I had weird dreams last night. I can only remember bits and pieces. I remember being in my bathroom here, drying myself off. Ryan and Popper were in there. A cockroach, or some sort of overgrown bug, fell on me, in my hair. I started screaming and thrashing my arms around wildly. Ryan and Popper laughed. They didn’t move a muscle to help me. I asked them if it was out of my hair and they said yes but they thought it was down my shirt. Suddenly my whole attitude changed – I said,”Fuck it! I don’t care where it went!”

The other part I remember had sex in it. I don’t remember the whole thing so it isn’t even worth writing about.

I didn’t go to my Public Speaking class today. I was supposed to do a speech. It was the last day to do them. I have a rotten feeling inside of me. Not because I didn’t go to class and give my speech, but because he made it clear to the whole class that he was really pissed off at me. I’m not sure who he told exactly, but 3 people came up to me who said that he said that I am to see him Monday afternoon. And that I am failing his class. I can assume that he announced it to the whole class. That pisses me off. My grades do not concern the whole class. It is none of their business whether I pass or fail. And besides, they probably don’t give a shit either.

I know I am looking at this all wrong. But in situations like this, I always look at them wrong. I should really be pissed at myself for not going to class. Alright, I admit it was a dumb (asinine!) thing to do. I sort of knew the consequences – I didn’t expect them to be like this, but I expected something. But, I’m a stubborn old bitch – when I fix my mind on not doing something, I stick to it. God, I’m so rotten. I still can’t figure myself out.

Now I don’t know what to do about seeing/talking with Prof. Burnett. I’m leaving Monday. I should call. But what can I say? I could invent some horrendous lie that sounds believable (I’m very good at those). But he doesn’t believe bullshit. He knows it when he hears it, I can tell.

I wonder if he would yell at me. I’ve never seen him get pissed before (I missed today).

This is going to bother me for days. And I think I already know what I’ll probably end up doing… not calling him and going home and having a great Thanksgiving vacation. All will be fine until the next Thursday, when I walk into Public Speaking. Facing all those people who know how pissed he was at me. And then he will walk in… What would he do? And say?

I think I’m gonna go to bed. At some point in time this weekend I will come up with a great idea. I hope.

I hope Popper calls tonight. I don’t dare tell him what sort of situation I’m in though. He’ll be really pissed. And I mean heavy emphasis on “really”.

I also don’t want to tell Meg or Craig. I don’t want to catch too much shit. I’ve had enough in one day to last me awhile.

I wonder why Todd hasn’t stopped by tonight. He usually does (about 6 times a day!). I just realized I used to stop up there all the time – but now I rarely do. I don’t even go to the ninth floor to see Craig anymore either. What’s the matter with me? I think I’m sinking into a slump. I hope Popper can save me.

When everything is going great, everything is going real great. And when everything is going bad, everything is going real bad. No in-between. Is that true for me? And did someone else say that before? It sounds so familiar.

I just flipped through all the written-on pages. They kind of crackle. It’s a neat sound. I like it. It sounds so important, like I’ve accomplished something, like I’ve gotten a lot of important work done.

I remember even when I was a little kid I liked the sound of lots of used paper. I remember writing in my “Spy Books”. I had a bout six of them. Each one had something in written in them, either about a person or an incident.

Something inside me tells me I’m destined to be a writer. I don’t know why I feel this way. But this feeling has been there for a long time – a very long time. Am I a frustrated writer? Maybe someday this fantastic feeling will overwhelm (I don’t ever recall having to spell that word before. I have no idea as to how to spell it!) me. I will feel that I have a fantastic idea – a story – to write. I’ll write and write. Maybe write a book? Get it published? Make money and become famous? I think I’ve been reading too  much of The World According to Garp by John Irving. I think I’ll take a break from it for awhile. I don’t want to start living in a dream world (though sometimes I think I am and somewhere out there is a reality world that I , and everyone, will reach someday).

“Dear Sir or Madame, could you read my book?

It took me years to write, will you have a look?

It’s based on a novel by a man named Lear…”

Hmmm – I’ve forgotten what I wanted to say.

Now that Lisa is gone I have the whole room to myself. For awhile (maybe for an hour or two), I thought that I would be real lonely without someone here to bug the shit out of me. But that thought left my mind a long time ago. I really enjoy being alone here, unbothered, listening to my music.

later:
I’ve got so much to say, but so little time and energy to write. I guess I’ll have to remind myself to write about: the room, the city of snow, Craig and Todd. And Matthew too. I hope I get the chance soon, while these thoughts are still fresh in my mind.

“And we were oh oh, so you know
Not the kind to dawdle
Will the things we wrote today
Sound as good tomorrow
We will still be writing
In approaching years
Stifling yawns on Sundays
As the weekends disappear”

goodnight…

I wish my cats were here! I want hugs from them!

Lisa decided yesterday that she wanted to leave. So, she packed her things. They’ve all been sent away, the room is almost bare. She is leaving tomorrow morning. For good. She isn’t even staying to finish the term – no credits. What a waste of time and money.

I don’t even want to talk about it. I’m so pissed at people. And I have so many fucking questions going through my head.

Like, how come I am happy with myself? I don’t feel insecure or immature or scared or self-conscious, etc. I have “peace of mind”. I never understood what that meant before – but now I do. Because I feel it. I feel that I can be honest with myself. And with others. Of course, I can’t say I have been totally honest with others, because I haven’t told Popper about Craig. But inside my head I’m being honest about how I feel about them and where the relationships are heading. As far as I’m concerned everything is under control and I’ve got my shit together.

Sometimes I wonder when things are gonna fall apart. These feelings can’t go on this long and be so good. Something is bound to happen. Something has got to fuck up. Shit – I don’t want it to. I want to feel this good all the time.

Of course there are days when I will get depressed and be a bummer. But that is within me – I will handle that separately from the things that surround me. If my surroundings start to crumble around me, then I’ll be in trouble. One upset will lead to another and another. And eventually there will be disaster. The surroundings are sometimes out of my reach. I can’t control other people and their emotions. I can’t control a lot of these sort of things – actually I can’t control any. But right now, every piece of life’s intricate puzzle seems to be in place and fitting  snugly.

I guess I’m trying to say that there are two worlds for me – my environment and my “inner being”. They have to be dealt with in tow different ways. I feel that I can handle my inner part, at least at this point in my life. But, like I said, the environment is out of my reach. To a certain extent. People always say that if you wan to be happy, you have to make yourself happy. I mean, make things work for you in order to be happy. I agree with that, but life isn’t that fucking simple. Am I making sense? I know what I want to say, but I’m having such trouble expressing it.

I want to read this to someone. Not have them read it. But me read it to them. I will feel a lot better. I want to hear myself say this – express it – out loud to someone who will listen. Someone who knows me. Maybe Craig will listen…

“If everyone was listening, ya know, There’d be a chance that we could save the show”

So anyway – we were drunk – well I was – he never seems to get drunk. We just talked and talked about all sorts of things. I told him how I was a burn-out in ninth grade and about getting into that car accident with FR. (and then going to some people’s house and stealing lots of pot – the same day I nearly died in that accident! What a derelict I was!) He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t think I was ever like that. I really shocked him.

He’s a neat guy. He’s 22 and I don’t feel any age difference between us at all. But then again, I never do with anybody. It is as though there is no space in age, between people that I am with – we kind of “flow” together. (”Wow, cosmic man!”). I’m 2 years older than Carol and we have never felt any difference in maturity or immaturity. JR. is 2 years older. And Doug is. And DC. is one year younger. I know that’s no big deal – or difference. But it seems as though when you’re younger you always hang around people your own age. I mean, in 9th and 10th grade. I’ve always hung around people who were older than me.

Todd says things to me that make me feel good about myself. Other people can say the same things but I don’t necessarily believe them or respect their opinion (aren’t I rotten?).

Like he’s told me that I am very mature. I don’t seem 18 at all and I’m not typically “freshman”. He says I seem to adjust very well and I’ve got a good head on my shoulders. And he also said that I’m independent.

Now I feel good. Someone as mature and intelligent as him said that about me. Me – the girl who doesn’t have much self-esteem or self-confidence.

I guess I should go on an all-out ego trip here. I wanna analyze some things that people have said about me.

Last week Craig tried explaining something to me – something about seeing girls. In the process he was telling me what he liked about me. He said that he thinks I’m intelligent. “I don’t know about schoolwork and technical facts and stuff, but about life and people.” He says I have a good head on my shoulders (again!), and I’ve got my shit together. And I’m very attractive.

Now Ryan. Great guy – we’re really good friends – said that I have a certain “air” about me. I’m “sophisticated” and more mature than girls my age.

Now, I can’t figure it out. All during high school I got shit all the time. People said I was screwed up in the head. No – I was told I was fucked up – I “had problems”. I was an asshole or a slut. And the best one was that I was a suicide case. Isn’t that a nice thing to say to someone?

People in high school are total assholes. All those dumb cliques. Everyone wore masks and tried to be people they weren’t. Pretty good actors. Oh, I hate to say it, but I was caught up in that masquerade, too. What a fool I was. I actually worried about what people would think or say about me. That was dumb – they were so busy trying to identify themselves, why should I care what they thought of me. God! High school – or our teenage years – is a massive case of identity crises!

But what does that have to do with what I was saying before? I drifted again.

How are things so different here? Why do people accept me differently? I’m well-liked. I’m seen in such a different perspective. Different – I use that word a lot. It’s vague though. Tough – it;s the only one I feel like using!

I wonder how Popper sees me. I think that he use to see me as insecure, dumb, and a baby. But I have a feeling that he doesn’t feel that way anymore – or at least not as much. I think he thinks that I have slipped a little bit out of reach. I bet he’s scared that I’ve grown up and I’m very independent: I won’t need him as much.Well, to a certain extent I have grown up and become more independent, less insecure, more self-confident, and etc. But I know that as soon as I’m back in his arms I’ll be a little baby again!! But, I do want him to realize that even though I am still his baby, I have changed too. I hope he can accept that. I don’t want him to become angry and frustrated by it. I know that when I talk about all the great things I do here, he gets angry and it hurts him. He is so scared of losing me. I tell him not to worry, but it is so hard to convince him.

I really should have started this journal the 1st day I came to Emerson. Wow, college! For years and years people talk about college, while you’re still in high school. But when you get there – here – it’s no big deal. Well, that’s not true for everybody. I don’t mean to sound like I’m not thrilled to be here. I love it here. I don’t ever wanna go home!!!! (that is – for good. I mean live there and not go to school and work in Caldors the rest of my life).

Emerson College is great, the people are wonderful. I fit in here so much better than I did in high school. I look back now and realize that I was never comfortable in high school. I was a nobody – sort of. You had to be in a clique to be a part of things – to be “in”. Fuck that shit!! People here except me for what I am. They don’t dislike me for what I’m not. I’m unique here. People respect me and I respect them.

I don’t think it’s the same in all colleges. This college is full of articulate, artistic, open people. There are so many theater majors and radio majors and etc. I’m right where I should be. I think I can get something done and have a fantastic time while I’m at it.

“Don’t surround yourself with yourself, move on back to squares, send an instant comet to me, initial it with loving care”