Diary Friday

Another Friday, another Diary Friday. I am going to post yet another entry from my roller-coaster junior year of high school, which really should be called: “Dave: Sheila’s Obsession”.

Mortifying. These journals are mortifying. I remember my junior year – of course I do – but not all the little details i pour forth in these journals. I also don’t remember being, well, so immature. Like: I remember being madly in love (in the most unrequited way imaginable). It was all about the longing for him, not the actual capture. I don’t think I would have known what to do with Dave if I did capture him! Even though I desperately wanted “something to happen” – what I really focused on was: he smiled at me in the hallway, he walked next to me to our next class … OH MY GOD, I LOVE HIM. I can look back on it and kind of laugh at it, etc., but still: I was THERE, and so my memory of it isn’t completely silly, I don’t completely laugh at myself … because I remember there being a lot of pain, and anxiety, yadda yadda. Even though I was only 16, the experience was no less important. BUT: to read these journals?? That’s me writing that insane manic prose? I sound like a lunatic.

Actually, come to think of it: my 16 year old journal sounds like it could also possibly be Tom Cruise’s journal now. It’s all sudden random bursts of italics and underlining and exclamation points. Like, I’ll be babbling about a French quiz and suddenly I’ll start screaming: OH GOD, I LOVE DAVE!!!!

I was 16. Tom is 42. I have moved on. Tom has not.

FEBRUARY

Why is this week dragging? I think it’s cause – mentally I’m so ready for a vacation and the weather – of course it’s gorgeous – warm, sunny. I’m so mad. It’s all so unfair. I need a break.

I’m such an adolescent. [At least you recognize that, Sheila.] This morning I went to school just normally and I was sitting alone in the library looking out the window and the sky was all grey [I thought you said it was “sunny”?] and it was windy and everything looked so desolate. I don’t know what started to happen to me. I don’t even know what I was thinking about. Nothing really. Just one of those days. I felt so blue, like there was something gnawing away at me. But it’s not Dave. I feel pretty good there. [Uhm … why?] It’s just – I don’t know what. Sometimes I feel like things are slipping out of my grasp, like the tide going out. I mean, you only get one chance at life. One! Already, there are so many things I’d do differently. That’s scary! I don’t want to have any regrets when I’m 30. I don’t want any “what if’s”. [Oh boy. Well, you’re gonna have them, Sheila. Big ones. Sorry. But you’ll find it easier to bear than maybe you would have imagined.] I feel like I have to be goddamned perfect. There’s got to be more to life than this. There’s got to be a deeper meaning, something no one’s discovered – a purpose — this can’t be it! You’re born, you live, you die. There has to be more. I feel sometimes as though I’m tiptoeing on the threshold of a gorgeous world, or a revelation. I want to keep learning, growing — not a² – b² = (a + b) (a – b) learning but — learning learning. I don’t want school to get in the way of learning and discovering. I also don’t want to become so knowledgeable that there’s nothing to discover anymore. Well, I don’t think that’s possible!

But even though I may go on to college and learn more and more, I don’t want to lose my fascination with sunsets, nature, why things are the way they are — Why> Oh, I don’t want to lose my innocence! I mean, I don’t want to be naive, but I’m already losing my optimism and I don’t want to lose that. I think that’s one good part of me. I think it’s very hard to leave behind childhood and security. I mean, I really want to be an adult, but even that scares me. Independence, maturity. I mean, it’s strange because all these things I want desperately – why am I so afraid of them? I don’t think I’m gripping on to my childhood, but I wish the stupid “transition” was easier. I feel so out of place. I really don’t belong anywhere.

8:45 pm. Weird day. Fluctuating moods. Study was so depressing it was funny. I sat like a blob in my chair. I thought I was just resting my cheek against my pen – turns out the cap was off, so I drew scribbles all over my cheek. All of a sudden, J. said, “Sheila, you’re drawing on your cheek!” I glanced at my pen, saw that the cap was off, and just flipped my head down on the table, and we all laughed for about five minutes. My whole cheek was blue. A cheery start to the day!!

French cheered me up. It was wicked. [HAHAHAHA] I went to my locker, and went into French. Dave was already in there. It was only us in there. He looked up at me and smiled. I said, “Hi!” He said, “Bon jour.” [Oh, for God’s sake. Ew.] Then I saw the bag of candy on his desk. The National Honor Society is selling candy today. Luckily, I had some money with me. I saw the bag and I said, “Oh! You have candy!” and started over. “Yes,’m! All types. Bon bon chocolat.” [Dude, knock it off with the French phrases. I know we’re in French class and all, but you’re coming off as pretty cheesy.] I came over to his desk and he held out the bag to me saying, “Would you like Nestle Crunch? M&Ms? Crackle … well, what do you want?” It was like he paused after all his talking and looked at me. I reached into the bag and took out some Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. It was strange. I was leaning over, head bent, he was standing up straight – almost directly over me – No one else was in the room. He was looking at me. Me!! [Sheila, could it be that he was looking at you because there was “no one else” in the room? I mean, who else would he be looking at?] I handed him my dollar and he said, “Merci.” [Dude, I am going to kick your ass if you speak French one more time.] He then picked up the bag to dig in the bottom, “Let me see if I’ve got some change in here for you.” Finally, he came up with 2 quarters that he put in the palm of my hand – I grinned up at him and said, “Merci beaucoups” [Okay, it’s okay when I do it.] phonetically. J. and I always say that to each other: “Mercy buckups!”

I have never had 2 more delicious Peanut Butter Cups. Never. [Wow. That’s really embarrassing.] I pondered buying 2 more, just for the thrill of it, but I didn’t want to look like a pig.

Mr. Hodge had a big lecture today: “Voulez vous tutoyer avec moi?” Stephanie asked, “Is that the same as couche?” Mr. Hodge said, “It’s a step in the right direction!” J. and I are desperately trying to retain our blase-ness. It was harder for me as Dave was right there. Diary, I almost died.

Today he wore a blue Oxford shirt – big and baggy – and maroon Oxfords. Of course the two buttons at the top weren’t fastened. I don’t think I’m perverted, but I can’t help it. He’s very attractive and I notice him so leave me alone! Anyways, when he’d be leaning over his desk during class, the shirt was so baggy, it’d flop forward and since the buttons weren’t buttoned — Oh my God, I could see his chest. I mean, his CHEST! [We heard you the first time, Sheila. Yes, his chest.] Even the crook of his shoulder — his skin — his chest — The human body is so beautiful that I kind of can’t stand it. He’s extremely sexy whether he knows it or not. I don’t think he knows it.

I can still see his chest right there. [Oh, let it go. New paragraph should mean “new thought” not “same old fixation.] Am I dirty-minded, do you think? I really don’t feel that way. I mean, he’s got a great body, and I’m not going to fight against my sexuality.

In English, April came in and said, “I’ve got some information for you.” “WHAT? WHAT?” “Well. It may not make much of a difference to you, but I overheard something that – of course, I thought of you.” “WHAT? WHAT?” [Sheila, please stop screaming “WHAT” at your friend April.] “Well, I heard him talking to someone and he said he doesn’t like girls who wear a lot of makeup.” My first reaction was elation. “I’ve got it made then.” Then I asked her when he said it, and she told me Kim was saying to another girl, “Well, I’m not wearing any makeup” and he said, “Good for you.”

Oh Diary. Good for you.