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Friday 25 April 1997 The good news is I will not have to leave Grandma all alone tonight. She has apparently made friends with Mrs. Yasbeck, the landlady, and the two of them will be playing cards while I am off watching this whole band thing with Mal and Jonny. Sarah and Gavin will be here a week from today. Thrill! Hard to believe that inside of two weeks I will be finished with school. After almost five years, this is it. It'll be strange going without it. Maybe I'll jump right into finishing grad school and avoid the real world for a couple more years. Nah. Saturday 26 April 1997 Its 3 pm, and I just got home. I can't face it, any of it. Not today. The sun is too bright, and the hangover too bad. I just want to curl up in a ball and be depressed for now. I feel like an idiot. That's nothing new, though. Sunday 27 April 1997 I am a little more equipped to deal with all that has happened today. So Mal is a fugitive from the law and has possibly impregnated an underage freak. What has that to do with me? Aside from the fact that I feel like an idiot, nothing. I have this insane desire to run to him and play the sap, comfort and tell him that it'll all be all right. The desire to soothe and make better, such a girly thing. But I am a girl, why am I afraid of being girly? That's dad talking again. It's really sick, I find the whole thing thrilling in a perverse sort of way. Jonny has called me all day to check up on me, the dear sweet little bubblehead that he is. He thinks it's all very romantic. I think I would like to pound into his curly little head just how stupid it all is. I have this insane desire to destroy, to rip someone or something apart until they feel as bad as I do. Instead, I'm going to work on papers. I found my research; Grandma put it in the closet for some reason. So I am immersing myself in academics and ignoring the answering machine, and the occasional pounding on the door. Monday 28 April 1997 Had lunch with Bessa and told her everything. She was very supportive, patting my hand and saying that I am wise to stay away from him. She did ask me if I had fallen for him, and I honestly didn't know how to reply. For awhile I thought I might have been...oh how highly everyone would have thought of me did that happen!! Why do I care what they think of me anyways? I never did before. Maybe it's because I feel as wobbly as a newborn faun on my self-esteem right now. My pride has gotten tossed out the window, and it's raining. On the school side, Carmichael has recommended me for a position at Kennedy High School. Apparently they have an opening for a tenth grade honors English teacher. This would be a good thing, as I could go to grad school in the late afternoons while working a real job too. Although I would like to get the hell out of Dodge. Maybe go down to San Diego where Sarah lives. Maybe up near the Oregon border. Anywhere but here. I'm restless. Tuesday 29 April 1997 Nothing new to report. I'm being a bum. Called in sick today and slept till four in the afternoon. I feel better. Going to rent movies and sit at home with the cat tonight. Bessa wants me to come to a party with her, but I think I'll have to decline. Okay I went to the party. Yes there were interesting people, but I didn't feel very social. There was one extremely interesting man there, though. He's supposed to be an expert of Shakespeare and the Globe theatre, all that stuff. Gorgeous, too. Tall, early thirties I'd say, with an British accent and that always sets me off. I'll have to go to tle lecture on Friday. It would do me good to have something else to focus my lust on. Wednesday 30 April 1997 Boring day. Cleaned, watered the plants, worked, went to class. Avoided Mal like the plague. No calls today. Maybe he's given up. Not likely, according to the guys from the band. Called and talked to Anders, who took me out shopping and made me try on, then buy, this totally strange red sequinned minidress. It was on sale, but still. I don't know where in hell I'm going to wear this thing. It did feel good, though, to do something so totally impractical. I wonder if that is theraputic in and of itself? I'll have to ask the Doc about that... |
Therapy Session where Journal was Delivered
Christina Herald's Journal
Christina Herald's Patient File