My teenage life continued.....
Rashmi is so rude. She met a guy and now she is completely ignoring me at lunch (9/1/88). So typical of high school. Though I guess I got the last laugh. I should have told her, Hey, 30 years from now, I'm going to be reading my diary and I'm not going to remember who you are.
I did my oral report on CF for science. It went pretty good. (9/16/88). I remember doing that report. I also remember really liking the science teacher. But then the school switched her to the gifted class and gave our class a horrid teacher. I'm guessing I'll end up talking about her in the diary. So I'll quote from my teenage self...when it comes to that.
One thing I'm noticing, about this diary, is that mostly I talk about my dreams. I'm not talking much about real life.
My life is so great. I got my midterm report. I have 4 A's, 1 B, and 1 C. That's a big surprise. I have friends at school. I just hope it stays great. I mean last year was great and then whamo all these horrible things happened (10/10/88). It's funny. I seemed to be happier and more social than I remembered. I've had this idea that after the ouija board aftermath I became withdrawn and had no friends. The other thing I believed is that I stopped being spiritual after the whole thing—that it turned me into a strong skeptic. But I see, in the diary, that I still had a lot of spiritual beliefs.
I do think there was a time that I lacked a social life—maybe 11th grade? Later in life, I connected it to the ouija board fiasco. But I think it was more about me not wanting to drink and party, so I became left out.
But who knows. I might have had more friends than I remember.
I met a friend named Olga today. She is so nice. She's from Hong Kong. (10/17/88). I actually remember Olga! She was nice, cute, and fun.
I just Googled Olga. If I have the right person, she's now a genetic scientist.
I can't get along with my family. That is totally impossible. Everyone complains about me singing. It is a nasty habit I picked up. To me I sing good. But I know to others I sing horrible. Even relatives think so. (10/20/88). Now most of my family is very nice about my singing—well, at least my mom, two sisters, and one of my nieces. Tim is nice but only after I strongly bitched about him not being nice about it.
Here's the thing about my singing. When I hear myself sing, I think I sing good. Certain people have given me very strong, enthusiastic compliments about my singing. Other people have said things, not said things, or otherwise acted like I'm a horrible or mediocre singer. I TRY to have faith in myself. I try to believe my own ears. I try to believe the people who have said nice things. But I think no matter, what I'll always have doubts.
I feel bad for myself as a 45-year-old with this issue. I feel even worse for my past 15-year-old self.
Six Flags was a bummer. I wanted to see Freddy so bad but everyone else had to do what they wanted so I didn't. If I try not to want anything, then I can't be hurt as bad. (10/22/88). I still strongly believe in this philosophy—the whole Buddhist idea that desire brings suffering.
By the way, the Freddy was Freddy Krueger.
Last night I dreamed that Violet came back to school. I asked her who I was going to marry and she said Mike T. (10/27/88). I've been seeing a lot of dreams about this Mike. I'm kind of starting to remember that I might have developed a crush on him. I'm wondering if this is one of those cases where I dream about someone and that leads me to becoming attracted/interested in them.
Violet is one of the many people in my diaries that I no longer remember.
Mike T. is so nice unlike Larry P. who is such a jerk. He was talking about me behind my back. I hate him. (10/28/88). I wonder what he said, and I wonder who told me he was talking about me. And what was their motivation in telling me?
At some point I had a crush on Larry P. I'm not sure if that came before or after this incident.
I turned in my bowling money today. 300. Kerri D. was there. She is so cute. (11/5/88). Kerri was one of he Cystic Fibrosis poster kids. When I saw her name, I had a strong memory of a child's face. I'm guessing that was Kerri. I just realized that this child (probably Kerri) reminds me of an actress from season 2 of The Exorcist—Beatrice Kitsos. I really liked Kitsos when I saw the show—felt drawn to her. Now I'm wondering if it's because, subconsciously, she reminded me of Kerri.
Jennifer is very upset because Dukakis didn't win the election. (11/10/88). I think that's the first time I've seen myself mention politics in my diary. I was so apolitical. Jack is very much NOT like how I was at that age.
I am feeling extremely bonded today. I feel like I have all these special relationships with people. Each one of my friends is so special to me. I love world history and learning about all the different religions. (11/17/88). I was really high on life that day! I still have moments like that every so often.
The Exorcist. When I was about 6 years old the most special treats in life were the ones forbidden—the ones I wasn't supposed to know about.
Curiosity is one of man's worst traits. In a horror movie, a man walks into a room and a voices comes from beyond the closet door. He opens it because he wants to know what's inside.
That's what happened to my sister and I one night. The Exorcist was on T.V that night and my mom forbid us to even think of watching it.
Now looking back I can't blame her. What parent would want there 6 year old to see an R rated horror movie about a possessed child? Well my father, that's who.
He wanted us to see it and he gave us permission to watch it, saying it wasn't all that scary. No. It wasn't scary. Well, at least in the movie (I'm guessing I meant beginning, here). In fact, it was all pretty much my kind of movie. A little girl who is perfectly normal. There is so many movies with little boys but none with little girls. I found that out in a video store while helping a little girl find a movie about a little girl.
Anyway, I really liked the movie. It was funny how the bed shook up and down. Don't we all wish our beds could act like amusement park rides?
Then the sweet little girl started to jump up and down. That was neat too. But it was not neat when her voice changed. She was no longer a little girl I could relate to.
She was the devil.
I don't remember what happened next exactly but I remember begging my dad to turn off the TV, and when he wouldn't I sat in the kitchen with my eyes closed so I couldn't see the movie even though the TV was in the other room and with my ears plugged so I couldn't hear the little girl's demon voice. That night I thought the world was ending.
In those days, horror movies to me were as true as the 6:00 news. The movie gave me nightmares for months. I was afraid to walk home from school because I thought the little girl would come out from a window and grab me.
I finally got over it, but a year later my dad told me to turn on channel 13. I turned it on and there was a bloody statue. A scene from the Exorcist. It was one of my dad's little jokes, but to me it was the beginning of more sleepless nights. I love horror movies now and they never really scare me. But I can never watch the movie about the little girl with the jumpy bed and weird voice. (11/29/88).
I included the whole diary entry there, because The Exorcist incident was one of the biggest storylines of my life. AND it's one of the reasons I write a lot about gaslighting. Because when I have tried to confront my dad on this, I have gotten minimizing, denials, lies, exaggerations, etc.
It gives me some comfort to see that I had written the story down many years ago. Because the thing with gaslighting is you get good at doubting yourself, even when it's irrational.
I recently did research and learned I would have been about 7 when the movie came on television rather than 6. I'm not sure it makes a huge difference. One thing that surprises me about my retelling of the story, at age 16, is that my mother had been so against us watching it. I wonder how and why my father was able to get his way.
In English, we're reading Dandelion Wine. It is an awesome book. It reminds me of my life. It is about the discovery of life and death. (12/8/88). I still have a copy of the book. I should probably read it again someday. I don't remember much about it.
Speaking of dandelions, they're my favorite flower. In our next house, I want to make sure we don't have a lawn and instead have what we have now—just natural green stuff (like clovers) and wild flowers. It bothers me that dandelions are considered weeds. We take something beautiful and easy; then label it as a pest, because we'd prefer something else to be there in its place.
Those classic (school) books are mostly good but I only read them at school. It's stupid to read them in your own free time. (12/9/88). I thought that was kind of funny.
In some ways, I agree with my sixteen-year-old self. There are so many non-classic books that are fabulous, and if schools are teaching only the classics, it's probably best to use free time to read the other books. After formal education is over, I'd say people should read what they want, whether it's old classics, modern classics, unclassics, etc.
Also, I'm wondering...
Back when I was in high school, out of all that we read in English class, how many were written by white people and how many were written by men?
Rashmi is so rude. She met a guy and now she is completely ignoring me at lunch (9/1/88). So typical of high school. Though I guess I got the last laugh. I should have told her, Hey, 30 years from now, I'm going to be reading my diary and I'm not going to remember who you are.
I did my oral report on CF for science. It went pretty good. (9/16/88). I remember doing that report. I also remember really liking the science teacher. But then the school switched her to the gifted class and gave our class a horrid teacher. I'm guessing I'll end up talking about her in the diary. So I'll quote from my teenage self...when it comes to that.
One thing I'm noticing, about this diary, is that mostly I talk about my dreams. I'm not talking much about real life.
My life is so great. I got my midterm report. I have 4 A's, 1 B, and 1 C. That's a big surprise. I have friends at school. I just hope it stays great. I mean last year was great and then whamo all these horrible things happened (10/10/88). It's funny. I seemed to be happier and more social than I remembered. I've had this idea that after the ouija board aftermath I became withdrawn and had no friends. The other thing I believed is that I stopped being spiritual after the whole thing—that it turned me into a strong skeptic. But I see, in the diary, that I still had a lot of spiritual beliefs.
I do think there was a time that I lacked a social life—maybe 11th grade? Later in life, I connected it to the ouija board fiasco. But I think it was more about me not wanting to drink and party, so I became left out.
But who knows. I might have had more friends than I remember.
I met a friend named Olga today. She is so nice. She's from Hong Kong. (10/17/88). I actually remember Olga! She was nice, cute, and fun.
I just Googled Olga. If I have the right person, she's now a genetic scientist.
I can't get along with my family. That is totally impossible. Everyone complains about me singing. It is a nasty habit I picked up. To me I sing good. But I know to others I sing horrible. Even relatives think so. (10/20/88). Now most of my family is very nice about my singing—well, at least my mom, two sisters, and one of my nieces. Tim is nice but only after I strongly bitched about him not being nice about it.
Here's the thing about my singing. When I hear myself sing, I think I sing good. Certain people have given me very strong, enthusiastic compliments about my singing. Other people have said things, not said things, or otherwise acted like I'm a horrible or mediocre singer. I TRY to have faith in myself. I try to believe my own ears. I try to believe the people who have said nice things. But I think no matter, what I'll always have doubts.
I feel bad for myself as a 45-year-old with this issue. I feel even worse for my past 15-year-old self.
Six Flags was a bummer. I wanted to see Freddy so bad but everyone else had to do what they wanted so I didn't. If I try not to want anything, then I can't be hurt as bad. (10/22/88). I still strongly believe in this philosophy—the whole Buddhist idea that desire brings suffering.
By the way, the Freddy was Freddy Krueger.
Last night I dreamed that Violet came back to school. I asked her who I was going to marry and she said Mike T. (10/27/88). I've been seeing a lot of dreams about this Mike. I'm kind of starting to remember that I might have developed a crush on him. I'm wondering if this is one of those cases where I dream about someone and that leads me to becoming attracted/interested in them.
Violet is one of the many people in my diaries that I no longer remember.
Mike T. is so nice unlike Larry P. who is such a jerk. He was talking about me behind my back. I hate him. (10/28/88). I wonder what he said, and I wonder who told me he was talking about me. And what was their motivation in telling me?
At some point I had a crush on Larry P. I'm not sure if that came before or after this incident.
I turned in my bowling money today. 300. Kerri D. was there. She is so cute. (11/5/88). Kerri was one of he Cystic Fibrosis poster kids. When I saw her name, I had a strong memory of a child's face. I'm guessing that was Kerri. I just realized that this child (probably Kerri) reminds me of an actress from season 2 of The Exorcist—Beatrice Kitsos. I really liked Kitsos when I saw the show—felt drawn to her. Now I'm wondering if it's because, subconsciously, she reminded me of Kerri.
Jennifer is very upset because Dukakis didn't win the election. (11/10/88). I think that's the first time I've seen myself mention politics in my diary. I was so apolitical. Jack is very much NOT like how I was at that age.
I am feeling extremely bonded today. I feel like I have all these special relationships with people. Each one of my friends is so special to me. I love world history and learning about all the different religions. (11/17/88). I was really high on life that day! I still have moments like that every so often.
The Exorcist. When I was about 6 years old the most special treats in life were the ones forbidden—the ones I wasn't supposed to know about.
Curiosity is one of man's worst traits. In a horror movie, a man walks into a room and a voices comes from beyond the closet door. He opens it because he wants to know what's inside.
That's what happened to my sister and I one night. The Exorcist was on T.V that night and my mom forbid us to even think of watching it.
Now looking back I can't blame her. What parent would want there 6 year old to see an R rated horror movie about a possessed child? Well my father, that's who.
He wanted us to see it and he gave us permission to watch it, saying it wasn't all that scary. No. It wasn't scary. Well, at least in the movie (I'm guessing I meant beginning, here). In fact, it was all pretty much my kind of movie. A little girl who is perfectly normal. There is so many movies with little boys but none with little girls. I found that out in a video store while helping a little girl find a movie about a little girl.
Anyway, I really liked the movie. It was funny how the bed shook up and down. Don't we all wish our beds could act like amusement park rides?
Then the sweet little girl started to jump up and down. That was neat too. But it was not neat when her voice changed. She was no longer a little girl I could relate to.
She was the devil.
I don't remember what happened next exactly but I remember begging my dad to turn off the TV, and when he wouldn't I sat in the kitchen with my eyes closed so I couldn't see the movie even though the TV was in the other room and with my ears plugged so I couldn't hear the little girl's demon voice. That night I thought the world was ending.
In those days, horror movies to me were as true as the 6:00 news. The movie gave me nightmares for months. I was afraid to walk home from school because I thought the little girl would come out from a window and grab me.
I finally got over it, but a year later my dad told me to turn on channel 13. I turned it on and there was a bloody statue. A scene from the Exorcist. It was one of my dad's little jokes, but to me it was the beginning of more sleepless nights. I love horror movies now and they never really scare me. But I can never watch the movie about the little girl with the jumpy bed and weird voice. (11/29/88).
I included the whole diary entry there, because The Exorcist incident was one of the biggest storylines of my life. AND it's one of the reasons I write a lot about gaslighting. Because when I have tried to confront my dad on this, I have gotten minimizing, denials, lies, exaggerations, etc.
It gives me some comfort to see that I had written the story down many years ago. Because the thing with gaslighting is you get good at doubting yourself, even when it's irrational.
I recently did research and learned I would have been about 7 when the movie came on television rather than 6. I'm not sure it makes a huge difference. One thing that surprises me about my retelling of the story, at age 16, is that my mother had been so against us watching it. I wonder how and why my father was able to get his way.
In English, we're reading Dandelion Wine. It is an awesome book. It reminds me of my life. It is about the discovery of life and death. (12/8/88). I still have a copy of the book. I should probably read it again someday. I don't remember much about it.
Speaking of dandelions, they're my favorite flower. In our next house, I want to make sure we don't have a lawn and instead have what we have now—just natural green stuff (like clovers) and wild flowers. It bothers me that dandelions are considered weeds. We take something beautiful and easy; then label it as a pest, because we'd prefer something else to be there in its place.
Those classic (school) books are mostly good but I only read them at school. It's stupid to read them in your own free time. (12/9/88). I thought that was kind of funny.
In some ways, I agree with my sixteen-year-old self. There are so many non-classic books that are fabulous, and if schools are teaching only the classics, it's probably best to use free time to read the other books. After formal education is over, I'd say people should read what they want, whether it's old classics, modern classics, unclassics, etc.
Also, I'm wondering...
Back when I was in high school, out of all that we read in English class, how many were written by white people and how many were written by men?
