1978 - September 1978
"Some dreams just
take longer to fulfill themselves, I suppose."
Late. Sitting in
bed with a brand-new journal and "Baretta" on TV, thinking about some
big things. Really
big things. Unfortunately they're too personal to write about,
even in a "personal journal" like this one. Nothing I write can ever be
totally private - I
know that now. Eventually, someone always manages to
read what I write. So, what I
WILL write about in this book are the things that happen to me,
conversations I have with
people, the day-to-day stuff that I wouldn't mind letting the whole
world read. (If I
wanted them to.)
Last night I went
to the Mariner's opening game
at the Kingdome with Dad and Gramps, and you know what's funny? I spent
of the evening, not watching the game, but instead staring down to the
100 level at the
top of Joe DiMaggio's head. He was the guest of honor - the entire
people, gave him a standing ovation when he threw the opening pitch -
and all I could do was
sit there and look at that silver-white head and think about how famous
he is, how
everyone in the Kingdome knew him and millions of other people do too,
and how he used
to be married to Marilyn Monroe. It was like this was as close to a
legend as I'll
ever get, and it was awesome.
I wonder what it
feels like to be famous ... I mean, really famous, so that
walking down the street would attract people like magnets, begging for
imagine it must be a terrific feeling at first, a real boost to your
ego, but after awhile
it would be a drag. No private life of your own. You couldn't even go
out to dinner
with someone without making the cover of The National Enquirer.
But who cares? I'll
never be famous. I'll probably never even know
I might get some stuff published, a book maybe, but with all the other
authors all over the place, I couldn't even hope to be singled out. I'm
depressed about it, of course -- all I want is a
full, happy life -- but still, I can't
help but wonder what it would be like. Everybody thinks about it at one
time or another,
Sitting in the
cafeteria with Scott & Co. before class. Tired - I'm really
going to be dragging it around today, I can tell. I haven't been
getting enough sleep
lately and it starts to wear me down after awhile.
little bit later:
Damn! The Hilton is
closed today due to "Lack of Staff." Which leaves me with
a couple of hours to kill & no place good to kill them. So you
know where I am now?
Sitting on the second floor of the brand-new library, tucked away
behind rows and rows of
books where no one could ever find me. It smells so new in here, like
fresh wood and
plaster and whatever else they use to build libraries, and it LOOKS
new, everything does,
even the chairs and the bookshelves and the clocks on the wall.
Sitting on my bed,
irritated and restless. This hasn't been a good day - I've
got cramps, and I'm feeling cranky - any little thing could make it all
I've got to call my Avon customers tonight, something I really hate
to do. I'd like
to just sit home tonight and relax, but Rhonda called to invite Scott
and I over
to her apartment, and she sounded so badly in need of company that I
I've known that feeling too many times.
watching the window for the headlights of Scott's car in the
driveway. We're going over to Rhonda's tonight -- right now he's trying
buy a fifth at the liquor store, and I wouldn't be surprised if he does
Scott ... I spent over an hour today drawing up a
Biorhythm chart for him, for the months of
April and May, and now he says he doesn't want it. Says he would rather
not look at
it until he's already lived those months, then look back and see if
"accurate." In a way, I can understand that, but in the rotten frame of
seem to be in today, it makes me feel vaguely unappreciated.
After an evening of
vodka and lemonade and a lot of Columbian between the three of us,
I am understandably exhausted ... I should slide down between the
covers and konk out, but
I have such a brainful of stuff to think about, I probably won't sleep
I'll talk about it tomorrow.
Saturday night (late)
Geez, I feel like
I'm turning neurotic or something ... the only time I can get
really angry is when I grab my journal and a pen and write it all down.
Scott and I had
one of our really asinine fights tonight, and the whole time - while I
was seething with
rage - all I could think was,
"God, I can't wait to write this down." All
the fight in me, tonight at least, seems to have dried up and blown
away. I just
don't even care. I apologized THREE TIMES and he rebuffed me every
time, and I
honestly don't know what else to I could do, considering the
circumstances. When an
apology is all you can offer someone, and they won't accept it, what
can you do? I
didn't even cry. What would be the point? Tears anger him ... apologies
off the top of his head ... nothing
I love him, of
course. You don't go with one person for two years and then
suddenly hate them if they act like a baby one night. You might say you
hate them, but you
don't. Scott has so much good in him, so much loving, but he isn't as
as he could be. He doesn't seem to care about things that are below the
things don't move him, the way they do me.
That isn't what
started this stupid, infantile thing tonight, so that must not be
what's truly important. (How do you differentiate between what's
This is my theory:
accidents happen. They just do. When you accidentally break something
that belongs to someone you care about, then you obviously didn't plan
to break it. I
to put my feet up and break that thing in his car, whatever you
call it -- the shelf
underneath the glove compartment -- and so of
course I felt bad when it happened. Who
wouldn't? My theory is that if someone you love accidentally breaks
get all angry about it? They didn't MEAN to do it, they probably feel
it, and getting angry with them will just create bad feelings all
around. So why not just
say, "Hey, it's OK, don't worry about it" and then deal with the
situation together? Why lose your temper? Why get angry with someone
I love him, and I
probably always will. I just don't like
him very much right
He hasn't called at
all today - usually he calls me as soon as he gets up on
Sunday morning. It is a beautiful, sunny day outside, and all I can do
is sit here, holed
up in my dark little room like a mole or something, and think about how
much I dislike him
at times, like now. What an utterly self-engrossed, immature little
baby he is.
Oh shit, I don't
really mean that. I don't dislike him. I love him, but God
it's hard getting along with him sometimes, like treading on thin ice
all the time,
scared to death that any minute you might hit a thin spot and end up
drowning. Any wrong
word, any little thing that will blow everything apart. Are ALL
relationships like this?
I can't understand
why he's so angry. I APOLOGIZED. Geez, I didn't mean
to break anything ... it wasn't premeditated. We were having such a
evening at the drive-in, and then BAM, just like that, in 30 seconds it
was all over. We
barely said a word to each other for the rest of the night. It was
incredible ... just
like a couple of two year old kids.
Well. I'm not going
to spend the rest of the day sitting here wallowing, trying to
rationalize his irrationality. Too self-defeating. I'm going to DO
Feeling a lot
better emotionally, physically, etc. I cleaned my room, which never
fails to raise my spirits some. A person's "think tank" should be
aesthetically pleasing, after all. Listening to music - "Dust In The
Wind," Kansas. Drinking
a can of (diet) pop. Now I can curl up with the book I'm halfway
("The Family," by Ed Sanders), or I can work on the picture I've been
drawing, or I can read the Sunday paper, or I can put on some shoes and
some makeup and
trudge down to Albertsons for cigarettes. There are so many
alternatives to feeling
suddenly. That must be the way this day is fated to go - up and
down, without warning. I finished reading the paper and drawing my
picture, and now
I'm sitting here thinking how sunny it is outside, and why aren't I a
the world today? I just don't even care.
Now it's up again
(and out) ...
Scott is here, we are watching TV and everything has gone back to
normal. As usual I take back everything I said about him. I love him,
things are forgiven and I am greatly relieved.
Feeling very good.
It is all definitely on the upswing ... emotionally, physically,
everything. I thoroughly cleaned the house, did a laundry, etc., and am
now sitting in my
room watching a soap opera and relaxing. What could be better than
being alive? Even
feeling bad is being alive, existing, feeling something. How could
anyone ever want to
die? How could people commit suicide? Tom Horton (the youth pastor at
Blvd. Church) once
said that people who try to kill themselves don't really want to die,
inside - they want to start truly living. That makes a lot of sense.
Even at those points
in my life when everything seemed to be falling apart, when I tried to
tell myself that
living wasn't worth it (November and December 1973 in particular), what
I wanted most
of all was for life to start feeling good again. I wanted to truly
LIVE. Now I think I am,
because I've reached the place in my thinking where just being alive
does feel good,
whether things are up or down. Thinking, breathing, moving around,
seeing, hearing, all
the sensations combined ... how glorious to be able to do all these
things. Even pain,
emotional or otherwise, is a form of feeling.
I guess I can
understand wishing you had never been born, because I've felt that way
myself on occasion, but once you are conceived and born and planted
here in the world, that's that. So why not make the best of it and
learn to enjoy feeling?
How else can you love life if you don't enjoy
morning 11 a.m.
Sitting in the
Hotdog Hilton, drinking diet pop. The things in my brain right
now, in order of
1. Sunshine, and
people starting to come to school tanned, and
I still look like Casper the Ghost.
2. Two long hours
to kill, doing what? And Jerry is driving me home today at 1:00.
3. Doug just walked
in so I'm in for one solid hour of boring, one-way
4. Dad is home
today, again, always. Never a moment of peace. I've got to get out
of that house before I go nuts.
What the hell am I
going to DO for two hours? I have nothing to say in this journal, I
have nothing to say to ANYBODY. I wish I had something to read,
something to occupy my
mind and my time between now and 1:00 ...
Talking to Doug and
Leroy ... or, should I say (more accurately), Leroy and I are
listening to DOUG talk. And talk. And talk.
I felt this morning: sitting in the front seat of Jerry's car, hot
brilliant sun warming my bare arms.
Layed outside in
the sunshine for the first time this year -- something I'll
probably be doing a lot of during the next five or six months, weather
permitting. It was kinda chilly so I didn't stay out too long - had a
can of pop,
read some Drivers Ed, listened to some tapes, watched Dad put up some
fencing on the west
side of the yard. Now I'm in my room watching an old "All In The
rerun. Should I clean my room? Should I write the letters I owe?
Tomorrow I've got
to straighten out my personal mess at school, get back into my
Scott has come
over, again. We are watching television and I am worrying about school
office. Sitting. Waiting. I am going to get a $200 check, and possibly
job here on campus. The car is starting to feel closer & closer.
I got a job. I GOT
A JOB!!! 15 hours a week, $2.65 an hour, working in the registration
office every day!!!
be making $345 this quarter!
CON: The work will
be dull, dull, dull.
PRO: The hours
aren't bad, considering.
CON: No more free,
be able to buy the car, right on schedule.
CON: If I
get caught spending the money on the car, I'll be in trouble.
ANOTHER CON: I've
got to ride the BUS home every day again ...
Whenever I get to
feeling down in the mouth about being cooped up in a stuffy old back
room working, when I could be out in this gorgeous weather, all I have
to do is think
about that little red Dodge and how nice it will be to have MY OWN CAR
for the first time
in my life, and suddenly it won't seem so bad.
eveningward. Whenever I have nothing to do, I seem to reach for this
and a pen ... even when there aren't any words inside me. Isn't that
It's been so long since I've been consistent about writing in anything
- a diary
or a journal - and it gives me a capable feeling, like maybe I can
about something after all. I'm bombing out in college, I'm up to my
ears in debt
(to a certain record & tape company, for instance), but at
least I have the ability to
fill a notebook. Hmmmm. Put into that context, it doesn't sound like
such a great
accomplishment after all, does it?
thinking, Terri ... let's stick to the positive things you do!
I like to write. I
like the looks of my own handwriting on a piece of paper, my
thoughts transcribed into my words. I'm in control here - writing the
things that I
choose to write. No one cares what I write in here but me.
(When she's high she wrecks our
fingernails and eats too much and makes promises we can't keep. That's
one reason we don't like her.)
late today, came to school with Jerry. Sitting in the Hilton, waiting
the appropriate time to go up to the office and start work. The rain
came back today, and
the wind ... it tore my umbrella inside out when I was walking from the
car to the Hilton.
Looking outside now, though, I can see the sun fighting to break loose
from the clouds. I
feel restless. I'll have to take the bus home again this afternoon,
until (or unless)
I find some other way to get home after work. $200, $340, money from
Avon, money from Dad
... money, money, money. "Any
hours are rotten hours when you have to work." Why
can't I be walking along the street and suddenly find a bag filled with
dollar bills?? Or a self-propagating ten dollar bill? Or even the
never having to work but still living luxuriously. Or better yet, being
paid for something you ENJOY doing. Maybe that's what a writer's life
is like, if they really love writing. Being paid for putting your most
secret, innermost thoughts and fantasies onto paper. Imagine
that. It would still be work, of course, but fun
the afternoon. I am through working for the day and am sitting now in
cafeteria. I missed the 3:00 bus (50% intentionally) and must now wait
another hour for
the next bus. What to do for an hour ... ?
about 16 people in this cafeteria. I've seen the time when every single
chair was filled, with hundreds and hundreds of people. Now it's so
bare that voices
are echoing against the walls. It is sunny now, but a cloudy-sunny,
wind blowing, people
wearing light jackets. (One person I know - Steve - walks by and we
talk for a minute.)
home is a depressing thought, although I don't know why. I guess that
as I'm here at school, I'm on my own, free to do what I please. Going
holing myself up in my room, hiding from things ...
from Dad, in particular. Going home
means housework and arguments and feeling at loose ends, and headaches
beginning, and that
vague, gnawing sense of discontent.
OK. I got the hang of what I was doing - validating and mailing
and the time passed before I knew it. Maybe it won't be SO bad, as long
as I keep
myself busy all the time. And then there's the reward - getting the car
- sort of
like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, right? For so long I've
Terri Vert sitting behind the wheel of her first car, and now it's almost
dreams just take longer to fulfill themselves, I suppose.
I am always waiting for something, aren't I? Waiting for someone
to love. Waiting for high school graduation. Waiting for summer.
Waiting for a job.
Waiting for a car. WAITING. Counting the days and weeks and hours and
minutes until dreams
come true, until happiness happens. Sometimes it happens and sometimes
it doesn't. I
found my someone special, the person I would like to love forever, but
only after years of
waiting and trying and being disappointed. The waiting for Scott wasn't
is the waiting, now, for independence ... for freedom ... for full
control of my life.
put too much importance on getting the car and moving out. I feel like
these two dreams happen, everything will be wonderful and I will never
be depressed again.
But if I sat down and faced facts, I would know that it doesn't happen
Changes CHANGE things, but they don't necessarily make them perfect.
people who have everything are depressed at times. Isn't anyone ever
are, sometimes. Even adversity is OK if you've got God in there
pitching for you. Some non-Christians probably are, too.
ever been completely, 100% happy? I don't think so. I've come close.
I've had some nearly-perfect periods of my life
-- Summer '72, for instance --
never been 100%. Complete, absolute, euphoric joy. What a neat feeling
that must be. Maybe
that's what Heaven is.
what I was thinking about on the bus ride home, looking at some of the
passengers around me: it isn't fair that people start out young and
then grow old. It
should be the other way around, saving the best for last, so you have
something to truly
look forward to ... sort of the way you save dessert until after
dinner. You should be
born old, about 100 or so, and then work your way backwards, getting
younger and younger,
until you're a baby and then a fetus and then a little microscopic egg
and then an
atom. That way, youth is saved for last.
in my reasoning. If it worked this way, then people would begin to
the way they now dread growing old, wouldn't they?
hectic day. School, work, bus ride home, do a laundry, wash my hair,
suitcase, drive down to Lake Limerick for the weekend with Scott and
We're going FISHING, can you believe that? (Me, fishing?!)
pack a couple pairs of jeans, a couple of sweaters, one heavy sweater,
pair of shoes and some heavy wool socks. It might be cold on Sunday
to kill before work.
in the Hilton with Doug. He is eating a massive hotdog with "the
while I am sucking on my usual diet Tab.
really fall in love with my Speech teacher, Chick Sandifer.
What a sweetheart.
Here's something he wrote on his critique of my Speech presentation:
You might think about using a clip or some artifact to hold back your
little more - it wants to creep over your lovely face and become the
fall in love with your college teachers. I don't mean LOVE him (in case
Scott is reading this) ... I do mean, he could easily become one of my
favorite teachers, he and Lonny (my Writing
teacher). Chick is so funny and open and
gregarious, the kind of teacher you actually look forward to seeing
each day. He makes the
class, he really does. Today he accidentally hurt my feelings in front
of the class (I won't say how because it's not important), and after
class he followed me to the Hilton and apologized and straightened it
all out, and then he offered to buy me a cup of coffee. How's
that for sweet?
also don't like her because she has no backbone.
She keeps letting us down.)
was a little, I wanted to be a teacher. Now it's impossible - not
only because of my grades, which are abysmal, but because there are
of other people trying to get into the teaching profession. It's too
from last night - what WERE they? They've evaporated. I can't even
pick up the tail end of them.
on the bus, going home. Work was interesting today, lots of new things
to learn about. As long as I don't get confused and screw up, I'll be
Plackett is a very kind and patient person and she puts up with endless
questions with a
great deal of graciousness. Now I have to go home and prepare for the
Shower, do my hair, do a small laundry, straighten up my room a little,
roll up my
sleeping bag, pack, etc. etc. So much to do in so little time - we're
7:00, Scott said today, but knowing the way things usually work out, I
should be ready by
6:00, just in case.
cold bare feet, clean cold bedroom, clothes spinning around in the
open suitcase and rolled sleeping bag on the floor. "Bewitched" on TV.
hot rollers, makeup finished. Sitting. Waiting (again). When will we be
leaving for our
really looking forward to this weekend. I'm really psyched up. I feel
like I'm escaping for
an entire three days, getting away from Dad & from
housework & from all the pressures at home.
here (at Lake Limerick), we arrived safely. Johnny R. is here, his
parents are coming later -
also Dee & Jack, Greg and Catherine with Jeff and Chris.
Me during one of the many
camping trips to
Lake Limerick with
Scott and his family, during the years we went together.
I thought I looked particularly sophisticated here, with my beer and my
Saturday afternoon at Lake Limerick
here alone in the trailer, drinking my nth beer of the day. Cloudy,
Everyone else is outside ... Joann and Rose went for a walk ... Scott,
Kim and Johnny are
trying to fix a broken chain on one of the motorbikes. I am feeling
happy. This has been a
nice weekend, so far. The only vaguely disturbing part is that Scott
and I are, as usual,
picking at each other continually. Christ - when will he stop trying to
Part Three of "Holocaust," and it's just as gripping and terrifying as
the first two episodes. The people around me don't seem to be reacting
to it the same way I am. Scott says that I'm "over-reacting," and Doug
tried to rationalize it all away. I can't believe them! The
simply beyond my power to understand.
people kill each other?
later. Very, very tired. Things have been going in a swirl ever since I
job ... never time to relax until late at night, when I should be
I'll have my favorite dream tonight, the one that makes me wake up
feeling so good in
the morning. I've had it for the past two nights in a row.
(We're not supposed to tell you
but he comes to her
in the good dream sometimes and touches her.)
have the good dream: I went to bed in a "funny" state of mind,
and had a handful of strange, jumbled-together dreams that I couldn't
morning. Oh well. I've found that when you TRY to dream about some
you usually don't. How frustrating.
had a screaming-in-the-night nightmare in years.
What am I
thinking about today? Good, good mood. I've been talking to people all
day, Denise, Cindy K., Doug, Ruth, etc. I've found out some interesting
& pieces of news about former GHS classmates:
- Sally S.,
living in Nebraska now with husband Scott, is expecting a baby in
D., former best friend, now living in Seattle with Dave, had a baby
girl in February.
former best friend, Sandy, recently married someone named Phil T.
it's frightening. Everyone is getting married or having kids or both -
people who are my age, people I played squareball with during recess
and shared a locker
with and wrote long, gossipy notes to.
Curtis' wedding: April 29, 7:30 p.m.
raining outside; storming, actually. The sky is black with clouds, and
was some thunder and lightning. I am home from work, still wearing my
school clothes but
with bare feet, my face washed clean of makeup, my hair pulled back
into a ponytail. I'm
sitting in my room, and because it is so dark outside it feels warm and
cozy and nice
in here. Neil Diamond is on the record player, an album I've never
listened to before,
and it doesn't sound very good because the needle is old. (Now it's
and back to last spring when everything was beginning and ending at the
same time.) A
big glass of diet pop is sitting on the dressing table in front of me.
All I've eaten
today was a bowl of bean stew (the beans were undercooked and tough).
flash of lightning just rocketed through my room, and the thunder that
rocked the whole house. No wonder the dogs are whimpering.)
I'm going with Mom to Deb's baton-twirling recital. Doesn't that
sound like fun, ha ha. Oh well, it's the first time since Christmas
even seen my mother, and I've been wishing we could reach out to each
even if only a little. Sometimes she doesn't seem to care about me at
everything is Debby, Debby, Debby. Sometimes I think she's forgotten
she has a 20 yr.
old daughter named Terri who could use a real live mother once in
with his girlfriend Pauline, and I am sitting alone in the
Hilton, surrounded by tables full of
people (but still alone, for I'm not talking to anyone but you,
Journal). Is it true
that only neurotics keep diaries and journals? And if it is true, is it
a bad thing?
I've been keeping a journal, periodically anyway, for the last seven
years. Does this
mean I'm neurotic? And does that mean that during the times when I
keeping a regular journal, I was un-neurotic??
I'm sad or lonely or depressed - or, on the other end of
the spectrum, happy or excited - all I want to do is grab a pen and a
notebook and write about
it. Even when I'm at that place of neutrality, when I'm not feeling one
the other, there are still sights and sounds and smells and feelings,
whole tiny perfect
chunks of experience, which need words to shape and preserve them. When
what else do you have but memories? You can't possibly remember all the
that made up everyday life when you were young. The memories are stored
someplace in the
back of your mind, someplace secret and unreachable, even the
insignificant things like
what you wore to school on April 20, 1978, what you had for dinner the
night before, the name
of your Philosophy teacher ... but you don't have the capacity to
remember it all
unless you write it down!
when I'm very old and tired and my memory isn't as sharp as it is
now, my journals will be precious to me. Even now, reading the things I
wrote in junior
high or high school, I can feel myself being drawn back to places and
forgotten about ... talking to people whose faces I can't recall ...
I'd forgotten I'd ever felt. Even if I'm crippled or sick or blind or
I'll have my journals, reminding me of the things I've done and the
I've been in love with and the things that have been important to me.
Is that such a
neurotic thing to feel?
write about my mother and my sister and the recital last night, but
there are other things in my heart today that are taking precedence.
Today I'm happy/sad, full of feelings I can't understand, but I can't
write about them because it would hurt too much. Words can't express
how angry these restrictions make me feel. Scott regularly read my journals by
must think I'm so strange - always sitting here alone, bent over this
notebook, always writing about something. An eccentric, an oddity in a
world full of people afraid to write, afraid that if they let their
guard down for even one minute they will be exposed and vulnerable.
("What if someone READS this??") I don't care. I write, I write a LOT,
and I don't care. Keeping it all bottled up inside isn't the way to
the gnawing hunger inside of me. It is chastisement.
with work, sitting in the cafeteria, feet propped up on a chair,
three hours I work go by fast because I'm kept completely busy every
minute - opening
transcript requests, checking for fines, pulling copies from the
envelopes, validating, copying, stamping, sealing, etc. etc. etc. It's
not boring yet
because it's still all relatively new, but I can see how it could get
monotonous after awhile.
late (this week) I've gotten into the habit of skipping the 3:00 bus
staying at school for an extra hour, until 4:00. It gives me a one hour
going home, I guess. Isn't it terrible how much I hate going home? It
doesn't say much for my home life, does it?
I don't have it all THAT bad at home. It could be a lot worse. It's
just that I'm sensitive about still living at home at age twenty, when
all around me
people my age are out on their own or married or whatever. It makes me
feel atypical and
guilty about my lack of independence. Because of that, everything Dad
says or does rubs me
the wrong way - like I have one raw nerve exposed and he deliberately
irritates it. Things
are very touchy around there.
to go home. I have a good, solid story idea I want to work on.
need to collect Avon money from:
Helen @ Sears $2.09
My order: makeup,
powder, blusher, tan lotion, lattice ring, swirl ring, demo ring,
sunny day when all I feel like doing is holing up in my room and
everyone and everything. I'm not in a bad mood or anything -- actually,
feeling pretty good -- but I'll be glad when the sun sets &
& I don't have to feel guilty about being indoors.
losing weight. I really am, and it feels so good! Next weekend Scott
and I are
going to Karen C's wedding, and I want to be thin enough to squeeze
into my blue
dress. I've really cut down on my eating, and whenever I start feeling
hungry I have a can of diet pop and a cigarette and I don't crave food
I'm down to 125 (from 131) and I plan to keep going until I reach 116
pounds or so.
What's that? - another nine pounds? Nothing to it!
have much in the way of energy and I suppose it's because of my
dieting, but I plan to start eating (sparingly) again tomorrow, maybe
an apple for lunch
Stoned, for lack of
anything better to do.
"Here Come The
Brides" re-run on TV
Stoned, again. Tired.
I got on
the scales this morning and - I can't believe this - I weigh 122!!
all the time anymore, never a chance to write. When I got home today, I
Clean the kitchen
Science Fiction assignment
Write to Susan, Dee Dee, Dave
Finish re-sorting 45's
Deliver Avon order to Glessner!!
tape "America The Beautiful"
I think I am really and truly going to take the written part of my
Drivers Test, and strangely enough, I'm not worried or nervous about it
yet. I'm not 100% sure I know all the material, but I might as well
give it a try - I've put it off long enough, after all. I don't think
I'll be overly upset if I don't pass it the first time, either, because
at the very least it will give me a chance to see what kind of
questions they're apt to ask, and I can prepare myself more thoroughly
for the next time.
can feel my good mood dissipating again, and I don't know why. Too much
my mind. Worrying, continually. About anything and everything. Money,
the car, things at
home, school, things with Scott. So much pressure involved in being
alive. I wonder,
sometimes, how I made it this far. And how much longer will I make it -
to the year 2057?
(Doubtful. Not if I don't quit worrying about everything!!)
plans have been discarded. Scott just called me with some very, very
... his Uncle J. died this afternoon. Words can't express how shocked
and sad I am.
in my usual seat on the bus.
memorial service is Friday at 3:00. He died Monday afternoon from a
heart attack, during a game of golf. The night he died - after Scott
phoned me - the two of us went over to (his cousin's house) to
see if D. was there, and to offer our condolences. When we got to the
house, though, no one was home, and since it was a warm evening we just
sat in the front yard for an hour or so until they got home. Scott and
I were both crying. Very sad. We sat on a pile of big rocks, watching
the night and listening to the sounds of the evening and gathering
strength from each other. There was a small wind, blowing the boughs of
the trees around, and dark clouds gathering on the horizon, and one
star peeking through the trees. We listened to the noises - some boys
playing basketball across the street, dogs barking, passing cars,
crickets, the droning of far-away cars and wind and airplanes. Across
the street we could see a TV set through someone's window, glowing
bright in the darkness. We sat on those rocks for over an hour,
waiting, thinking, alternately crying and consoling, smoking,
wondering. It grew colder and darker but neither of us wanted to leave.
(His cousins) finally came home with D., and there were so few
words that could be said. What do you say, after all?
goes on. I know it sounds callous and unfeeling, but even after someone
dies, the world still revolves around the sun and millions of other
people keep thinking and breathing and feeling and existing. We will
all miss J. very much. He was a kind and loving man, and I consider
it a privilege to have known him. Now we all pick up the proverbial
pieces and go on. Tomorrow will be the first time I've ever gone to the
funeral of someone I knew, and I'm a little afraid. But I really feel I
need to go, both for myself (to pay my respects to someone I thought a
lot of) and for Scott. I know this is going to be hard for him.
ironic is that tomorrow is the funeral, and the next night is Karen Curtis'
wedding - a celebration of beginning life and love. Life really does go
on and on.
that someday it will hit a lot closer to home. I'll lose Grandma or
Grandpa or someone else that is important to me. And I'm scared about
with work for the day. My back aches, my feet are tired. I must have
pulled a million transcripts today, at the least. And I was right - it is
Every day I try not to leave the desk a mess, but the next day when I
come in there are piles of new transcript requests. It's like housework
Speaking of which - damn. As soon as I get home I've got to plunge into
another sinkful of dirty dishes. I think Dad is pissed at me because I
haven't been keeping up the house, but when have I had TIME? School
(mid-terms no less), work, Avon, the funeral, Karen's wedding ... I've
hardly had time to do anything, even personal things like writing in my
journal or sending a long-overdue letter to Dee Dee. Everything's going
in a whirl and I'm right in the middle of it, trying to keep my head
I'VE GOT TO:
Straighten my room
FINISH RE-SORTING 45's
Mend my peasant dress
Mend long coat @ seams
Wash off-white blouse
didn't even tell you ... I finally went and took the written part of
the test for my Drivers License a couple days ago, and I passed!!
(Barely - I got 80% out of 100 - any less and I wouldn't have made it.)
Now the final hurdle is taking the driving test on May 9th, at 11:20 in
the morning. I guess I don't have to tell you how nervous I am about
it, but maybe it's better that I don't make myself needlessly paranoid
by dwelling on it now. I've got lots of time to work myself up into a
panic between now & then.
thoughts that should be written.
do people have to die?
do men stare at me?
kind of summer will ‘78 be?
don't I want to go home?
doesn't Dwight quit asking me out?
do my dreams have to disturb me so much?
forward to this summer. If I believed in omens, which I don't think I
do, I would take the year to be an omen that this summer will be one of
my best. 1972 and 1975 were great - three years' difference between the
two - and now there's three years' difference between 1975 and 1978.
???? Isn't it time for another great summer?
really dragging it around today ... I can't even hold this pen. I'm
tired, I think I'm dying from cramps, I'm still hungover from this
weekend, and I've got to work four hours today. Dwight won't leave me
alone, I'm in a horrible mood, and I'd give anything if I could just
stay home this week, ALONE, and recuperate.
to deliver my Avon either tonight or tomorrow, the money situation is
getting tight again, and Dad has a three day weekend coming up.
I feel about as low as I can get.
shampooed, powdered, nightgowned and safely tucked into bed ... far far
away from my world of problems & worries. Here it is warm and
clean and comfortable and safe. I can sleep late in the morning, since
I go to school with Jerry tomorrow ... I can stay up late and read if I
want to. I've been reading again, whole books at a time instead of just
bits and pieces. Today I read "Class of ‘44," and now I'm
reading Garson Kanin's "Hepburn and Tracy."
be a "delivering Avon night," but fortunately I don't have many orders
this time so it should be easier than usual. Sitting in the cafeteria
after work. Tired, a little. Thinking about a lot of different things.
Wishing I could find more time to write, but free time is rare
& precious these days and usually spent doing nothing but
Plackett in the transcript office said today that there's a chance I
may be able to work fulltime this summer. She says it would probably be
pretty "boring," but HELL, who cares?? Money is money is money, right?
that if I don't have the whole $500 I need for the car in one month (MY
GOD!! ONE MONTH AND TERRI MAY HAVE HER CAR!!), I may ask Grandma
& Grandpa to let me borrow it from them. After all, if I am
working I could pay it back before the end of the summer.
so excited about the car, and about being freer than I've ever been
before ... what a nice feeling that will be.
depressed, for no special reason. It rained this morning and I look
awful, so that may be a reason? Anyway, I just sat there in Speech
class and didn't look at anyone or talk to anyone at all. I had a
wonderful dream last night and I keep thinking myself back to it.
at the bus stop - cold wind drippy nose.
I missed my bus, again, and the next #132 doesn't come for half an
hour, so here I sit until then feeling tired and crampy and nauseous
and mad as hell. Why do these things happen to me?
I'll be so glad when I finally have a car and I don't have to organize
my life around a bus schedule.
Buddah-like, on this bench. Sun is shining but the wind is cold and so
am I. Backache. Nothing to do but sit and chew gum and hope that I
don't look too
weird, sitting in the HCC parking lot scribbling in a notebook ...
-- what will I do tonight? Dad's night off, and if he thinks I'm going
to loan him ten dollars for a bottle of whiskey and a carton of
cigarettes he's got another think coming. (Broke as it is ... ) Scott
has been over every night this week, so I don't know if he's planning
to make it four in a row or not.
was such a thoroughly awful day that I don't even want to think about
it, much less write about it. I will say, though, that I left my wallet
on the bus - with all my money and pictures and I.D. inside - and I
spent a nerve-wracking afternoon and evening getting it back.
got to get through this day, hopefully intact, and look forward to a
long boring weekend with DAD. Isn't that swell.
first paycheck today - $148.00.
is sitting home alone on a Saturday night - strange! - but stranger
still is the fact that she doesn't mind at all ... !
ago - maybe one year ago, who knows? - the idea of sitting home on a
Saturday night would be enough to depress me for a week. Now I honestly
and truthfully don't even care. In fact, I'm having a good time being
(relatively) quiet and alone, watching "Alice Doesn't Live Here
Anymore" on TV, drinking a Coke, nursing my sore foot (I stepped on a
portable heater about ten minutes ago and gashed my right foot open),
enjoying the fact that I'm alive and happy and (90%) well.
where Dan & Marita Kent are right now. (I went to their wedding
filled with feelings.
I should write something ... anything ... tomorrow morning at 11:20 I
take my driving test. I don't want to make myself unduly nervous by
dwelling on it or anything like that, so I'll just scribble a word or
in bed. 10:00 news on TV. Freshly showered, cigarette burning in
ashtray, small glass of wine and 7-Up. Spent most of the evening over
at Scott's. His parents are in Reno for their anniversary this week.
Wayne and Jerry were there too - it was a wine, beer, doughnut and
"Celebrity Family Feud" evening.
I'm not nervous, yet. It seems like I've been waiting ten lifetimes for
this point in my life, and here it is. Tomorrow is it. What more can I
I'll get high (a little), finish my wine, read a little, relax, watch
"America 2-Night," and prepare for tomorrow with a good night's sleep.
- very late at night
flunked the driving test, and I can't say that I'm too surprised. I've
waited too long - it would have been too "easy" if I'd passed the first
time. Anticlimactic. I cried a lot, earlier today, but the tears are
gone now. I feel tired and high and worried and sad. Everything in my
life, right now, is in the early stages of disorder (housework, my home
life, family relations, school, work, etc.) and tomorrow is the day I
start patching it all back together.
outside. Every kind of tired - physically, mentally, emotionally,
spiritually. I worked today from 11:45 to 4:00 without a break, and now
my back and my shoulders ache. The fact that I failed my driving test
doesn't help, especially since I failed it over something so silly.
Scott's parents have been in Reno this week, I've been over at his
house every night, and I've been tired every morning. I haven't been
home hardly at all this week, and although I've taken special pains to
keep the house clean, I know Dad is probably mad at me for being away
so much. He probably wonders what the hell is going on, and I'm sorta
of waiting for the inevitable showdown.
are going bad between Scott and I. Even when it's up it's down. Maybe
we spend too much time together?
I spent more time at Scott's
house than my
minutes before work. I'm feeling strange today, filled with the usual
feelings I can't identify. I desperately need to organize myself and my
life and I don't know how to start.
293 "There are wounds in all encounters."
feeling too sharp today. I look hideous, I've got my period, I've got
to deliver Avon tonight and I'm at the low point of my Biorhythm cycle.
At least I finally cleaned my room last night, a tiny effort toward
organization. But now the kitchen is a mess, and I've got to clean it
when I get home. If it isn't one thing, it's another in this life of
mine. Am I ever going to look back on May 1978 and wish I could relive
before you go to bed you have to:
poem for Speech
- feeling (fairly) good again. My current goal, aside from the license
and the car (which I don't even want to talk about for a while) is to
ORGANIZE myself and my time. I want to feel tidy and clean and in
control of everything, and efficient.
in the Hilton, a little drunk but not enough to make things better.
I've got seven hundred tons of things on my mind, but have neither the
time nor the ambition to write about them all. In a few minutes I'll go
immerse myself in work and forget all about spring fever, for a few
hours at least. I rode out to school with Jerry today and we talked
non-stop, about everything and anything. I enjoy being with him again,
I enjoy his company. We seem to be comfortable around each other again
and it's a good, uplifting feeling. Last spring & that entire
disastrous things appears to be forgotten. I can relax and be myself
around him once again, thank God.
enormous longings inside.
is my advice to you: don't be afraid of life's perversions.
Don't be afraid to look at life's little atrocities.
be afraid of retarded people who carry lunchboxes and ride the bus.
Don't be afraid to look at a nun and wonder what kind of underwear she
wears beneath her habit.
Don't be afraid to watch young people kissing on street corners.
Don't be afraid to hate your mother's guts.
be afraid to look at amputees and wonder how they got that way,
or to look at people in wheelchairs and wonder what put them there.
be afraid to look at yourself naked.
be afraid of money: too much, too little, how to spend, where to spend,
when to spend, whether to spend at all.
Don't be afraid to read obscene words written on stop signs and
Don't be afraid to write one yourself occasionally.
be afraid of having birthdays.
be afraid to blow your nose in public.
be afraid to say, "Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom."
be afraid of college professors, pregnant women, or people who walk
streets talking to themselves.
Don't be afraid to look at the other people in the elevator.
Don't be afraid to sleep with somebody because you think you snore or
you look godawful in the morning or because you haven't changed your
be afraid to perspire.
be afraid to be offensive once in a while, or obnoxious, or obscene,
or vulgar, or drunk.
Don't be afraid to ask for second helpings,
be afraid of the things that scare you -
Of life's little atrocities and perversions -
For after all, it is perversion that makes the world go
in the cafeteria after work, eating the piece of cake my "Secret
Admirer" from the Accounting Dept. sent over to me, having a Coke and a
cigarette, thinking, feeling. Just for now, for this moment at least, I
feel really good. All kinds of little things have happened to me today
to make me happy. It's a beautiful sunny day, and I just plain feel
better than I have for a while. The old song of my heart - "how good it
feels to be alive and feeling
things ... "
couple of minutes I'll go down to the Financial Aid office and pick up
my check for $200. Imagine that.
my job, dull as it is. It keeps me occupied and in contact with people,
and I enjoy that.
very good, very happy, no matter how temporary it may be. Worked early
today, came home early so I could lay out in this gorgeous, 75 degree
weather. Tonight Rhonda and I are going to go out and do something!
and I had a good time tonite: drove down to Alki, "cruised" around a
little (shades of senior year!!) Went to her friend Annette's house in
White Center, then to Rhonda's apartment. Home at 1:30 a.m.
Just got home - Scott and I spent the entire day together. More hot,
summer weather - we went to Burien so I could deposit some money in the
bank, then came to my house, washed and waxed the car, listened to the
radio, had a couple drinks. Happy. Tonite Scott and I went to the
drive-in, saw "The Hazing" and "Hero Work."
Briefly Sunday night
steak barbecue at Scott's today - his family, plus his next door
neighbors - sixteen people altogether. Lots of good food, vodka,
tequila, beer - everyone got real loose. It was fun, felt good, I was
relaxed, had a good, good
sitting in bed, freshly showered, watching TV, getting ready to fall
asleep. I love Scott, I love his family. Tired and happy.
Barbecue at my
I felt very much a part of the family.
Monday 11:20 a.m.
to work in a few minutes. Sitting in the Hilton. Sunny today, but cool
and windy. A little hungover from all the drinking this weekend, but
feeling good otherwise. Had a fun, eventful weekend ... perhaps an
indication of what Summer ‘78 will be like, I hope. Tonight
Scott is going to pick me up after he gets off work, we're going to go
out driving. I take my SECOND driving test tomorrow morning at 11:20
a.m., but I'm not going to talk about it until it's over. I think I'll
probably pass this time - I'm going to be disappointed if I don't! -
but I'll get too nervous if I write about it now.
to kill before my bus comes. Worked from 11:30 to 3:00, non-stop ...
busy every minute. When I go home, must hurriedly clean the house,
maybe my bedroom if I have time - Scott is picking me up at 5:30 or
I hope I don't get it.
in the cafeteria, feeling like Monday. I failed my driving test again,
and although I'm fairly calm about it now, for a while I felt horrible
and angry enough to punch a hole in the nearest wall. Just like the
first time, I didn't actually fail - I got an 88 - but
I was "disqualified," this time because I made a rolling stop at a stop
Won't I ever get my stupid license?? Maybe when I'm 98 years old.
in Scott's living room with him and his grandma. Seems like I spend
most of my life over here at his house. Mel is going to cut my hair
tonite, I hope - just a couple of inches. It certainly needs it.
I just don't understand myself - the way I think, the ways I almost
willfully try to wreck my own life. Other times I think I understand
myself too well. I wish I knew my mother better - what kind of person she
was at 20.
again in a good mood: it seems to come and go without warning. Sitting
in the Hilton. Coke today. Drizzling outside, cloudy skies. I'm going
to work for a couple of hours and leave early so I can go home and pack
- going to Limerick for the three day Memorial Weekends, will come home
Monday evening. Stomach aches, as usual - I've been drinking too much
pop lately, too much carbonation. Probably smoking too much, too, but
it keeps me going. I've been so tired these past three weeks, doing
stuff all the time. I've spent practically every evening with Scott,
except for the occasional Friday night with Rhonda. Surprisingly, we
don't seem to be getting tired of each other, yet.
this in pencil, in case I have to erase it in a hurry (if it looks like
SCOTT is going to read it, in other words). He's driving me crazy. He's
at me about the stupidest, most pointless, most TRIVIAL things - like a
self-appointed father figure. When will he loosen up???
those days I have every once in awhile, when I walk around sticking my
foot into my mouth at every available opportunity ... saying dumb,
stupid things I really regret. God. WHY did I say that to Chick in
Speech class?? WHY did I talk to that girl behind the counter in the
Hilton?? WHY can't I learn to keep my big, fat, stupid mouth SHUT?
this past weekend was really fun. We stayed at Limerick from Friday
night until late Monday afternoon, and even though it rained on
& off all weekend, we found plenty of things to do to keep us
occupied. The Ruvos were there (Harry, Rose & Johnny), and we had
a big steak-fry with them on Saturday night.
Finish typing Doug's psych paper
bibliography for S.F.
wounds all heels
night of June. Late, but still stiflingly hot ... it reached the 80's
today. I layed outside for two hours today and got a magnificent burn
on my chest, shoulders and arms. Tomorrow I take my driving test for
the third stupid time, and although I'm not actually nervous about it,
I am feeling little twinges of anxiety. I want this so, SO bad, and if
I blow it again on some dumb mistake, I don't know what I'll do.
was a happy day.
past noon ... sitting in the living room, waiting for my hamburger to
cook, waiting for Scott to come pick me up so I can go take my test,
waiting waiting waiting. Please, Lord, let me pass this time!
outside in the hot sun ... happy, happy, happy. I finally passed my
Drivers Test, and I now have my license, and it's an incredible, happy
feeling!!!!!!!!!!! I feel like I have wings on my heels. I
got an 82, which is just barely passing, but who wants to quibble with
trifles? All that matters to me is that I DID it, I GOT it. Terri V.
can actually go out and DO something about her life in a positive way.
In a matter of weeks (days?!) the car will be mine, and I'll begin to
become the adult I know I can be.
remember that after I passed the driving test, Scott let me take the
Colt out by myself for the rest of the afternoon. I spent
hours driving aimlessly around Burien, listening to the radio (Yvonne
Elliman, "If I Can't Have You") ... went through
the Jack-in-the-Box drive-thru and ordered a Coke, just to see what it
was like ... went over to my grandparents' house to
show off a little ... it was one of the happiest,
most carefree afternoons of my life.
evening 8:30 p.m.
Sitting outside with Scott ... he's sitting next to me in a lawnchair,
studying for his "Sales Management and Development" final exam
tomorrow. I'm sitting in the other chair, watching the sun set and
listening to the sounds of the evening. It was a blistering 94 degrees
today, but now it's getting cooler and more comfortable. This has been
a long, full day. I rode the bus out to school in the morning for my
10:00 Speech final, worked straight from noon till three, came home and
cleaned house. Too hot to even lay outside in the sun - I would have
burned to a crisp in minutes.
the things I can hear tonight:
wind blowing in the trees.
and Lawnmower pacing around the yard, the metal of their license tags
roar of a passing airplane.
shuffling papers from hand to hand.
rattling some tools in the greenhouse.
single child shouting far down the road.
on the highway below us.
next door, calling to each other.
car door slamming.
crow screaming in the treetop across the street.
very quiet. Drowsy. Heavy day's schedule ahead of me again tomorrow.
I can hardly move, and I don't really know why. This day wasn't nearly
as tough as I expected, although I'm certain I did lousy on my exams.
Oh well. I worked till noon and came home early, and even though it's a
nice day, a little cloudier & cooler but nice, all I've had the
energy to do is curl up and snooze on the couch most of the afternoon.
Now it's 5:00 and I can't even get off my bed - sitting here sipping
lemonade, watching Channel 11 reruns, worrying about money, wondering
how I'm going to get energetic enough to do all the little things I
wanted to do tonight. (Scott is going out with Jerry tonight - I wanted
to pick up my room, write a few letters, plan my finances, etc.)
problems. Just when you think you're getting everything solved, more
unexpected problems come along and knock you down. It's so damned
infuriating. Now I find I'm not "eligible" for work/study this summer -
something I was really counting on - Mr. Wood says he might be able to
give me 89 hours on General Funds, but that will only be a tiny portion
of the money I need. Damn.
(in my SeaTrust bank account)
(Old National Bank)
(where I stand right now)
MUCH I NEED FOR WHO / FOR WHAT WHERE I'LL GET IT
Kim (candles) Spending money
Kim (grad. present) Allowance
Scott (birthday) Paycheck
CR&T Club (bill) Who knows?
SUMMER WILL GIVE ME $220 (maybe)
to borrow $350 from G & G, pay back $200 in July?
Kim $12.00 tonight for the candles I bought.
the bank TOMORROW, cash check, keep out $50, deposit the rest.
for Scott - put whatever I don't use BACK IN BANK.
out about insurance - how much, when - take care of it as soon as
Grandma & Grandpa - ask to borrow $375 - outline plan for
paying it back.
on the bus
course, there are always solutions to problems ...
today I found out that I CAN work this summer, after all, and what's
more I can work FULLTIME, 8 hours a day!!
Kinda drunk. Almost 1:00 in the morning. Kim
graduated tonight and Scott and I went to her graduation party (at Rick
Heglund's). Only drank three beers but you can look at my handwriting and see
what condition my head's in. Wish I could write more but I just can't.
a quick word ... no time for anything anymore. I'm hardly ever home
anymore, always out doing things. Will be leaving again in a minute, as
soon as the rollers in my hair get cool.
happening again ... I'm starting to write in you less and less
frequently, Journal, although all kinds of newsworthy things
have been happening in my life lately. I have less in the way of free
time since I started working fulltime - no time to write the letters I
owe, no time to keep my room clean, no time to read my new books, no
time to write in my journal. I'm busy practically all the time, but
it's a good kind of busy - keeps me feeling alive and active. A far cry
from the listless, bored way I've felt the past couple of
summers. No time to sit home feeling depressed anymore. For that, at
least, I'm sincerely grateful.
course, it doesn't really feel like summer vacation, in spite of the
nice weather and the parties and everything. I still have to get up
early in the morning and trudge off to school for eight hours, although
now it's to go work, not to go to classes. Scott said, "Congratulations
- you've joined the working world!"
when I complained about it to him, and I guess he's right. I've
"arrived." My carefree, lazy summers are gone ... now I'm working for
the things that I've wanted for so long.
night we went to Scott & Leslie Kelly's wedding reception at the
White Shutter Inn, and it was so nice. So many weddings lately.
of a sudden, everything started to change ...
Wednesday Afternoon In Summer
later, and my whole world has changed.
last night I am no longer living with Dad. We had "the" fight yesterday
afternoon, too ridiculous to even write about, and what it all boils
down to is that I refuse to live with him one more day.
staying temporarily at Scott's, and tomorrow I will either go live with
Gram St. John or Gram Vert until the end of the summer, at which time I
will be moving out on my own.
about it later.
I know I
should write about all the things that are in my heart and mind right
now - important things - but it's all clogged together. I need some
kind of emotional Draino: I can't get it out.
"sitting in limbo" ... still staying with Scott and his family ...
still undecided about what to do.
- Scott and
his family are being incredibly loving and supportive, letting me stay
with them until I make some decisions & get things moving
- Dad has
made it clear that I'm welcome to come back, under the condition that I
"begin to recognize him as a person" ... which sounds reasonable, of
course, but which also means no difference in his attitude.
Vert is not speaking to me because she wants me to make up with Dad -
"You're all he has in the world!" - and because she knows
that I would rather stay with Gram St. John.
one bug fucking mess and I don't know what do do. My options are clear.
But which option do I choose?
this journal is becoming a little more interesting ha ha ha
a.m. break from work
on ... sort of.
first break of the day ... sitting outside on the porch of the Student
Lounge, overlooking much of the campus. Utterly alone ... there are no
classes on Fridays so the place is deserted. Foggy morning - I can't
even see Puget Sound from here, the fog is so dense over the
water. This will be "my spot" on Fridays, from now on, now that I've
changed the locks on the doors ... now how the hell am I supposed to
get in and move my stuff out tomorrow??
staying with Scott's family. It's been two weeks now.
I moved all of my stuff out of
on a Saturday afternoon, while he was at work.
Here I'm writing him a "goodbye" letter. Years later, he told
me that he
came home that afternoon, saw my empty bedroom and cried like a baby.
moved in with my Grandma St. John for the summer.
in bed at Grandma St. John's. Feeling very, very sad and low. I've only
been here for a couple of days, and already it feels like a mistake.
God, why do I screw up my life like this??
thing I want to do is go home, but it's too late for that ... there is
no home anymore. I blew that.
solution would be to move out with Scott, but he won't. He can't afford
it (neither can I, I guess) and he's afraid of what his parents would
think if we lived together without being married. I would love
to live together, right now especially -- the only time I feel good
anymore is when I'm with him. He stayed here most of the day. We
watched three movies on HBO and ate a chicken dinner with Grandma; but
when he went home, my good mood dissipated completely.
I AM SO
alone in the cafeteria. Very hungry, but too broke to buy anything to
eat. Still down - about as down as I've ever been. I feel
awful, I look awful, and I've never been so uncertain and unhappy.
like I have no "roots" ... no permanent place to be.
people whose parents stay together - who have a solid family unit to
depend on. That must be a nice secure feeling.
probably making all this worse than it really is. I'm probably forcing
myself to be depressed, subconsciously. Scott keeps telling me to "give
it a chance" ... he thinks it's great that I'm
staying with Grandma. Of course, he's got his nice stable family to
lean on so he can't really know how it feels to be in this position,
but he's being almost nauseatingly positive about the whole thing.
funny ... feeling homesick for a home that I don't even have. Like an
amputee who feels pain in his missing limb.
break. Sitting in the cafeteria with a can of Coke and a cigarette.
Gorgeous day - sunshine, blue skies, etc. But in my present frame of
mind, I wish it would rain. There's nothing worse than a rotten mood on
a sunny day.
thing I'm really looking forward to right now is the big Beach Boys
& Kinks concert on Sunday afternoon, at Memorial Stadium
downtown. Scott, Rhonda, John, Karen and I are all going together, and
it should be great. It makes the week more tolerable, waiting for
awful today. I have no clean clothes at all, and I feel so dirty.
worried sick about my present financial condition. Grandma St.
John wants me to give her $30 a week for room and board, and
I'm trying to work up the nerve to tell her that I just can't afford
me? Why does this all happen to ME?
poor pitiful me.)
starting again ... the little problems, building one on top of the
other. I try to push it all away but it keeps coming back. Just when
I'm engrossed in daily things, the pain and the problems all come
rushing back into my awareness. Too damn much to worry about for
someone who's only 20 years old, especially since I've been so
sheltered until now.
Dad. I miss living at home. I feel sick with pain over this whole
terrible month. I keep re-living it and doing it all differently. I
have money problems to the ceiling. Grandma expects me to pay her $30 a
week and I can't afford it. Doug hates me and I don't blame him.
Grandma V. has been trying to reach me but I haven't talked to her in
over a week.
will I be one year from now? Wherever ... I wish I were there NOW. I
wish I were anywhere but here in July 1978.
alive - sort of. I'm not as depressed - not outwardly, at least - but
there's a big giant knot of hurt inside my heart. Most of the time I
can ignore it - I get engrossed in work or Scott or whatever - but
every once in awhile I remember how screwed-up everything really is,
and I can feel that knot like a vise, squeezing all the love of living
out of my heart.
I feel entirely mechanized - simply going through the motions. The joy
is gone. It will come back eventually ... I'm not a complete fatalist.
But in the meantime, life isn't a whole lot of fun.
I need a
god job. I need money. I need to see my grandparents. I need my Dad. I
need a place to live. I need a stronger relationship with Scott. I need
to come to terms with my inability to meet obligation. I need to know
someone to take me by the hand and say, "This
is how to straighten out your life."
OK. Here's how to straighten out your life, Terri:
the 45's I bought:
Out Of Three Ain't Bad" - Meatloaf
"Take A Chance On Me" - ABBA
"Cheeseburger In Paradise" - Jimmy Buffett
"I Can't Stand The Rain" - (5,000 Volts)
"Hot-Blooded" - Foreigner
(against hope) that no one will come over and sit next to me while I
sit here in the cafeteria, nursing my can of Coke and enjoying a
half-hour break from work. Who was it who said "I want to be alone?"
Garbo? In any case, I just want to be by myself for a little while, to
sit and think and examine all the stuff's that packed into my head.
then, these are the things that are uppermost in my head on this
cloudy, overcast day in July:
jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, with my hair pulled back into a
messy ponytail - lots of eye makeup - looking nice in an offbeat way.
- that man from the Hilton last
spring, the one with the perpetual cup of coffee - has transplanted
himself to the cafeteria (as I have, since the Hilton is closed for the
summer), and is sitting two tables away, still staring at me.
... AS I KNEW I WOULD BE. DAVE SMITH CAME OVER & SAT WITH ME.
More big changes.
August 8, 1978
decided to give this summer a name ... "SUMMER 1978 - THE SUMMER OF
CHANGE." Very appropriate, especially since I have experienced yet another
in a series of
swift, unpredictable changes this past week. In fact, this latest BIG
CHANGE happened shortly after I wrote that last entry in this journal.
keep up with my own life.)
I have a
new job. As of Monday morning, I am an Assistant Bookkeeper for Lusk
Metals, Inc. in Tukwila, Washington. Mom told me about the job on
Tuesday night, a week ago; I applied for the job on Wednesday; I was
interviewed on Thursday; and I got the job that afternoon. I couldn't
believe I'd actually gotten it! It seemed too easy. It's a damn good
job, and for me to
get it with no pavement-pounding, no classifieds-searching, no sweat at
all ... well, that sort of thing doesn't normally happen to Terri
V. I'm not that lucky, as a rule.
... not being one to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth, I
won't feel TOO bad about the ease with which I got the job, but rather
will just appreciate the fact that I DID ...
are, of course, problems. There always are. For one, I had to tell a
few white lies to get the job - nothing terrible, just that I have more
math experience than I do -- which kind of makes it tough when Bobbi,
my supervisor (and my mother's best friend) expects
me to know more than I do. I also hated to leave Highline and the
transcript office, and that was a problem. I had built up a certain
affection for the people there, and I felt rotten quitting &
leaving them flat they way I did. I couldn't even give them one weeks'
notice because it all happened too fast.
mad at me now: Dad, Grandma & Grandpa, Kevin Lanning, Highline
Sitting in the car with the windows rolled down, warm breeze, radio
playing, warm Cragmont soda. Tried to write a letter to Karen, but the
words wouldn't come. Fairly good mood - tomorrow is "O" day, which may
Ran into (my old boyfriend) Steve this morning at the gas station - he stood and talked to me
for a few minutes. It was nice to see him. His hair is styled and he
has a moustache now (!) but he still looks the same. He acted
differently, though - more subdued, preoccupied almost. He asked me
where I lived, and when I told him I'd moved out of Dad's and moved in
with my Grandma, he said, "Maybe I'll come see you." I said,
"I'd like that." I don't know if I really would, though - it took too
long for me to transfuse him out of my blood. I wouldn't care to go
through that again.
I aren't getting along well at
all. Lately he's been
griping and nagging at me about everything, and I'm sick to death to
it. I love him, of course (?), but lately I almost hate to be around
him. He nags about the car ("Did
you wash it?" "How much gas do you have?" "You're going to have to get
a new front seat." "Why don't you get the passing gear fixed?" "You
need new tires!"), about money,
about insurance, about my situation (or non-situation, whatever) with
Dad, about Avon, etc. etc. etc. until I could just SCREAM. He means
well, but it's the way he
says these things - as though I'm a ten year old - and the
constant-ness of it. I can't be with him for an hour without him
starting in on something.
I've been rethinking our whole relationship. What is it based on? Sex?
Habit? Etc.? And I'm trying to come to some kind of conclusion, but I
can't be objective about it anymore. Maybe I'm thinking this way
because the whole summer has been one of change, in practically every
are of my life EXCEPT for my love life. My family and home life, my
job, school, social life, financial situation -- all of these have been
changed in one way or another. Only my relationship with Scott has
stayed the same. The question at hand is: should it change too?
back to work now. Bye.
in my car, at this little park about ten minutes from the office. I
wanted Scott to come with me but he'd already made "other plans," so
it's just me, again.
sitting at a picnic table overlooking the river, in the shade of a
rotten, for a variety of reasons. I've got a COLOSSAL hangover - I went
to a party with Rhonda last night until 2 a.m., drank too
much, smoked too much, didn't get enough
sleep, couldn't wash my hair this morning. As a result I look godawful
- "Basic Yuck," as Bobbi would say - I'm tired, my head is pounding,
and I can't go home for another 4-1/2 hours. Terrific. AND TO TOP IT
ALL OFF, Grandma left this morning for the weekend, and Debby Jeanne is
coming over to stay with me. Swell. A whole weekend alone with my nine
year old sister and a case of beer.
Terri, you're not all THAT depressed. Today is Day 14, after all - you
you're depressed because you overdid everything last night.
hides herself away in numbers -
Buries her pain in careful calculations.
help her forget.
sits on above the river and watches
brown water ferry dead flowers
around the bend and out of reach -
Tosses her thoughts and her private pains
like a bridal bouquet
and watches them drown.
helps her forget.
drives in the night when the highways are dead
and no one can see her -
lets darkness swallow her headlights and hurt -
and never yields.
helps her forget.
filled with pain.
Steve last night, and Scott has broken up with me. I can't say anything
more than that. I love them both but I can't have either one. I would
like to die right now.
burned-out, run-down. Sitting at the kitchen table with a pile of old
ledgers sitting in front of me. Just had an olive loaf &
mayonnaise sandwich and a glass of icewater. Wishing I had some Pepsi
and a cigarette, but I'll live.
and Mom got home from their trip about 7:00 tonight. Now Gram is
sitting in the living room watching "MacArthur" on HBO. I took Debby
home a little while ago.
Journal ... I so very much want to tell you what happened last night
& today, but I'm afraid. It would sound so terrible.
... what the hell??
night Rhonda and I took my little sister Debby down to the Waterland
Festival in Des Moines. We watched the parade, went on a few rides,
etc., and then started for home about 9:30. When we got here to the
house, Andy C. and his friend Jimmy (a couple of guys that Rhonda and I
met at a party last weekend) were parked in my driveway, waiting for us
to get home. They brought a case of beer with them, so we invited them
into the house to watch TV and get high and talk ... which we did for
about 45 minutes.
p.m. there was a knock on the front door, and it really startled me. I
thought it was Scott. I tried to peek out the window to see who it was,
but it was too dark. So I opened the door, and imagine my SHOCK when I
saw that it was Steve!
him how on earth he'd known where I live, and pointed at my car, parked
in the driveway.
obviously very embarrassed to catch me with a houseful of people, and
seemed reluctant to come inside, so I excused myself to Rhonda and Andy
and Jimmy and the two of us went outside and sat on the front porch. We
sat out there for almost an hour, just talking. It was so good.
I kept expecting to wake up any minute, but it wasn't a dream - he was
really there. We talked about our old relationship. "You were the first
girl I ever fell in love with," he said. "It took me a long time to get
over you." We talked about all the dumb mistakes we made, and about the
good times. We talked about the things we've done the past two years
since we split up, "catching up" on all the news. It was so good, and I
felt so terrific and alive and mellow - looking at the stars, listening
to him talk (that old, familiar, lazy drawl of his), knowing that there
was no reason in the world that I couldn't be friends with this person
... that our years of non-communication didn't have to continue ... and
that I still care for Steve very, very much, and all my attempts to
convince myself that I feel nothing at all for him were just so much
psychological crud. I will always love Steve, and I refuse to fool
myself about it any longer.
The mood was more or less shattered when I nonchalantly asked him who
he was living with, and he said "Oh ... this girl named Debbie." That
was no surprise. I've known about Steve and Debbie B. for a long time.
But then he put his face in his hands and sighed and said "Yah ...
she's pregnant, she's gonna have a baby any day." That hit me like an
atom bomb. I was totally, thoroughly stunned. Fortunately, though, I
was really calm and nonchalant about it - I sensed that he needed to
talk about it, and I didn't want to put him off. "Are you going to
marry her?" I asked, and he shook his head.
"So what are you
going to do?" I
her, I guess," he said. "I love her, you know, in a way."
it went on like this for a long time. He was really upset, and I was
thanking God that I'd been home to listen to him.
Wayne came over while I was still sitting on the porch with Steve, and
Andy and Jimmy were still sitting in the living room with Rhonda. I saw
their car pull up and my heart just sank. I knew that there would be
hell to pay, or at the very least an ugly scene, particularly with
Steve being there. The old hostilities between Scott and Steve are as
fresh today as they were two years ago. According to Rhonda, Scott
sorta stalked into the living room, looked at Andy and Jimmy sitting
there, and said "Where is she?" "She's on the porch," Rhonda said.
around as he opened the door, but I didn't get up. "Hi?" I said, kinda
uncertainly, but he didn't say a word - he just stood there and stared,
frozen, mad as hell. "I'll be in in a minute," I said, but he closed
the door and a few minutes later I heard him driving away with Wayne.
entry stops at this point. When Steve left, later that night, we
stood in the doorway and
kissed goodbye. "I will always love you," I told him, and then I
watched as he walked away. I knew I would never see him again.
Late on a
Sunday night ... the end of another wasted weekend, perched on the edge
of another long work week. "Darling Be Home Soon" is playing on the
record player, and the words are hanging above me and inside me and are
part of me. I am hurting and happy at the same time ... singing and
crying, living and dying, dreaming and waking.
to be alive. Pain is OK ... so are anger, and resentment, and
disappointment. It's OK when people let me down and use me and hurt me,
because, ultimately, I still have me.
finds her sweetest peace in sleep,
Her greatest victories in dreaming.
The morning offers her nothing but her own failings
So she hungers for the night -
For the quiet sunken darknesses -
And for the escape that the smallest hours afford her.
at the kitchen table - almost 10:30 at night. Coming down from a good
high. Wicked cramps - period started this
morning, thank god. Wet hair wrapped in fuzzy pink towel. Grandma is
sitting in the living room watching a tribute to Irving Berlin on TV,
the cat perched on her lap.
the car last night ... gave Scott a check
for $700. Ta-da. Just like that!
I had to borrow the final $150 from Grandma &
Grandpa, but I've got until they leave for Hawaii (one month from now)
to pay them back. The rest of the money came from my old Highline
College job and my last two paychecks from Lusk Metals. Scott bought a
bottle of pink champagne and we "celebrated" ... I even tossed a little
onto the car, to christen it.
happy, of course, but the whole thing is anticlimactic, in a way. I've
been driving the car regularly for almost two months now! I don't know
... I'm just in a weird frame of mind. So much to think about lately,
and I'm always too busy or too tired or too tired or too something
to write about it ... it's all piled up inside my head.
to Bing Crosby sing "White Christmas" for the last time (in August??)
out with Rhonda in a little over a month.
some bedroom furniture.
- Steve and
Debby having their baby.
Mitchell and Dick S. and Larry F. killing flies in the office.
asking me to marry him.
- One Wet
Pat W. tried to kill me, twice. The first time he was shooting at me in
a department store but he missed. Not being one to give up easily, he
came over one night when Grandma was out and Scott and I were watching
TV. He broke into the house, shot Scott, and then set the house on
fire. During the scuffle I managed to get out of the house thru the
back door and run over to Johansen's to call the fire department and
the police. Scott lived, for which I was grateful, but the house was
destroyed, including all my precious journals & diaries
& photo albums.
I'm going to buy a huge, fireproof strongbox for my journals.
evening. Sunny. Clean dried hair waiting for hot rollers, waiting for
tonight. Scott is on a fishing trip so Rhonda and I are going to do
something - what, I don't know yet. Of course I would like to go see
"Rocky Horror" at the Neptune, but I seriously doubt that Rhonda would
go for it - we've seen it the past two weekends in a row. I could go
see it every weekend - it gets to the point where I actually HUNGER for
that movie. It's scary how hooked I am.
hungover from last night. Scott, Jerry, Ron, Katy McKay and I all went to The
Other Side of the Tracks to listen to John & Karen play, and
the waiter served us beer without asking for I.D. I got ridiculously
drunk and have been paying for it all day long. I'm drinking too much
again ... it seems to come & go in cycles.
this past week:
bought a Chevy can for $1500, so I don't have to feel guilty about
leaving him without a car.
is depressed about Rod - he's engaged to another girl, which leaves her
exactly nowhere in his life.
is important - I talked to Dad on Wednesday night! I simply got tired
of this not-speaking-to-each-other shit and called him up, and (wonder
of wonders) he couldn't have been nicer. We talked for a long time, and
all the things were said and apologies made and we're friends again.
God, what beautiful relief. One less thing to feel rotten about.
I am in
love with my new car, my job, Tim Curry and The Rocky Horror Picture
Show and life in general. Super duper.
a.m. Very, very sleepy - we had an evening of wine (Tyrolia - I really
like it) and weed and music and conversation. Nothing exciting, but it
was nice - the kind of evening I really enjoy once in a while. Rhonda
and I talked about what it's going to be like when we get an apartment
together, and we started comparing eccentricities - listing the weird
or annoying things we do that might possibly drive the other person
crazy. Shit, I sure thought of a lot for myself! I crack my toes. I
talk in my sleep. I take 45 minute baths. I'm grouchy in the morning
until I get my coffee fix. I shove things under my bed. I put things
dog alarms and crumbs in our bed:
is our world coming to?
used to pride ourselves on organization,
"Uncle Sam wants YOU to clean up you room!"
we are lost in laundry mountains
and slinking in late at night;
Too much beer weighing our thoughts down
and too many things put off until morning.
is flowing in the wrong veins,
And we never remember to let the Boys out.
earlier in the year)
down from another high ... seems like I spend my whole life sleeping,
working and getting high. I'm not complaining, though - I'm feeling
better about my life, at least. I'm ALIVE!! I'm always
going to be alive!!
to try and write in my journal more regularly. There is so much more
that I want you to know ... whoever you are, reading all these
journals. I know that you exist, yes, but since I can't learn more
I might as well let you know more about me.
drawing to a close, and so is this journal. I'm going to try and make
this notebook last until the end of September or until Rhonda &
I move into our apartment, whichever comes first. That will be a new
beginning, and a new journal will be appropriate.
at Grandma's kitchen table, nursing a beer, still wearing my work
clothes. I'm going over to Rhonda's in a while to get high, but I've
got to wait until after dinner (chicken noodle casserole for the third
night in a row).
work, of course, and thunderstorms during lunch ... carbon ink all over
my hands ... writing (another) letter to Sparky during lunch ...
Merle's birthday, celebrated with salami and cheese ... typing
seventeen orders. I like my job. I especially like the people in the
office. There is a warmth and camaraderie there that I enjoy,
especially between Bruce and Dick and Kirk and Bobbi and I. I'm not completely
a part of it yet,
but I feel I'm getting there. I still make a lot of embarrassing
mistakes, and Kirk (my boss) has a way of making me feel real stupid and slow at
times, but it's only because he's eager for me to learn.
My day is
divided like this:
7:30 a.m. Put on makeup, set hair, drink 2-1/2 cups of coffee, smoke
Leave for work
8:00 a.m. Drive to work listening to "Rocky Horror"
12:00 Type orders, answer the phone (17 times today), file, general
5:00 More of same
Leave for home
5:15 Drive home listening to "Rocky Horror"
11:30 p.m. Eat dinner, get high, wash hair
high coming to an end. Alone in the house - Grandma is at a
negotiations meeting. Nice day. The mood at work today was high -
tomorrow is our big office party, to celebrate two years that Lusk
Metals Northwest has been in operation. It's being kept a surprise from
the bosses, so there's a conspiratory feeling in the air. Bruce was
just as nice and funny as he could be. I guess I've changed my opinion
of him. I used to think he was high-handed and irritating, but now I
really like him. Anyway, work was actually fun.
work, Rhonda and I went out to dinner at Teraro's in Burien, and then
did some shopping at Fred Meyer. (I had to get some stuff for the
office party, and then I splurged and bought three 45's - "Summer
Nights" by Olivia Newton John & John Travolta, "You Needed Me"
by Anne Murray, and Linda Ronstadt's new single, "Living in the
U.S.A.") I also stopped by Scott's for a while, but we started picking
at each other so I left early.
move out with Rhonda, I've got to get:
& pillowcases (two changes)
blanket for my bed
Nightstand of some sort
(bath & hand)
to be dead tired tomorrow. Today was such a good day ... will this
September 7, 1978
things have changed. A lot of tension in the air at work today - maybe
it was in the air, the calm before the storm - Kirk was especially
wired today. Anyway, I've been making a few (relatively) minor blunders
at work, and I think that Kirk senses some of the new closeness between
Bruce and I, which could get us both into a lot of trouble. So between
those two things, I felt like maybe my job was on the line. It just
felt like Kirk was watching me more closely than usual - watching to
see how I handle four phone calls at one, double-checking all my
orders, etc. - waiting for me to screw up or something.
afternoon he said, "Terri, I'd like to see you in my office before you
leave this afternoon," and that really did it. I broke into a cold
sweat and the shakes - I even convinced myself into a pounding
migraine. I was wound tighter than a watch spring for the rest of the
afternoon, expecting the worst. I was positive that I'd lost my job and
that was what Kirk wanted to see me about. I even imagined
(hallucinated?) that all the people in the office all knew I was being
fired ... I thought I saw Bobbi and Bruce giving me sympathy looks. So
by the time I went in to talk to Kirk, I was so tense I hurt all over.
So what happens? It turns out I'm getting a $50 a month RAISE for the
"fine job" I've been doing!!
haven't seen Scott since Monday night, when we came home from the
ocean, and I've only talked to him twice on the phones, both times very
briefly. I don't know what the problem is. I just don't feel like
seeing him or talking to him. I'm sure he must be wondering what the
hell is going on. As a matter of fact, I wish I knew myself.
Scott and I break up.
and waiting - not very patiently, I might add. It's almost 8:30 already
and still no word from Bruce. Today at lunch (we went to Perino's while
my tires were being changed) he took my phone number and we made plans
to do something tonight, but so far he hasn't called. The phone is
maddeningly silent. I'm going to go straight out of my mind
if it doesn't ring soon.
I broke up tonight. My decision, not his. I'm hurting inside, but I
have to be free. Two and a half
years together, and all of a sudden it was over, just like
that. I remember that he cried.
called at 9:30 and we're going out to dinner tomorrow night.
is at a meeting tonight so I am home alone ... 11:00 already but I
can't seem to wind down enough to go to bed. So much on my mind. I am
CRAZY about Bruce, but I'm trying hard not to be. It's such a strain
being next to him all day at the office without being able to talk to
him intimately, or smile at him, or anything, except in a professional
way. Especially after Saturday night! Rhonda, Kent, Bruce and I went
out to dinner together at Reuben's Plankhouse in Bellevue, and then
went to Bruce's house for drinks and late TV. We all got really high,
and it was the most fun I've had in a long time. I stayed the night at
Bruce's house - didn't get home until 4:00 Sunday afternoon. That was
really nice - he is such an appealing, intriguing person and I enjoy
being with him. In fact, if I came right out and admitted it, I would
say that I care about him a GREAT DEAL. I just wish that I knew how he
feels about me. Am I just another "diversion," or could he really care
in return? He seems so different at the office - so absorbed and
motivated by his work - that occasionally he makes me feel dumb when I
slip & he corrects me. But then when we're alone, he's someone
else again. Funny, self-confident, relaxed.
know what I can do to make him love me. Maybe I don't even want him to.
I don't know. He's obviously attracted to me - I don't think this past
week has been a put-on - but the whole thing has got me so frustrated I
probably wouldn't even recognize insincerity.
late. Still high from the champagne and weed at Rhonda's. We found our
apartment today! The Court One apartments in Kent. We'll be moving in
on October 1st.
relationship with Bruce is coming along slowly but not so surely.
midnight, but I most definitely can't sleep yet; so happy and so high I
could probably float away. Bruce took me out to dinner tonight, to the
Black Angus in Burien. We tried to get into the bar but naturally they
checked my I.D. so that was out. So he sat there and drank Dirty
Mothers while I nursed a couple of Cokes. But it was nice in spite of
that. Afterwards we snorted some speed and got some beer and went to
Rhonda's. Randy (W.) and Mike, two guys from work, dropped by and I
bought some more speed from Randy.
Why am I
so happy? Because I really like Bruce a lot - he does things to me that
no one has done in a long, long time. Emotions that I thought were
shriveled and dead inside me are suddenly coming back. Not necessarily love,
but excitement, and freedom, and the desire to be with him all the
time. It's nice to be excited about someone again.
trying not to think about Scott, and what all this is doing to him ... )
also because we have our apartment - I paid the $100 deposit today. I
feel like a whole new era in my life is just beginning. It's not a
feeling that I can identify or explain - I just know that a very
special and important part of my life is around the corner. Who knows,
maybe it's already begun?
writing a lot today, but I know there are other things I should be
doing instead. What if Bruce shows up unexpectedly, like he said he
might? I look so goddawful, you'd have to see it to believe it.
on my rumpled bed drinking lukewarm coffee, smoking my second-to-last
cigarette, buzzing on speed and listening to Jesus music. How's THAT
for a contradiction of lifestyles?! The old God-centered Terri vs. the
about all kinds of stuff ... Bruce, primarily. This has been a terrific
weekend. I've been with him three nights running, and it's approaching
something like habit. Last night I think I fell in love with him, but
that's something that I'm going to try and ignore for awhile. We were
sitting in the Hoagy's Corner parking lot, and I was watching him eat
this gigantic sandwich, and all of a sudden I thought, "OH God, I think
I love him." Nothing magic - no bells ringing or fireworks going off -
actually, it was vaguely depressing because there's not a damned thing
I can do about it, knowing that he's too committed to his job to risk
it by falling in love with the secretary ...
night Bruce and I went out to a theater in Bellevue and saw John
Belushi in "Animal House" -- a gross, vulgar movie that was also so
funny I thought I was going to cry. After the movie we got some weed
and some beer and went to his house. Craig was gone so we just turned
on the TV and got high and relaxed. I ended up spending the night, as I
figured I probably would. We didn't get to sleep until nearly four in
the morning. In the morning we woke up next to each other and it was
beautiful. We took a shower together and sat in the living room
drinking coffee and eating speed. I sat at the table and read the paper
and listened to Bruce play his guitar. I was surprised - he's damn
good! I didn't even know he could play! The whole thing was like a
scene out of a movie ... after spending a wild night together, we sat
in the living room with a magnificent view of Lake Washington, lazy
guitar music, coffee, talking. So
brought me home, he came in and had coffee with Grandma and Mom and I,
which kind of eased my embarrassment a little. I mean, that was really
a potentially awkward situation, waltzing into the house at noon after
an all-niter with a new boyfriend. But Bruce just plopped himself down
in a chair and made himself completely at home. He has that wonderful
rare ability to talk to anyone about anything, and before I knew it he
and Grandma and Mom were chatting like old buddies. I was amazed and
night we went to a wedding out in Kenmore, some friends of Bruce's. I
didn't know a soul and I felt out of place, but Bruce stayed beside me
for most of the evening so there was at least one familiar face!
Reception afterwards, and then a party at the house of more of Bruce's
friends. We ate speed, smoked a lot of hash and weed, and drank Blue
Nun. Bruce got really goofy. I've never seen him so high before, and it
was really strange. It was after we left that party that we stopped at
Hoagey's Corner so he could grab something to eat, where I had my Great
Revelation. He brought me home soon after that and I was in bed
& asleep by 1:00.
was kissing me goodnight, he said "If I'm in the area tomorrow - and I
KNOW I will be ...." and he sort of left it at that. What? He'll stop
by? Or call? I'd like to see him, naturally, but part of me is saying,
"Give it a one day rest, Terri. Take some time to do some serious
where it stands, as of now. Part of me thinks I'm in love, mainly
because I'd LIKE to be in love with somebody - anybody! - while the
smartest part of me isn't. It's just that thinking I could be
is so much fun.
Early Monday evening
rock-bottom awful. My period started today, I'm run-down from heavy
dieting and speed-taking, my back aches. Work was nerve-racking today -
Kirk jumped on me again over little mistakes on my part - Bruce all but
ignored me. God. What a day. I think I'm probably in an OK mood
underneath all this, but too many small irritations have ruined this
day. Now Rhonda is on her way over - we're going out to dinner and she
says she has "something she wants to talk to me about." Oh Lord ...
wanted to tell me was that Jeff will sell us a pound for $150. Sounds
like an OK arrangement, except that I seem to be getting out of the
weed habit again ...
Skippers and then Budget (I bought Dan Fogelberg, "Souvenirs," and "The
Best of Stealers Wheel"). STOMACH CRAMPS.
night before bed
I haven't spoken one personal word to each other since he brought me
home on Sunday night; we see each other all day long in the office, but
there our relationship is strictly business and there are no
opportunities to really talk. For
that reason it's impossible for me to gauge how he feels. Actually, he
can be a real bastard around the opposite - the polar opposite of the
way I know him away from Lusk Metals. We're entirely different people
outside the office.
hoping he'd ask me out to lunch, but then Kent dropped by and whisked
him away and that was that. I sat at my desk and talked to Bobbi and
Charlotte all hour.
Fischer was fired yesterday. I didn't really like him much, but I was
sorry he was fired. I live in continual fear of losing my job,
particularly on those days when Kirk decides to land into me about
something. I don't know what I would do if they let me go. Today I
worked really long and hard and got a lot of things done, and even Kirk
noticed how busy I was and commented on the way I was "buzzing" around
the office. (Buzzing. Hardy har har. If he only knew. Good old speed!)
work, again I was hoping Bruce would approach me and suggest we do
something, but Scott W. was sort of hanging around so I just left and
went straight to Rhonda's without bothering to go home first.
doesn't he at least CALL me?
wait to move out ... two weeks from today!!! Two long, interminable
weeks of waiting. Will I make it??
Late the next night:
tired - sharp headache forming in the front of my head - but wanted to
write. Bruce took me out to dinner tonight. I am so crazy about him
it's driving me nuts.
hour. Sitting at my desk listening to Bobbi and Charlotte discussing
food. Bruce has gone to Boeing, Kirk is OTL at the Doubletree, Dick has
slipped off somewhere (probably to Southcenter, where he goes
practically every day). Feeling pretty good today. Tonight after work
I'm going to do a little shopping - maybe pick up some new shoes and a
bedspread. Moving day is growing closer and closer. I wonder what my
life is going to be like in two weeks?! Probably damned tight
financially, at first, until I get adjusted to paying bills and buying
food, etc., and until I get my next raise. But aside from that, I'm
looking forward to it.
has happened in this journal ... I hate to see it end, in a way. I
haven't always written as consistently or as thoroughly as I would have
liked, but my new life has made free time scarce. Tonight I'm going to
buy a new journal.
nearly half a year that this journal covers, the following has happened:
I got my
Drivers License after three nerve-racking attempts, and I bought my
first car. I moved out of the house under unpleasant circumstances, but
made the best of it & am now about to move into my own
apartment with Rhonda. I found (or re-discovered?) Rhonda and now I
have a best girlfriend again, after months of starving for female
companionship. I quit my dead-end job at the college and found a new
& exciting job at Lusk Metals. I made the decision not to go
back to school. My relationship with Scott S. is over after two
& a half years, as far as I'm concerned, and I've found a new
man who excites me and makes me feel alive again. I'm looking better -
I've dropped 18 pounds so far, cut my hair, and am dressing a lot
better. I feel
better, I have more energy, and at long last I'm
the one in control of Terri V.'s life. After 21 (almost) years, I'm
the one who makes the decisions.
depressed for so long - feeling like life would never happen to me. Now
to throw a rock?