Sunday, April 8, 2018

My life in 1991 (Part 1)

My teenage diaries continued.

These bits are from my senior year of high school in Nashville.

Last night I dreamed Julia Roberts was my best friend and Kiefer Sutherland was there too. I was so in love with him and he was so nice. But he was also shy. Once I went to the hospital and he started playing with my hair.  (1/3/91).  

Thanks to my dreams, I've had a very rich fantasy life.

Finished my 6th book officially today. Yeah. Printing, editing, everything. 

Tomorrow I start #6.  (1/8/91)

Was I on a Groundhog day time loop thing?  

I cried so much today.

I cried watching Doogie Howser because it was about Wanda's mom died. It makes me fear I'll lose my parents. I always had that fear, and fears do come true. (1/9/91)

I remember that fear being very strong at times. 

After my son was born, I think the fear of losing my child replaced the fear of losing my parents. My worry about everyone else's health and death has been greatly overshadowed by my worry for my child.   

It may be the world is ending but maybe not so I'll go about my business as if I am to live.

In my beliefs, the world is going to do some weird stuff. Maybe coincide with the supernatural or whatever. Or Perhaps I've been watching too much Dark Shadows.  I did predict last year to be a bad one and boy was it that...I pray that if this diary is read 20 years from now, I will be perceived as a 18-year-old confused teenager rather than a Anne Frank. Last species of the human race.

My parents don't seem bothered by the war.

I know we must go about our civilian life, but isn't there at least a little time to be scared shitless? (1/14/91).

First of all, when did I ever watch Dark Shadows??  I know what the show is, but I don't remember ever watching it. Maybe I meant something else?  

I feel now I'm like what I imagined my parents were. I don't feel afraid. I feel numb. 

Maybe it's denial?  Or it could be recognizing that almost every generation fears that war is going to kill them all.  

It's like politics and the universe keeps calling wolf.  

The war has started. I have to say this. I am a person who feels sympathy for everyone, even the bad. I sympathize with Beowulf, with killers, with the KKK, with Patrick S. (the drunk guy who hit my sister with his car) I pity their inability to reason and their stupidity. But nowhere in my heart do I pity Saddam Hussein. I think he is pure evil.

I am mad at some music artists on MTV. One person said we shouldn't help Kuwait because they're rich. 

Ice-T said black people shouldn't go to war. Poor white people shouldn't and Hispanics shouldn't. Only rich white people.

I think that was prejudice and insensitive.

(1/16/91).  I was ignorant about a lot of things back then. Probably. I probably didn't know that it's usually rich white people who skip the whole military thing.  

I don't disagree with my past self in terms of Kuwait. I don't think we should NOT save people because they're wealthy. But I can now strongly understand the reluctance to engage in a war in which people of color and the financially challenged might do most of the dying.  

Israel was bombed but they are not retaliating. (1/17/91). Maybe because they had a more reasonable Prime Minister back then? Was it Rabin?  

Or it could have been there was no retaliation at the time I wrote in my diary. Maybe things changed a little bit later.  

Well, I just checked. It wasn't Rabin. It was some guy named Yitzhak Shamir. 

Everything in life seems so trivial. I'm getting along with my dad now. It's funny. I'm either hating him or liking him. (1/17/91).

I'm not sure why that's funny. Switching from like to hate is pretty typical of my feelings towards most people. 

Last night I dreamed I was the father in Pet Sematary. It was the end of the movie and time for me to kill Gabe, but I was afraid to go in the house and see Zelda, so I let the killer baby live. (1/27/91).

I had a low-tolerance for Zelda in those days. I think these days I'd probably be more scared of the killer baby with a scalpel in his hand.

A girl who I thought was "cool", Victoria, started saying it is bad not to believe in Jesus and she told me to go read the bible. (2/6/91). 

You know reading these diaries. I think it might have been these Bible Belt Christians who led me on the path to being a non-believer in God.

I think I was a big fan of God until the Christians changed his image for me.

But thanks to God on Twitter, I think some of the love is returning.  

I hate working at the library at school. I hate showing teachers my books. (2/11/91).  I think I was just in a bad mood that day.  I remember liking the library, and I remember liking when my teachers showed interest in my writing.

I might have meant that I hated getting up the nerve to ask a teacher to look at my book. 

I am a stuck up bitch. I need God's guidance. I feel so conceited and then I hope since I realize the problem, I have taken the steps in healing my self. But I think the problem is due to school. In Atlanta high school, I was ignored but now people actually seem to like me, so my head is swelled. Actually there are 2 parts of me. One who is in love with me and the one a smart one who knows what a lousy shithead i really am. (2/15/91)

This fits better with what my memories the past several years, have been saying. When I have looked back at my Atlanta days, I remember feeling rejected and lonely. Yet my diary seems to think I was well-liked and had this great, fulfilling social life.

I really don't know what to think. Did I have a decent social life, but something later clouded the memory? Was I delusional in Atlanta but then later came to my senses?

One theory I have is that I DID have a decent social life within school itself. But I was not included in the stuff outside of school. I wasn't invited to parties. I didn't have a boyfriend. I was different because I didn't drink. I think those three things led me to feel rejected. Yet I guess I didn't want to admit it to the diary.

 Note: I actually say the name of the high school in my diary instead of "Atlanta High School", but I'm thinking I shouldn't be so specific about things....

Today in 5th period, C.C gave me a sort of compliment. He said I reminded him of Winona Ryder's character in Beetle Juice. Then Mark said, No. She doesn't. Winona Ryder is pretty." So I got complimented and insulted.  (2/18/91).  

That was VERY mean of Mark but kind of funny. I can't help but laugh.

In my teen years, I WAS kind of like a Winona Ryder character—a combination of Lydia in Beetlejuice and Charlotte in Mermaids.

Melissa has gone to the land of bitches. I swear she had bad mood disease. It's frustrating, sadly comic, annoying, nauseating, and depressing. Dawn has found a resource to vent her psychological frustrations—on me. Well like I told Mark and C.C, at the hospital all my contributions to the rebirth of Dawn were given to someone else. So now I have been given a responsibility. I'm Dawn's scapegoat. Isn't that great? (2/18/91).

Dawn's and my relationship went through some interesting stuff. First I should say, we're very close now.  I'll get that out of the way.

When we were young, we had very little to do with each other. 

I think, actually, the only positive memory we really shared was this one time we played around with a book of sheet music and sang this song called "Sonny".  

So when Dawn was in a coma, everyone would talk about all these positive memories they shared with her. I had only one, probably—"Sonny"

After Dawn was injured, I felt I was seen as her opposite.  I felt certain people began to maybe hate me because of that. By being injured, Dawn became the automatic injured people often do. And in return, I was seen as the demon.  (2/18/91)

Today I got a letter from the Amherst Society saying they are going to publish my poem. I went to tell my parents and my dad said, "I'll see it when I believe it" (I think I reversed that, accidentally) in the tone of voice which could of said, "The day you get published is the day pigs fly." Then instead of congratulating me they talked about the whole thing being a scam". (2/20/91).

Fuck, them. Seriously.

When I first read that, I was going to say that to their defense, the Amherst Society WAS a scam.  Or it was a self-publishing thing. It depends on how you look at it. Basically, if I remember correctly, it wasn't about them accepting your work. It was about paying them to get yourself published.  

My parents behavior would have been okay if:

A) They were usually very supportive and encouraging.  I think it's easier to be told you're a victim of a scam by people who believe in you. 

B) They were naturally skeptical people. But no. I don't know how many times I've gotten a forwarded-email form my dad, and I have to send him a link to Snopes showing it was debunked. So it's easier for him to believe a politician said something he never said...without any proof, than it was for him to believe his daughter could get a publisher.

Plus, did my parents even look into Amherst publishing? Did they read and then conclude that it was a scam?  From what I wrote, it seems like they quickly made the conclusion without any examination. But maybe I just didn't write about their thinking-process.  

Oh, how I'd love to have the grandma in Poltergeist. "Darling you can be anything you want to be."

No, my dad once said (not exact quote). "Enjoy this (our wealth) now because this is the most success you'll ever get"...(can't read some stuff here). So, I'm encouraged. I'm going to kick butt.  (2/20/91).  

My dad's prophesy came true, unfortunately. I never kicked butt. 

I can tell the story of what it's like to live in a happy perfect rich close family where I am excluded, alienated, etc, etc. 

My father hates me. My older sister hates me.

Melissa drives me crazy with her nagging.

I like the dogs and my mom, though.  (2/25/91)

Beau died and I'm so sad about that. He was part of my life for 16 years. (3/10/91).

I still sometimes have dreams that Beau is still alive.

I'm in Chicago now. I had a wonderful time. 

Yesterday we went to Marsha's house for Passover. Everyone was so funny. Isaac is so adorable. He's 4 now. David was nice too...We visited Suzanne and her husband Roberto who loves movies. Suzanne was in a bad mood because she gained weight. (3/30/91).

I'm wondering if that was the last time I saw Suzanne.

She died a few months ago.

I kept hoping to see her again one day. I would wish she'd come to family gatherings, or I'd vaguely think to myself that we should go visit her.  

We never did. 

It feels so nice to have a summer before me. The other day I had really bad cramps and all I wanted was to be free of pain. And then I was free and it felt so good. (4/7/91).

I had very bad cramps when I was young. 

Jesse C. acts like he doesn't know me at school, but Carson is showing a little interest. Probably not enough to start a relationship but enough to save my ego. (5/1/91).

Carson ended up being the first guy I ever kissed.

I disgust myself. This is the truth. Today I was talking to Carson and he said in an confession sort of voice that he didn't have a girl till 4th grade. I'm 18 and I still haven't had a boyfriend. I may as well be a nun.  I'm so abnormal. (4/4/91).

I was very ashamed of my inexperience.

I know there is something wrong with me now. I am attracted to the "right" sex and not the "wrong" one, but I'm just so afraid to start a relationship. I'm so behind. Yet I'm sure there's others like me. I'm sure Olga hasn't kissed a guy yet and perhaps not Jennifer K. But I am so backwards. I feel like a freak. I'm usually not one to worry about what people think but in this subject, I'm petrified

When my peers talk about sex, I clam up thinking that somehow they'll pick up vibes on my inexperience. I'm afraid if I kiss a guy now, they'll know it's my first time.

Oh, I'm not embarrassed at all about being a virgin, not at all. It's that I'm completely inexperienced. 

There's some homophobia there, but I do think there's a slimmer of hope in that I put right and wrong in quotation marks.  

If I have children I'm going to shower them with true praise and put their clay ashtrays around the house and compliment their singing. I'm going to help them feel good about themselves. (5/6/91).

I'm proud to say that I did end up doing that. Sometimes I fear I've gone to far. Or I fear Jack thinks I've gone too far. Our whole upstairs is decorated profusely with Jack's artwork. And we have some downstairs too. I thought this was great. But there have been times where Jack has seemed annoyed. Maybe? And also I once talked to this writer and he said his parents gave him issues by being too enthusiastic about his work.  It's hard for me to imagine being bothered by that, because my experience was so different. BUT...maybe there's a balance needed.

I also worry that sometimes I DO act like my parents. While in some ways, I'm an enthusiastic super-fan, in other ways I try to pull Jack down from the clouds and back to earth.
I don't think parents should be fake. That's not helping anyone and probably leads to major personality damage. But I worry, what if I'm discouraging about something and it ends up I'm wrong?  

Anyway, I'm far from perfect when it comes to this. But I DO think I'm better than my parents were in this regards. And hopefully Jack will be even better with it when/if he has children of his own.  

Today I hinted about my jealousy of Dawn and Melissa to Melissa. Today she gave me a Snickers bar. That was a nice gesture.

I think I was jealous of their relationship. The two of them became very close for a while after Dawn's brain injury. They had special songs together, and all that. 

On May 26, my family, on that weekend might go to temple to pray. I think that's a poignant idea. I am so happy my family survived and now we'll have lots of fun just being a family. My family is a pain but I do love them. I used to get along with Melissa better, but now I get along better with Dawn. (5/12/91)

Well, that last line surprises me. Maybe I was just thinking about that particular day...or something like that.

May 26, by the way, was the anniversary of Dawn's injuries.  

I am obliged to admit that this is a very eventful time of my life.

I have my first boyfriend. I graduated this week. It's the anniversary of Dawn's "accident" and so on and so forth. It concludes almost like a movie, except real life always goes on.  (5/24/91)

I'm confused about Carson. One minute I "like" him and the next I'm trying not to puke when I think of him. (5/27/91).

I'm at camp now and not having the best of times. Last night I was so homesick. Usually I get homesick on Sunday. But this year it was Monday. (6/11/91)

That was my third year at the Cystic Fibrosis camp.

I'm obsessed with Silence of the Lambs, specifically Anthony Hopkins. He's my favorite actor now.

I'm still very fond of Anthony Hopkins. If he trends on Twitter, I will be mighty upset. 

This sounds dumb but I want an unromantic guy because I'm not into romance. It seems unnatural to me. I guess if I was in love I wouldn't mind..the main problem is I like to be alone usually. Carson never seems to want to be alone. Plus he whines and I can't relate to his writing problems. He whines and complains about losing a half a page of writing. For pete's sake I lost 60 pages and I survived. (6/24/91).

It's true about the 60 pages. That was rough.

BUT if I could speak to my past self, I'd scold her for being dismissive of someone else's problems. 

Someone else could have scoffed at me for complaining about losing 60 pages...if they had lost 300.  

Anyway, I think I felt suffocated.

I'm high-maintenance.  

I need this perfect balance. I hate feeling neglected. I hate feeling like I'm a low priority. But I also can't stand feeling overly important to someone.  

Throughout our relationship, Tim has rarely taken my photo...which is harsh, since photography is one of his main hobbies. BUT if he was taking my photograph excessively, I'd probably freak out and think he has stalker tendencies. Again...balance is the key word.

Today my family went to see Michael Crawford. We went to his house, had tea...and 

No, we went to Starwood Amphitheater. 

He was so funny. His sense of humor is almost too good, as is his voice. (6/27/91) or (6/28/91)

This passage is really bothersome to me. A week or so ago, a Twitter-friend of mine asked if I had heard of Michael Crawford. I said I knew him as the Phantom, and the friend sent me some clips of his older works.  NOT once did I think, oh yeah! We went to see a live show with him. I have absolutely no memory of that.  

I think when it comes to memory I remember events that caused me to have strong emotions—anger, hurt, fear, guilt, happiness, pride, etc. Everything else is up for grabs.

Amazing revelation: Radio stations play the same songs over and over.

Deep question: Whatever happened to the guy who played Luke Skywalker?  (7/7/91). I wish I could reach back and tell my old self that Mark Hamill seems to be quite popular and successful these days.

I'm not sure why I even cared. I've never been much into Star Wars.  

Well, I'm excited about the screenplay I'm writing. Last night I dreamed about Silence of the Lambs. Isn't that too exciting?

I think I will work in film when I grow up because I've always been interested in film and I have a big overactive imagination. (7/14/91)

My interest in film would diminish greatly after spending a semester in film school.