Diary Friday

A long-ass entry from my sophomore year of high school. Funny: in it, I describe a sleep-over I had with Mere. You know … the same woman who came down to my apartment last weekend “to have a sleep-over”. I love it.

The pop-culture references throughout this journal entry are true time-travel moments. The movies we were into, the music we listened to, the TV shows … ah, being a teenager in the 80s!

FEBRUARY

Do you know how hard I studied all last week? I am not exaggerating. I was up so late every night. But still: a lot has happened that I want to tell about. The retreat at Dominic Savio, which turned out okay. And now A WEEK LONG VACATION IS UPON US and I feel great. Now, at this moment – 11:45 p.m. — Mere is sleeping over because my entire family went up to Massachusetts for 2 days and I want to stay home because Dolores is having a party tomorrow and she’s renting Fame. [I mean, really. Wouldn’t you beg out of a family trip based on that kind of party??] But I was nervous to stay alone so Mere came over. We have had a BLAST. [Yes, I am sure you did, Sheila. But did she pick a match off your cankle?] My parents had been gone for about 2 hours already, and I was sprawled out watching the daytime soaps I never get to see, and then Mere ding-donged on the bell. [Sheila. Couldn’t you just say: “She rang the bell”? Did Mere “ding-dong”?] She had brought SO MANY RECORDS. [Ah. Sigh of nostalgia. Not CDs. Not even “albums”. But RECORDS.] B-52s, Pat Benatar, Go Gos, Stray Cats, Devo, Blondie.

It was so neat having her over. At first I was afraid [… I was petrified…] that I would run out of things to do but we had such a blast. Just listening to music was so fun! We talked – I can’t even remember what we said. We just talked and taught each other tap routines. [Oh. My. God. Mere. I am so sorry I just revealed that.] We watched General Hospital and we laughed at the unsubtle scenes: people are all getting sick after drinking this coffee, and we looked at each other and said, “You don’t suppose that someone could have put something in the coffee, do you?”

Then we went out to do my paper route – and we had so much fun! I mean, I couldn’t even tell you our conversation [This seems to obsess me. I seem to have had an obsession with needing to delineate, word for word, our conversations.] – but one of the things that we like to do is pretend to hate each other. [HAHAHA] We smile at each other pleasantly as we say, “Eat shit and die!” “You’re a bitch.”

When we got home, we listened to records more, and I taped some [Please realize that this means holding up my tape recorder to the speakers.] and we looked at the album covers and put in our TV dinners. MMM! We both got dark chicken meat. YERMY!! [I think that is a bastardization of “Yummy”.] We set the oven for 30 minutes, and I unloaded the dishwasher, and it was so nice. [Yeah, it sounds thrilling, Sheila.] It was fun having the whole house to ourselves, and we could make as much noise as we wanted.

Mrs. W called, afraid that we were in the middle of a drunken brawl, so Mere played along and said, “Oh, we are drunk, and Sheila’s all bloody, and the neighbors called to complain of the noise!”

Then we played the piano. Mere played this 5 minute long Mozart piece that she had memorized. It was so great! I was sitting on the floor, pretending I was conducting a huge orchestra, while Mere tried to keep a straight face. It didn’t work! It never works!! I played some of those old 20s, 30s, and 40s songs – from Mama’s songbook. “Charleston”, “Carolina in the Morning”, “Bye Bye Blackbird”, “In the Good Old Summertime”, etc. I love those songs!!!

We ate dinner while listening to The Sting. OH! That’s right!! Mere invited me over on Saturday to see three movies she had rented: Xanadu, Modern Problems, and The Sting. Do you know how hard it was to decide WHO I loved more: Robert Redford or Paul Newman? [It is, indeed, a tough decision … and I am still, to this day, tormented by it.] Has there even been two men who have ever been more exquisite looking? I honestly can’t say I’ve ever seen two more gorgeous men. SIGH. I can’t handle it. Harrison is still #1 [Yup. First name basis.], but he can’t hold a candle to PAUL!!!! I think I love Paul more. [Of course you do, Sheila. You love the rakes, the unselfconsciously male men … even at 15. Redford was a bit too innocent-looking, too much of a newbie. I liked Paul … who had been around the block.] But anyway, I just LOVE THAT MOVIE. Fedoras, pinstriped suits, gangsters … HELP ME.

Xanadu is great. Mostly because of the music and the dancing. We listened to The Sting – I especially love “The Entertainer” and “The Easy Winners” and “Solace”. [Good taste. I still love “Solace” and always put it on whenever I need … er … solace. The song absolutely does what the title promises.] I LOVE THAT MOVIE!!!! And PAUL!!!!! [Oh for God’s sake.] Joanne doesn’t know how lucky she is. [Uhm … how do you know?] She actually gets to make love with him! OHHHHHHHHH [heh heh. This is out of control embarrassing.]

I can’t remember what we did between 6 and 8 but it was so nice. [Yes. That is word for word what I wrote.]

At 8:30 we watched Square Pegs. [Let’s all have a moment of silence for one of the greatest television shows EVER PRODUCED.] We laughed, and screeched when someone said, “Oh, I have tickets to Cats.” I love Johnny Slash. He’s so adorable. [Certainly not as gorgeous as “Paul” though.] Oh GOD, why can’t I have a REAL MAN in my life? [Uhm – cause you’re only 15 years old?] What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t love any one of these actors as much as I love John. [Who the hell is John?] I don’t know what to do.

After that, we watched Rage of Angels. We didn’t even really watch it – but talked. Mere asked me, really honestly, “How did your grandfather die?” [My grandfather had just died.] So I told her, and you know, we just started talking about death, and I didn’t need to cry – You don’t HAVE to cry when you talk about death. [Hm. Wonder why I thought that. Interesting.] I mean, Grandpa just quietly slipped away in his sleep – no pain, no hospital – he was just tired. His life was full. I mean, there’s so many GOOD things about his life that it’s hard to cry too much about his death. At first, anyone mentioned it – I’d be off bawling, which I HATE, but now – I’m glad. Grandpa’s in peace. I am glad of that. And he is with Angus and Mike. It was really nice talking to Mere about it.

And then – I went upstairs to get my nightgown, and there on the landing, was an enormous spider. I screamed SO LOUD and I pounded down the stairs and hovered in a corner, moaning. Ok. I have a phobia. I don’t think I’m more scared of any other creature. Spiders roam in my dreams, and I am always terrified of them being at the bottom of my bed or on my back. [Some things never change.] OH GOD. Anyway, poor Mere. She was downstairs, and suddenly this hysterical scream comes from upstairs. I told her what happened, and she took a peek at it and then came pounding back down the stairs, hollering at the top of her lungs. [I am laughing out loud.] My legs were shaking. Snakes I can handle. In fact, I like them. But spiders make me cry.

Mere told me that we would need two books to kill him. At first all I did was close the door to the stairs, but then I thought he could crawl under and get me. So, I got two books, and me and Mere crept slowly up the stairs, Mere holding the books like weapons. To our horror, the first book missed!! We gaped at each other, like: “IT MISSED?” We threw it from a foot away, and it missed? Luckily, the next book squashed him. Then we both sidled by, going, “I’m not gonna pick up that book!”

I got my stuff and we went back down in the living room loaded down with 17s. I started exercising, and then we both tried to do one pushup. Neither of us could. We both were stuck trying to drag ourselves up, but laughing hysterically. [Mere … wow – that’s so weird in light of your current pursuits! You go, girl!]

We pulled out the bed in the den and got ready. We read 17 some more and talked and then we slept.

We got up at 11:00, and blundered around for a while sleepily. Even though Mere hates being called “cute”, she does look cute in the morning, in her rumpled pjs and tousled hair. We had some donuts in complete silence. [I think that is the funniest sentence in this entire entry.]

After a while, we took showers and got dressed, and then – drumroll – we picked up the book to see the squashed spider. Somehow, in the light of day, we forgot the horrors of the previous night.

Then at about 1:30, we got all bundled up and ready to go catch the bus to go to Dolores’. I was also gonna get my haircut — all short and punk. [Oh good grief. Here we go with the “punk” thing again.] So we slung our bags over our shoulder and started for the front door. Mere laughed and said it felt like we were sneaking away in the first light of dawn.

We went out to the highway [Uhm … since when is route 108 a highway?] and I turned on my tape and we waited … and waited … and waited … for the bus. Finally, after about 25 minutes, it came. What a relief because this broken branch kept attacking Mere.

We went to her house – unwound – and then I set off to get my hair cut. I was noivus! Mere came with me, and sat to wait. She sat there in her heavy coat, watching. And when Jana finished — OH I LOVE IT — it’s really short, and really fluffily layered, and it’s cut so it goes behind my ears. [Yeah, sounds really “punk”, Sheil.] It’s short on top, and long in back, and NO, it doesn’t look like Mrs. Brady. We walked back to Mere’s. Mere put on her purple punk glasses and I tried to act like I was perfectly used to strolling along with such a weirdo.

Then me, Mere, and Jayne headed over to Dolores’. Dolores’ house is so cozy, and the rugs are so thick. The four of us linked arms (like Trixie, Honey, and Di) and walked off to Ricky’s for supper. Mere, Dolor, and I would walk along, single-file on the sidewalk, and Jayne would plunge along through the drifts. Hilarious. We ate at Ricky’s – I burned the roof of my mouth – then we all slid back down the muddy hill and Mrs. T picked us up. We went home, hung around, listened to records, and then watched movies.

Fame. I LOVE RALPH GARCIE!! [Again, with my burgeoning love for the rebel, the tortured guy who has to make others laugh … it is a theme.] The movie makes me feel really good.

Then we watched The Pink Panther Strikes Again. I think that might be the funniest one. Peter Sellers at his best. Oh, Lordy. Jayne and I were laughing so hard that we were pretty much GONE, for about 5 minutes. What a man!

Went to bed, woke up, got dressed, went home. Kathleen was there – we all listened to Family Bow Ties (a tape that Ken, Bren, Kathleen and Jean did. It is absolutely hilarious) – we played Operation, listened to Stray Cats …

It took me a week to write all of this. Today is now Sunday, the last day of vacation. WAH. I watched Ryan’s Hope a lot. Joe and Siobhan are BACK TOGETHER!!

And yesterday, our Sunday School class was supposed to see Gandhi – as it turned out, only four people showed up: me, Kate, Inigo, and Liz – a fellow Billy Joel freak. The stupidest thing of all is: Gandhi just came to the Pier Cinema, and STILL we drove all the way up to Massachusetts to see it. Our teacher is a real loser. He said we were getting a discount up in Massachusetts, but the cost of the gas would cover that up! Oh well.

The movie. At first I thought it would be boring. It’s three hours long with an intermission, and it’s about Mahatma Gandhi. But Diary: Ben Kingsley was positively incredible. I know I’m really bad at writing down my feelings, but the movie was so brilliant. I had never even heard of Ben Kingsley before – and man – he was GREAT. The movie really evokes feelings. I mean, when that fuckin’ general yelled “FIRE!” – for all the soldiers to shoot at all those trapped people. Kate’s arm grabbed for mine – and my heart – it was pounding so hard. Also, the part when Gandhi is starving and he tells the guy that it will only work if he raises the orphan he found as a Muslim … and the guy gets on his knees by Gandhi’s bed. Wow. It was SUCH A GREAT MOVIE. And I had wanted to sneak over to the theatre next door and see The Verdict with my baby Paul. [Good Lord. Knock it off.] There were about 10 nuns in the movie theatre with us – all in their habits – and then us – a Sunday School class. That was it. I feel like Gandhi was maybe sent here by You Know Who. Ohhhhh. The movie has stayed with me.

And today: Sunday. I just remembered that I had to write this letter to the Bishop and it was due today. PANIC. I write it in the car before class. Class was unusually great. Andrew [of the spitball Valentine ] asked me for a piece of paper, and he knelt beside me – writing out his letter to the Bishop. In no time, I had bullshitted my way through three paragraphs – and Andrew’s letter started with: “Dear Bish.” We kept laughing about that – Andrew kept peeking over my shoulder to see what I had written. And all he could get down on paper was “Dear Bish”. We went into class, and spent the whole time writing the letters. Everyone kept going, “What am I supposed to write?” and Andy went, “Hey, let’s let Sheila write a master letter, and we’ll all sign it.” I went, “Why me??” And he said, “Well, you know. You always write stories and stuff …” Help me! I love him!

I sat down at the table with Erin McCool on one side, Bill Moclair (a new kid at school – he is a really good kid) on the other, and Andy next to Erin. They all kept looking at my paper, and we all were making jokes – and I guess I felt like I belonged there. You know? I was just being myself, and still I belonged there.

[My experience at Sunday School is worth an entire post. I loved Sunday school. Not so much for religious reasons, but for social reasons. ]

I am now watching “60 Minutes”, and relaxing before the grindstone starts up again. Tomorrow, I’m seeing the guidance counselor to make out my junior year schedule. It sounds really good: English, Algebra II, French III, Chemistry, US History, Drama III. So I’ll have three study-periods a week. Then, during my senior year, I’ll take AP English, French IV (shivers), Physiology (NO PHYSICS. NO. NO. NO.), Drama IV. So I have two periods free. Maybe I’ll take another history class – like Chinese, or African – or maybe typing or Art – or maybe I’ll just have two free periods where I can go out with my friends and go to Baskin Robbins. Seniors have open campus and I CAN’T WAIT!! I can’t believe that in only two years I’LL BE OFF TO COLLEGE.

I’m sick of writing. See ya.