Thoughts on What is Happening - 2/3/2007 in 2005 - 2007: High School

Important things have happened since I last wrote. Even when I did write, I didn't write about the important things. My birthday has come and gone. I am eighteen now. Finals and the semester change have come and gone. I have new classes now, theory and humanities and electrical engineering, and no more Chinese or gym. It has become apparant that the Bagel Store is not going to rehire me, so I am looking for another job, so far unsuccessfully. Molly visited Dave's first choice school and didn't like it, so they might not be going to the same college after all. I have had a few minor emotional breakdowns, one of which caused me to miss a day of school and sit at home in my pajamas wondering what to do. On this day, I broke down in front of my mother. I told her everything. Too much, really. Not too much because there's anything in particular I didn't want her to know, too much because I don't want to have that level of intimacy with my mom. I hate that I'm forced to have it, because I have emotional breakdowns and because she's always around and she's the only one who will actually listen to me most of the time. I guess it's nice to have a mom who will actually listen to you most of the time. But if I'm going to be that close to someone, I would like to have at least one personality trait in common with them, and respect them a little bit for being who they are.

I told my mother that I guess I will go back to Ann Whatsherface. That's important.

I thought some more about leaving the site. Because I don't want to have to write about all this shit. What's happening right now within me and between me, Molly and Dave is not beautiful and tragic. It is dumb and bad and ugly. So I don't want to record it. I just don't want to think about it. But then I spent a long time reading old entries and decided yet again that this is something beautiful and that I'm proud of it and that I can't delete it or even just forget about it and let it end. It has to continue, the way it was before, because it is something very good. (I wish there were a word that expressed this the way I mean it but didn't sound so dumb.) I read old notes from Molly, too, and they made me sad and hopeful and confused.

The thing is, I don't want to write about the important stuff. I never do. I don't want to write about my relationship with my parents. I don't want to write about Ann Whatsherface and my feelings about all that. I don't even really want to write about what Dave continues to do to me in my dreams, against the will of my conscious. (It was at least an interesting story at first, but now I'm fucking sick of it.) I want to write about the stuff that's interesting but completely unimportant. I want to write about jazz band. I want to write about how Mr. Casto brought pictures from his tour of Japan and showed them to people after practice, and that one of them was of a sign that said "No Dorinking Water," and that for days after that Mike and Schultz and Captain Mojo walked around the school quoting it in a Japanese accent and laughing too hard. I want to write about theory and funny things that happen in it because of the bizarre juxtaposition of band geeks and metal heads. I want to write about the time Jack found me in the hallway of the Williams center in the morning, sang a song about how he was going to throw a brownie at me, and then threw a brownie at me. And how when I ran into Laura Euphonium, she told me he'd just done the same thing to her. I want to write about the really excellent Mingus CD I just stole from the library. And most of all, I want to write about Julian. Everything about Julian. I want to write down every word of every conversation I have with him. I want to tell you exactly what his voice sounds like and everything I know about his parents and his childhood and what classes he takes and what clothes he wears and all the habits he has surrounding his saxophone. Basically, I would like to curl up in my little universe of obsession and not deal with anything outside of it anymore.

I guess that's the kind of stuff that makes this diary good. Or at least it's the part I like. But I have to talk about the other stuff too, because whether or not I want it to be, it's real. And I feel like I'm kidding myself if something bad or boring but important is going on and I just continue writing about weird kids I know and their brownies, so I don't write at all.

I just have to start writing about single topics and events again. I have to stop updating and start writing. I will write tomorrow.