Next, a little 1985 context. The entry this excerpt is taken from is my first after returning to the town where Mr. High School lived. Those of you unfamiliar with the Mr. High School saga need only know that I met Mr. High School in eighth grade, developed an insane crush on him over the summer between eighth and ninth grade and then I moved away mid-way through ninth grade only to return (partly because of a lingering, um, let's call it curiosity about him) at the beginning of our senior year of high school. This excerpt details my first sighting of Mr. High School upon my return to town.
After this melodramatic entry, it was nearly two months before he and I actually spoke to one another. Following the excerpt, there is a snapshot of the actual page from my journal on the evening of that momentous occasion. Perhaps this snapshot will give further insight into why I was drawn to the literary and not the visual arts.
One more thing: there are a few swearish words in this entry. I left them in for authenticity's sake.
Monday, September 30, 1985
Being madly in love with someone who doesn't know you exist is not fun. Ok, that's a slight exaggeration. Mr. High School does know I exist. However, it seems quite obvious that he doesn't much give a shit whether I do or not. And in all honesty, why should he? It is unreasonable (but very creative) to think that the things that happened (or should I say didn't happen) between us would have haunted him the way they have me for the past two years. I have seen him only twice over that time and once he actually waved. However, this time 'round he was not in that kind of mood. I saw him last Wednesday at the Bloomsburg Fair. He freaked totally out of his mind when he saw me. Knowing him, he took it personally that I had come back to intrude upon his life. The thing about the Fair is that he didn't say word one or wave or even acknowledge my presence beyond the way his eyes nearly bulged out of his head and the way he nearly gave himself whiplash doing the double-take he did when he saw me. Maybe that's a good sign, the way he risked physical injury just to see me.
(The eternal optimist. Let's look at the bright side of this--so what if we have to bend over ass-backwards to find it?)
(That's going to be it on the subject of Mr. High School. At least until my stomach settles down. That's not to say that he makes me sick to my stomach. What he does do is get my nervous system in a panic. Not to mention the rest of me. So I think I will lay off the subject for a few minutes.)
Wednesday, November 20, 2012
*Seriously, you're better off reading any random post of hers than you are reading what I'm about to post here--I'll forgive you if you wander off.