A good friend called tonight, and I locked myself on the porch with the cat and talked to her in the dark until I absolutely had to go eat my sandwich. I laughed but most of my summer has been extraordinarily sad. I don't feel right, and I don't feel well. Oh, this creeping malaise! And the worst thing is knowing what's causing it (in part).
Here are some extraordinarily sad things: Whenever I feel like I'm not ever going to find someone who likes me that I also like, I start gorging on food because I figure there's no real point in staying or becoming thin. I also feel like offing myself, because what purpose does a lady have if not to get knocked up?
My art-historian Steph said she understood, and that it's like the Vermeer of the woman reading a letter. She looks so sad, and she's beside a table covered with ripe fruit, and you can tell it's because the man writing her has decided to marry someone else.
Generally speaking, it's been a mediocre summer. I haven't been as active - hyperactive - as I have been in past summers. I've been lazy about my working out, though I haven't given up the ghost by any stretch of the imagination I no longer have the blind charge of last summer. I haven't done the things that give me pleasure, like sew or write letters to people I love.
But people I love. I think that's also probably part of the problem. I don't know how to talk about it.
I can't decide if it's better to call people on times when I think they're mad at me, or to sit still, shut my mouth, and develop ulcers. Some of my friends, like Steph, get really frustrated with me if I ask if they're angry too often. Some people get hysterical and shrieky if I think they're mad at me. And I put my foot in my mouth inevitably.
I've had some pretty nasty fallings out in my days. I've recovered some. I've also been much better to say so long to some people. Doggone it, people like me. Well, my friend Sarah does. She says I'm just "very much." That makes me happy. Talking to her makes me happy. I chattered on and on. It's not like I want a collection of yes-men (women?) in my life, because Sarah has been able to tell me that she likes me a lot, but that doesn't mean she thinks I'm perfect. But I feel very valued by her, which I don't always feel that I am at all by other friends. Not by everyone. And that's good. And it's mutual.
I go back to school in three weeks. Two and a half at this point. I stop working August 28. I will be a senior. I will turn 21 in seven days. I've been chastened by Paul (old online acquaintance) for not being good about specifics. People never know what I'm doing (studying history, Welsh in my spare time) or where (great Philly area soooon) or whatever. My name is Margaret, I spent my summer living at home with my brother, mom, dad, and cousin. Aye.
I'll rewrite my ego-trip at some point. Meanwhile the brother is fussing for the computer, and I should go drown my sorrows with sleep.
2003-08-12, I pray the Lord my soul to keep
Off I go! See you in a week!
2003-07-30, bye
One day, I woke up and there was a great bloody pool left in my bed. Now, it wasn't "That time of the month" "where I'm not feeling completely well" and "I'm not my usual self" because "I'm bleeding from my vagina." No no, it appeared that my soul had sprung a leak, and blood had started to leak from its previously impervious membrane. I watched with horror as the blood continued to leak from my soul cavity, trickle down my ankles and onto the ground, so that I left bloody footprints all the way to the shower.
Man, that was a terrible day. I wake up every day only hoping that it will clot up.
2003-07-28, Fear and loathing in Middletown
Gwlad, gwlad!
The course is over, pretty much.
Annwyl Ariel, thank you for the note. I'm sorry we couldn't meet either, but I don't think I had a second of free time. I was too busy learning Welsh and falling in love. Wisconsin is beautiful. We did not see bears, but saw lots of dead fish and Frank Lloyd Wright.
I think Land of my Fathers sounds a lot like Your Song. I made someone laugh so hard that water came out of their noses when I sang Your Song.
The beautiful, gorgeous Ottawan had lots of chances to confess his undying love - d'I mean lust - for me, but has failed me in this regard. Le sigh. My aunt thinks he's a bit inexperienced, and I get this impression from him. So, no troublemaking. No skinny dipping in the lake, though I was tempted. At least I have a very beautiful friend now.
I have some ideas for a thesis now, which is good. I have a very cluttered schedule coming up.
2002-07-27, llawer o gariad
Spending a week with my aunt is always a cathartic exercise. I come out of it like waking from deep sleep, charged and ready for everything. She convinces me that I'm a decent human being, neither pregnant or HIV positive, and therefore all the mistakes I've made can be dealt with. Because everything hinges on my actually being a decent human being. Nothing else matters if that's true.
There's a gloriously gorgeous boy here, who seems to find me about as sexually appealling as a piece of driftwood (hey-hey-hey, that's some SEXY driftwood). There was a slightly dodgy guy with way long hair who's already moved onto courting the next young thing.
But come on. An earnest and decent Canadian human being deeply interested in Welsh of the male persuasion who just so happens to be thoroughly beautiful with piercing eyes and nice thighs and a nose like a boxer's... If we aren't meant to be mates, soul-wise or any otherwise, God really has it in for me.
Ay, ay!
No one ever prepared me for how gorgeous Lake Michigan would be. It's like an ocean - you can't see the other side - but it's freshwater. The breezes off of it are cool, and it's always changing colors and textures. I want to dive deep under the white caps, and swim out to where the water is aquamarine. I know it's too cold, but I want it terribly.
I spend my evenings crying with my aunt. But in the end it's okay, and I feel better, and very very tough. She loves my joie de vivre and doesn't mine that I've fucked up (not to mention around).
My class is going very well. I've learned more than I would have thought, and that's endlessly encouraging. It's so fun to be better at the language. I'm running in the afternoons, dancing in the evenings, working hard to seduct the young and beautiful Canadian (I spent nearly every waking moment with him today... good lord, he's cute. He is gangly and awkward though, and he's my age.)
2003-07-22, Notes from the Llynnoedd Mawr
I'm in loooove!
Oh. No, wait. That's just lust again!
Still, it's so much fun. God, he's cute. I monopolized him last night. My aunt keeps laughing at me, and threatening to call home to tell them I've misbehaved. But I reckon, I hope I even GET to misbehave.
He's gorgeous. I reckon he's either gay or taken, which really is a shame, but he's uncannily smart and glorious and probably just socially inept enough (he's at a Welsh course) to be single. Oh we can hope, I suppose.
Not that I really think I have much of a chance, I just enjoy flirting and being smitten with his dashing good looks.
2003-07-21, He's GOT to want to marry me, really now.
All you people are cheaters and liars.
Here are good and bad news for my emotional stability:
Good news - My period finally deigned to show up, which means I'll probably relax a bit and quit snapping at my brother.
Bad news - I keep forgetting to take my prozac. In fact, it's been a while now, and so for about two weeks more I'm doomed to a lousy and angry and pugnacious mood.
Good news - I'm getting away from this town, and hopefully the internet as well.
Bad news - I need to get laid.
Good news - There's a cute boy who might be interested. Fingers are crossed.
Bad news - Like there's any time left in the summer for ill-advised casual sex, anyway.
Good news - But there is a whole year left at BMC!
I couldn't find a book I wanted to read during my lunch break. I'm tired of starting a book, getting really far into it, and having it stolen under my nose. The Stand was an adulterous bitch, and I can't forgive her for that. I don't know if I want to make the investment in that kind of a relationship if I know I'm going to lose her to the next pretty lady with a library card. So I guess I was looking for the one night stand of literary experiences, but nothing piqued my interest. And really some books you just can't treat so summarily - you need to get involved in them and that means all the boredom and gratifications that come from those relationships. In the end, I had nothing to read and it was frustrating for all parties.
2003-07-18, I just want to go home.
've been cursing most of the evening. I realized at one point that I needed to wash my foul, filthy workout pants before I left for Wisconsin, and shouted "FUCK" at the top of my lungs. This, and the tiny mini-skirt I was ironing, nearly gave her a shocked heart attack. (I tried the mini on for Becca, who said "Margaret! You're hot! When did that happen? Also the back of your thighs are excellent.")
I'm exhausted, and cranky, and in a nasty nasty mood. Relatives are going to be sleeping in my thoroughly disgusting bedroom. I have to stay up all hours to pack, then spend tomorrow doing the most awful part of my work week. I'm coming down with a cold. I'm wondering where my period ran off to. PREGGERS! Ha.
Unless it's with alien babies, probably not. I have been flirting with a cute cute cute boy at the Uni. But flirting doesn't make babies. He works in the libraries, and is very happy to see me, and tries to talk to me while holding up traffic. I have a crush! It is, as my cousin observed, fun to have crushes. I told Steph about him and mentioned that he's a professor's son and she shouted "Oh, that's easy money!"
I'm going to be up all night.
I'm annoyed, because I haven't got a free weekend in July to go to NYC and see Jacqui. For Christ's sake. I have two free weekends left in the fucking summer, and have been more than tempted not to go camping lately. But it means seeing Stephanie, and if it's good enough for grandpa it's good enough for me.
This is what the schedule looks like:
Tomorrow: Leave for Welsh Class
Sunday July 27 (I pray): Arrive home from Welsh Class.
Wednesday July 30: Drive 12 hours to Maine.
Wednesday August 6: Drive 12 hours back home.
Thursday August 7(?): Ride 10-12 hours to Canada.
Sunday August 10: Ride 10-12 hours to home.And that's my summer.
2003-07-17, The good daughter
It'd have to be a proverbial ass-whupping, Justine. Because I don't seem capable myself of anything else, mentally or with my manly man muscles.
I went out with Sue last night, RIGHT after workout (I am speedy when it comes to cleaning myself up). We saw Clara Bow in "IT", with live organ, and the whole town. Glory be! Clara Bow was adorable, and beautiful as all get out, and I wanted to be her. She does indeed have "IT."
At some point, I flexed for Sue, and instead of just admiring the meat on my arms she felt my bicep. "Holy shit! That's almost freakish, Margaret." "Yeah, I know. I'm a manly man woman." But she said I'm very feminine, and assured me of my gender. "I'd never mistake you for a man."
Thank you, Jesus.
2003-07-16, The It girl
DON'T THINK YOU WANNA KNOW
Oh, GOD, Oh, God.
I clearly need some angry girl rock, something clarifying and brilliant, that glistens like the diamonds on the blade of my sword.
"A woman's tongue is her sword and she never lets it grow rusty."
2003-07-10, DON'T THINK YOU WANNA
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