My Tenth through Eleventh Grade Diary

June 1993 - April 1995

7/21/93

I need my permit. Mom's driving me crazy! NO PUN INTENDED.

FUCK! Today she bought a black and tan pair of those criss-cross "Renaissance" shoes I love, X-cept in size 6--too small. Now, she's lived with me 4 15½ years and a few days, and by now she should know that I have 2 B there. It's hard enough when I'm there! TEE-HEE!

She tried 2 make me shove my foot in but it wouldn't go. the shoe was just 2 fuckin small, OK? Plus I wasn't being difficult Bcuz I'd been begging her 2 find me those particular shoes, she thinks I'm refusing to wear them because I want to be a pain in the ass instead of the real reason. (They hurt like a bitch.)

So we haul ass 2 the store, try to find 6½'s or 7's, no such luck. So mom says I have 2 get something. I tried on everything in the store in my size except 4 ugly ones, impractical ones, and stiles I dislike immensely. That left the rest of the shoes . . . and they didn't fit.

So lindsay the dog wants 2 buy this baby thing 2 put over her bed. Tag says, 75% off! But no tag 2 take 75% off of! Mom asks stupid ass Jesus lady. She says, "75% off whatever the tag says," and mom goes, "There is no tag," she's like "Well, let me check."

Mom looked mad that someone actually thought she'd overlook a price tag that this lady thought she'd find in an extremely obvious place.

So I say, "Now you know how I feel?" meaning that I felt the same way on many occasions in the past when she's done the same to me.

But of course, she completely misinterpreted what I said. She was pissed B cause we could not find shoes. So she goes, in answer to my ? "Now you know how I feel?" with "I hope like a piece of shit." Thanx, Mom, for brightening my day and giving me a reason for living. I couldn't believe she actually wanted me to feel bad that I hadn't gotten shoes, like I didn't feel bad enough having to go through it on every shoe-shopping excursion. I think, as a general rule, you should be more comfortable wearing your shoes than not. Shoes are to protect your feet, what good are they doing when not wearing them is more comfortable than putting up with a shoe-shaped sheild?

The reason none of my sentences make sense is that I've already thought them and they're gone . . . gone . . . gone . . . like that Suzanne Vega song "Language" and I can't write fast enough. It sucks.

9/14/93

As of now my best friends are Amy and Heather. Mom wants me to stay away from her. She wants me 2 find more friends like Amy. Amy's not normal but she looks it.

Mom disapproves of Beavis + Butt-head. I wrote 2 the newspaper and they printed it. Suck my butt, Mom. She disapproves of Ween, too. She has decided that she has the right to take Ween away from us by confiscating Patricia's tape. I have my own copy! And while she was out Patricia made a copy of her tape. Plus, if mom got all of our tapes, I could just tape it off Heather!

I asked her if I could borrow her catsuit and she said I needed to stop dressing so weird because I repel people who might otherwise be my friends. Like I really want 2 B friends with anyone who would judge that quickly.

She said I only attract losers, and she insulted all my friends in turn! Like my clothes really brought that on! This sucks!

What does she think she's going to accomplish by doing this to me? She can't control me at school, and I'll hang out with Heather if I want! I'm not doing it just because she doesn't want me to, although that's what Mom would probably think if she saw this.

When I grow up I'll listen to whatever I want. Does she really think restricting me is going to work? Reality check, Mom. You can't hold me back 4 ever.

I'll always still love her but I feel like she's trying to put some kind of mark on me. She's trying to make me be someone I could never be, someone I'd never want 2 B! I'll always love her but every time she hurts me like she did tonight, I like her a whole lot less.

10/9/93

Balloons are sad. If you keep them, you have to watch them slowly waste away. If you pop them they die instantly. If you let them go they wander aimlesly until their fuel runs out, and they end up killing some innocent wild creature that unfortunately and accidentally made the mistake of assuming it was food. If you suck its helium out, you are stealing its essence and leaving a worthless empty shell. Sad, huh? Oh well.

10/19/93

¡Hola!

It is like major past my bedtime. Well not really. Only a few minutes. I'm writing 4 the hell of it. Are you aware that a nickname for Adelaide could be Addie? Cool huh? I think so.

Tomorrow's my 1st voice lesson. Supposed 2 B yesterday . . . but mom got us lost. 2 bad. Oh well.

News: I passed 1st All-State Test. I'm in! 32 out of 48 sight readin', 86% on theory . . . whoopee! I met a guy named Phil. Weird guy! Very nice. Asked me out. I said I didn't want a boyfriend. Now we're OK again. One problem: he says yukky stuff. It bothers me. I mean, call me like weird but as of now I have absolutely no interest in sex or guys. The idea makes me sick! The only good thing about it is that you get kids. Maybe I'll adopt or get artificially inseminated, because the idea of sex makes me very uncomfortable. Especially the idea of having it with Phil because he's so forward about it. If he had his way we'd be fucking in the closet during class. WHOOPEE.

10/25/93

I guess most years I should have been getting excited about my Halloween costume and anticipating the joy of parading the neighborhood, and every house we visit greets us with a warm welcome and a special Halloween treat. But I guess that's all over now. Last year was my last real Halloween.

I don't wanna grow up! It's such a drag! Pressure from adults to be like them forces the spirit out of you, and when you grow up, your heart dies. Have you ever wondered why children are so happy and innocent? Because they don't know anything? No! Because they haven't lost the magical world of childhood that we are robbed of as we grow older. I'll tell you this. I have my own special magic and no one can take it from me, ever!

12/2/93

Suck. Today was the chorus concert and I missed it because Mom couldn't find the damn place. I missed it! Then I couldn't even stay to watch Amy perform!

12/8/93

Today in Saltzy's class we watched a movie and it said "the soldiers ransacked the town on a quest for booty" and "oil was used as an all-purpose lubricant." Everyone laughed HA HA.

2/15/94

I went 2 Kelly's surprise b/day party 4 Amy. It was basically 6 hours on a trampoline. It was great. Jen + I became sisters. I don't know why, we're just sisters now 'cause we say so.

She invited me 2 go 2 the mall w/her while her sister had an ice-skating par-T and shop for Ben's V-day present. (Feb 14!) She bought him a bay-B bottle full O can-D and a bonnet. (Teehee!) + a card, of course. We et at mcdonalds.

Monday I was fuckin' sick. I got this ear thing. So I took medicine 4 it + it made me puke. SUCK.

4/23/94

Well, last night was kinda strange. We went out to dinner, we started out at Good Fellas. It was cool but very "drunk-people-watchin'-sports" oriented. I told Mom + Dad that they should have taken me to a karaoke bar. They both thought it was a great idea. After we left there, we pulled up to a phone booth and dad started looking at Nightclubs. Two black guys walked by and Mom locked her door. They came to the car next to us and Mom said they were hotwiring it and that I shouldn't look at them. Mom scooted down in her chair. I said, "Why are you doing that?" and she said "I don't want to get shot. I'd like you to duck down, too." Dad came and opened the car door and explained that the Nightclubs page was torn out. "Get us out of here, Marlon," said Mom. So he said "Why, are they stealin' that car?" And she said "yes." And he said "I don't think so. Too casual." We drove off and I looked back. The black guys were gone, and a white guy was getting into the car. So I said "Hey, the owner of the car just came back." And dad goes, "Is he getting his ass beat?" And I said "No, the guys were allready gone."

Mom acted like I was stupid that she had to tell me that they were hotwiring it. I think it's her problem if she's seen someone do it before and I haven't.

So we go home to check our phone book. Dad called the operator, and Mom kept making stupid references to "looking up her dress." The operator heard them and laughed. She gave us numbers. Mom called them + nobody answered. Mom called Bruce to ask him, since he "knows everything." She got his answering machine. Bruce picked up. He doesn't like karaoke, so we had no place to go for it. So we went to Side-Splitters comedy club. Problem: you gotta be 18 to get in. So Mom made me put on this ugly slut-shirt. And she put blush on my face and tried to make me put on some lipstick. I wouldn't. There was something else weird: while I was putting the lipstick on (I wiped it off later) Dad was takin' a pee in the same room. Why?

So we went 2 Side-splitters. It was funny, but it wasn't that fun. There were two guys named Alex + Basil. Fuckin' this and Fuckin' that! Shit, goddam, mother-fuck, FUCKIN' SHIT! Mom tried to get me a drink of Chablis but the waitress asked 2 C my ID. I don't have an ID. Aaron says I look 14. How could I pass for 21? Mom says Patricia probably would have gotten a drink.

4/25/94

Just now I picked up my pants I wore today upside-down and my change from lunch, a dime, fell out of the pocket. I said

"Ooh."

Then I laughed. But I don't know why I thought that falling money is funny.

6/1/94

I'm sad. Tomorrow I have a history final. And it's gonna suck. I don't think I deserve to be in AP history next year, I'm not smart enough. Maybe the shit that's filling up my head all day every day at school has made that happen. . . . I mean, I've had the benefit of a whole extra year of school and Patricia still did better, by alot, so it wasn't fluke, she's just smarter. I have my strengths, I'm a good singer + writer, and I'm nice and I have other talents but I'm just weak-headed. I'll feel better over summer and then I'll really pay attention in school. I can't wait 2 write my story of the girl who lives in a cave! Awesome. I was gonna write somethin' else but I forgot what it was. Bye!

7/5/94

I'm not wearing anything right now except my underwear, my bra, my retainer, and my rubber bands at the end of my braids. I wonder how mr. brazierre feels about having his name used as his invention. If I invented something private or sexual I wouldn't want my name on it.

I am ugly today. Why?

I wonder if Phil knows that I don't know as much as he thinks he knows I know.

WHOA DUDE TRIPPY

Is everything this weird at night? Tomorrow I'm going to school, and I get to get my brain pounded in by the student body! Yippee!

I wish I could walk on my hands. That would be cool.

My brain is unravelling and I don't want it to. It's going around and I'm trying to stop it. It's being "elastic" again. And I feel like a damn yo-yo.

7/7/94

Today I went with Aaron to the Youth Ranch. Patricia came, too. Phil and Stephanie and Meghan were there. It was fun, but annoying. I like being with people, but I can't stand the fact that everyone who's there wants to change me.

7/10/94

Everyone is bothering me today. Mom doesn't even hear us when we deny what she says and goes on believing what she wants. If she even hears us, she just believes, "well, I MUST have had a good reason." She's tacky. And she doesn't even remember being so opposed to Patricia getting her belly button pierced. How come Lindsay can just walk in and turn on her music? I'm so mad I don't know what to do! This Mariah Carey music's driving me crazy. I have to get out of here!

8/3/94

Heather is a stupid fuckin' bitch who should die of herpes and rot in hell. She's not worthy of wearing a Pimpy the Stud-Mouse shirt, because she's not cool enough. I only pretend to like her because one day she might give me some money. She's a dumb bitch with horrible breath and nasty foot odor, and she makes me so sick I have to try really hard not to puke all over her every time she comes near me. She should shove her fingers up her ass and leave them there. She needs to use a better deodorant. Heather sucks shit and she should just go fuck herself.

Just kidding. Heather told me to write that.

8/17/94

My life is so weird lately! The trip, I think it's safe to say, sucked, so I'm glad it's over. I've been watching the awesome Animaniacs show whenever I possibly can and taping while I'm out so's I can catch it later. I've got the Animaniacs soundtrack and I'm getting the Animaniacs lunchbox. Yes, it seems a little obsessive, and yes, I seem to be beginning (!) to annoy everybody with my strange obsession, but I've never been so happy. I've always been on the childish side but I'm proud to say that watching this show seems to have put me better in touch with my youthfulness. How, I dunno, but I'm happy. I'm hoping to curb my "obsessive" behavior because it's bothering everyone, but no one really seems to understand that I just like the show.

Otto von Schnitzelpusskrankengescheitmeyer. Ouch! That was hard to spell.

But see, mom hates it when I'm "immature." Why can't she leave me alone? Whatever she does to me, it won't kill my nature and my tendencies or my personality. Why is she trying to squash my soul? If I feel like boingeying and it won't come to any bad ending except for embarrassing Mom, than why not do it? Why not wear pigtails? Why not watch Animaniacs? Why not carry a lunchbox? Why not be myself?

4/2/95

I feel like my family doesn't like me anymore, except my Dad. His attitude towards me hasn't changed. But my mom acts like I'm a jerk. Lindsay's always insulting me, and Patricia's the worst. She doesn't respect me or anything I say. My view of her is different than it used to be. I guess she's too cool for me. Patricia found an unlabeled tape of hers that had NIN on it, and she tried to play it and "Higher + Higher" was on it. She shouldn't have had it unlabeled in the first place. So she came up to me and asked if I recorded a chorus song of mine onto a supposedly blank tape. I said, "No, not recently." She didn't care if it was recently. I thought about it, but I hadn't recorded "Higher + Higher" onto anything. Ever. But I didn't know it was "Higher + Higher" when she asked. After I told Patricia that I hadn't, she said, "Well, somebody did, and it was you!" That was a lie, and unjust accusation, and a display of her lack of respect for me all in one.

Needless to say, it really made me mad. She didn't care what I said, because she'd already decided I was guilty. And when she found out my "Higher + Higher" song was on her tape, she was accusing me and cursing me. It makes me sooo mad! It turned out that Lindsay had thought it was her tape (Patricia's fault: shoulda had it labeled!) and had put the song on it. So I yelled at Patricia, being sort of whiny on purpose, because I hate it when people believe the opposite of what I say, because I am honest! But she still blamed me, because it was my song. I protested, but all she said was, "Well, it was your song!" As if that was her excuse. Just because it was my gun doesn't mean I'm the one who killed the butler. But she assumed it anyway, 'cause she thinks I'm a dishonest, lying sack of shit. Now she's mad even though I didn't do anything.

If I was in a situation like that, I would never apologize, because I would never make premature assumptions like that and therefore would never have to say, "I'm sorry." But Patricia has too much pride for that.

I am the seventeen-year-old girl who would rather be a kid. I'm a little cartoon girl who makes people happy. I make myself happy, I live for silly stuff. That's why my Meggie loves me so much. I miss her so much! I want her right here, and I want Mia and Phil and Steve and Bryan and Aaron and Laura and I want us to sleep in a big pile of love together. I want a group hug right now. Now I want to jump on a bed + blow soap bubbles. Today I wanna climb a tree. Do yoga on the ceiling, kiss the stars, dance on treetops. This is the day I want to drive with Phil to Gainesville. I want strawberry chewing gum. I want to live in the land of Xanth. Today would be great for talking to daffodils. Those are good lines for a poem.