Chapter 2 Writing 2

1.

I've just changed the kitty litter and put my contacts in. I also fixed myself a ham sandwich from Kasey's party and a large glass of 7Up^®. I am waiting for 1:00 to roll around so I can see Lord Peter Wimsey which I missed last night because I was talking to Mike and Karen.

I'm looking forward to Upstairs Downstairs to start again. I was so excited when Hudson and Mr. Bellemy were on Dick Cavett Saturday night. I really jumped up and down. Why do I get so emotional? I get so angry or excited that I must show others how I feel by jumping or hitting or screaming. I guess I'm not grown up enough or something.

My that sandwich looks good. Cinder thinks so too. She has now plopped herself down on the table -- she knows that she oughtn't do that, but I guess she also knows that I won't hit her like Daddy does.

I'm not sure I'm really liking college. The amount of homework stunned me. I have to get a job so I will have even less time in which to do my homework. I want to get good grades too.

I wonder how much grades really count when one gets a job. College is different than high school. I can't pinpoint the difference, but I know it's there. More freedom perhaps.

2.

Here I am trying to dry my hair in the five o'clock sun of a September evening. There are apples on the gound all around my lawn chair. I should have picked them up this weekend -- Daddy once told me that if the apples weren't picked up he'd cut down Charlie.

The leaves of the giant cottonwood in our back door neighbor's yard is making pretty patterns on the backside of our house. As the leaves blow in the wind the patterns change like a kaleidescope. Cinder's been let outside -- she doesn't get out much -- it seems like whenever she is let out she goes in heat -- that must be a coincidence thought. She is now chasing an imaginary mouse, creeping up like a panther. She looks like a miniature replica of a black panther. Nothing is coming to my mind. I don't know when my ten minutes will be up since I don't have a watch on, but I'll stop at the end of this page.

I wish I'd stop twisting my hair. It is such a childish habit. But I should be glad I'm not into an "adult" habit such as smoking or drinking. I was really surprised that Carol smoked. I wonder why I have such an aversion to smoke. It's not the people. I like the people but the smoke bothers me so much. I remember my mother, when she would smoke and I would complain she would get angry. My father still does with cigars.

Jeremy was so thoughtful to stop for me. Actually he did himself a favor by quitting.

3.

What an awful experience -- I had just gotten into bed to do my last 10 minute writing and I saw a brown tiny object on my bed cover. I looked closer and saw it was an ant. I picked him up and aw that he was very close to being dead -- his legs were all crunched up in an M or W. His antennae were moving very slightly though. I didn't want him to just be thrown on the floor. A house is no place for an ant so I went to the window with him on my finger, meaning to throw him out and let him die where he belonged with nature. Well by the time I got to the window he had gone. He's somewhere between the bed and the window. Poor tiny creature. I wonder if his wife and kids know that he is dead. I wonder if ants have a widow fund.

Once, a few weeks ago, I was walking home from the store and I saw a mangy brown dog that looked homeless. I hoped he wouldn't come near me because I have a terrific fear of rabies. Anyway, on the way home I looked over my shoulder and saw that this dog was following me. Something white was coming from his mouth which I later reasoned was spit since it was a hot day and he and he had been running. I didn't think so I said, "Go home!" and he gave me a very sad look and ran off in the opposite direction. Afterwards I felt awful. I didn't even have a kind word for a stray dog. I do believe that his eyes will haunt me for a long time.

Notes:
Just lots of memories - my obsession with all British programs, Dick Cavett, my apple tree - that I named Charlie. Twice my father came across as a brute - hitting cats and threating to cut down my tree (which he did after I moved out). Then there was Cinder, my black cat and constant companion, all the way through my teens and into my thirties. I actually remember the dead ant and the stray dog. Probably because I wrote about them.

It is obvious I was trying to impress an English teacher -- this doesn't really sound like my voice.