Saturday

Too late to write.

Sunday

Well all my concerts are done with now. The Messiah Sing was OK. I played with another flutist who looked like a doppelganger of Mrs. K. The GBYSO concert went alot better than I thought it would. I think we were better than the Rep. My own opinion, but our program was more exciting.

Well Mom and Dad got on my case all the way to the concert and it took all I had not to either scream or burst into tears. I'm so pissed off. Things just haven't been going well for me. And it's all very well for Dad to get on my case for acting "snippy and sarcastic" and being "selfish and spoiled" but he doesn't realize how obnoxious he is most of the time. Why don't they understand that I know and that I don't like the way I am either. But I'm so sick of all of it. I'd like to just run away somewhere where I wouldn't have to deal with people who can't believe that I'm trying, or think they know what's under every single little action of mine. He says all I do is irritate him and i resent him. Well, I don't resent him as much as he irritates me. He drives me up a fucking wall.

Don't you think I'd like everything to be sweetness and light? Well, it isn't, and it isn't likely to be in the near future. What I really need is someone's shoulder to cry on. And I don't even have that. They have the presumption to think that they have all the answers to my problems. For God's sake I don't even have all the questions. And it's not the little things I want, my particularly TV show or whatever dumb little thing they get mad over, or try to appease me with, it's the atmosphere. I'm just sick of the whole thing. SICK.

I met Mr. M's daughter. In a way I envy her, but yet on the other hand it might be very hard to have him as a father. But when i think how much I love Mr. D and the Ks and Mr. M it's just so goddam sad. You see, nothing really ever works out just right. And those things that look the best at first turn out the worst in the end. But how many things ever look good at all?

The whole thing is just to fucking corny anyway.

Mr. S seems like an OK guy to me.

You know, it's the dumbest thing to be sitting here by myself with tears leaking out of my eyes. But so many things are dumb, aren't they?

Chinese food is good, but I eat too much. You see I haven't really got any goals for keeping in shape. Not to mention a total decline in willpower in general.

Poor Mom is in the thick of all this. I love Daddy as much as Mom, don't I. I should. Oh God, I don't even like writing about this. I feel so guilty about so many things ~ and angry too. Angry because I feel guilty, guilty because I feel angry. It all stinks all of it. I want to see some of my friends. I wish it was summer so I would feel like getting out of the house more often. So many duties and obligations ~ Oh God.

So many damned papers and articles and books (best sellers of course) and theories about adolescents and their problems. They think they understand. How many of them can remember their feelings with any kind of clarity? I hope I never forget. And God keep me from ever acting as if I was anything what I am now. I hope I always have this to remind me so I don't make the same dumb mistakes and assumptions that they make in their "liberal and openminded" attempt to understand the teenager and his problems. (Note analysers: I am not fully "liberated" yet I used "his." Who cares? So what if I want some guys to be taller than me? You wanna make something of it?) I really have had it with a set of values: old and "new" that try to make people something that they aren't. Oh shit I am so mad that pretty soon I'll probably say something that I don't mean.

Tuesday

I didn't write yesterday because nothing much happened. I slept 'round the clock until it was dark again. We also had a power failure (while I was asleep). I bitched at Mom late at night. But today ~ Oh my God Today. Well, I got up at 2:30. So far so good, a huge buckwheat breakfast and so on. Mooched around the house. Ate dinner. Mom went off to town meeting. Watched boob tube. Suddenly the phone rang! It was for me, J2.

We talked and talked and somehow got around to telling each other about our most festering inner secrets. Me about MS, and her about - - - DM! Oh my god. That one really got me. Also, it turns out that MS told O- who told K, who told B who told J2 a distorted version of what actually happened. So you see, you can't trust anyone, and what seemed so simple always backfires. I can't believe that that bastard goes around spreading distorted details of his love life. Fuck. You see, nothing goes right ~ ever.

And then this nugget about Judy and DM. Well I'm not going to write in any detail about it here, because I promised it would get no further than myself and someone else might read this someday. But there goes another one of my fond dreams shot to hell. Perhaps it was better to know all the sides. Now at least I am not blind, and there is no demi-god dashing around out there somewhere. I can't believe I mailed that frigging letter. Oh shit. The more you know the worse it gets until you'd wish you'd get amnesia or be a little baby and start and live all over again. But I guess you never can avoid all the pain. And some get a hell of alot more of it than others.

God, J2's got so many things going for her. At one point she's had everything I've wanted and somehow it's gone sour for her. That's very hard for me to understand. Like K, who gets what want without even trying ~ someone explain it to me.

I was petrified with fear at the thought that my father had been listening in on my conversation. And that's pretty awful too. But you see, there are things that I couldn't talk to them about. Why? Is it my inhibition, or theirs. It doesn't make any difference, really, it exists, ça suffit.

Tomorrow I have another lesson. I've been sounding so badly lately I can't stand it. Why? I was doing well before those damned concerts. I sound so thin ~ and my lower register PFT! I hope it's just that my ears are stopped up ~ but I know better. Oh hell. This is exactly what I don't need right now. I need an upswing not a fucking recession.

I'm meeting J2 at GYBSO Saturday, and we're going to Harvard Sq. We'll also exchange gifts. I'm giving her one of the silver bracelets. I should give her something else too. But I can't think what. Well, I think I'd better go to sleep, this headache is driving me up a wall. Sometime I should tell Mom what to do with these notebooks when I die. Tell her who to send them to. Mrs. C? No, Mr. K. He tries so hard to help and understand. I won't let them (my parents) read it until a yr. after I'm dead. So that whatever guilt they may or may not feel will not be affected by what I have foolishly or carelessly or truthfully set down here. I don't want them hurt because I do love them. And whether I say it because it's true or to convince and emphasize to myself that truth is not important.

How many things are important in the long run? And what is the long run? And who cares anyway? You see... now I'm babbling. Goodnight, before I cease making sense altogether. Hmmmmmmmmmm.

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Last updated: 11/10/02; 2:26:04 PM.
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