupted by a glitch known to me as "The night of the Gingerman" where I refused to speak to him for, oh, 4 months? But again, I'll leave all that unsaid. It's funnier, actually.
Ann and I are obviously up to NO GOOD throughout most of this time, and it is making me LAUGH. We are always scheming and I am cracking up. Most of the quotes below involves the two of us "weaving webs of lies" because you know why? Because it was fun. It is fun to "weave a web of lies".
And the bit about me crying and how M. handled it ... I'm still laughing. It says who he is (and who I am, actually) perfectly.
Joe: "Member in Pulp Fiction --"
Ann: "No, see now, that was Sheila."
Ann: "Is that the one where your hair is different?"
Me: "No, that's your fantasy."
Me: "I'm just gonna be myself--"
Ann: "I think you should. Of course, if you need to be married ..."
Me: "I think M. knew he could show up and I would let him know I wanted him to be there --"
Ann: "Or you'd blatantly ignore him like that night at the Wrigleyside."
Fragments from M.'s improv show
"Thank you, Gore Vidal."
"Gash (like a wound) - is offended."
"I wish I was a deformed midget."
1/13
Guess who crash-bang-boomed back into my life this week? M. I can't discuss the chemistry anymore (but of course I still will) - but it just exists. We're friends. M. is my friend. I really can see myself now paging him from a scary L platform somewhere and he'd come and save me. How do I BEGIN? Being with M. - after a year - is so familiar. It's like my maroon sweater or something. Oh, who KNOWS. I adore him. Like this is a surprise. It's a surprise to him, I think.
Mitchell: "Something has happened that I keep forgetting."
Me: "Isn't it great that M. is back in my life?"
Ann: "I think it's totally great, even though you know this is only going to lead to haikus and humidifiers."
Snippets from M.'s improv show
"I usually save an extra seat for the Narrator."
Roy, the Idiot Man-Child from the Service Station
"You're not even a zoologist!"
"Of course, we need to park on a street where there is a raging fire." - Me and Ann
Exchange between casting agent and M.
Casting agent: "The character is constantly getting into situations he needs to get out of. He's also a hopeless romantic. Do you think you can do that?"
M.: "I like acting."
M. to me, when he wouldn't let me drive his car: "There are traction issues that you just can't understand."
Fragments - from M.'s improv show
"Leave some room, John!"
"I like working with pigs!"
"You're gonna have to wear an eyepatch!"
From Vindication:
I have not the constitution, the education, the ability to concentrate. I fear for my sanity sometimes. There are days when I am on the edge of tears. Sometimes I am so restless I do not know what to do. Sometimes I can talk all night, like King George, you know. I am too, too happy, and in the same day I can be sad beyond hope. Sometimes teaching the girls is all I can do. Sometimes I am magnificent at it. Sometimes I do not know what to do with myself, my hands, my eyes. I want to fling myself down on the grass, embrace it, thank it, each little stem of it. I want a beautiful blue dress, shimmery, the color of the ocean. I want to be the ocean and the clouds. No, not the clouds, that is too far away.
"Well, that will make you more three-dimensional." - Me (weaving a web of lies with Ann Marie)
"You sent the man 30 haikus. I don't think he'll mind if you come to a couple of his shows." - Ann
We were all talking about what our "type" was. I had just come back from a weekend with M. I said, "My type of guy punctuates each sentence with a shot of Rumpelmans."
Me to M.: "I have a kinder-whore appeal ... or at least so I've been told."
Joey, talking to the television, as we watched 30something: "These are nice people, Susannah. They want to like you because they love Garry."
I'm forever under lock and key
As you pass thru me
M.: "There came a point when I was - whatever, it was clear to my parents that I had to be having sex by that time - I was 23, whatever - and my mom said something to me like, 'Well, at least you're not having sex,' and I had to say, 'Mom. Look, I'm having sex.' and she said, 'I'm glad you're not having sex.' Total denial. She couldn't even hear what I was saying. I think my mom could walk in on me actually having sex, and she'd be like, 'I'm so glad you're studying!'"
From the party 12/10
"These Oreos are insanely delicious." - Joey
"You just never know what will happen with broccoli." - Me
"I just kicked a pig." - Ann
Heard simultaneously by Ann:
Me: (with a mouth full of food) "I have an eating disorder."
Mitchell: "I can honestly say I've never slept with ----- oh, wait --- yes, I have."
George and Ann, providing dialogue to an old movie, with the sound turned down:
George: "That's why your dancing frustrates me - because I can't move!"
Ann: "Well, don't you think I understand that? I mean, look at my eyebrows!"
Ann: "I was thinking about your life the other day ..."
2/20
Me: Hi, honey.
M.: Hi, spanky.
Jackie: "The symptoms of this disease are: trouble with social skills .... long legs ... developing breasts as a man - and small tightly formed gonads."
2/24
M. calls my house - Jackie picks up.
Jackie: "Hello. Tony's Pizza Palace."
M.: "I'd like a Sheila to go."
Jackie: "And what would you like on that?"
M.: "Nothing."
2/23
Me: "I have my period."
M.: "What else is new."
Me to M. (and I was dead serious): "It would totally not surprise me if I disappeared into a white slavery sex ring at some point."
Me to Mitchell (about M.): "Isn't he so sweet?"
Mitchell: "He is. He is sweet." Long pause. "He's a lunatic."
Mitchell: "The improv jam is pushing all my buttons."
Mitchell to me: "If you say 'improv jam' one more time, I'm going to scream at the top of my lungs."
2/26
Crying in M.'s arms - it was, God, 3 am? I said later, "Sorry for crying like such a werewolf." Not aware that werewolves were big criers. But anyway, I couldn't stop. It wasn't sadness, though. I had been so wound up for about a week, and then I relaxed with him, and started to cry, and then I couldn't stop. For about an hour. Poor man. I kept saying to him, "Don't be scared - the tears are good tears ... I'm happy ... I'm so happy ..." He had a cigarette dangling from his lips, he was holding me, and he said, drily, "I hope you don't mind if I just take your word for it that you're happy, okay? I mean, you're fucking crying ..." "I'm just happy, M, I'm happy ..." "Okay, okay, you're happy. Christ."
1/13
7 a.m. Jazz Bulls. The place closed its doors at 6 a.m. M. was working - so there was grey weird light seeping into the basement windows. Everything looked weird. Pre-dawn. It felt like we were the only 2 people on the earth. M. said, "You want some coffee before you go to work?" "You mean ... go out?" I didn't think there'd be time for that. He scoffed at the "out" question. "No - I can make you coffee here. You want some?" "God, yes." I hoisted myself up onto the bar and sat there as M made a pot of coffee. His pants were totally ripped by that loony Christine bitch. I loved watching him shuffle around dealing with filters and coffee and water. He was adorable. All the while we were talking about us. I told him how comfortable I felt with him. At one point I fell into a depression, having to go to work after being up all night. I said, "I can't believe I'm going to work right now."
He was standing with his back to me, pouring coffee. "Cream? Sugar?"
"Just black. And strong. And please don't say 'You like it like you like your men' or whatever. Everyone says that."
He poured sugar and cream into his own coffee, handed me mine, which I began to devour (it didn't even make a dent in my exhaustion) and then stood there, stirring his own coffee. We were lost in our own thoughts. He was deep in contemplation. Turns out, it was about me - but I didn't guess that in that moment. He was just pondering me, perched on top of the counter, pale, sipping the coffee he made for me, in the dawn-lit bar where he works, half an hour away from having to go to my job.
He turned to stare at me, still stirring his coffee. He looked at me for a long time. Contemplatively. I didn't ask what he was looking at me like that for. I just looked back at him. Then he said - slowly - choosing his words - or, no - not choosing his words - M. doesn't really do that - but slowly, as though this idea had just occurred to him and surprised him: "You must really like me."
That is SUCH a funny moment if I really ponder it. I've known this guy for 3 years, and now he says, in a tone of awe, "You must really like me!" It was so sincere. I started laughing. "Of course I like you. What are you, a moron?" Laughing at him. "You didn't know that I like you?"
"Well - no - I mean, I know you like me. But, I mean, you must like me. You've gotten no sleep because of me, and you're about to go to work - I mean, there's not too many people I'd do that for." (He didn't say if he'd do it for me or not.) "I think it's rare."
I felt like I should say something, but I didn't know what to say. M. sensed that in me, because he said, quickly, reassuring, "No, I mean - it's cool - that you like me - I mean ... I guess I just didn't know." He went back into contemplative stirring-coffee mode.
"Well, now you know." I said.
We drank coffee, not talking, the air clear between us. Both of us thinking. About the other. He gets shy. Like he doesn't want to say too much, or ruin anything.
He said, looking down into his coffee, "I feel like there's not a word evolved enough for what we are."
Fragile moment. I didn't speak. I let it hover. He had more to say. I knew it. He said, "You have always struck me, from the very beginning as ... someone who ... wanted to different than what you are."
That was an ambiguous thing to say. I saw 2 possible interpretations - or, no, actually - now I see the 2 interpretations - but this is how I took it at the time: Sheila, you have been trying to be something you're not.
So I felt a little chilled by that. I pursued it. "What do you ..."
He meant what he had said - but it wasn't the negative interpretation that I put on it. He meant that: I'm not satisfied anymore with being unhappy, repressed, uptight - and I am determined to get over myself, and get better, push through these barriers I have up.
I did not know that he had perceived that from the beginning. I remember him saying to me on a tequila-soaked summer's eve, when I was all upset and weepy, "Your journey ... has just begun." He knew. How did he know?
He explained what he meant: "The first time we went out ... " (neither of us know how to define this whole damn thing - we have no words - there are not words evolved enough for what we are) "Well - I told you this - you were so - " (he stopped talking, and then kind of hugged his arms around himself, put his head down - to show how closed I was and uptight) "And I wasn't -- sure how to handle it ... I wasn't sure if you ..." (unfinished sentence, wincing expression, awkward, shy) "But then ... you kept ..." (stopped himself - and smiled - and I knew what he meant. I had kept calling him, kept making myself available - he didn't say it in a mean way. It's the truth.) I said, grinning, "I kept coming back for more, huh." "Well ... yeah ... so I figured ... Okay ... This person is ..." (all of this accompanied with those subtle facial expressions and hand gestures he does - we transcend words - the expression and the gesture he made conveyed my whole life: pushing through, frustrated, upset, sick of being upset ... wanting to be happy. He saw all that?) I nodded in agreement with his interpretation of me. He said, nearly unable to get it out - too awkward and vulnerable, "So ... it's kind of cool, Sheila ... to see how you have progressed. It's ..." He stopped. It's like I was inside of him. Like he could hear those words "how you have progressed" and to him they suddenly sounded patronizing. But no. They were not. I said, softly, "It is cool, M. It is cool."
Yet another entry from my junior year in high school for Diary Friday: My junior year: an unrequited love with the passion of a thousand suns blossoms for a guy named David. It's funny - he was Band President and the other day at 30 Rock I was in the drugstore, in line, and there were all these high school kids in line, too - being loud and goofy (I actually heard one of them use the word "nifty" - and NOT with ironic snark-quotes around it - they actually thought that something they saw was "nifty". Brill.) - and they were all wearing bright blue T-shirts declaring that they were the members of a high school band in Oklahoma or something like that. I tried to read the shirts closer - but all I made out was: Band 2008 - and they were all just so cute and excited and, yes, being obnoxious, but come on, they were 15 years old. And David popped into my mind, from high school. Suddenly in high school I was all about going to all the band concerts because HE HE HE would be there!!! Naturally, nothing ever happened with David. But he took up an entire year of my life.
J. slept over last night. We had a really good time talking about - what else?? We looked them up in yearbooks of long ago. [Long ago! hahahahaha 2 years before?] My, my, they both have improved!! We looked at all the 'senior guys' of last year - Matt B., Josh L., Bobby R., Matt M., John A. - we speculated on "who has and who hasn't." Yes, I know we shouldn't but I am curious and I do wonder. [Sheila, your diary doesn't JUDGE you. Not for curiousity about sex or anything else. Calm down.] How does it happen? (Wait) What I mean is - I know that some kids have slept together but how do they lead up to it? Are they drunk? Is it in a car? (Blah) How will it happen with me? I hope it's not like [then I drew an arrow up to where I wrote "Is it in a car?"] I think I have good judgment and I know what I want. Dolores gave me a Playgirl for my birthday with Harrison Ford on the cover. We looked at that for a while and I'm sorry but it is disgusting! Yuk!!! Those men are so gross!! I have made up my mind to remain a virgin. (Well maybe not - but still!!!) Some of the stories they have in there - I feel so so soiled after reading them. I'm scared, Diary. Does everyone have oral sex? Has everyone been doing that all this time? Euuu! Sex, to me, has always seemed so natural and beautiful [you coulda fooled me] (I mean - the way I thought it was supposed to be) - just a joining of two people who really love each other [ah, your 4th grade sex-ed class did you well!]. But the people in there do all these gross things with each other and I try to imagine myself - I just can't. I'm afraid. I'm so naive. Oral sex? I'm scared.
Also though, I was just browsing through the magazine just now - the pictures I just flipped by - those don't 'do' anything for me [hahahaha, I love how now I'm talking like a sexual woman of the world. "Yeah, that doesn't do anything for me ..."] - all the guys are ugly anyway - but the stories - so explicit! I felt myself drawn in - I wanted to read more - I couldn't pull my eyes away. A lot of it is gross and unintelligent but some of it ...
After I put it away I turned on my radio to "Every Breath You Take", turned off all the lights in my room and lay on my back on the floor. Of course David came into my mind and I thought about him - not gross indecent things [what??? "Indecent"? Who are you, Mullah O'Malley?] But just generally - I pictured him kneeling beside me on my floor and leaning over to kiss me. I'm sorry but to me, holding hands and gently kissing seems more romantic than that stupid oral stuff. [hahahahahahahahaha]
Maybe I'm a baby. I haven't even been kissed yet. So how do I know?
But reading those stories, I started to feel sort of hot, and I thought about Dave. [And that, dear Sheila, is the whole point of erotica. The end.] I threw the magazine in my drawer and picked you up to write this down. Normally I'm not so perverted. I don't like feeling so perverted.
You know what J. also said? "You know, if something ever happens between us - I mean - Don't you think it might shock them over how passionately we feel towards them already?" "I know! I know! He has no idea of the extent. I'm glad. I wonder what he'd do if he read my diary." "Well, Sheila - if I ever read some guy's diary and I found my name in every entry, everything I've ever said, every single move I make - I think I'd be frightened off." "Me to. It's weird how they just don't know. I'm glad he doesn't."
I am too. Maybe he does get the picture, but is shy or doesn't know what to do about it. What am I supposed to do?
[One quick note: I love how the song I chose to listen to in order to go deeper into my "perverted" feelings about David is the ultimate creepy stalker song. Hahahahaha]
It is time now to return to my junior year in high school. I have tried to put it off, but I can no longer do so. I am 16 years old. I am so in love with a boy named David that I sound like a raving lunatic in my diary. The whole thing is unrequited - we didn't date or anything like that ... My love for him was based on stolen moments in class and in the hallways when David revealed himself as the kindest man on the face of the earth. Or so he was to my eyes. I LOVED HIM.
Diary do I have a LOT to tell you. OH GOD! My happiness mug is full and overflowing! This happiness scares me [as well it should, because it is based on a delusion, Sheila. But let's move on.]. So much has happened to me. [My last entry in the journal was the day before. hahahahaha] I don't know where to start. All right - it's gonna work with me and David. If all goes smoothly and I don't botch it up. [That makes my heart ache. How willing I am to take full responsibility ... it'll be my fault somehow.] It's going to work! OH DIARY I'VE WAITED SO LONG! [There is not a font large enough to replicate that sentence] Finally. Oh I'm so happy, Diary. It hasn't happened yet but I have a feeling it won't be long. If not this week, definitely at the dance. Oh I feel like a tragic hero. My arrogance is my tragic flaw. [I love that!!] But I'm so happy.
Let me start from the beginning. Last night, we all went to the game. J., Kate, Mere and I. It was a long confusing night and I'm still sort of mixed up. Of course Dave was there looking positively gorgeous - positively gorgeous. [Why say it once when twice does just as well?] Oh Diary I can't stand it.
We all sat down to watch the game. I kept my eye on David as he walked back and forth from the lobby and gym. I love how he walks and I love his tan sweater. I love watching him do everything. There was this little kid - around 4 years old - he was like hyperactive - he never stopped moving - but he was breakdancing and doing all sorts of wicked things [ah, the days when "wicked" was adjective enough!] - Dave was watching him, talking a little bit to him. Little people with big boys - Oh I could die. It's so sweet.
During the whole game, at times he would glance up my way [Sheila, you're in the gym. It's a huge building] but me THE DOPE would immediately look away. This happened a few times. I just froze up. JERK!
Then the Varsity games started. With his wild funny announcing - I watched him do it, all leaned over and into it.
During the V game, I went down to talk to Mr. Hodge who had been giving me significant glances across the gym. [Mr. Hodge had known me since I was 5 years old - the Hodges are old dear friends of the O'Malleys - and now he was my French teacher.] We were standing right near Dave, but we talked about him anyway. Mr. Hodge said, "I can see the vibes in class and I would say the vibes are favorable." Eeeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkllllllllll [My writing then descends into feverish scribbles] He said he can see Dave pacing himself to walk with me. Funny - I thought it was me who did that. He also said, "Seriously - I think he knows something is there. I think he can see it." Can he? What does he see? I kept glancing over at him, face intent on the game.
I'm being tortured.
Trav and Cris came in - they were talking awhile to Dave. I was clutching Kate's knee. For some reason, them talking to each other, shaking hands - Suddenly I said to Mere, "Let's go say hi to Trav!" [And a year later, in my senior year - Trav became my first - sort of - boyfriend. So there's all this swirling stuff going on here.] Perfect excuse. So we went down there - I chickened out about 5 times, then I just walked over saying, "Hi, Trav!" I look back on that and it was a dumb move!! I didn't say a word to Dave, although that's my only reason for living lately! [Calm down. Thanks.]
Well, we were all just talking and Dave came over to our little group - Trav, Cris, me, Mere, Kate, and J. and said, "Here we have the entire core of the SK Drama Club." And - I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING! I COULD NOT SAY A WORD! Oh, I could kill myself!
Later - we were all back on the bleachers and Kate said, "Sheila, he really wanted you to reply - I could see it." "OH I BLEW IT. I BLEW IT!" Why do I freeze up? [I have no idea, but get used to it. You'll be doing it in your 30s as well.] What is my problem?
For the rest of the night, Dave was talking to Meg O'Leary. [Which is so hysterical - I have no memory of her, but apparently the fact that she was talking to HER warranted the underlining.] At first I was full of despair but Kate said, "Sheila - he has no reason to be jealous of Travis so you have no reason to be jealous of Meg." Was he jealous of Trav? I mean, he did walk right over - AND I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING! [Yeah, we heard you the first time.] Oh, it probably looks like I like Trav. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO [Yes. That's it. Just random "O"s unfurling across the page in desperation.] If only I had said something!!! I'M SUCH A JERK. [I want to intervene and tell myself to stop being so mean to myself. It's killing me to see how I do that.] Dave is so cute. What if he does like me -
BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!
After the game, I had made up my mind to say something to him. But - I couldn't approach him. It was awful. He was alone, getting together his equipment - but - Oh! I'm such a wimp. I was standing so near to him - trying to open my mouth.
J. is mouthing hate messages across the gym to me - ordering me to DO IT. [I am laughing out loud. I love my friends.]
So I looked at him and our eyes met. I smiled and said, "Hi, Dave." And Diary - Oh he didn't even say 'hi' back. He just gave me this little tight smile. [Ouch. I'm feeling that all over again.] My heart sank. I practically fled to my friends and announced that it was all over. I WANTED TO LEAVE. Oh God- I was so miserable. He hated me! No one believed me that he didn't say anything. Mere said I probably murmured, "Hi, Dave" into my collar [Mere - HAHAHAHA I love you! You totally busted me!] but I didn't! J. told me to try again, but I knew I couldn't go back over there to say anything.
Besides, he has disappeared into the school. J. practically screamed, "I've got to put my flute away! Let's go to the Band Room!" [David was Band president. Hence, J.'s brilliant plan.] So we rushed off into the hall.
Turns out he was just putting back the equipment in a storage room. While he was doing this, J. and I both took inordinately long drinks of water. With perfect timing, just as he closed the door, we straightened and started walking back too so that he was right behind us. He started crooning in his low low voice, "Head for Busch Beer ..." I turned around to grin at him - no reason - just a starting point. He looked down at me and said, "What ... do you hate me, Sheila?" (J. then shot out the door into the gym and ran away from us. Subtle.) This (what he said) took me by surprise, so I said very sincerely, "No! I don't hate you!" (Not hard to be sincere there.)
We were now out in the gym and - he said - "Oh, so you just dislike me, huh?" "No! Dave - No! I don't!" I was just standing there. Now I think back on it and I'm glad I didn't treat it lightly, like, "Oh yeah, Dave, I despise you" because when I said, "No I don't, Dave!", he said to me after a pause, "Well. That makes me feel really good."
Diary - I swear to God if my life had depended on it - I could not say anything. Oh poor Dave. My jaw just dropped - I turned around - Mr. Hodge was right behind me, leering at me. [hahahahahaha] Leanne came over to talk to me - Dave was LOOKING at me - but - Oh God my tongue became a shag rug. I wonder if he was watching me as I tore over to J., Kate and Mere. I looked pretty suspicious. I threw my arms around all 3 of them, cried "MY DEAR FRIENDS!" and kissed each one of them. YIPPEE! [Meanwhile, you just left Dave there hanging ... but it's okay. You're 16.]
While we were waiting for Mr. W. to pick us up - I was a spaceshot. I sat on a table and I just was floating around! In the car on the way home I kept saying, "Oh, please, somebody bring me back to earth!" Kate said, "No I don't want to."
But - this scares me. It IS working. IT IS.
Oh God. What do I say to him on Monday? I practically admitted out loud that I really like him.
Oh DAVE - DAVE!!!!!!!!! [That last "Dave" is actually underlined 7 times - and the exclamation points cartwheel off down the page, sometimes showing up upside down, sideways ... I cannot control my own punctuation.]
He said, "That makes me feel really good."
!!!!!!!!!
Let's get mortified, shall we? This diary entry describes a Hawaiian dance in my sophomore year of high school.
Travis had on a grass skirt made out of garbage bag strips. And Joel had a grass skirt and man-hole-cover sized glasses. Betsy had on a long wrap-around skirt with huge blue flowers, and the DJ had on all white, a white top-hat and a white ruffled suit and this blue light was on him, so he sort of glowed. And he took requests so I asked for Devo, The Clash, J. Geils, Adam Ant, Loverboy.
(I love that I listed all of the band names. Total time-travel hilarity)
God, I love music!
And when he put on Stray Cat Strut, I did my tap dance. (Oh my God, I sound like such a geek. You DID YOUR TAP DANCE?? And then you WONDERED why no cute guys asked you to dance??? Meredith: if you are reading this, you will know exactly the tap dance I am referring to.)
All those great songs - I go WILD. We all do. We SWEAT! (Right, Beth?) It is so fun. The minute I hear the beginning notes of "Jerkin' Back and Forth" or "Rock Lobster" or "Workin' for the Weekend", we all race out onto the floor, going INSANE. I dance until my throat is dry and my legs ache.
I'm not fooling myself. I had an awful time. I loved the music, but John was there. (hahahahaha "I danced until my legs ached! I had an awful time!" Also, when I read over this this morning, I thought: who the hell is John? And then - I remembered. Some guy I had a crush on, who said about 3 words to me, and I convinced myself it was true love.) I saw him come in and I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't take my eyes off him and then Betsy grabbed my arm and said sternly, "Forget him, Sheila!" (And here I am, 280 years later, and I still find myself in situations where my friends have to speak to me sternly, and say stuff like, "Forget him, Sheila!" Such as we are made.)
Betsy went on sternly, "He has on a girl's headband. Please forget him."
(Best putdown ever)
Then we walked off, arms around each other, and for a while I did forget. (Little did I know that I eventually would forget so completely that I would read over this entry decades later and think, dimly: Who the hell is John? Ha! Revenge.) I talked to Mr. Hodge, and some good songs came on, and there were some songs that Mere and I had to make fun of. We would strut around, eyes closed. (Uhm, girls? That's how you make fun of the songs? You strut around, eyes closed? I'm not sure I get the joke.)
Oh, and a TV cameraman was there for some reason, and he was filming us, and he took close-up shots of me charleston-ing to "Goody Two Shoes" (How unbelievably embarrassing. CHARLESTON???), he also filmed me and my friends going WILD to "Rock Lobster". He filmed all of us going "down ... down ... down..." onto the floor. The entire gym full of kids falls down onto the floor at the end of "Rock Lobster". Anyway, I asked him later what the film was about, and he said that it was for a special on teenage alcoholism.
What? I said to him, "I'm not drunk!" And he laughed and went, "I'm not going to say you are."
John was dancing with another girl and when he knew I was nearby he kissed her. (Uh, Sheila, are you sure of your facts here? Are you sure that it was because of YOUR hovering presence that he kissed her?)
So I'm really proud of the way I handled myself. I didn't look at him, or look jealous, or even acknowledge him, and I danced like I never danced before. (Flashdance?) I feel like I looked pretty bubbly, with my mini skirt, sweatshirt, tie, white tights, and skips, (HAHAHAHA. My TIE??) and with my - ahem - peripheral vision I knew he kept looking over at me. My heart cracked in two and all I wanted to do was sob, but I danced and laughed - Man, it was hard work. I wanted to cry. I HATE MYSELF FOR LOVING SO MUCH.
So I acted "up". I was crazy. I felt insane. I had no control. After cavorting madly to show John I didn't give a fuckin' shit about his buns, I went over to sit down cause it was a slow song, and Patty sat beside me and said, "I'm really sorry. I tried to warn you, but I feel bad for you." I said to her, "What has it been? 3 girls in 2 months?" And she said, "Well, just be glad you weren't one of those girls." I nodded.
So I sat through the slow song, chin in my hands, staring out at the big silver ball twirling above. I felt kind of bad. Kate hugged me. I just sat staring off. Why do I STILL like him, even when he's been a bastard? Probably cause I know that underneath he's really a nice guy. (And here the womanly pattern begins. Falling in love with an asshole's hidden potential.)
Not a typical entry, and some of these quotes have made it onto the blog before. In the back of each journal I keep (and I don't really keep a journal anymore, but that's beside the point) - I list funny things people have said, quotes, etc - things I love and want to remember but don't necessarily want to write an entire entry about. Some of these quotes make me laugh so hard now that I can barely speak. It's even funnier to see them out of context. These quotes are all from 1997 - a big year. I was in the thick of grad school - acting - so it's ALL about acting for me (although many of these quotes have nothing to do with acting). My mentor at school, my greatest acting teacher and friend - is the "Sam" below - who shows up so repeatedly. Every Friday we had a horrifying workshop called the P/D Unit (the Playwriters/Directors Unit) - modeled on the same thing done at the Actors Studio. The playwrights in the program would bring in work they had been writing - the directors would be assigned (or jostle for positionn in front of projects they thought might have legs) - and the actors would be the guinea pigs. Some of these projects went on to great success - either as thesis projects, or as productions out in the real world. So the stakes were high - you couldn't be lackadaisacle in the PD Unit. You had to look around, figure out which projects were good - and do your best to be in them. Many times that was not difficult. Good plays are not a dime a dozen and most of the stuff we worked on in PD Unite was crap. But boy, there were a few gems. I was lucky enough to get into two of them - but not without a lot of sturm und drang and sleepless nights and all that. Ambition, you know. But you take a bunch of stressed out people - who spend the majority of their time with one another - and then you add the fact that everyone's an artist - and then you put them all in a room - for an entire day - where all you do is perform, and talk, and perform again ... it can make for some hilarity. Sam was the head of our PD Unit. The guy is a genius. But he also does not stand on ceremony. He had no problem with saying, after a scene was done, "Well, that really bored me." Because, when you think about it: boredom is very important. To quote John Strasberg, son of Lee Strasberg: "Boredom is very important in life. It lets you know when something is wrong." So when Sam was bored, he didn't think: "I am being rude, I need to pay better attention." No. Because who wants to see a play where you have to fight with your own boredom? Sam would be like, "That was boring. Let's find out what's wrong." He was hilarious, too. (Is, I should say).
Not all of these quotes are from the PD Unit - but the "Sam" ones always are. 1997. A crazy year.
My dear friends will recognize themselves here as well.
"Do whatever you want to do. Just don't have a rod up your ass and think you're playing Shaw." - Sam
"Somebody needs to call him up and tell him he's an asshole!" - Maria W. on Scott Hamilton
"Are we still not allowed to be naked in school?" - Kara
"I'm glad you're back ... even though I didn't know you were gone." - Ann
"M. and I were not really made for public viewing. We were a private exhibit. Invitation Only." - Me
"Who the hell is Tex Watson?" - Barbara
"SLUGWORTH." - Ann
"When she styled it, I looked like Sylvia Plath in her college years." - Maria M.
"You mean ... Hamlet gets in the elevator ... but he won't go down?" - Leslie
"I need to get some new cuss words. I want to start using words like 'asshole' and 'bitch.'" - Stephen
"...his snowbeard penis." - Jackie
"Buhsh 'n Pudding ..." - Shelagh, trying to say "button pushing"
"Speaking of surly and disrespectful, where is Kara?" - Sam
Quote from Gingerbread Lady: "My apartment is on a sublet from Mary Todd Lincoln."
Sam: "If you do a high-class piece that lays an egg, no one will think: 'Boy, that's a high-class broad.'"
Sam: "I wouldn't care if you had them do it on pogo sticks."
Sam to D.: "To whatever degree you can get it up, try to create some authentic misery."
Sam: "Method acting the stereotype is eyeballing your partner, mumbling, breaking up your sentences in illogical ways. You can be 100% full of shit and be a Method actor."
Sam: "I studied with Strasberg for 21 years and I never felt that gave me the license to be an asshole."
Michael: "So where'd you get your license then?"
"So I want you to operate out of complete panic." - Gene
"I'm on a roll! I'm on a very second-rate roll here!" - Sam
"It's a great mistake to try to be original." - Sam
"Acting is not a relaxing job." - Sam
"So. You've just heard from the portobellos ..." - Sam
"I had a bolt of stress that you didn't know where he worked. Literally. I had a bolt of stress .... You know, for the coma contingency." - Ann
Me to Wade: "So I went to the Book Fair ..."
Wade burst into laughter.
Wade: "I love you, Sheila."
Me: "Oh, Wade. I love you too."
"If I could say goodbye to you in Rebus form I would ..." - Me to Ann
"I wish there was such a thing as Open Boob Night." - Brooke
"Where Alan Thicke meets Frankenstein ..." - Ann
"Will you marry me. Let's get married, Sheila." - Michael - Las Vegas. New Year's. 1997.
"And then Tim hugged me." Long pause. "Well, electronically." - Ann
"She puts marshmallows on brownies!" - Maria's indictment of Jo
"She then plunged a dagger into my heart. Literally. She impaled me with her horns." - Ann
"Honey Nut Clusters, steamed squash, and red wine ..." - Jen, describing our nights at home
"I always get cast as the eunuch or the fool." - John
Kevin: "I just said 'Fuck it'."
Pause.
Robert: "Which is Latin for 'Be Free!'"
"Relaxation should not be a spectacle." - Sam
Me: "What about Adam?"
Ann: "Oh please. That rumor has already been squelched."
"And then, of course, there was the Bo Deans debacle ..." - Me to Kate
"Hoffman's won Oscars playing morons and bums." - Sam
"Once you get to my stage, you have no standards, and you just feel grateful to still be standing here!" - Sam
"It seems to me, Rodney, that the importance of the hyoid bone is in having one." - Robert
Shelagh: "Isn't it true that Meryl Streep used to throw up before she used to go onstage?"
Cheryl: "Yeah, but that's because she was drunk."
Shelagh: "Oh! Okay! Thanks for clearing that up for me!"
"I am so charmed by him that I can barely sleep." - Mitchell on Scott Wolf
"Who do I have to fuck to get out of here is what I want to know." - Sam
"What am I - the Profiler?" - Mere
"This is so Cohort One." - Matt
Discussion about Kenneth Branagh's Frankenstein:
Maria: "What annoyed me was that he called the movie 'Mary Shelley's Frankenstein' when it clearly should have been called 'My Chest.'"
"A half-hour where you stink is no great shakes." - Sam
Another excerpt from the autobiography I wrote when I was 13. I am now going to embarrass my friend Mere. Good times! Here I describe the beginning of junior high - which was uniformly terrible.
After sixth grade, we were all looking forward to going into the Junior High together. I don't know why, because it was such a bad year. I wasn't in classes with ANY of my friends, I hardly ever saw them, and somehow I became the class scapegoat. People laughed at me as I walked by, left mean notes in my locker, gave me crank calls, and snickered. Don't ask me why. I didn't even know half the people, I didn't talk to them, I never did anything to them. See, in grade school, having clean nice hair, good clothes, and a boyfriend, wasn't crucial, and suddenly these things were the most important things in life. So I kept wearing what I wanted and everyone made fun of me so much that I was scared to walk up and get an ice cream at lunch. I still plodded along, but my life became worse and worse. I started to get Cs and I was mean to my Mom. I hated everyone. I dreaded school. School, instead of being my usual slice of paradise, became a chore! I would fake sickness to stay home. I'd cough and retch so much that my mother would let me stay home. But things weren't that better there. I would fight with my mother, and storm off to my room to write useless stories. I'm very vague, because I already have a depressing diary of those days. But since I had no friends I saw in school, I became friends with Laura, which was good at the time. She was more unpopular than I was! The thing is, though, that the popular kids in our school were the nice ones. I talked to them, and they didn't laugh at me. It was the losers who made fun of me. Now I know that the only reason they made fun of me is that they know they're losers and they have to find a scapegoat to make themselves feel better. Now I can laugh in their faces. But then - it stripped away my confidence. I hated myself with a passion. I looked at my face in the mirror and despised it. I really resent those kids. But you know what? SOMEDAY I will be a great actress or a rich archaeologist, or a famous journalist, and I will look at those gutter scums and smirk. I CAN'T WAIT. [Now that is a worthy goal. Many people have become famous for just such this reason.]
Anyway, Laura turned out to be a jerk. She clung to me. Maybe for support or something. But she was jealous of any other friendships I had. I was friends with another girl named Debby (another mistake) and Laura - whenever she saw me with Debby, she would come over and laugh about a secret of ours to make Debby jealous. It got worse and worse, until we were all in Science, and we sat at the same table and I was between them. It was TERRIBLE. It got so bad that I hated both of them. Each pulling me in different directions. So I changed my seat and gloated at their hurt faces. [hahahahaha I love that] I really started to hate them!
Most of this is recorded in my other Diary. But it wasn't THAT bad. [Uhm ... it wasn't? You're gonna say it wasn't "that bad" NOW??] It was just that I had to start brand new making friends.
But I made acquaintances that year (Kate, Beth, Meredith) that now are my best friends. They were so chummy with each other - I envied them. I sort of know Beth and Kate because of church and Sunday School, but I had never met Mere before. And I thought she was the best thing to ever hit this earth. She was tall and thin and pretty and always wore jeans and they always looked good on her. ["Clothes look good on her."] She was so - "breezy". I don't know. And I admired her. On '50s day, at the end of school, she wore this puffy pink skirt with a big blue flower in the "poodle spot" and when we went out to play softball it was all sunny and warm and we were out in the outfield and (I better stop this run-on). So anyway, we started to Charleston and I still remember what she looked like with her skirt swirling around her.
And one little odd tidbit I remember, is on 50s day, we were all in Ecology and I glanced over at Mere beside Beth. She was sitting in her chair with her legs stretched out, ankles crossed, and her pink skirt was flounced out around her. I admired her so much then, with the bobby socks and penny loafers. And she and Beth were laughing about something. She looked so easy and free. They both did! I was always so tense, and I wanted to be like Meredith!
It is so strange because now she is my BEST friend and I don't idolize her anymore! Sorry, Mere!
7th grade was a bummer. Eighth grade was better because I was in classes with J., and Betsy and Mere and Beth. Mere and I sat beside each other in math and we had the best time making fun of the teacher. He loved being macho. [hahahahahaha] When he wrote on the board, he clenched and unclenched his fist. He wore tight pants - polyester - and he had a bright orange shirt. On one of his shirt backs was a stain that looked like a semi-colon and it remained there the entire year. [I am howling!] He also wore shiny black shoes with buckles, so we called him "Mr. Pilgrim" and "Mr. Turkey". We wrote notes back and forth the entire period (honestly, literally - I still have some of them and they are a scream.) Sometimes I would laugh so hard during class I felt trapped and suffocated and tears would course down my cheeks. Math suddenly became the highlight of my day.
I remember that on the last few days of school, our teacher would take us out to play softball (he was very into baseball). He would play, and loved "showing off" to us. Actually, Mere and I would be roaring about him the whole time. [God. We were so mean to him!! But man, how many hours of fun did he provide us, Mere ... we just thought he was so hysterical] Mere looked so cute standing out in the field in her jeans with her baseball glove. [I swear, Mere, I wasn't a creepy stalker - even though I appeared to keep notes on your outfits on a daily basis!!] She was so funny. I remember one fatal day when we started to laugh so hard during a "silent time" that my stomach ached from trying to hold it in. It was during a fire drill and we were all standing outside in the sunshine in silent lines. The sun was so bright. We were all standing there silently. And suddenly I noticed Mr. Mellor, a bald math teacher, standing on the pavement. The sun actually caused his head to glow. I turned to Mere and whispered to her, "Look at Mr. Mellor. His head ..." and then I went completely out of control and Mere started to laugh, too, and it was so hard to stop! From trying to repress our laughter, we made much more noise than otherwise. We laughed hysterically, silently, and shaking, until our breath ran out, and we had to take huge deep breaths before collapsing again. I tried to hold back the laughter but then I would burst out with a loud guffaw.
Oh, another highlight of that year was when our math class was out playing softball and I was out bopping around in the outfield with my glove and our teacher was up to bat (oh, what a man) and he, in his tight blue pants that clung, went tearing around the bases and suddenly he froze and sort of sidled back to home, and picked up his glove to put it over his rear. All of us were staring at him like he was bonkers. Some of the kids back at home plate started roaring with laughter, but none of us outfielders could see what had happened. Then he started running towards the school, still holding the glove in place over his butt. As he went past me, he hissed, "I split my pants."
Everyone heard, though. I stood stock still. I could hardly believe it! Then suddenly, Michele L., the pitcher, shrieked with laughter and fell down onto the ground - and then mass hysteria followed. None of us could believe that our macho teacher had split his pants!!!
When I was 12 years old, I wrote my autobiography. It is one of the most complete obsessive documents in my entire history. I remember almost NONE of it - although there are certain things that have made it thru the mists of time ... things I've written about on the blog from time to time ... but the thing that is so funny about this document (and it's gotta be about 80 pages long) is that I am writing about "childhood" from a much closer vantage point than I would now ... I actually still AM a child, although, of course, to a 12 year old, her 4 year old self seems like ancient history. So the games we played, the playground shenanigans - all of that stuff which diminishes with time - is laid out here, clear as day. It's kind of a creepy document, truth be told - and I feel like it can't have been ME that wrote it!! But it was.
Here I am, as an 8th grader, recounting the long-ago days of 6th grade. Naturally - to long-time readers, folks like Keith and Andrew will be familiar. (Keith post - Andrew post) Oh, and the whole Artful Dodger thing appears to have its roots back in the 6th grade.
Now sixth grade. I begin a new paragraph because sixth grade was the - it was the best year of my life. It still is. Sixth grade was heaven. Pure and simple. My teacher Mrs. Dickison was funny and "cool". I had all the best guys in my class - Keith, Andrew ... we had a crazy time. We cut down on Mrs. Dickison and we taped little pieces of paper on our desks and counted all of her jokes - we made fun of her about it and she loved it. She was great. We had a substitute - Miss Mullaney. I honestly can't complain much about her, because she loved me and always complimented me and called me a "real character". But other than that, she was only nice to the boys who always teased her - but she was terrible to this one girl - Jennifer M. She (Miss Mullaney) would look at Jennifer's spelling notebook and say to the class, 'Everyone look! I hope you all work so your spelling book does not look like this."
I started the year badly, because I was so mad that neither J. or Betsy was in my class. But we met at recess to sing. [hahahahahaha] That year, we began to outgrow orphans [hahahaha Shorthand: any make-believe game we played always involved us being orphans. We LOVED orphans] but we did have this trend where 4 girls would get together after school and act out Little Women. I HAD to be Jo. Looking back, I really was very bossy! [Ah yes, looking back ... way back ... to the year before last!!] But, that year - a new girl came to school - Brooke S., and I was terrified that I was going to lose Betsy. [Well. Last weekend showed us how needless my fears were way back then!] All of a sudden, she was really into boys. I mean, she and Brooke went on a date with two guys! [What?? No memory of any of this.] I didn't spend as much time with Betsy. I don't think I was jealous. [Ya don't???] I was just afraid of losing her.
Betsy fainted that year. This was a big event. She just toppled over in Art. Then, she became a heroine, and everyone would drag her over to the sandbox and say, "Faint again, Betsy!"
EVERYONE joined chorus that year. It was marvelous. ["Marvelous"?? What are you, Joan Crawford??] Chorus was always the highpoint of my week. It was so fun skimming down the hall to the Caf to sing for an hour. And we sang all "Oliver" songs which was great. Betsy, J. and I loved it so much we squealed whenever Mrs. Shay announced the song. And when she announced that the play that year was to be Oliver, I remember leaping out of my seat, arms in the air. We were all SO excited. And we auditioned. Betsy almost knew she was going to be Nancy because she heard Mrs. Shay say so, and I wanted so passionately to be the Artful Dodger that I convinced myself I was perfect for the role, and J. didn't know who she wanted to be.
Then, the day came. We all raced (literally) down the hall and slid into our seats. I remember my heart pounding as I sank low in my seat, suddenly boweled over [I think you mean "bowled over" Sheila. You weren't toppled by a bunch of hurtling bowel movements.] by the fact that I might not get it. I almost burst into tears right then. [And that feeling persists to this day. I have never ever grown out of that kind of passionate WANTING thing that happens] I closed my eyes the whole time she was reading the cast list. Then she said, "Sheila O'Malley ... Artful Dodger" and I screamed and clapped my hand over my mouth. "Betsy ... Nancy ... and J. - Fagin!" I whirled around to gape at J. and J.'s eyes bugged out and she seemed like a rag doll because she slumped in her seat. It was perfect! Three best friends with three leading roles! When we were dismissed row by row, Betsy was out first, then me. Then J. came hurtling out of the room, arms open wide. We all screamed (I mean, really) and threw our arms around each other to dance and cavort around in a circle. What a day.
I could relate to you every single Oliver rehearsal, they are so clear. We got away with murder, but those rehearsals were so much fun. I went through school in a trance of happiness. And it was great, up there performing with all your friends. Of course, we weren't in all the scenes. What did we do, when left alone? Oh, God. The school was always empty and dark. So we explored to our heart's content. Mostly J. and I because Betsy didn't come in until much later scenes and the scenes were split at a certain point. Mrs. Shay did not keep tabs on us at all. We zoomed around. This is not in chronological order. This play happened in June. Anyway, it was positively boiling. I could feel the sweat drip down my back and my chin had sweat dripping off it. It was unbearable. So three of us - me, J. and Jennifer snuck into the kitchen and snooped for so long! We pushed this button and all of a sudden, out of this thing - water was spraying full blast. Such a commotion followed to turn it off. Whenever J. walked by, she'd switch it on and say in this Steve Martin-eyebrows-raised voice, "Hey - wanna take a shower?" We peeked in the refrigerator and lo and behold there was a bucket full of huge chunks of ice. Freezing refreshing ice! We all stared at each other and fearlessly took huge bits. Mmmm, it was good. We took it back into the shadowy caf where rehearsal was going on, and it immediately melted. We snuck into the Nurse's office and gave each other wild rides up and down the school halls in wheelchairs. [I am howling with laughter.] I remember standing up on stage singing and I glanced out the cafeteria door and saw J. zoom by in a wheelchair, legs up, arms out, head back, hair flying. Poor me! I tried so hard to keep from laughing.
J. and I would sneak around backstage. And we discovered this door and we opened it to peer in. Apparently, it was where the janitor unwound. It was a miniscule little place with one armchair, and shelves of magazines. We dashed for them, hoping to find some dirty ones. We squeezed with GREAT difficulty into the chair with a pile of magazines on our laps that we started to go through. We had the BEST time, even though there were no dirty magazines.
And one time, J. was rehearsing one of her songs. She was onstage alone, pacing up and down. And Steve W. (Bill Sikes) was backstage shooting spitballs at her. Now I WISH that I had been in the audience to see this. J., so involved in her song, glanced backstage, saw a spitball flying at her, screamed and "hit the deck". Poor Mrs. Shay. Watching this scene when suddenly her actress throws herself on the floor. Betsy and I were falling all over with laughter backstage.
The performances themselves are too vivid to go into detail with now, because it is past midnight. And one day J. and I didn't have anything to do, and neither did Natasha, so we sat down on some mats and Natasha started telling us about periods. She already had hers, so she was our worldly informer. ["worldly informer" - hahahahahaha] And Natasha kept going, "Well, they have this cardboard applicator that sticks into you" and J. and me were gaping at her and holding our stomachs. I felt so disgusted! So after that J. and I snuck away and ran down to the bathroom where we vowed to tell the other when "it" happened. It was so dumb. The vow went something like this, "We vow to tell each other when 'bleep' (that's what we called it) happens and what it is like. Signing off from CBS News, this is J. and Sheila." We were so dumb!!
The play was finally put on. It was good, but it had pages of fiascoes. First of all, the curtain broke, so two people had to hide behind it and pull it closed. It was really ruining the dramatic ending, because the curtain closed really jerkily and you could see two pairs of feet underneath it, and when it was closed, this finger was sticking out, holding it together. A repercussion of the broken curtain was that this rope dangled down in the center of the stage from somewhere up in the flies. We just had to work around it, but it looked bizarre. Well, of course, something had to happen. Sally G. played a messenger and she ran on stage, faced 'Oliver' and 'Mr Brownlow', said her line, and ran off. Sally decided to take matters into her own hands, and casually grabbed the rope and took it off with her. She made it seem like a totally normal thing for her to be doing. But, alas, alas, when she got offstage it swung out of her hands, flew back onstage, and knocked poor Oliver Twist right in the eye.
And, when Mr Bumble was meandering through the audience singing his long sad song, we were all backstage, trying to move off the orphanage scene quietly. Well, someone tried to carry off this huge stack of bowls and of course they fell. The noise was earth-shattering with bowls rolling and bumping. They weren't breakable, but the whole audience laughed.
Oh, and another thing about rehearsals, there was this really sad ending, and I desperately wanted to be onstage for it. But the ending only involved J. walking sadly off, leaving Bill and Nancy dead behind her. Well, I was pretty headstrong, and I, during rehearsals, stayed onstage anyway, and it was all dark and blue and gloomy with a street lamp, and J. hissed to me, "Mrs. Shay doesn't want you here!" [I am SHAKING with laughter. Sheila: GET OFF THE STAGE. YOU ARE NOT IN THE SCENE.] And since she was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, I said, "I'll hide in your hood." Well, that sent us off into hysterics. We both had this vision of J. (Fagin) slowly trudging offstage with me bouncing along in her hood.
But back to the performances - I did have a pretty good costume. A battered jacket with tails, suede shoes, old tweed pants, and about a million vests and a tie. Anyway, during one of my numbers, I had to do a cartwheel. [I love the following anecdote. I love how I was being SO unprofessional - and Betsy called me on it - ONSTAGE. Now that's a friend!!] I had some problems in this area. The first performance I toppled off the stage and into the chorus. Mass pandemonium. And the second one - I had to stroll onstage counting some money [TWO TOIMES TWO equaows FOW-AH ...] and like a dumbie, I unthinkingly put the coins in my pocket. So when the time came for my cartwheel, I suddenly realized what would happen if I turned over so as we all were dancing, I took the coins out and, still singing, I shoved my hand out behind me towards Jen Q., another of my best friends, for her to take them. She didn't understand, and I was so mean. I glared ferociously at her and she looked terrified because she didn't know what I wanted. As I soft-shoed with Betsy, I sulked as I sang. And Betsy hissed, "What the hell is wrong with you?" But just then, my cartwheel came, and I plunged in. Well, the money flew out all over the stage with a shattering noise. I was almost crying, but I kept going. Jen, the dear, immediaetly ad-libbed and pounced on the coins, as though she really was a greedy little thief. [GOOD for Jen!!! Bravo!]
Being in that play was the crowning glory of my 'career' in elementary school. It made me famous. When I go back to visit, all the little kids know who I am.
Mrs. Dickison was the most popular teacher - she was funny and clever and she put on a Christmas play every year, and she was the leader of the annual gong show that I told you about.
That year I had so much trouble with math. I would slip out of class and sit in the hall crying.
That year I also fell in love passionately - so passionately that it has stuck all the years since. I still have a mild crush. It was on Andrew and it was incredibly severe. He was a long-term neighborhood buddy, and all of a sudden I was madly in love with him. I always think of him as my very first love. It was a glorious year for being in love. [hahahahaha I was 11.] I looked forward to every day and it was terrific because we became friends and he knew I liked him, but that didn't stop him from being so nice to me. I was in heaven! A new girl came to school that year - Michele L. - and she was short and pretty and nice but I had my suspicions about her and Andrew. Nothing was really happening but if Andrew (he was really smart) went over to help Michele with her math or something, Mrs. Dickison would call over to them, "Hey, you two! Can you continue your love affair some other time" and the whole class would laugh. And I would be thinking, "Oh, why can't I be Michele?"
But Andrew and I became really close. During the Christmas play, I won the part of Grace, a young orphan [An orphan! My TRUE first love!!] and he got Dicky, my brother. [Dicky? WTF??] I had the best time at reherasals. There was one scene where I had to strut on stage decked out in a coat and hat and I had to prance around yelling "PARADE! PARADE!" and Andrew had to jump up and pick up my train and cavort around with me. I loved that scene so much and I had so much FUN!
And there was one scene where I had to kiss Keith M. - just a little peck on the cheek, but I dreaded it worse than the plague. I did it, and all the little kids in the audience whistled, but I survived. [Yeah, sounds like a real ordeal there ...] Rehearsals were fun though. The whole class would file down into the Multi-purpose room and Mrs. Dickison would be so busy with directing, that the rest of us would sprawl on the gymnastics mats and talk. And I remember that once we were painting scenery and the rest of the class had gone to get paint or something, so Keith and I were left alone in the Auditorium, drawing some backdrops. And I remember that I had loved my appearance that morning. I was wearing a yellow collar shirt and jeans. I didn't realize that my shirt was rather see-through and I was wearing one of those undershirts with the straps, so I guess it looked like a bra. Now, I had nothing up there then. In fact, Andrew often warmly referred to them as mosquito bites. [My language is killing me here. "warmly referred to them as ...."] You see, every other girl in sixth grade had started to develop, but not me. And Andrew would walk by, calling, "Hey, you better put some band-aids on those mosquito bites!" [Ah, young love!] Anyway, Keith said to me that day in the auditorium - and we were totally alone - "So. Are you wearing a bra, Sheila?" Horrified, I stood up and stalked out of the room, embarrassed and mad. Keith was yelling after me, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It just looks like that's a bra!" [This is hilarious. I am so sending this post to Keith today. Little 11 year old flirting!!]
I remember that after Oliver, I came back to class and I sat down and Andrew, with his little lopsided grin, asked me, 'What was your name in that play again?" and I, heart pounding, said, "Artful Dodger" and he went, "No, the other one," and I said, "Oh. Jack Dawkins." And then he laughed. I loved how he laughed. For the rest of the year, he called me "Jackie."
The winter was great, with a lot of snow, and a swamp in the woods froze over, so every day after school I'd go home, get my skates, and tramp down there with the rest of the neighborhood friends. Every single day I'd skate from 3:30 to 5:30 or so. We had so much fun. Katy and Jen. Q. - my best friends since I was five - would be there. We all lived on the same street and were called "The Three Muskateers". Non-stop movement for two hours, and then we'd go back to the Quinn's for something warm to eat or drink. Andrew would be there and he is such a great skater. Even now, at the roller rink, he is very light and easy as he goes backwards, and turns. [Andrew was a great athlete, in general]
It got to be a tradition that we would play Chase and the boys would steal the girls' hats and we'd have to try and get them back. Andrew ALWAYS stole MY hat, nobody else's - and no matter how hard I tried I could not get it back. I would zoom after him and suddenly, in a flash, he would twirl around and be skating off the other way. The swamp was a gorgeous place to skate. The little streams through the woods had also frozen, so we could skate along the ice through the fairy-land snowy forest. There was a thin tree rising out of the ice, and we would grab onto it and twirl around it. And there was one triumphant day when I got Andrew's hat. I reached out my arm as he twirled around the tree, and snatched his black and yellow Bruin's hat. I was ecstatic!! I tore off, clutching it to me, but he was right behind me. He was much faster, so he passed me, and twirled around so he was facing me. Then he stopped abruptly, and I smashed into him, and both of us teetered and fell, all tangled up. I was holding the hat under me, so he was tugging at my arms and sitting on me. I started to get cold and so I wriggled away from him and zoomed off. I raced through the ice path, tore around the corner and there was this enormous crowd of boys waiting for me. They pounced on me. I swear, I was on the bottom of this pile of boys. I was laughing so hard. Of course, they got the hat. All of it was good-natured, except one jerk kept kicking me in the arm with his skate. [Yup. There's always one douchebag who ruins any good-natured fun.] It hurt, that sharp blade. After laughing, I started to cry - because that jerk was kicking me and I couldn't get away - I was yelling, "GET OFF ME!" Andrew, my hero, pulled me out from under the crowd - and I skated off to the side. I pulled up my jacket to look at my arm and it was all cut up and purple. I was fuming, because I had been having fun. So the next time the jerk skated by me, I put out my foot and tripped him - watched him topple into the weeds, and laughed out loud and pointed at him. My day improved after that.
Here's an excerpt from my travel journal, of our time in Ireland as a family. I am 13 years old. I find this first excerpt hysterical. I am in IRELAND, and here is what I choose to write about. Look at how I launch right in to my main concerns. I am in a foreign land for the first time, and I obviously have my priorities straight.
These are some of the fashions here: tight jeans and black and gold leather pumps, grey pinstriped blazers, tube tops, jackets that go below the hips, mini-skirts (black velvet), dotted white tights, red velvet crushed boots, Adidas sneakers, tight-tight-tight spray-painted-on jeans are EVERYWHERE. No one has baggies. [Ed: I am assuming that I am talking about baggie jeans here, which were all the rage in the States at this time.] They also love bobby socks here, especially with mini skirts. [Oh my God - do you remember that look??] No one has top siders or loafers. [That whole preppy thing was OUT OF CONTROL at my school. I never got into it, so I am sure the lack of top siders on the Emerald Isle was quite a relief.] The girls wear maroon, silver, yellow leather pumps. They seem to be very influenced by the English [Ed: Uhm... what, Sheila? You're 13. What are you talking about??]. All that punk stuff started in England, and it seems to be very big here too. Tight jeans are the thing to wear here. White sneakers (yippee) are also popular. Minidresses too, like I've seen in Seventeen. All the girls wear kilts, bobby socks, and black leather Mary Janes shined like a mirror.
[Ed: You may wonder why I shrieked "yippee" about white sneakers. Here is the RIDICULOUS reason, from another journal entry at this time. And yes, Blackie Parrish is involved.]
The towns over here are not towns. [Now now Sheila, they are to the Irish. Just because they seem different to YOU!] Just villages on hills, with like one store and a butcher. The people seem really nice, though. Two boys on bikes literally led us to our B&B. This B&B is called Connaught House. CONNAUGHT, MUNSTER, LEINSTER, ULSTER, MEATH. [Ed: Ahem. We were made to memorize these place-names as tots in order to get our allowances.]
My room has a wonderful view of fields, little houses, and then the ocean. There are lots of peat bogs here, and we might be able to cut some peat!!!!!!! [Wow. How's it goin' there, geek?] Soon we're going downtown to look around. But I don't feel like it because I am SO COLD!!!!! IT'S FREEZING!!!!!
Later:
The walk was ok. It certainly warmed me up. We saw a field of sheep and the babies were the cutest things I have ever seen. All white, with black heads. Siobhan "baaahed" at them all. [Siobhan was 4. The image of her, in Ireland, is a favorite family memory.]
We might go to church tonight but I don't want to because everyone here dresses up SO much for church and all I have is this plaid skirt that looks like it comes from the 50s. [Beth? I bet you will remember that skirt.] And all the girls wear Mary Janes and I only have my saddle shoes. [Saddle shoes? What are you, Lucy Van Pelt?]
I wonder how Mere and Betsy and Beth and Kate are. OH I MISS THEM SO MUCH!!!!!
Just thinking about living on this island makes me sick. [My God, Sheila!! Up till now you've seemed enthusiastic! Why the change?.] No t.v., one school, not knowing about fashions. [This from a girl wearing saddle shoes in the early 1980s. I am so sorry, lovely people of Achill Island, for my judgment.] All they have here is Irish knit sweaters and skirts. I mean, clothes aren't everything but I want to know something about what is in and what isn't. [This is awful. I considered not posting that last paragraph, due to my mortification]
Our house has the most WONDERFUL living room [I sound schizophrenic. Achill Island BAD, oh wait a minute Achill Island GOOD] with a fire, the softest fur rug in front of it and a HUGE tv. [Hm. I seem to recall you mentioning in the paragraph above this one that the people on the island didn't HAVE tv. Hmmm.] We watched "David Copperfield" all afternoon, and now we are going for a drive up a mountain. This is a very mountainous island.
The old couple who own the B&B are so nice. The old man is so funny, so nice. He said to my father that he looked like Kojak from behind. He has been to America and he said that the sand in Florida was so hot that you could "fry a rasher on it". He also asked us if Rhode Island was very close to Houston!!
[For some reason, the first line of this next entry made me laugh OUT LOUD when I was reading it this morning.]
Last night we watched "Father Damien - the Leper Priest" on TV with Ken Howard. [HAHAHA What???? However - member Ken Howard? The white shadow? Loved him.] He is SO good. I had already seen the movie before though. [That's the kicker. I had seen FATHER DAMIEN - THE LEPER PRIEST twice???]
Today we are going to visit a man's peat bog, and then we are going to look up some old crosses, etc.
I washed my hair this morning, and washed my face, and rubbed in face cream and put on mascara. [Extremely important to list my morning skin ritual, apparently.]
I am getting really sick of the same old breakfast every day. But Dad says that there is this coffee shop in Dublin called Bewley's or something where they sell delicious donuts and jelly pastries, etc. [Sniff, sniff. Bewley's ... one of my favorite pitstops ... now no more ...] My mouth is watering already!
Tomorrow we're going to church.
I should have brought my curling iron.
Here's a Diary Friday I posted way back in 2003 - but I am posting it again.
It's chock-full of stories about friends - and family ... it's like my whole life entire is encapsulated in these ridiculous entries.
I am 16 years old here. I am finishing up my junior year. I have finals. I am haggard and worn out. Summer comes. I go on my first date. I don't know - it's just a week of entries - but it's a goldmine. We all still remember Betsy running into the waves fully clothed.
June 13
I took the Math test. I was shaking with fear even though I really did study (I had brought my math notebook home, luckily). Kate had told me that the test was a positive nightmare. So I went in there and took it but I didn't find it horrendous. I didn't get a few problems, but I knew more than I didn't know. But still - today Kate told me she got a 55. KATE!! I don't think she's failed a test in her life.
So I was dreading Math. I've been on such a downer, starting yesterday - what a cavern I'm in - and to fail a Math test! I may never recover emotionally! [I was dead serious.] We only had 2 tests other than that one this quarter. On one I got an 80, on the other I got a 69. My average was a 74 or something. A 55 would really boost my average. [hahahahahahahaha] When I found out the highest grade in the class was an 85, I prepared myself. BUT! I got an 80! AND I got a C for the quarter!! [This was good news for me, not bad. I worked my ass off for that C.)
Today has been so hot and sticky. I stayed after school with J. so we could clear out our locker (an impossible huge gross task). You should have seen it. It was all my junk too. A winter coat, sneakers, sweats, pants, a sweater, a turtleneck, 3 pairs of mittens, 1 pair of gloves - all in a bag which was totally useless and ripped down the side. I also had my silver shamrock wand from when we did "Cinderella" in Drama.
J. and I were both really tired and hot and sweaty, so together we lugged the stupid bag (which I called "mental" and J. went off into gales of laughter) down to the library. It was so hot on the 3rd floor and we were laughing so hard. We went into the library to find a box but there weren't any. We saw some in the janitor's room, and were going to steal one, but there were newspapers in all of them.
Then we went into the back room in the library and saw a cardboard box full of books. No one was around so we dumped the books out, and ran out with the box. I honestly thought I was going to wet my pants I was laughing so hard. We both were. Since we aren't allowed to take out books anymore (end of school and all), J. snuck 3 books out without signing them out. (Ah yes, to be in that kind of mood).
My box was so heavy. J. held one side, I held the other. We looked so ridiculous. The minute we picked the box up, I said, solemnly, "There seems to be a silver shamrock in this box" ... and J. started laughing - when J. laughs she makes me laugh - we both got so weak from laughing, we lost our grips and the box fell. We finally thought we got it under control, so picked up the box again, took 2 steps, and then fell down roaring with laughter again.
It was a fun day. We spent all of gym looking through the yearbook and planning what we were going to write for our senior blurbs next year.
We have one day of classes left. Then finals. Then SUMMER.
I deserve it. Oh boy, do I deserve a very long break, full of independence. I am now hooked on "Guiding Light". No more boring "General Hospital". So all summer I will watch it!
I can't wait til finals are done. I am exhausted. I am really worn out and ugly.
June 16
I went to school, took my History final. 100 multiple choice questions. It was a joke. I see the entire world as a multiple-choice question now. My eyes are spinning about in my head. Butler's gonna scale the tests though. I did study hard. I HAVE TO DO WELL. I got an A this quarter though!! So that final - it wasn't hard - but it was the first final, so I was really tired after it.
Mrs. Franco assigned us a paper for Thursday. I cannot believe she did that. Mine was a 9-page masterpiece though. I'm very proud of it. I wrote it on Hemingway. Farewell to Arms.
All of Thursday was exhausting, nerve-wracking review. I started despairing. I was drowning, overwhelmed. Then - oh, I don't know how late or how early I stayed up Thursday night - just studying and studying and studying. For the History final. I mean - how long could I study? An entire year of US History in one test? How detailed could it be?? Well, it was detailed, and it was very dumb.
After my History final, I came home, and had the most wonderful time relaxing, with records. No one else was home, so I played the piano, and sang.
Mum came home. I am always in a foul mood after finals, so she came home today, and I think this was the first time she ever told me to go watch my soap opera. "Sheila, just go watch your soap opera, please."
Ha!
Today was a beautiful day - even a little chilly. Brilliantly clear and sunny. Lush green, yellow sun, blue blue sky. Kate called me and we decided to "do something".
I just wasn't in the mood for studying tonight. I have all night, and all day tomorrow.
So Kate invited me and Beth out, and the 3 of us went down to Narragansett Beach for a walk.
It was about 6 pm I guess. Just at sunset. We all rolled up our jeans, and took a long long walk. The sky was indescribable. I felt God there. So much.
The sky changed every time we looked up at it. I think it was the most spectacular sky I have ever seen. Where the sun went down, it was like an explosion. It was gold and shimmering - huge clouds billowing out - all red and orange - and all around the sunset were big thick bright clouds, and stretching off around that, the clouds got wispier and stretched out really long, so they looked like they were zooming off into the distance - all in a blur. The sky was exploding.
So the 3 of us sat down to watch the sky. As though it were a movie.
The waves were lapping. Whenever the waves receded, it was perfectly silent.
Then 3 solitary seagulls - teeny black Vs - flew across the gold sky.
It was weird. It was like the gulls were a mirror of the 3 of us, sitting on the sand. We were them, they were us.
That was when I felt God the most.
It was weird, but later, the 3 of us talked about it - and Beth and Kate had noticed the 3 black seagulls too.
The sky out over the water got darker and darker blue - sort of muted, and deep - a twilight-dusk-blue - and the water was darkly deeply blue. For a while, the sky stretching out over the ocean was glowing with this soft subtle rose-lavendar color - and the waves that lapped (it was a gentle night surf) were all shimmering with this pinky-purple from the sky. Then, again, there were those "rushing" pink clouds -almost reaching for the sunset. It was so peaceful.
The walk we took was really long. By the time we headed back, it started to get dark, so the sky had calmed the hell down. But we could look across the water to the town, all glimmering with lights.
I had this wish that someone was beside me, a boy, holding my hand. And we could sit and watch the sunset.
The beach was sparsely populated - but most were couples. One couple in rolled-up jeans, barefeet, were wading along through the water holding hands. There was one couple huddled together in a lifeguard's chair.
That sky was so bursting with beauty that I could not believe it. It was OVERFLOWING with God.
Then we all went to Newport Creamery for ice cream.
Kate kept saying, "I really feel 17 right now."
We got back into the car, put the radio on, and it was 50s night - so as we drove along, we were laughing at how much it felt like we were in "American Grafitti" or something - cruisin' along, Saturday night, Wolfman Jack, rock 'n roll, just being teenagers.
And now? I am in the right frame of mind to study for the entire day tomorrow.
11:30 pm
I have never studied so long in my whole entire life. All day. I have Chemistry and French tomorrow.
But I am not dreading them anymore. Hey. I have studied massively. I will go in there, and I will do my best. It is only 2 hours out of my whole life. I will survive. Life will go on, whatever happens.
Dad and I had so much fun tonight. I recited practically the entire Chemistry book to him - just for practice - it felt good to rattle it all off, but Dad was so funny - I mean, he didn't even know if what I was saying was right or not, and he so didn't care!
I'd say, "So. Dad. You want to hear about Molality, Dad?"
And he'd say, eyes in his book, "No, not particularly, Sheila."
But I would rattle off the definition at him anyway.
I told him all the rules, all the formulas, and he would just sit there, behind his book the whole time. I'd babble on about protons and neutrons and he would just look at me with this totally bland deadpan face.
He'd say, "You know what Avagadro's number is????Why?"
Dad, I honestly do not have an answer for that. But I do know what Avagadro's number is, and quite frankly, I wish I didn't.
Wednesday is the Drama final, which is just going to be fun. We each have to sing a "character song" and a "love song". Then the entire class has to put on a production number. It is so incredibly fun. For "character" I'm singing "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows", I think it's a vaudeville song that Judy Garland sang a lot - when her name was Frances Gumm - [Look at me, filling in my own diary on Judy Garland's early career.] and then for my "long song" I'm singing "This Can't Be Love" from The Boys from Syracuse. For the "production number" the whole class is gonna do "Summer Lovin'" from Grease. We're all gonna dress up 50s, and bop around being total stereotypes. Kris, Betsy, Joe, Beth, Kate -it's gonna be great.
June 18
It is not a pleasant feeling to look in the mirror and see an old woman. [I am 16 years old at the point of writing this sentence.]
June 19
I cannot even explain to you what the past few days have been like for me. I don't want to see my report card. EVERY final has been SO HARD. Chemistry! It's NOT that I didn't study - I DID I DID! I have gotten about 6 hours of sleep since Sunday. But all my finals have been SO HARD. Chemistry wasn't even that. It was just impossible, it was outrageous, and it was TOTALLY unfair. I am so glad I am out of there. I hate Mr. A. I hate hate hate him. I don't think even HE cares about Avagadro's number. I think he's just happy to have a paycheck. He always wanted to trick us. He would purposefully make the language of the quiz questions confusing - and then not care when everybody got confused, he wanted us to be baffled. He was a tricky teacher, and I don't like being tricked. Good riddance to protons, neutrons, and stupid Avagadro.
June 20
Oh Diary! summer is here! I survived my finals! Not without blemishes. ["Blemishes", Sheila? That's a bad image.] The finals this year - every single one (except English, which I got a 99 on) was SO HARD. I got a C for the year in Math and Chemistry. I do not understand this. I worked harder this year than any other year.
But today - officially - truly - I am a senior. A senior.
We aren't underclassmen anymore. There's a whole new mentality with being a senior.
One more year.
After school got out today (oh yeah - the Drama final was so fun! Mrs. McNeil gave out what she called "Drammy Awards" Kate and I tied for "best love song" - we couldn't believe it!! And, of course, the whole class got one for "Best Production Number" -since, basically, we had no competition.) [hahahahahahahahaha] Anyway, after school got out, Kate and I, again, wanted to "do something". She had her car. So we cal