Almost ironic to report on my individual life on what was the 26th anniversary of my parents' marriage. Well, I owed my existence to the fact, none the less, and their relationship shaped my life in a vast range of ways. I did not have the worst parents ever, by far. Not that there were never any problems...
I pick up the day-to-day routine as July begins. Two years of my expected four in college were now behind me and my amorphous ideas that charted the course of the first two had all but evaporated.. Did I really want or intnd to be an attorney? Did I find any real inspiration or promise in becoming an MBA or any sort of practitioner of accounting, marketing, financial business or commercial management? Or somehow being in the selling racket? To me here/now, that future spelled boredom in big dark letters. Even the notion of getting my degree and finding amployment somewhere with the AT&SF was a vague and almost hollow sort of pipe dream. What could or should I then do to make myself a living and also a life? Teaching was emphatically not it. I was surer than ever of that even though at times I had almost expected to end up in educagtion or academia someway or another. For the time being, I was spinning my wheels, albeit slowly, digging deeper into a morass of sand--dust-dry quick sand in a bog of marginal existence.
July 1, 1968 Monday
I sit here on a Monday morning with a toothache. It is not quite time for class--time to leave, that is. Another weekend has passed, At least I got a start on Cindy II. It is barely a start, but it IS a start, anyway. At 12:00 today I wil stop by Dr Holden's and if he cannot fit me in, I shall hunt until I find someone who will. I am in absolute agony with this damned miserable tooth and I cannot endure it any longert. Then I'll go ahead and make an appoitment for have a lot more dental work done.
Haven't heard from Dale since he walked out of here late Sunday night, He is unreliable and I should not put up with it and him. Yet I wasn't quite kidding when I said I couldn't do better. Is that true or not? Hell, I am sick of feeling so crummy. I know I must have some horrible incurable disease or soeething. No joke. Planning my possible change to History major etc. all seems futile as if I knew I would not be here to worry about it one way or another. Why have I even worked this hard? I do not have to keep up "the payments" on my freedom now, Liberty has damn near become license and I can sympathize with the crying songs about drowning sorrows. I have so many ugly scenes to forget and I have ended up losing so much that was important and that I can never get back. There cannot ever be another Dusty or Little Dusty or Tina or...and or and or... I wouldn't go back and yet the changes didn't work right. I always dream too big andowild and want too much.
\July 2, 1968 Tuesday
Was it only yesterday? My tooth is long gone. It was ugly. The roots broke off and I sweated through an hour of blasting them out, came home and cried for an hour and then felt ten years younger and pounds lighter. Right then I fell asleep last night, dizzy from two rum and cokes shared with Hobby who came down just after Carolyn and Les left for Mormon Lake. He is the boyfriend of Carolyn's best friend Karen who lives with him upstairs part of the time. He talked to me for at least an hour. Were he about five years older than the twenty three he claims, I'd give Karen a run for her money.
I had a visitor earlier this evening. Dale came by about 1:00 on his way back to Phoenix from attneding his grandmother's funeral in Albuquerque. (valid reason for vanishing). He may have me come down over the next weekend but isn't sure yet. Carolyn walked on on us but luckily we were up and getting ready to walk up to the busstop. She and I walked with him up to Anderson's corner and then went to Foodtown for groceries.
Got a 1 on my first Business Law test, barely but that is okay. I have 37/40 of the quiz points and 46/50 on the first test. Should clear a 1 with any luck from here on out. If I get a 2 from Derifield (Biogenetics) It wouldn't really hurt. I iike h Dr D. and he makes it interesting--it is a personal subject with him on account of a child with issues, not Downs but genetic..I am really not studying seriously in either class. Hard to care..
What else? Nothing really. I'd better hustle my little bustle out of here directly . No classes tomorrow--viva el cuatro de Julio! I'm really eager to start wroiting on Cindy.II. Last evening while writing to Jjudy, a bunch of ideas fell into place and I think I've got a good start via a flashback . They may not be good per most writing coaches and agents, but this one will be natural and easy.
July 5, 1968 Friday
The glorious fourth has come and gone. I did go to the powwow parade but that was the extent of my celebration. The day before I took my test in Biogenetics. Were it not to find out how I did, I'd not even go to class this morning but I really have no excuse not to go. Dale has not notified me to scoot down to Phoenix to join him. I'm not sure I'd go anyway, but three idle dayshere are liable to blow my mind. It's chilly this morning because it rained yesterday and there is an extra high humidity content in the air, It is also breezy.
Somehow I've got to shake off the plaguing blues that have been hanging around my neck like an albatross. Guess it is becasue I haven't been accomplishing much of anything. But then I have not felt physicaly well since, well, since when? I really can't recall.. Maybe part of last year.
I want Dusty. I haven't seen him or heard his voice for nearly a year, touched him for way over a year. But I want him anyway. I'm really half a mind to take The Grand Canyon to Kingman and take a room in a motel for a night...not that it would accomplish anything! I have no idea where to look or who to ask. Somehow Dale doesn't truly seem real to me; he doesn't reach my inner self at all.
I don't know. In a way I am as bent on self destruction now as I was when I tried to drown myself etc. back several years ago. I'm not wallowing in anguish and misery now but I just don't care. I need someone real and vital and compelling to take me up and drive me, to give me a purpose and a sense of reality and meaning again. So much for ports in the storms.It has not worked.
Once upon a time pictures. The wedding picture and then each parent in the summer of 1943 in Kansas City with the odd little creature theyhad produced.
No comments:
Post a Comment