Spring has always inspired conflicting emotions in me, especially early spring, just coming out of winter. It fills me with longing. It makes me feel pasty and squint-y (hello, pale sun) and irritable. The thawing out. Come deep spring, I am alive again and happy, loosening in anticipation of heat and freedom. The entry below captures my adolescent spring ennui.
Monday, March 10, 1997
I don’t know if it’s a girl thing or a human thing but people get worked up about things when they think about the future or they dream people and things up to be more or different than they are. Example: I care for Nate. But the reality is this: I called him to ask if he wanted to see “Kerouac” with me and it was stupid and I can’t talk to him anymore and it’s annoying and why did I overestimate him and me and us to be different than we are? This happens with everyone and it is disillusioning. I am vain and proud and fake and fucked up and clueless and scared. Every day, it’s: do I go work out? Do I have a cigarette? Do I go running? Do I drink water? Do I play guitar? What should I do? I waste my precious time and I’m too frustrated to describe it, to figure out what is good and right and important to me. I need to rethink my motivations. I need to see my reasoning for why I do and don’t do.
I’m so sick of Mr. Wiseman’s spirituality class I could wretch. I feel lonely and there is separation between everyone lately. People are sprawled out into all these different groups and weird shit is going down. I can’t talk to anyone about this. Everyone, including me, is preoccupied but when I think about it, we’re preoccupied with frivolous shit. I can’t have a normal conversation anymore. It’s all like, “Man, I’m faded,” or “I’m so irritated,” or “Yeah, let’s kick it.” That’s all anyone says and we don’t kick it. We stand around getting faded, talking about how faded we are and then some girls will get in a fight or something. Where’s the fun in that? What’s wrong with me and everyone? Why can’t I talk to anyone about this and why does it bum me out that there are only three more pages of this journal?
On Saturday, Emma, Chelsea, Rita, and I went to Western and chilled at Martin’s and I met a hottie named Gray (a Scorpio) who bought us beer. The weekend before last we went to Flip Busby’s and out on Claire’s boat. Claire had people over. On Thursday, I crashed at Margo’s. We got out of school at 10:45 on Friday. Frieda and I went running and everyone got faded at Claire’s and went home early. On Saturday I went to the baseball game and we won. I had people over. I’ve gone to Forrest’s with Emma for the last two nights. I’m going to Canada with Mary, Frieda, and Shelby for spring break. I don’t feel like myself lately.