Woozle/Jenny/note/009

Transcript

Nov 23, 1980

Dear M.P.W.W.S.T.O.B.P.O.P.A.P.T.I.P.L.,

*referring to Sat. night

I am no great help am I?* As to Saturday in Egypt, I found myself coming out of it knowing less about you than you do about me. I now know your stand on drugs and the like. I feel an awful amount of resentment toward society and those people. I could sense your fear of not being in control, I feel it too.

I do know more about you than I did before. The very fact that you came told me a lot.

While we were talking, I didn't feel awkward – because you didn't. (?) (Oh BOSH! Here I am again not knowing what I feel.)

But I came out of the "meeting" knowing more about you. Things I couldn't put into words. But I think I have a better feeling about you, and of you.

Yes, you embarrass me. Read what I wrote in that one letter that seemed like garbledygook to you. I don't [know] why I am so fussy about material things – I just am. Yes, the bike bugs me. You do walk don't you? Your legs go back and forth and all?

I'm just a social-minded, aristocratic, stuck-up snob who can't be seen with anyone that makes her appear less so than she wants to appear.

Yes Nick, everything I told you is true if you have any doubt. Maybe the way I said them wasn't

I DON'T KNOW!

I told you the worst possible things about my family. Why? Was I being dramatic?

I'll tell you one thing. I came out of there feeling as though I had done what I needed to do. I went in with things I had in my mind to say and I said them. I felt you had a right to know.

Oh, by the bye, "fat face" was none other than a psychologist. That's why I had fits when you told me what your dad does. If there's anything I can't stand it's a person who has a degree because you have problems. And they tend to think that they have a better idea of you than you do. I hate analysts! So I didn't work in school?*

* I have to give you my ideas

Friends helps a lot. Everyone is so understanding and all. I feel the strong community there (here) that my church wants me to feel about it.

I remember now that on the night of great frustration when I couldn't get my homework done, I had had a dream.

First may I say that at one point I was having absolute fits. I was so frightened that I wouldn't get credit in this course and Mom & Dad would get worried and do something drastic – like send me to Highland, I kept asking (begging is more demeaning but truer) you to tell them that I wasn't crazy. Somehow at that moment you seemed the closest person. I was pacing back and forth and I finally collapsed on the floor next to my bed. Sometimes I get really worked up like that. I was on the verge of calling you and ask[ing] you to tell them that I wasn't out of my mind, but I did a quick turnaround like the one you witnessed in Egypt. I got ahold of myself and then got into an argument about truth with myself.

It lasted me till time to go to bed. By then I had formed no conclusion except that there is no conclusion. BUt I came up with some interesting theories.

About the dream.

* I have never had nightmares or night-horrors

I never dream about things that happen right before I go to sleep. I'm safe after late night movies.* But I actually had a dream just like my earlier fear.

I remembered it in the morning and remarked on it to myself so I wouldn't forget.

I never write down my dreams the day after I had them, no matter what. (ask me about dreams & my comments thereof)

Anyway I can't remember the dream now – just that I had it. It's a good thing I thought about it because I remember remembering it.

Some[one] wanted to take me away because I wasn't well adjusted in school. "Nick, tell them I'm not crazy!" and I think you did.

Thank-you.

But I must have been really scared to dream about it.

Nov 24, 1980

Naomi – [ something crossed out, almost legible ]

1980 11 06 #6 Wha? Let me read my notes.

1980 11 14 – the above

my writing at the moment is not eloquent

I saw Logan's Run ...And Justice for All

lunch!

Notes

Apparently I hadn't yet switched to using the date-of-receipt for my penciled-in timestamps; clearly I had to have received this no earlier than 11/24, but I wrote 11/23 for the date. Probably she gave me the note at lunch on 11/24 (Monday).

I wish I could remember what "Saturday night" refers to.

I find it odd to imagine that she thought I might not have showed up. I guess that wouldn't be uncommon behavior for other people in whatever categories she was using to model her expectations of me at that point?

Saturday in Egypt

I remember her suggesting a couple of previous times that we should meet there, but I thought she was joking, referring to the country; apparently in her circles it was commonly used to refer to a nearby abandoned development, but I had never heard the place called that before.

Filling in the gaps between what I know and remember, here's what I think happened: on that day when we walked home splashing in the puddles, we got to talking about how nice it would be to spend more time together away from school. Neither of us wanted to do this under the eye of parents (or, indeed, let our parents know that our interest in each other had developed to this point, due largely to the incorrect assumptions they would make), and she suggested meeting at Egypt on Saturday, when a long absence from home would not be surprising. Once we got our nomenclature straightened out and I understood what she was talking about, I thought it was a great idea.

This is pretty much exactly the bike I was riding, including the color. Though I tended to leave the "picnic bag" off because it made the bike more noisy when going over rough ground (which I did a lot). I think by this time I had also removed the chain guard and maybe the front fender, because they tended to rattle. (another sample)

I was surprised that she found it embarrassing, or that there was some issue with me riding to meet her (two long blocks away) rather than walking. I'd never had any reason to think anyone seriously would.

I'm pretty sure "that one letter that seemed like garbledygook to you" was Note #6... and I think I knew what it meant; I just didn't want to think about it, because it meant less Jenny-time. Jenny-time made me feel less terrible, sometimes even good.

[ WRITING STILL IN PROGRESS ]

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