My Old Journal: Phases

NaBloPoMo – Day Twenty-nine

Well, the end is in sight! I’m going to do a wrap-up of my NaBloPoMo series tomorrow, plus, it’s CLAIRE’S TWO YEAR BIRTHDAY…so I knew writing on the last day of the month wouldn’t be a challenge.

And, actually, I’ve found this whole process to be rather enjoyable. Like I said (here), I’d been writing every day since the middle of August anyway…so what’s another 30 days? I’m glad I found my old journal so that I would for sure have something to write about, but it’s not been too difficult. I keep a running list of “ideas” to expand and expound upon anyway…this was just an extension of that.

As I mentioned yesterday, the last part of my old journal is full of angst and crushes and silly boys and all that nonsense. The cool part about it, though, is the fact that it really wasn’t nonsense at the time. I’m still going to spare you the overabundance of pages, but I’m going to give you some passages from the entries that I enjoy.

I’m sure I’m the only one that cares about this, but […] is where I’ve taken out text, and … were actual ellipses in my journal. Whew…now that we have that out of the way, here they are!

From page 258:

OOOPS! by me (4:51pm 08-02-94 Tues.)
*This is my 200th entry!*
Oops! That word can stand for so many things. The first thing it could stand for would be the fact that I missed writing in here in July…oops! I’ve been working a lot […] and we went to visit [one of my college friends] […] and I’ve been writing a lot in lots of letters. (You know…therapy…)

The second thing oops could stand for is this whole boy situation I have going on in my head right now. I think I’ve lost my mind. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. First of all, I have never hid this journal. Secrecy spawns curiosity. Anyone who has ever wanted to read this has never been chastised or driven from the room, but welcomed with open arms and an open journal. I have never really said anything in here that would hurt someone’s feelings or alter the reality of their consciousness in any way.

What I’m going to say now, if read by the people involved, may cause repulsion or reassurance – depending on the point of view.

This is where I go on to admit that I am in love with a guy, a close friend (no, not Uncle David…we’ll call him Jamison.) at my college. The problem? He was the best friend (and unrequited love interest) of one of my roommates (we’ll call her Haley)! Oops, is right! I go on to say:

You see, I get signals from people and my mind cannot distinguish between simple kindness and “opportunity.” Does that make sense? In a previous entry, I wrote that I was going into withdrawal because I haven’t seen Jamison. Well, I went from seeing him every day to not at all. [because we all left school for the summer] The perfect playground for obsessive thoughts, no?

[…]

The things my mind dwells on are caused by Jamison himself and the things he lets himself get caught doing! Such as: The last day of [college] before going to Spain…I was in our room and Haley and Jamison were taking a final. Jamison came to the door. “Where’s Haley? Is she here?” was his excuse to visit. He stood there chatting with me. I asked him how the test went. His answer was, “Oh! It was so hard! It was so hard that Haley is still in there taking it!” Oops, Jamison. Caughtcha.

Jamison and I had so much fun last year. I miss him terribly.

And then I go on and on and on, so I’ll skip ahead…It hadn’t even occurred to me that he would like me like that. Jamison is all jealous when I talk about other guys…he’s all jealous when I spend time with other guys…gee, reading that makes him sound like a weirdo control-freak that likes to wear wife-beater t-shirts, but he wasn’t!

[One of my other guy friends] flat out asked me why I didn’t go out with Jamison. At the time, it seemed absurd, “What!? Risk the wrath of Haley!? Plus, I don’t even know if he likes me.” [My friend] was convinced that Jamison liked me. All this time, I thought that the fact that Jamison was always in my room for hours on end and always said goodbye (no matter who he came to see, he’d stop by going and the way back) was just a coincidence.

[…]

It’s just so unsettling to dream about him and think about him every day when I really have no idea “where” he is. Does that make any sense at all?

Okay, here is where I factor in the possibility that one of the guys I work with at my summer job likes me, and how I could see myself with him, too…thus adding to my confusion and more pages in my journal. Oh, the angst! Now, we’re getting to one of my favorite lines (paragraphs?) in the whole entry:

I know what I need. I need someone better than all of ‘em to waltz into my life and make these guys just wonderful memories. I mean, it’s not like I’ve declared my love to them or anything and if they would happen to read this, they would realize that I’m insane anyway, and that it is August 2, 1994. For those just tuning in, please check the date and see just how long ago I wrote this. You know, I just love getting my feelings out in the open. They are so much easier to sort out that way. Oops! I’ve rambled enough. Maybe by the time I read this again, my mind will have a new obsession!

Truer words have never been written. How ironic. When I read this paragraph, I actually laughed out loud. Yes, I did have many other obsessions (and still do?)…two or three more years of them, to be exact. Speaking of which, let’s get to some more juicy quotes.

The following comes from:

PHASES by me (11:19 AM 08-23-94 Tuesday)
[One of my best friends from high school] told me something that I think is true about myself. It’s called “phases.” I was in a Jamison phase…and now I’m in a Max [pseudonyms galore!] phase.

And then I write three pages about this guy. The confusion about what he means to me and I to him is palpable…painful, really. Especially since I know how the story ends. The funny thing? We never truly dated. Oh, the mind is a powerful thing. The next I-don’t-know-how-many pages go on and on about him. It’s too bad I couldn’t have been a third party at the time reading it and then realized that the girl writing in my old journal was wasting her energy, and told her so. To her face. She wouldn’t have listened. She was stubborn. Plus, some lessons are best learned the hard way, unfortunately.

Then, on page 272, I write:

A NEW PHASE… by me (2:04am Mon. Feb. 13, 1995)
One of the dangers of writing in a book like this is what will come out and what we will look back upon and sigh, roll our eyes, and say, “Wow, what a silly girl.” I didn’t think it would be possible to get over Max, but I have and I’m not even bitter about it.

I then go on to talk about how one of my good friends from high school had been killed in a car accident on Wednesday, December 7, 1994. I still remember standing in my dorm room listening to my mom’s voice on my answering machine telling me that he was gone. (And, just now, as I’m typing this draft, Claire just said, “Don’t cry, Momma…” It’s okay, Claire. Momma will be okay. Momma will be okay.)

And, I then go on to talk about how I went to talk to one of my best guy friends (no, not Uncle David, but another guy in my very close circle of friends.) We were listening to Backwater by The Meat Puppets, and he gave me the longest, most heart-felt and sincere hug I’d ever experienced, and I sobbed on his shoulder…over the loss of my friend, and my confusion, and all the feelings that had been pent up inside.

That moment put a lot of things into perspective…and I still get a very calming and empowering feeling in my heart when I listen to that song.

I then go on to ramble about how one phase is over and another has begun. Of course, that won’t be where the story ends. The rest of my journal is full of more entries from my senior year of college. There are more phases, but the entries aren’t as prolific as before. I was so focused on maintaining the best grades possible and getting a real job and moving out into the real world, that I didn’t have as much time for my journal as I’d had in the past.

The last entries in my old journal involve my relationship with Mr. Wrong. They take me back to a time when I was so naive, but I really have no regrets. I wouldn’t be where I am now without having experienced what I did back then. Part of me is glad that my journal ends where it does. It ends on a happy note. (Like I mentioned when I started this NaBloPoMo series, I have since written a new entry bridging the gap between the ending there and where I am now — two happy times tied together by a few sentences.) It was safely tucked away by the time I lived through the biggest breakup I’d ever had, me trying to figure out who I was and what I was doing and the meeting of Mr. Right (who, by the way, is the longest phase I’ve ever had…almost 11 years together, 7 years married. Something tells me he may be Mr. Right, after all).

Looking back at all this, I can’t help but realize that what the girl who wrote in my old journal said is true. It’s fun to look back, sigh, roll my eyes and say, “Wow, what a silly girl.”