Tues. 3/5: Don’t recall what I did A.M., though it was probably screwing around and general mischief leading me away from the righteous path of homework. Philosophy class at 1, probably talked with J.T. in front of Foreign Lang building after. Went home, then to work [at Daily Illini student newspaper] — M.C. wanted me to slot [on the copy-editing desk] for him so he could do interviews. … So I slotted 5:30–8, when R.E. took over slotting and I helped J.B., who was going nuts at Night Editor desk trying to coordinate pagination and design his own double truck page. So I took over, imposed order on the chaos, sent wire [stories], got in control while J.B. designed. But K.K. didn’t get his first page to us ’til 8 p.m., when I know I had sent all he needed by 6:30. He was apparently tied up interviewing some senate candidate who arrived early. … I left at about 9:15. Went home, read assignments for Weds., wrote, watched some MST3K, finished at about 3 a.m. or so. Then tried to read Chinese poetry for Comp. Lit. class, but skimmed then without gleaning or retaining much meaning, so went to bed. [Page 119-20, Written 10 March 1996]
3/8–write a detailed history of this last week. High school bedtimes–and now. After today, I feel almost done with school, though I do plan to do homework this week. Car hassles–not worth owning one, too much trouble to me. … Teaching story writing–I’d like to do that. … Start with writing an idea, but you have to let it go. All these things I heard but they never hit me in a gut-level understanding (it was always just intellectual understanding) until recently. [Page 95, 8 March 1996]
It’s neat that [my brother] N and I have gotten the chance to work together (or “togezzer,” as the old German R would say). We have different senses of humor, which leads to misunderstandings and snappiness. I’ll say something, and he’ll snap at me. I think I underestimate a lot of people — I’ll say what to do next. But N is smarter than a lot people, and he usually has already thought of what I say when I say it. It’s neat to work with him, we’ve had some good times. But I think it’s good we don’t work together all the time. As Mom said, we’re very different people. [Page 3-4, 27 Dec. 1995, late night, home post-Petro]
Dad said a relationship is two people who are looking for same thing at same time. [Page 11, 16 Jan. 1996]
Girls stopping me for directions offered to give me a ride. “We won’t kidnap you or nothin.” [Page 11, 17 Jan. 1996]
It’s not that I derive my worth from another’s opinion, but that I’m no good at even getting the other’s attention. I’m generally happy on my own, which in itself is an eerie trait. No, I most likely will meet another woman at some point in my life, but still—what the f__ is wrong (or overly right, in the case of intimidation) with me now? [Page 58-9, Saturday night, 3 Feb. 1996]
Sound bites—ideas are gonna be dumb if you only have seconds to explain. [Page 83, Wednesday night, 21 Feb. 1996]
Kendallville, Indiana Days Inn. Looking at this one way, it is kinda exciting to be on the road, staying in hotels, headed to a new city. But I’m so apprehensive—I wish somebody was with me tonight—namely, my M. It would be so nice, so comforting if she were here now. I wouldn’t have been so road-weary, time would’ve gone quicker, I would have a companion. (Though I’m almost glad she wasn’t with me when I was so stressed and frustrated around Chicago—I couldn’t escape the people! I finally got going on Route 6 and made good time—though twilight and after, I was a little dazed, less alert—dim, ill-focused headlights and my tired eyes. I drove from 2 to 9:20 but only got about 150 miles from M’s house! [Page 173, 24 May 1996, 10:20 p.m.]
When (and if) M and I kiss, I want to put my right arm around her back and feel her body, her presence, her back—that’s my image, anyway. So what’s gonna happen? Write letters? Visit each other? She will apparently be in C-U next year again, though I don’t much want to be. This summer I’m in Pennsylvania, after that, pretty much anywhere but Illinois. But maybe … long weekends—who knows? That’s really all I can say—who knows. If we are a good match, I think it’ll work out. Else, no. Who knows? [Page 153, Saturday evening, 13 April 1996, Petro]
MonkeyMoonMachine 