Diary Friday: “My utopia is so stupid.”

For years on this site, I did this thing that I called “Diary Friday”, where I would post entries from my high school diaries, because they are so hilarious (and often quite touching) and people seemed to love them. I stopped doing it for years, at least in any regular way, but the whole “temper your idolatry” thing that recently came up made me think of it again and how fun it was.

Here’s how it works: I pick out an entry from my high school diaries, do a little introduction, and then post it – as it was written – underlines and all – with commentary from me (at times) in italics.

In the best moments of Diary Friday, it was like all of us here had some kind of weird group catharsis, where people were howling with laughter about me, or about their own adolescence, and it was so much fun. There’s a reason why normal sane people DESTROY journals from this time in their lives. I, however, kept mine. There are moments when I cringe, moments when I hesitate to share something, but then, for me, it’s always better to risk that someone won’t “get it” and reach out past them to those who “will”. Entire open-mike nights and reading-series have been created along these lines.

The following entry is from my junior year in high school when I was totally in love with a guy in the year ahead of me (I refer to him as “D”). We had some classes together (most significantly, Gym class), but other than that, we really had no contact. Well, we talked occasionally, and I made myself take Byzantine paths through the school in between classes so we would run into each other, but we didn’t date or anything like that. It ended quite tragically, although the tragedy was entirely one-sided. He wasn’t even aware that there WAS a tragedy. Every single notebook I have from that year in school is filled with details about this guy. I was 15, 16 years old.

I sound rather manic in this entry to me. I also refer to another person – another HUMAN BEING – as a “warthog”. God forgive me.

Junior Year of High School
16 years old
FEB 7

I feel like I’m on an inevitable course. I hope of success – why do I want to have doubts? Of course you know who I’m talking about. I’m so muddled up inside. Everyone else had the worst days of their lives – because their days were so awful I began to think – “Okay – when is the axe going to fall on me?” Bad luck does happen in 3s, you know. [Okay, Sheila, I want you to try – just TRY – to not sound so insane. Thanks.]

It’s so very hard to be happy when everyone around you is sobbing. [Good point]

Okay. Lisa – the warthog – came up to J. in band saying, “Guess who called me last night? …. Nick!” Oh, she just wants to dig that knife in. Why J.? J. deserves it so much. I can not stand this. Also – why Lisa?? Why the girl we all hate so much? I don’t understand this! It’s all so unfair.

Then – this is so unbelievable – I can not believe this – the editor of The Rebellion, the school paper – N. (gag choke wheeze) – she’s a tyrant. We fondly refer to her as the piranha. She’s a jerk as an editor and a jerk as a person. She likes ERIC! Why? And in French IV sent him a Valentine Gram calling him cupids and stuff – why? If they only knew what pain they were causing! [Sheila, what are you TALKING about??]

My day was really peachy. [Really? Because you sound like you’re having some kind of manic episode.]

We stayed after for rehearsal. J. was upstairs in the Rebellion meeting. That’s how she found out about the Valentine Gram. I was in the Music Room. I noticed that Kate was gone – she had gone off to find J. I knew that something was wrong with J. from English on – she turned to me and said, flatout, “It’s over. I have no hope left.” But she didn’t elaborate. After class, Kate was hugging J. consolingly – I just walked on – I’m not gonna force her to tell me.

Then we went to rehearsal and they both disappeared. Mr. Crothers came late so I was sent off to find them. I found them on the 3rd floor – Kate huddled against the wall. I knew something had just happened. I guess it was my pride that kept me from asking what was wrong. I just saw them, said, “The Crud’s back!” and turned to go. If they want to tell me, they will. Well, they caught up to me and did tell me. We were about ten minutes late to rehearsal because we just stood in a doorway hugging each other. Kate just looked at me and said, “I really need a hug, Sheila.” Those poor kids. Why of all people them? It does seem like fate is working against us. Why? I was just talking to Kate on the phone and I said, “I’m sick of having to handle things.” Every day I go to school – I can’t just live. Maybe this is me growing up but it doesn’t feel good. I don’t want to have to go through life continually having to deal, cope – whatever! I used to make fun of J. cause she always says, “I cannot handle any more of this.” But I know what she means. How much more are we supposed to take. [I love the dramatic language. Especially because all of this despair was brought about by a Valentine Gram]

My day went good. I felt sort of obliged to be depressed because they were. Kate kept saying, “Sheila, don’t try to convince yourself that your situation is like ours.” But it is hard. I am so cautious sometimes. I’ll be talking to him and I’ll show a little bit of myself. Immediately afterwards, I can feel myself shying away. Maybe it’s only me. Everyone’s saying to me, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Sheila.” But I do. I have to! I’ve never felt this way before. It’s the first time I’ve ever gotten anything back but I don’t want to misinterpret it, in my awe that a boy is actually talking to me. [That part kinda kills me.]

Diary, these are the facts: He does talk to me an awful lot. But so what? Am I denying to myself that he might care? Why would I do that? Anne was saying it’s probably because I don’t have much confidence in myself in that area. True true. I wonder why!

Anyways, today was a bowling day. [And … what does that have to do with anything??] It was freezing out. We were all heading through the parking lot. I was walking with Kate, J., and April. D. was right ahead of us. Just as we started over the little hill to the field, he turned to look at us and said something like, “So when’s the next SK Pades meeting?” I said, “Tonight after school.” As we came over the hill, suddenly he was beside us, walking with us. My three friends sort of drifted ahead – as one – leaving the two of us alone. [I love girlfriends who know how to just vanish like that when a man approaches. Women who don’t have that skill suck.] We walked together all the way there and we talked the whole way. When I’m talking to him, I really don’t think about what I say. I just blabber on mindlessly. [This is a good romantic tactic, Sheila?]

He was saying, “Today after school, I have to get to Smithfield by 3.” He obviously wanted me to ask why he was going to Smithfield, so I inquired, “Why?” [I am rather perceptive there. I was always quite perceptive, actually.] And he explained that there was a rehearsal for the All-State Band. Not thinking, I blurted, “Oh, when is that? Can I come and see you?” (Don’t be too obvious now or anything.) He said, “Sure you can come, but I don’t know when it is yet … I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be the first time when I get to play with a band that really amounts to anything.” He grinned down at me. I glanced around to see if Nick, J., Justin or anyone else from band was around. I said, “Ssssh!” He shrugged. “I know a lot of kids feel that way. I mean, I’ve been playing ever since junior high but you really can’t consider that anything of musical worth …” I was laughing. The junior high band is the target of many jokes.

At this point April and Peter were running around and cracking all the ice in the frozen footprints. D. grinned at me and said, “I always used to do that …I’d be 10 minutes late to everything cause I had to crush all the ice footprints.” My heart pounded. can’t believe I’m walking along talking to him!

We were walking along the sidewalk. I had just asked Peter what his utopia was. We had to create our own Utopia for class. [hahahahaha We had just read the book, I remember that project now.] Peter explained his utopia to me. There was a population cap of 3,000 or something and if they went over that then people had to migrate. D. interjected, “Yeah, mine was just like that. If the population exceeded 1,000 people were encouraged to jump off cliffs.” I groaned. “My utopia is so stupid” I said.

Occasionally Kate or J. would turn around just to see if we were still talking. They were far ahead of us – I don’t know what they were talking about – but I felt weird anyway.

Then we started talking about Freshman Honors English and how dumb it was. MS. P. She just got married – she’s keeping the MS. and always corrects you if you say “Mrs” or whatever. All sorts of rumors are going on about her – she had a kid out of wedlock or something. [Oh my God, listen to you gossip! And yes – the fact that she wants to be called ‘Ms’ is SO UNBELIEVABLY SUSPICIOUS that there HAS to be an illegitimate baby in the picture!!!] D. was telling me about what he heard – something about a freshman student and the baby – I got a thrill out of this.

We got to the alleys – I walked in – he was right behind me so as I walked in I sort of held the door so he could take it. Our fingers brushed against each other. I wonder if he even noticed.

Well, bowling was positively heaven. HEAVEN! Fate was once again looking over me. The alleys are set up so that it goes in 2s – 2 lanes, one desk with 2 spaces for scoring – each one has a semicircle of seats around it – [Sheila, that’s the setup of every bowling alley from here to Outer Mongolia] So it’s 2 pairs of kids in each section. Well. It was me and April – and – by some freak chance – D. and Jeff. I was so excited. My heart was pounding. I was praying fervently, Thank you! Thank you! [God, up in heaven, dealing with issues like war and poverty and natural disaster, hears my prayer and is like: Wait … what is she thanking me for? For placing D. beside her at the bowling alley?]

It was GREAT! I got on my shoes – I was sitting right next to D. as we both took off our normal shoes and put on the ugly bowling ones. I found myself glancing down inconspicuously at his socks – his white wonderful socks! Something is definitely wrong with me.

I did so awfully bowling-wise. I got a 45. Diary, a 45! That means that every other try I got a gutter ball. I didn’t CARE though!!

Sometimes April would be taking her turn and so would Jeff so D. and I would be sitting side by side, scoring – his pencil didn’t work so we shared a pencil. Yes, we shared my pencil! I loved how he handed it to me. He showed me once again how to score spares and strikes. I wonder if he watched me while I was bowling. God, I hope not! I sure watched him.

OH GOD! [God, in heaven, dealing with tornadoes and explosions and famines, is distracted by my cry … “who’s that calling me? Oh … HER again?”]

One time he had 3 pins left to knock over – he rolled the ball, it knocked over the 2 in front of the third and the last one remained standing. He looked really perplexed as he came to sit next to me. “I don’t understand how that is possible. If the ball is rolling straight … how can it …” We were laughing about it. He looked at his score sheet. “I have 5 9s on my sheet.” I said, “That’s better than 9 5s.”

I killed my wrist – D. asked me how I was holding the ball so I showed him and he said, “No – use the middle finger and the fourth.” It seemed like whenever he knocked down another nine pins, he’d turn around and look at me. I was having the blast of my life. The blast.

Diary, sometimes I think my spool is unwinding. [There is zero segue here.]

My mother says I am a strong person, but am I? I do not feel strong. I want to be but – if some great absolute tragedy came over me – like if I were paralyzed or went blind – how would I handle it? Sometimes I want to be tested fiercely – see what I’m made of. I feel so – sort of fragile sometimes – like one more incident and I’ll go berserk. Every now and then I go berserk – I mean, like crying all night, lying in my room, crying more – but I know that my life will be a struggle. And in a way, that’s good. I’ve said before: I don’t want to drift through life. I won’t drift. But will I be able to take it? I feel so helpless sometimes when I think of all the years of pain and suffering I might be facing. Greater pain than what I am feeling now. How will I deal with it? Can I grow? Who am I? Oh, it is an important question and I need to know.