Category: This day in…

Flashbacks to old journal entries with modern commentary, because torture

July 9, 1991

December 19, 2016

It was pretty embarrassing for me and Keith to be at Crystal’s prom. I mean we felt pretty dumb, two kids with a bunch of prom dudes. Anyway, it was Canada Day last week and I wanted to go to all the festivities but nobody else did so we just went to Baskin-Robins. Jane went and she said I didn’t miss anything. But to be patriotic I stuck a little Canadian flag in my bike handle when we rode to get ice cream. I was invited to a surprise party for Alex Marquez (on Saturday). His brother called me. I said I wold probably go but then I didn’t. I wouldn’t have liked it anyway. Today Angela Aury invited me to her b-day party (tomorrow). I said I already had plans. I’m glad I said I had plans because I really don’t feel like going to parties these days.

                                     It’s ridiculous how long it took me to realize that it was my own fault I was lonely. I thought I didn’t have any friends, and that everyone hated me, but look at how many parties I was getting invited to! Sometimes, when I look back I think I should have forced myself to to go to these events, and romanticise what could have been, but the truth is I wouldn’t have enjoyed them, because of my social anxiety. Even today I require rather specific conditions to enjoy social gatherings, and get overwhelmed at the prospect of too much socialising. 

I can’t wait ’till we go to PEI, it will be fun. I finished making three puffy paint t-shirts today. I think they look good.

                               I don’t have those shirts anymore, but I feel pretty confident in saying they didn’t look good.

Well that’s it. Bye. 

P.S. I had a dream I was eating candy so I’m gonna send Keith out for some. 

                              I still dream about candy. 

May 29, 1991

December 5, 2016

I am in English class again (another loose leaf transfer). I went to the eye doctor this morning, the eye infection is still there. Got some ointment. It seems pretty good. I won’t put eye drops in but it’s a kind of gel that you put in the eye (gross). Well I’ll see how it feels. Jane is going to break up with her boyfriend. I think that’s good. I don’t like being single when she’s not. Crystal’s grad ceremony tomorrow.

                                      Ugh, I’m so ashamed of how petty and jealous I was about Jane. I was such a terrible friend. I still am actually. I mean I’m not petty and envious anymore but I’m very limited in how many people I can care about at any given time. According to science we all are, and the average person can only handle about five close friendships at a time, but I think my number is one. If I’m hanging out with a specific person then I’m very attentive to them, but out of sight, out of mind.

June 11, 1991

Crystal’s ceremony was nice. I screamed but she didn’t hear. The Sunday next my eye got swollen, went to eye doctor following thursday, got drops, is getting better. I also have to put warm compresses on it (eye, left). Jane dumped Kyle ’cause he was a “mama’s little boy”. I met Luba last Saturday! She is neighbour’s friend. I went over and got her autograph. Nancy Fontaine invited me to the 6th grade reunion on the 15th (Saturday). I’m gonna call Marlène and ask if she can come down for it. I hope I can bring Jane too.

                                       I wasn’t even a fan of Luba’s. I guess I just liked the idea of meeting a celebrity. I have very much gotten over that since then. In fact, meeting Luba was so unremarkable that it may have cured me of celebrity worship.

June 25, 1991

The reunion was pretty boring. I could have lived without going. Marlène didn’t come. I didn’t call her ’cause she had a performance the next day. Jane went to New York. The good thing about all of that was that at the McDonald’s I got a “43” penny in change. Wow.

                                      I collected pennies. I still have the collection, which I keep in a little gum ball machine. Pennies were discontinued in Canada about a year ago so maybe the collection will eventually be worth something… or become and increasingly obsolete paper weight.

It’s Crystal’s prom tomorrow and Mom and Dad’s anniversary (21 years). We are going to eat out and then Mom and Dad are going to Crystal’s prom for 30 minutes while Keith and I lounge around the lounge. (heh, heh).

                                   In Canada, or at least in Montreal, prom is actually called grad ball, and it’s not exactly like what you see on American TV shows. Parents show up for a while to dance with their kids and then the kids do their own thing. My sister’s grad ball was at the Ritz so that’s what I meant by lounge in the lounge. I also ended up making an appearance at my brother’s grad ball but I never went to my own because 1993 was pretty much my peak of depression and self-loathing. It’s interesting that this diary entry is so stark, and point-form, as opposed to an exploration of how I was feeling. I think it’s an indication that the depression was beginning. Good times. 

May 28, 1991

November 21, 2016

I am so tired I could die. I wrote this in English class and am now transferring it to my diary. We did the Endurance run today. 2nd period and boy am I tired. Even now that it’s 4th period I’m still tired. At least I’m not sweating like was in ITT (3rd period). I walked a lot of it but still we had to go around 6 times. I finished after the bell rang. It was pretty embarrassing. I collapsed when I was done and started crying ’cause I couldn’t take it. And I’m not even sure how many times I went around.

                                           I vividly remember this. I’ve even written about it before on this blog, without realizing a first-hand account lay hidden within the pages of my old diary.

I often wish I wasn’t anemic. I wish I had energy and I wish I was a fast runner and good in sports and an all around good athlete. I wish I didn’t get eye infections. I really wish I had 20/20 vision. Sometimes I wish my skin wasn’t so pale (but sometimes I like it because it makes me different). I wish I was pretty. I wish my fat was in the right places (ahem). I wish I wasn’t so shy. I wish boys liked me. But I like myself, if I had the chance (except for having 20/20 vision and not being fat, I’d stay the same except for the skin rashes).

                                         This last part was scratched out and then rewritten elsewhere on the page. I can’t tell what I’d originally written. But I can tell you that none of those wishes ever came true. My sight began to weaken when I was about four years old; too young to be able to express what was going on. My mother thought I was going crazy because I told her I could see angels. Turns out I was trying to tell her I could see halos, i.e. lens flares. Eventually she figured it out and brought me to an optometrist and I got glasses. My sight continued to deteriorate so I had to get new glasses every year. When I was about ten I got contacts and when I was fourteen or fifteen I got my first eye infection so it was back to the glasses. I finally sought out eye surgery when I was thirty-three, but my vision was too poor to be a candidate for lasik so I got intraocular lens implant surgery, which is a whole other story for another time. The skin rash I refer to is eczema, and that also merits its own post because it relates to my distrust of doctors.

What I really wish is that I lived in a place just like Star Trek: The Next Generation. With all the people, just like in the show. But I’d settle for being a regular on the show. Oh life is so depressing! If they do the Endurance run at BHS I will try to get out of it somehow!

                                         I was obsessed with TNG, and I fantasized about living on the Enterprise all the time, but I was also realistic enough to know such a thing could never be, so in an effort to make my fantasies more attainable I fantasized about being an actor on the show. So, about 1% more attainable. Really, I just wanted any escape from my life, but it would take at least another decade for me to learn that I really wanted to escape myself, and still another decade to learn that what I actually needed was self-acceptance. The good news is that my next school, BHS, did not, in fact, enforce the endurance run.