May 24, 1976 In which I have ominous feelings

Monday

11:53 sm

I have no right writing in this because I've got a million and one things to do before 2:00. I have to work 2-10 tonight. I hate those hours.

Woody called today and I asked him if he would go to the wedding. I hope he can. He didn't sound to repulsed by the idea. As a matter of fact he seemed like he was looking forward to it. I want to go very badly, but not a lone. I wish Jeremy was going, but he's in Jolly Old England. I'd take Jeremy over Woody any day of the year, but as it is I must take Woody for this occasion.

Only 45 days 'til I leave for England. 12 days after Chris' wedding. I have a million and one things to do before that day too.

Cinder has just stepped over me. I am looking (listening) for a certain song on the radio called Shannon. I always thought it was about some guy who lost his wife, but Woody told me it was about a man explaining to his son about his dog's death.

Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapin is on now, I like that one a lot. It reminds me quite a bit of Kevin and Daddy.

I've been feeling an ominous presence lately. Like death is awaiting to strike. I get nervous and feel like running down and hugging my parents when I feel this. Like when I was a little girl. I feel that they can take this feeling away like they used to. But they probably can't. Maybe if I went to bed earlier?

One reason I've been feeling rotten lately is because my room looks like Aunt Pat's house. I've set my clock for 7:00 these past mornings and haven't gotten up until 10 at any of them. I am so stupid!

Note:
What stands out in this entry is the song Shannon. I didn't remember it at all, but a search on the Internet found it on MySpace and YouTube. I immediately remembered it when I heard it, but don't remember the melody even after just now playing it. No wonder it was forgettable.
Here's the song that someone put as background to video of his dog. Cute dog.


My Aunt Pat was a pretty untidy housekeeper, to say the least. No wonder I was feeling rotten.

May 23, 1976 In which I go to a shower

Sunday

11:46 pm

Will I do it tonignt? I doubt it.

Went to Chris M's wedding shower tonight and had a great time. I wish I could do more things with them, but they are so much different than me sometimes. Who really cares?

I guess not tonight! :-)

Note:
Chris was the first of friends to get married. I remember going to her apartment after she had her baby. I'd just returned from a trip to England sat there dumbfounded while she and another friend discussed oven cleaners. I couldn't believe the differences in us. I was the world traveler. She was stuck home with an infant cleaning ovens. Yet not long before I wrote about how I wanted to begin a family. I guess I didn't expect to be cleaning ovens.

May 22/23, 1976 In which I make a joke

Saturday/Sunday

12:31 am

I don't know what to call the hour between days, so I'll say both. I don't really like this journal and that's why I plan on ending it tonight. Good bye crewel world. Yes -- I am giving up on embroidery! No, I take that back! I won't give it up. You know what. On second thought I'll end this journal tonight. Perhaps tomorrow.

Note:
Ahh a play on words. I thought I'd misspelled cruel, but it was part of a joke. I think that was because I was hanging out with Woody. He (and his family) were big on puns and jokes.

April 24, 1976 In which I discuss finances

Saturday

This is silly to be writing, in bed, in my nightclothes at one o'clock in the afternoon when I have to be at work in about two hours or so. I told Kim that I would be there around 3 or 3:30.

Briefly -- Peg's quit and Diana's been fired [For future reference Diana's my ex-boss in Zayre jewelry]. I don't need to write the entire story because I shan't ever forget it. I've just finished writing to Jeremy -- I poppied an entry of the first time I ever wrote to him. I do believe that falling in love makes one's writing ability so much better. Those entries were so poetic -- these entries are nothing but nothing.

Only 74 days and 7 1/2 hours before I leave on a jet plane.

My money situation is as follows:

Larkin Bank:	$370.00
First Federal:	217.00
Check:	56.00
Check coming:	+ 50.00
	693.00
Mother's Money	-10.00
	$683.00

Now the flight will cost $547.00

$683.00 - 547.00 Leaving $136.00 for spending money. I hope to have at least $300.00 to spend in England, but I've still got all the presents to get now.

If I figure $30.00 a week I'll have $406.00 by the end of June. At $40.00/wk I'll have $496.00 by the end of June. And with the apple pie hopes of $50.00/week I'd have %580.00 by June 30. Oh well, I will have to "make do" I suppose. That's too bad though, what with school things to buy. I hope I have a job when I get back too.

Note:
What surprises me most is the cost of the flight to England. I thought it was less because now it's not even double that to fly there.

The mention of Diana at work -- Diana was my immediate boss. She was fired for stealing money from the till when she "closed out". Plus she hardly ever worked -- and would call me to come in even when I was not on the schedule. It worked out fine for me, I got more hours that way.

April 10, 1976 In which I write a story about a merry-go-round

Saturday,

Once upon a time there was a carousel in Central Park. On this carousel was a pair of beautiful white horses -- one -- the girl named Ching-a-ling -- and a boy named Chink. They would go up and down and up and down and around and around. Ching-a-ling and Chink fell in love and were happy to see each other go around and around and up and down every day. They loved to hear the children laugh and see the lovers smile.

One day a rather large girl saw the carousel and ran real fast and jumped onto Chink very hard. Suddenly Chink could no longer go up and down -- his spring was broken. But Ching-a-ling still loved Chink.

The grown up people came and took Chink to an underground tunnel and took his white paint off and painted him brown and stuck him in a large box and put a small metal box next to him that said 10¢ and stuck him outside a store. He couldn't go up and down -- only back and forth.

Back at the carousel Ching-a-ling still loved Chink -- even though he was on the other side of town. The other horses laughed and called her silly for still loving him -- they said why love a horse who couldn't go up and down and is brown and lives on the other side of town?

Ching-a-ling didn't' listen to them -- she knew that it was just as easy to love a brown horse as a white one, one who can only go back and forth as one who can go up and down and one who lives on the other side of town as one who lives right next door. She explained to the other horses that everyone -- both white and brown horses were the same -- just strip off the white or brown paint and they were all wooden horses [underneath].

Note:
That was disappointing. I hoped the ending would be better. I don't remember writing it and am not sure what it is supposed to mean. Inter-racial love? Long-distance romance?

April 3, 1976 In which I worry about being an old mother

Saturday

Hey! What did I write last? Something silly about sex? yeah, how silly. Oh m'gosh. I've just been fantasizing about marrying Jeremy this summer. I wish. It could be so -- even if we did it in secret, but that is impossible. I want so bad to begin our family. I almost wish I could get started this summer -- but it's all for the best, I guess, that I don't. I hope that the next five years go relatively fast. I want to be married so badly. (I will be 24 when I am married, I hope we have kids soon. I don't want to be an old mother.)

Why am I so worried, I don't know -- just figured it out -- I'll be 23 when I'm married. Jeremy will have just turned 21.

Our holidays (personal) will be January 1 - New Years Day (Trad)
Feb 14 Valentines day
Feb 16 Mom's b'day

---

Oh forget it -- it's too complicated. I have to get to sleep -- up at 5:30 tomorrow to see the sunrise.

Note:
The line about not wanting to be an old mother made me laugh. I was 34 before I had my first child. My daughter says the same thing, she doesn't want to be an old mother.

I have no idea what that about the personal holidays were. Maybe school?

Marcy 28, 1976 In which I feel guilty

10:26

I am very guilty of not studying. I don't know what to do.

Shall I run down my day? I'll remember this day for a very long time.

It wasn't the events, but the circumstances and with whom. I was with Woody. I held hands with Woody -- as people in love do. I kept on saying things like I didn't like it, and pulling away, but I was lying because I did like it. It was a pleasant sensation. I felt guilt for having such feelings. I even wanted to kiss him tonight. I would have if he did.

Why have I written that? Jeremy will read this and get angry when we are married -- please don't get angry Jeremy. I love you, but it is hard to be with one of the opposite sex and be free of sexual feelings -- at least with me. I need a man, but I won't, or at least will try not to give into physical feelings.

Note:
Wow.

Ok.

I was nineteen years old for goodness sake. Of course I wanted sex. I was normal.

March 27, 1976 In which I'm glib

Tomorrow I go to the Flower Show! Hip, hip hooray! So what? I should study. G'bye.

Note:

March 6th, 1976 In which I am bored and ramble

Saturday

At work again, I'm always at work. I've become very upset today (just now actually) realizing that I have so much homework to do and I haven't done anything a whole half a semester! I complain that I have no social life but I don't know how I could work it in. I complain about needing more hours. I do hope thou that Woody and I go out again. I mean that.

Why does it seem that I can't get up enough energy to get out of bed mornings?

What do I have to do?

1. Research paper for English
2. Research paper for back packing
3. Research paper for human growth and development

Oh dear! I'm getting depressed. I really shouldn't do that. I feel like calling Woody up and having his voice get me out of my depression. Damn. I feel so down now.

I wish Woody would walk in right now. Please come in Woody. I know he won't.

"Hello, can I help you?"
"Yes, can you show me this ring?"
"Yes."
Zippppp (case being unlocked)
"Oh, look Dear. How does this look? Mumble, mumble."
"We'll take this. How much is it?"
"$1.88 plus tax."
"OK."
Click, click, click / Rumble / Click, click, Rumble, Ring.
"$1.97 please."
Crumple, crumple, rip / staple,
crumple crumple
Jingle, jingle, jingle
"$1.97, 98, 99, Two dollars. Thank you very much."
"You're welcome (or Thank you)."

I have just written a normal communication at the jewelry counter. During the writing Woody did not walk in. I wonder if he is thinking about me. Think happy thoughts Woody, I don't feel well.

I am bored, bored, bored! I got myself wishing for company. I should be happy to be working. Daddy didn't go to work at all yesterday or today. I should pray that I don't have the flu or anything like that.

I've done a really weird thing these last two nights. I got down on my knees and prayed. Woody is very religious. But he quit going to church. I am invited to the next "sunrise experience" he has with his friends. I am kinda nervouse. Maybe I won't go. I am feeling bad again. I really need Woody. Perhaps he'll call tomorrow (but I doubt it). I feel sure he will think of me tomorrow. Pretty soon I will go on break.

I wonder who the security guard is tonight. Nancy and Dave aren't working here anymore.

When I really think I realize that I have ample tome to do all that needs to be done -- except perhaps my backpacking paper, but that is all my fault. Hey, I just figured out existentialism -- good it will help me with my English paper.

I am hungry.

Mick P. is spending the night tonight. I hope I get time alone with him to ask him if he knows Woody. I don't know if Woody is serious about me not asking Mike. I would like to meet and talk to someone who knew Woody before he was changed.

Woody told me that he was in a mental hospital last summer. My God! When I was looking forward to Jeremy's visit, Woody was in a hospital. I didn't even know that he existed then. What to do?

Note:
Obviously this was stream of consciousness rambling. Interesting in a way -- especially how I just happened to mention that about Woody in the hospital. I think it was on my mind and I didn't want to spend time analyzing it, but it came out when I was just writing without really putting a lot of thought into it.

I'd forgotten that Woody had been in the hospital before I met him. I knew he went back the next summer. I've always wondered why, but never asked.

I don't remember what the English research paper was on -- perhaps existensialism? (funny how I suddenly "figured it out" there behind the counter in the jewelry counter at Zayre), but my backpacking (my PE credit) paper was on hiking the Pennine Way. My human growth and development paper was on the importance of fantasy in children's lives or something like that.

Mike P. was my cousin Bob's friend.

Same day 4:57 pm

This is after break and I want to make a record, starting now, about Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

pg. 4 -- Lines 7-9

"Oh" I holler back. Then I nod. At age eleven you don't get impressed with red-winged blackbirds.

You have to get older for that.

lines 26 - 41

In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.

On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming. That concrete whizzing by five inches below your foot is the real thing, the same stuff you walk on, it's right there, so blurred you can't focus on it, yet you can put your foot down and touch it anytime, and the whole thing, the whole experience, is never removed from immediate consciousness.

pp 5, 6 lines 32 - 2 (p 6)

They're not too busy to be courteous. The hereness and nowness of things is something they know all about. It's the others, the ones who moved to the cities years ago and their lost offspring, who have all but forgotten it. The discovery was a real find.

I've wondered why it took us so long to catch on. We saw it and yet we didn't see it. Or rather we were trained not to see it. Conned, perhaps, into thinking that the real action was metropolitan and all this was just boring hinterland. It was a puzzling thing. The truth knocks on the door and you say, ``Go away, I'm looking for the truth,'' and so it goes away.

pg 6, 7 lines 38 - 3 (p. 7)

On Labor Day and Memorial Day weekends we travel for miles on these roads without seeing another vehicle, then cross a federal highway and look at cars strung bumper to bumper to the horizon. Scowling faces inside. Kids crying in the back seat. I keep wishing there were some way to tell them something but they scowl and appear to be in a hurry, and there isn't -- .

Note:
I remember that I had to read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance for my philosophy class. I also remember not liking the book much. I suppose I took notes here to remember the passages that spoke to me or something. Perhaps I didn't have my philosophy notebook handy.

March 5, 1976 In which I use far too many clichés

Friday

Good gosh! Unbelievable how I am writing so much lately! Actually it is now 3:57 pm. I am working and some people I know just stopped over.

Woody and I talked again today (of course -- it's Friday). He asked me that when I get things straightened out in my head if I would go out with him again. I said I would.

Two of the most important things in the world are truth and love. Lately these have both been practically denied to me for other love. I can't put it into words.

I know I am much too far along in this relationship with Woody to turn back. I don't want to turn back. I want to plow forth to find green pastures and happiness. But I am afraid that green pastures and happiness may lead to barren fields and sadness. Why can't I have two to love instead of one. Actually it is not two I want, but at least one who is always present. I am afraid I have developed too late. I mean developed in a sense of security with a guy. I used to criticize Sally S. for always wanting a guy to hang on [to] -- and usually having one! Maybe I was jealous -- of course that was it. Envy is an evil thing. "That green headed monster."

Woody and I think alike.

Ticket stub for
[Tape residue here, but no ticket stub] <--- Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother Woodfield, 3/4/76

The above is proof of it. He saved this for me :-). And I forgot, but thought of asking him for it. Not that it is any proof of secret love or anything.

OK. If you are reading this, Jeremy, I hope you forgive my digression off the path of love for you. I have not stopped loving you -- in fact our love (my love for you) has become greater. I do believe that I appreciate you much more. Just think, when you read this we will be married. How do you like being wed to me? Is it paradise as we had planned? Do we have children? What have we named them?

Note:
This entry, aside from the angst felt, is possibly the most embarrassing I've read of my journal entries. I use laughable old clichés and think that someone saving a ticket stub for me to paste in a journal proves connected thought processes. It seems that not only did I loose a sense of self and displayed poor judgment by continuing to date Woody (for dating it was) while "engaged" to Jeremy, I lost my personal voice in writing.

March 4, 1976 -- In which I profess my love for Woody

Thursday

Once again I turn to you, my journal, instead of Jeremy. How can someone's mind change so rapidly? What am I going to do? I can't hurt Jeremy like I could if I only told him my feelings. I don't know what to do.

I know that I love Jeremy, and he loves me. Then, what do I feel for Woody? It sure is more than I feel for girlfriends. He is male, and there or here rather. Jeremy is 3848 miles and five months and a lot of money away -- Woody is 20 miles, 7 ½ hours and one busy token away. What do I do? I do believe that I understand now what Jeremy meant when he told me about Meg. He said that if he didn't already love me he would think he loved Meg. I truly understand now. I've told Woody my feelings, sort of. I said it was like wanting my cake and eating it too. I wish that people couldn't hurt and be hurt, then I could do what I wanted without care.

I have a love for Woody. I haven't figured it out yet, but I do have a love for him.

One thing he said tonight is really bugging me. He said that Jeremy is really getting a good person (that's a laugh). Then he said (and I'm sure he was joking) that if I decided that marriage to Jeremy wasn't what I wanted, to come back and marry him.

I'm having a difficult time trying to decide what to write to Jeremy. I'd like to tell him everything, but I know, realistically, that I can't. How do you tell your fiancé that you are having doubts about the engagement? I know that I have four years yet to get through this engagement to the doors of "paradise". What do I do?

One other thing that Woody did tonight that got me thinking and a bit worried. He called me Connie. Connie is the girl he is having a difficult time getting over. Poor Woody. I didn't say anything when he called me that. He didn't realize it either. Just as well I guess.

We saw Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother tonight. Wow! It was funny. But even more funny -- actually it wasn't funny but awful, we stalled in the middle of a 4 lane highway. I laughted so much, but it really wasn't funny. I also met his mother and sister and neighbor.

Well, thanks, green notebook, for listening. I think that you are the best listener I have; you don't show any emotion simply because you can't. Now to write to Jeremy.

Note:
This post really speaks for itself and perhaps the beginning of the end of my love for Jeremy, if I ever really did love him and not just the idea of being in love. As I said, Jeremy was far away and Woody was available.

Woody and I reconnected a few years ago and he sent me an email telling me that he loved me back then and still did. (Rather obvious from the things I wrote in this entry). His kids (and wife) all knew who I was. He and his wife divorced not long after we reconnected -- it was in the works before -- our communicating had little to do with it, except to speed it up. He spent a couple years occasionally writing to me and we saw each other a couple of times when I was in Elgin. Then he remarried and moved downstate. Hopefully he's happy.

Digging back into one's past can be dangerous.