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.

June 5, 1975 In which I have a self-evaluation session.

Unbelivable! I am back once more this week. Summer or Spring must do something to make me write more often.

I need to make some decisions. Very important ones as a matter of fact. See, I've come to the conclusion that I am myself - no one else - and I know what's best for me better than anyone.

#1 Do I want to go to college?
Pros- Good Pay afterward Become more learned Self-satisfying Better Job	Cons- Costs money Hard work Get up early Exams

Well, maybe I don't want intensly to go, but I have to - for myself and for my family. No! Leave family out of it. This is my own evaluation.

#2 (the hardest) What about Jeremy?
Do I love him? Yes, but I didn't ever have much experience with other guys to know if this is "love or lust". I do want him physically, but my feeling is deeper than that. His interests, his mind. I love his love for me.
Yeah, it's love.I suppose I knew that answer but it has bothered me from time to time.

#3 What are my feelings towards sex?

Sex. What does that wird signify? My first thought is dirt. Why? That can't be how I was brought up. Does society do it? Make me feel that way I mean?

Then, mingled with that is fear and pleasure desire. I fear sex, but I want it too. I am afraid of what my first time in bed with a man will be like, but I am also wanting that time to come.

What about simple kissing and touching? I am embarrassed about that too. I wish there were nothing to fear of sex. Why do I worry about what others think? I'd like to just go out and let what happens happen. I wish I could be impulsive more often. I think that sex is an impulsive thing. Not a let's do IT a week from Friday at 3:00.

Wow! I guess I have a lot of feelings on that subject. (no pun intended)

I guess I was given an overdose of guilt feelings.

Note:
Ok, not a lot to say on that post. I think I said it all. I am surprised that I questioned going to college though. I thought I wanted to go.

December 14, 1974 In which I write a bad poem and fairy story about love

Saturday

I don't know why I am writing tonight. Because I feel like it I guess. Good reason.

I wish I could write a poem
It is a great ambition for me.
Words don't come to me,
As they do for some.

Once, not too very long ago a young princess lived. She lived in a beautiful house with two wonderful parents and a great kid brother. Her life was quiet and full of peace. That was before...before the prince charming stopped by for directions to the next castle. As soon as the princess and prince saw each other they knew that they loved each other. Now that the princess has found love her life is in a constant turmoil.

Note:
Not much to say about this entry. I guess I felt in turmoil and needed a different way to express it than simple teen angst.

23/24th Novemer, 1974 In which I have a bunch of questions

Saturday/Sunday

I love Jeremy.

What does that mean? "I" means Dona Lee Patrick, that's simple. "Jeremy" is Jeremy Richard Burgyone. But what is love? Pleasure? Security? I didn't get a letter from him this week. When this happens I begin wondering what life without him would be like. Sometimes I use him for a crutch and a reason that I don't date. It is nice having a reason instead of the fact that no one asked me.

"The Sting" — such memories. The song is playing now. "Our song" The first time he put his arm around me was during this song. We kissed during this song in England. When I remember our happy times together I know I couldn't live without him. I shall never love another human being as I love him. I want to have his children, but I'm frightened. I think about death a lot. Jeremy's death, my own. That I have some terminal illness or he was blown up or some terrible thing such as that.

David was back the other day. He hasn't been around for years. I used to conjure up some pretty weird adventures for us to go on. Being spys and scuh. Funny thing though, we never kissed or anything in my fantasies but when he came back we were quite intimate. He was my imaginary crutch in Junior High. Then I thought I had Gary. Then I just suffered, knowing that imaging was getting me nowhere. Sometimes now I wish I could date. But not often as I hate large parties. I want to go out with some guy and make out with him in a car — sometimes. But that wave of "sexual desire" fades fast and I'm myself again, writing to Jeremy in letters filled with love. I love him very much. I shall never cease.

Note:
More angst filled questions, probably brought on by studying psychology at an early age.

David is another story. An embarrassing one at that. In Junior High school I pretended I was dating David Henesey from Dark Shadows. I'm pretty sure I only pretended to myself, not to the general public. The only time I really remember prentending this was during chorus. I had no singing vocie, so would concentrate on my imagenary boyfriend — David — while I squawked.

17th October, 1974 In which I spout cliches ad nauseam

What is important? Is money important? Is love? Material/Idealistic - what am I? Who am I? Why am I me? Why am I asking such unanswerable questions? Why are they unanswerable? Life is important I guess. Happiness in life is important. I am happy. Why am I happy? What do I really have that is important? I've got love. Someone loves me and I love back. In fact a few people love me. I love them. I could really be myself if I could try. I'm waiting for tomorrow. Tomorrow never ocmes. Today is yesterday's tomorrow and tomorrow's yesterday.

I wish I could sing. I wish I could do many things. I wish Eve had never eaten that apple. Maybe the important things are what come from onself. Money doesn't, so money isn't important. Singing is. Loving is. Sight is. But nature is important because it is beautiful.. Oh well. Ta-ra.

Note:
It is obvious I was taking psychology. Enough said. Geesh.

July 8, 1974 In which we go to Harewood House

Finally, here I am again. I have neglected you for so long.

Since the last entry I've told Jez that I love him after we decided that I didn't. I cried and cried. Yestersay at a place called Harewood House I said I love you to Jez: Boy was he happy. I do -- I hope. Love him, I mean.

Note:
With all of this I love him I don't love him, it is no wonder we eventually went our own ways.

June 23, 1974 In which I describe London, use the phone and see a play

London

0815 hours am

London is a nice enough place. I can't quite explain the difference from America except that it is much, much older. Old and new - smack dab next to each other! One of the oldest buildings in London is framed by a high rise - very ironic. I've learned a lot from this trip so far. It's fantastic. And I will learn so much more - since I'm here, right now - seeing everything.

Hey, I called Jez. I tried once, earlier and there was no answer then later I called and Mrs. Burgoyne answered. I told her who I was and she seemed quite pleased. I was in such a good mood after that. Talking to my future mother-in-law (?) for the first time. Wow!

We saw a beautiful play yesterday called "Billy" starring a Michael Crawford. I guess he was in Hello Dolly.

8:30 pm

I have just talked to Jez on the phone. Wow! I feel absolutely grand. I couldn't believe I really was talking to him.

As I was writing the above the phone rang and on the other end was Jez again. We talked for five minutes as we only had three before. Wow! eight glorious minutes of talking to My Jeremy. God, my love for him is bursting through the seams. I love him. I love him. I love him. I could write that forever and neve get writer's cramp. I LOVE HIM!

The first time we were cut off. I felt sad. Oh well. He called back, as I knew he would.

He said that he feels that time goes slower now that I'm so close. That is true. I feel it too. I've really got a lot to do but I can't, at least tomorrow when I get some money.

I wish Sue would hurry up and get back so I can tell her about calling Jez.

He asked for her. She ran off somewhere with Julie. I'm acting really dumb. I see how she feels about being with Julie -- but I still act dumb and, I don't know, just dumb.

Know what I want to do? I don't care about seeing any changing of the guards or anything but Jez. All I want is Jez. To heck with everything else. He is waiting in Horsforth for me. I want to go to him and never ever be separated from him again. But I will, always. We must always say goodbye for a long, long time. He is bound to find someone else, closer to his house, to love more than he claims to love me. I wont find anyone else I love as much as I love him. If he finds someone else I suppose, in time, I will marry, but I'll always love Jez. No matter how long the time or how far the distance will be. I'll always love Jeremy Richard "Eric" B.

Note:
I sort of remember calling and talking to Jeremy's mom - I remember his call more though.

I do remember the musical, though. I'm not sure I'd call it beautiful - but I'd not seen too many professional plays, so anything that didn't star classmates was good, I suppose.

I sure thought I loved Jeremy in this entry. I suppose I did - as much as any teenager can love another teenager. It was real at the time. Possibly the only problem with our relationship was the distance. We became different people during the time apart and when we got together it was hard to reconcile that person with the one we remembered from ten months earlier. It's sad though that I didn't care about the experience of being in London as much as for seeing Jeremy, but that is all normal.

10th June, 1974 In which I have cramps and more angst

Monday

I got another letter from Jez today. It is really nice, as all of his letters are. It is hard to believe only ten more days to go. I've got a a lot to do, but I have awful cramps. I was really going to begin to pack. I will when the pill takes effect. I guess mom found out that it is her thyroid. I am glad.

I've still got to mail Jez's, Grandma's and Pam's letters. Sometimes I think that Jeremy is just a young boy going through a love (puppy) affair. This isn't true with me. I am true and, I don't know. I hope I can come to a realization this summer. I love Jez. He is absolutely the most wonderful person I've ever met in my life. I really want to marry him. He is so perfect. If he is at the end of it I could wait a hundred years.

Grandma Patrick said that she had something for me. I think it is money. I hope so. I need it. I now have the grand total of $43.34 in my purse, $20.00 in the Larkin Bank.

Note:
More angst over love and Jeremy. This is getting a little old, but I imagine I really was confused.

My Grandma Patrick did, indeed, have money for me. Whenever she would dispense money to her children or grandchildren, she'd go through a unusual little ritual. She'd had a mastectomy years ago (not cancer, but for some reason the doctors removed one of her breasts - infection perhaps before antibiotics?) Anyway that is where she kept her money, in the padding of her empty bra cup. So when she wanted to give someone money she would ask us to come into her room and she would undo the top buttons of her dress, reach in her bra and pull out cash. I believe she gave me $100 - a huge sum for me back then.

Notice that I've begun writing the date European style.

May 24, 1974 In which I have room for no more wishes

Friday

I really ought to keep up more in my journal. Happy little things happen throughout each day that I will forget if I don't write them down. Sue really looked nice today. I bought a cute outfit yesterday. Only eight days of school left. next Wednesday is Prom. I really don't want to go at all, but I must. I guess I will be wearing my tan shoes, maybe not. I wish I knew someone with the same size feet myself. Kay B. does. I love John Denver's music. 27 days before I leave for England! I am still wondering about Jez. Do I love him? Tomorrow is my jewelry party. I don't really especially want to have it but I have to now. I wish, I wish, What do I wish? No more room for dreams to come true. My calendar is completely filled. Jez is really something. Really something. Will I marry him? Would I say "yes" if he asked me? I don't know. I have so much to do and no time to do it in. I would like to write to Jez but I haven't anything to say anymore. I love to get his letters. I should write to Vilma.

Looking back she saw that it was quite sudden. She only knew him for four days. How can you love someone you've known for that short time? they asked. But strangely she knew. She could. Although she asked herself a hundred times each day! Do I love him? She knew each time she did. It wasn't because he was from England, or that he kissed her. But something else. An attraction. A magnetic force pulling their souls together. Yes she loved him. But did he love her? With each of his letters she grew more certain of his love for her.

How did it all begin? When did we really begin to love each other? Was it at The Sting?

Note:
I don't remember this angst at all. It seemed to me that I took the "love" at face value. Jeremy was my first real boyfriend. I find it interesting that I was so unsure. I'm also surprised I was still writing to Vilma.