April 1976 - August 1976
Age 18

"One week from now I'm going to be so burned out from all the parties & drinking & emotion, I'll probably never
recover. They'll have to put me in bed and close my eyes and let me sleep forever ..."

Monday night
April 26, 1976

Ordinarily I don't like small ledgers like this one (70 pages) ... the way I frantically scribble, I wear one out in a matter of weeks ... but this afternoon I was in a hurry and didn't have time to shop around. No time to be picky, so I grabbed you, Ledger. But who knows? We may become good friends anyway. I'll overlook your diminutive size if you'll overlook my crazy handwriting - deal??

It's a little past 10 and I really should try to get some sleep, but my poor confused little body can't seem to adjust to the new daylight savings time (started yesterday). Still very wide awake. Sitting here in bed, listening to the radio, wondering why Steve didn't call tonite. Not only didn't he call, as a matter of fact, but the phone didn't ring ONCE all evening. That's hard to believe!!

Today was a frustrating day. Scott came and gave me a ride in the morning, and during the 15 or 20 minutes before school started, we sat in his Camaro out in the back parking lot, talking to his friends and smoking a little pot. We had a Prom assembly during 2nd period ... listened to Cheryl L. sing "Precious & Few" in her flat, nasal voice, and then the nominees for Prom royalty were introduced. Choir was boring, since I wasn't called on to play the piano at all & spent the entire period listening to the choir rehearse "All My Trials," "Ehre Sei Dir Christe" and "Nobody's Perfect." Scott took me to A & W for lunch, which was an unexpected surprise. During 4th period Journalism, Mr. Carmagnani completely tore my editorial for the New Voices feature apart ... figuratively speaking, that is. He complained that it was too long, too wordy, too bogged down with facts and figures, not enough editorializing. I was really hurt, but after recovering from the blow to my pride, I realized he was absolutely right. That first attempt was awful. It was stuffy and dull and poorly written ... so I spent the remainder of the day rewriting the thing, taking care to keep it simple and clean. And Mr. C loved it. "Very good!" he exclaimed, when he read my second attempt.

After school Scott and I drove down to Seahurst Park - parked in the upper level parking lot, sat in his car talking for a couple of hours. Some friend of his bought us a six-pack of beer, but I still hadn't completely recovered from last Friday night and didn't feel much like drinking. Scott sucked down three in a row, then got very talkative. We talked about his last girlfriend, Carolyn D. Then he kissed me when he was sure she was watching, standing with a bunch of her friends on the other side of the parking lot. Ha ha.

Growing more confused every minute. How much do I like Scott? Do I still love Steve? Am I wrong to be hanging onto them both? And if I am, how will I ever choose between the two of them?



Tuesday night
April 27, 1976


Waiting for my favorite TV show to begin, "Monty Python's Flying Circus" on Channel 9. Certainly the most insane comedy show ever produced. I need to relax and unwind with a good television program ... a minor row with Dad half an hour ago has left me tense and irritable. (As usual, our argument began with him criticizing my phone calls. Scott called and we talked for almost an hour, and naturally Dad had to be snide & criticize me for it. God, I hate that.)

Alright day, no major problems. Scott drove me to school again, took me out to lunch, picked me up after school and we went down to Seahurst Park for an hour. And then he called me tonight. I'm beginning to think that this is really something serious, at least to him. I haven't had a chance to really think over the situation, so for the present I'll just say that I like him a lot, he's fun to be with and I enjoy going out with him. I don't think I can honestly say that I love him right now ... I'm still too emotionally involved with Steve to entangle myself further. Maybe I could learn to love Scott, someday. But not now. Not until I've dealt with my feelings for Steve.



Monday night
May 3rd, 1976

Several days later. Scott and I went to a concert choir rehearsal at the school this evening from 6:30 to 8:30 - we have a concert tomorrow night at Highline High School. After rehearsal (we worked on "Ehre Sei Dir Christe," "All My Trials," "Nobody's Perfect" and "Ye Followers of the Lamb"), me, Scott, Jerry and Wayne got some weed from Paul and went down to Sunset Park to smoke it. I didn't get home until 12:15, and I am ZONKED. Probably no school for Terri tomorrow morning.



Tuesday morning
May 4, 1976

God, my school attendance has been rotten this quarter! Here I am, staying home again!

An incredible amount of things have happened to me since last week ... things that have managed to change my attitude about several important issues, including my feelings for Steve and our so-called "relationship," as well as the very real relationship I do seem to be building with Scott. Things are beginning a gradual about-face.

I went to Tony E.'s party with Scott last Thursday night. Tony has a gigantic field on his property, up near the airport, so the party was outside. We all sat on the cars, drinking beer and smoking weed and talking. I was suffering from a hangover from the night before, so I wasn't drinking much, but I was in a good frame of mind and in the mood to talk to people.

(Continuing this on May 5, 1976 at midnight)

Anyway, Steve was there, very obviously drunk, and he asked me to go for a walk with him so we could "talk." We were gone for nearly an hour, and during that time Scott got very upset and very hurt and left the party without me.

Two things happened in my mind that nite at Tony's party. First, I began to seriously ask myself  "Do I really love Steve as much as I think I do?" That night he told me that he loves me, that he's going to change his ways and become more attentive and show his love for me more frequently ... but he was drunk when he said it. I don't think he even knew what he was saying. And now, for the first time in the almost-year that I've been in love with him, I'm beginning to doubt. And wonder. And reconsider.

The second thing that happened at Tony's was that I began to look at my relationship with Scott more closely, and I had to ask myself: Why shouldn't I love him?  He showers me with love and attention and consideration. He's the most thoughtful, courteous, tender guy I've dated in months. Why shouldn't I love him? And say "the hell with Steve," once and for all??



May 6, 1976

Drying my hair, listening to the radio, deciding what to wear to school this morning ... feeling relatively happy and relaxed. Last night I went over to Scott's house and helped him cut out magazine ads and tape them in a "Visual Notebook" for his English class. We sat upstairs in his bedroom, listening to old Beatles albums, talking, cutting up magazines until 10:30. He's so damned sweet, I just can't believe it. Before he took me home, we stopped at A & W and had rootbeer frostys, and while we were sitting in his car drinking them we talked about graduation. It's definite now - we are walking into the graduation ceremony together, and on Class Day too. Originally he was going to walk with Lori N., until she got pregnant & dropped out of school. This is a very big load off my mind, because the girls outnumber the guys in our class by 2 to 1, and I was starting to think I would have to walk in with another girl. (Sheer humiliation.) After graduation, a lot of us are going to drive to Sun Lakes for a few days, maybe ... we were talking about that, too.

I actually like this picture (taken before Prom, in front of
Scott's house) more than I do our formal Prom portrait. You can't really tell,
because I've had to blur his face for the website,
 but he is giving me this look that says he thinks I'm really,
really special  ...  and I just sort of look happy and goofy and healthy and light-hearted.
Which I was, that night, for a change. (No obsessing over the *other* boyfriend.)
It was a special evening, and i'll always be glad that we shared this experience.
i hope that he feels the same.

Prom was last weekend, did I tell you? I won't go into great detail, but it was neat. Scott wore a white tux with black velvet trim, and I wore my new black & white halter dress, and we really looked sharp together. We ate dinner at the Space Needle (mediocre food, ridiculous prices, great view.) Prom was held in the Snoqualmie Room at the Seattle Center. We got there at 8:30 and danced until 11:30. It was really very beautiful and special and wonderful, the way I always hoped my Senior Prom would be.

After Prom, Scott took me home so I could change my clothes & repair my makeup, and then we drove with several friends (including Carolyn Dopps, Tracy Clairmont, Leonard Morgan, Anna Cutler) to Wenatchee for the Apple Blossom Festival. We got home late Sunday afternoon, tired, dirty, sunburned, high and happy.

Someday maybe I'll tell you more about Prom and about Apple Blossom, but right now I don't feel like expanding ... I've got to put my eyes and face on.



Saturday afternoon
May 8, 1976

I've spent practically the whole day outside in a lawnchair, reading Patricia DiZenzo's "An American Girl," trying to get a tan. I didn't have any tanning butter or baby oil, and I was getting tired of spraying myself with the hose every five minutes to keep my skin wet, so I created some makeshift tanning oil. You'll never guess what I used - cooking oil! It sounds silly, but I spread it all over my arms and legs and chest, and it worked. I've got a beautiful rosy burn, so at least I'll have some color when I go to Tracy's party tonight. Scott was telling me about it last night - he said that Tracy's having a very exclusive get-together at his brother's house down at Alki, and that we're on the guest list. That sounds fine to me, as long as there aren't a whole lot of people there that I don't like (namely CAROLYN) ... and as long as Steve doesn't show up. I don't think he will. He doesn't really hang around with Tracy's crowd much anymore.

Steve called me on Thursday night around 10:00, when I was getting ready for bed. Just as I expected, he jumped all over me and started accusing me of saying & doing things that aren't true. He knows that I've been going out with Scott, and up until now he's been saying that it's "fine," and that he knows I shouldn't have to spend my evenings sitting home alone ... but now, suddenly, he's all bent out of shape. Now it's a big deal to him, and he chewed me out thoroughly. "It's OBVIOUS that you like him a lot," he sneered, and I just wanted to grab him and shake him and knock some sense into that big, thick, stupid head of his.

"Damn it, Steve!" I shouted at him, "What exactly do you want me to do? I love you , but I never see you anymore. You hardly ever call. I'm not going to spend my time sitting home, waiting for you to take me out once every two months!"



Monday evening
May 10, 1976

Late at night. I should be asleep, but for some reason I'm too tense to relax. So many things on my mind ... I'm not even sure if I can write about them. I'm having so many hassles with Steve, and on top of that, Scott and I have been arguing like crazy lately, and I just can't handle the pressure. I feel like I'm going to crack any minute.

Yesterday I went to a party with Scott, and naturally Steve was there. I seem to be running into him everywhere I go lately. As usual, he completely ignored me - only said a polite "hello" when we were at the keg at the same time once. Georgia W. was at the party. She and I talked for a long time about Steve, whom she knows very well, about her boyfriend Bill, and about life in general. She's an interesting person to talk to, and it was nice to talk to a girl I could identify with for a change. I dislike most other girls, and I'm sure the feeling is intensely mutual. Anyway, Georgia was trying to set me straight about Steve, and she came right out and told me some of the terrible things he's been saying about me, behind my back. It was difficult to accept the things she was saying, but I knew in my heart she was telling me the truth. She had no reason to lie to me.

Steve is no longer working for me - he's working against me, in every way he can.

Well, I was upset about it all day at school, and it affected my relationship with Scott. We were cool, distant and aloof with each other, barely speaking at lunch. The whole thing was very tense and uncomfortable, because all I could think about was Steve and what a jerk he is.

After school Scott and I had a "show-down." We drove up to the airport, where he backed me into a corner and asked, in no uncertain terms, what the hell was the matter with me. I broke down and cried - the strain was finally too great, I couldn't pretend anymore - and I explained my true feelings for Steve. I said that I still loved Steve, but that he'd hurt me once too often and that there was nothing I wanted more than to get him out of my life for good. I told him the things Steve was saying about me, the ways he'd hurt me, and as I talked the tears poured down my face.

Scott - dear, sweet, understanding Scott - what could he say? He listened quietly, and when I was finally though talking and crying he took me gently into his arms, kissed my forehead and said that he understood. That was all - just that one compassionate gesture - said more about his character & inner goodness than all the sweet lies and "I love yous" in the world. Scott is one guy in ten million.

Anyway, early this evening Steve called, and I faced my second major "show- down" of the day. I was expecting a hostile tirade, but Steve was uncharacteristically calm and reasonable. We talked for half an hour in an unashamedly open way. We both agreed that things weren't working out - we're too different, and we're too set in our ways to change for the other - but we don't, either one of us, want to call it quits completely. He said that he likes me "more than anyone else, ever" - and for once I think he was being really sincere - but that he's too scared of commitment to commit. We decided not to give up, but to take things slow, slow, slow. 

"We like each other a lot," he said, "Better than anyone else, but we'll still go out with other people."

I agreed completely and hung up feeling more relief and weightlessness than I've felt in weeks. Yes, I still love Steve, in spite of everything & anything, and I'll do anything to keep him in my life. Anything.

Sometimes I wish - God, how I wish - that I had the strength to hate Steve, and to get him out of my life once and for all. He's brought me very little but sorrow and uncertainty, and I'm a fool to hang onto him the way I do. Am I sick? Is there something wrong with me? What girl in her right mind would cling to a guy that treats her the way Steve treats me? Is it, as Kevin and Corey keep insisting, your basic martyr complex? Or is it something more. Do I love him? Do I hate him? What is going to come of all this? Am I going to spend the rest of my life chasing a shadow, something that doesn't really exist ...?


Tuesday night
May 11, 1976

Smoke On The Water

Almost midnight but I'm wide awake, not ready to sleep yet. Just got home a few minutes ago. Dad is in his radio room, drunker than shit, talking on the radio. I'm sitting in the living room curled up in Dad's armchair, my just- washed hair wrapped in a towel, listening to the stereo and sorting out my thoughts at the end of a long day.

Last night Scott and I went to the Bad Company concert at the Coliseum. Bad Company is kind of a teenybopper group, so there were a lot of younger kids running around, but it was an OK concert in spite of that. I had three 16 oz. bottles of beer right before the concert, and we smoked some pot with Joe Hall inside the Coliseum, but I didn't get too high ... I stayed fairly level, enough to enjoy (and best of all REMEMBER) the concert. Scott and I had fun, because for once we were both in good moods and not tearing each other down or retreating into silent moods.

Today I stayed home, but Scott dropped by around 1:00. We went to Burien and bought tickets for the Paul McCartney concert on June 10, the day after graduation. Then there was a keg down at the Sunset pits, lots of kids from Glacier. Tonight me, Scott and Jerry went to the Highline Bicentennial Festival at Memorial Field, and afterwards Scott and I sat in his car for an hour, talking & "stuff."

So ... you can see that my life has certainly been "Scott-filled" lately. He is, by far, the most attentive guy that I've ever gone out with. He treats me as though I'm very, very special. He calls me at least once a day, takes me out to lunch every day, picks me up from school, takes me out practically every night ... wow. And the thing I love most - he treats me like a lady. Something Steve doesn't even know the meaning of.

(Something written here about Steve, blacked out heavily with felt pen)

My only other major worry at this time is graduation, less than a month away. I dread it, Journal, I really do. High school hasn't been one continuous picnic, granted, but nevertheless I'm worried sick about seeing it end ... saying goodbye to a lot of my friends ... seeing myself grow older. Maybe that's the thing I fear the most: growing older, losing my looks, not being able to drive around in Camaros and go to parties and dance and be carefree. Lately that's all I've been dwelling on, and it has me deeply worried. I'm scared to death of growing older.


Saturday afternoon
May 15, 1976

Another gorgeous, summerlike sunshiny weekend. I've been laying outside soaking up the rays all day now, and I have another beautiful sunburn to show for it.


Monday night
May 17, 1976

Only 11 more days of school left ... sob!

Life is hectic, continually faced with things to do, but lately I've been feeling depressed and a little blue. Since I've been going out with Scott these past two months, I've managed to lose track of all my other friends and interests. It's beginning to get me down. I never talk to Rhonda anymore; Joada and I have irrevocably drifted apart; even my church relationships have turned cold. There was a New Vision choir rehearsal tonight at church, and everyone was so cold and distant toward me that it really hurt. Even Phil - once my best friend, the person I loved most in the world - doesn't talk to me anymore. My life, despite the recent flood of social engagements and things to do, seems strangely empty. God and I aren't even on speaking terms. In spite of myself I'm beginning to doubt His existence sometimes. Is that why I feel so flat and empty and void of feeling lately?


Thursday night
May 20, 1976

I haven't heard from Steve in over a week -- and you know, I don't really care. I feel almost free of him, and in the face of all the heartache I've suffered because of him during the past year, that's a very, very nice feeling.

I think I love Scott. Oh Ledger, I know I do. He's the most wonderful thing to come into my life in a long, long time, and I don't think I could get by without him now. He's more than just an emotional crutch, a way of getting over Steve ... he's sunshine and hope and rainbows and birthday candles, and someone I love dearly.


Saturday afternoon
May 22, 1976

I haven't had a chance to really sit down and have a good write in my ledger for a long time ... I've been so completely immersed in living. Last night Scott and I went to Cindy Koch's little party. We stayed until around 1 a.m. and I managed to get myself roaring drunk, plus we smoked some excellent Colombian with John and Jerry, so I was pretty fucked up. Had a good time, though. There was a lot of people at Cindy's, but not enough to be crowded or uncomfortable.

After Scott and I left Cindy's party, we went to his house. His parents are gone for the weekend again, but his grandmother and his little sister Kim were home, asleep in bed, so we had to be extra-extra quiet and sneak me upstairs to his room. We both fell asleep on his bed and didn't wake up until 6:00 this morning. Scott brought me home when he was going to work, and I went straight to my room and crashed into bed. I didn't wake up again until Joada called me this afternoon around 2:00.

Cloudy, cool day. Dad is outside mowing the lawn, I'm sitting in my room listening to the Beatles White Album. Dad heard me come in this morning but I guess he doesn't care because he's been nothing but "sweetness & friendliness" this afternoon. Scott is working, but I imagine he'll call as soon as he gets home. We'll have a good laugh when we remember how high we both got last night.

Graduation is slightly more than two weeks away, June 9th. Class Day is sooner than that - on June 7th - and I've still got to buy myself a white dress for the assembly and buy a class flower. We get our yearbooks this Wednesday, too.

Sunday afternoon
May 23, 1976

Scott and I went to the drive-in last night - we saw "Watch Out, We're Mad" and George Segal in "The Blackbird" - and although they were both hysterically funny movies, we only saw about 1/2 of each. We spent the rest of the evening just looking into each others' eyes and whispering. I do love him, Ledger - it took me two months to finally realize it, but I do. I don't love Steve anymore. He is out of my system, irrevocably, and Scott has taken his place. I love him, and the beautiful thing is that he loves me too. He really does.

What I can't understand is why the heck it took me so long to open my eyes. Scott has been in my life for such a long time (friends since 7th grade), but I was too blind, too wrapped up in my warped pseudo-love for Steve. Now Scott and I have each other, and it is beautiful.


Saturday morning
May 29, 1976

Won't Get Fooled Again

Absolutely no motivation. Cloudy, rainy day -- no excuse to go lay out in the sun -- so today would be the perfect time to clean my bedroom. It has been a horrible mess since December, and I should roll up my shirt sleeves and dig in ... but I simply have no energy. Not an ounce, in my entire body. All I can do is sit here on the foot of my bed and listen to the radio and think.

Last night Scott and I went to party on Military Road (Lenny M.), and thanks to a little scheming on our part we got Lori and Jerry to come with us, as a double date, and it was pretty fun.

Tonight: went and stayed the night at Scott's house. His cousin Gary bought us some beer, and we sat and watched all the Saturday night comedies and drank beer.


Thursday night
June 3, 1976

I can barely believe it, but tomorrow is my last day of school - forever. I've been dreading and fearing this day for a couple of years now, but here it is. How do I feel? Mixed elation, trepidation, anticipation, sadness, joy, curiosity, fear.


1st period - Talked to Lori in the cafeteria and the library

2nd period - Had Roger Clark sign my annual, made plans for our class pizza party tomorrow

3rd period - Signed Karen's annual, listened to the choir struggle with "Day By Day"

4th period - Signed more annuals, kidded around with John Riley and Ronny Kent

5th period - "Quiet day" because Mr. Fosberg had a headache, had most of the guys sign my annual, thought about how much I'm going to miss Stage Band

6th period - Worked on an assignment

Walked home from school. Bought a nickel from Eugene Lovely. Went over to Scott's house for pizza dinner, then shopping at Southcenter. Bought a short white dress that I don't like and plan to exchange for a long one.

Friday night (or Saturday morning) 2 a.m.
June 4th or 5th, 1976

I dropped 15 hits of speed today, and now here it is nearly two o'clock in the morning and I'm more wide awake than I've ever been in my life.

This was the last day of school, and it was probably the funnest, mellowest day I ever spent at Glacier. Sun was shining, all the seniors were cutting class, sitting on the lawn signing annuals and tossing Frisbees and talking. Very laid-back sort of feeling. Naturally I started crying a barrelful in Stage Band ... I'm going to miss that class and that insane bunch of guys like CRAZY. I was also pretty choked up when I read some of the very sweet, very personal things that people wrote in my annual, especially Mr. Folsom and Mr. Fosberg. Rhonda, Lori and I all went out to lunch one last time, to our favorite lunch spot - Herfy's - and I spent the rest of the day finalizing the dummy for the last issue of The Avalanche, which will be distributed on Monday after our Class Day assembly. Everyone on the Avalanche staff, all the editors (Carole, Anita, John, me) were acting like it was the end of the world. It was so sad to realize that we were working on the last issue of The Avalanche that we'll ever work on.

After school, Scott and I went over to my grandma's for a little while, so she could take a picture of me on my last day of school (to go with the picture she took on my FIRST day of school, back in September 1964!!) Then him, me, John and Jerry went to the little park up by the Burien Library ... we sat around the campfire pit and smoked a couple of joints. I was pretty high from all the speed I'd taken, so smoking that pot really put my head into a spin. (Pore liddle hed.)

This is the picture Grandma took on my last day of school.
(The pants!  The shoes!!  Yeesh!)
June 1976


Tonight me, Scott, Jerry and Lori teamed up for the second Friday night in a row and went to Sandy & Lori P.'s party. It was BYOB so Scott got us some really strange Australian beer in these gigantic 25 oz. cans. Lori had a lot too much to drink and got drunk for the first time in her life, and she wouldn't shut up for one second ... she kept running around the party saying "hello" to everyone. Too high. Kevin was there, and as usual I spent a lot of time sitting by him and talking. He's the neatest person in the world to talk to, intelligent and sensitive and abstract. Scott got mad at me (I think) because I spent so much time talking to Kevin. At 1 a.m., when the party was beginning to empty out, he came over to where I was sitting, wearing his wounded pigeon face. "Uh, I'm gonna take off now," he said, "If you want to come." He drove me home in complete and deathly silence - a 20 minute drive, mind you - and when we pulled up in front of my house he didn't say a word, didn't reach over to kiss me or anything, so I just said "See ya" and jumped out of his car.

It seems as though Scott and I do nothing but pick at each other lately, and I'm getting sick of these almost-daily emotional upheavals. I don't know why we can't get along, and it has me worried. Maybe I'm trying to change him into something other than what he is, or maybe he's not making the effort to see my point of view. Who was wrong tonight? Was I wrong to go off and socialize at the party tonight, leaving Scott to his friends? Or should I have stayed right by his side, every minute? I guess that I don't take into consideration the fact that Scott is wounded by things that seem to me unimportant and detached from the situation. For instance - I told him about Eugene coming to my house this afternoon (I bought two more nickels from him - I don't know why, I just had to have it) and I innocently happened to remark that he asked me out. Then tonight Kevin was showering me with attention, and some cute stranger named Ramos was talking to me for a while. (He asked me if I was a model. What a line.) All these things probably begin to add up in Scott's mind, and he wonders if he can trust me.

I think he can. I do care about Scott, almost to the point of wanting to spend my life with him. (We were talking about marriage while we were camping at Lake Limerick over the weekend. We've decided to wait for two years and see how we feel then.) The only reason that I crave the attention of other guys is because it makes me feel I'm still attractive & desirable to other men. But I'm going to have to cut it out if I want to keep Scott! Which I do.

God, I can just imagine how dull and lonely summer vacation would be if Scott and I weren't going together. We probably won't see each other much as it is, because if everything goes the way it should I might be working, and I know Scott will be. We'll still go out at night, but I want to do other things with my vacation.

This next week will be unbelievably hectic. Here are my social plans. Tomorrow Greg Nelson is having a big party at his grandparents' house, weather permitting, to which all the graduating seniors are invited. Sunday, I don't know what is happening, but I'll probably have to go shoe-shopping. Monday is Class Day, and (to quote Scott) it's gonna be "decent." Scott and I are going out to breakfast at 6 a.m., and then to Kari T.'s party for an hour or so. We're getting a fifth of Bacardi 151 for Class Day, should get good & loose. At 9 a.m. is the traditional Class Day Assembly, where we'll all be drunk and crying and celebrating. After the Assembly and a few final goodbyes to teachers and underclassmen, practically every person in the senior class is heading to Lake Morton for Cindy Koch's all-night party & gigantic kegger. CELEBRATE!

To continue. On Tuesday night, Sandy and Lori will be having another party at their house, and then on Wednesday afternoon (the 9th - graduation day and Scott's 18th birthday) Scott's parent's are letting him have a keg. That night at 8:00 is Commencement, which should be "sadder than ----!" and which will see Terri Vert in her urine-yellow cap and gown, marching down the aisle to get her diploma (barely). FINALLY, Thursday is the incredible, gigantic, spectacular Paul McCartney & Wings concert at the Kingdome.

Whew. One week from now I'm going to be so burned out from all the parties & drinking & emotion, I'll probably never recover. They'll have to put me in bed and close my eyes and let me sleep forever.

There are so many things that I want to do this summer ... big projects like painting my bedroom, little things like reading Kahlil Gibran's "The Prophet." I want to do things, go to parties and to the beach and keep track of all the friends Scott and I have. (That's one reason why I can't break up with him: I need him for transportation this summer!! Ha ha.) But seriously, Scott does mean a very great deal to me, and I'm going to resolve to try and be more empathetic and understanding, not to criticize or make fun of him, and to above all be more sensitive to his moods and feelings. No more of this "trying to make him jealous" stuff.

Wednesday, like I said, is his birthday. I still haven't figured out what to get him. Every time I ask him what he wants he gets evasive and says things like, "You don't have to spend your money on me." I was thinking maybe of getting him a tape, but that seems so impersonal. But what else can I get him? He has a whole closetful of T shirts, he doesn't wear jewelry or aftershave. Why do men have to be so tough to shop for?

Grandpa Torgrimson sent me a check today for $50 for my graduation. The temptation to just run out and blow it (buy a few more nickels from Eugene, maybe a pair of jeans and a bathing suit) is great ... but I've decided to use it to open a bank account. I'm going to Highline Community College in the fall (tentatively) and I'll need that money to save up for my future car. Dad said that tuition money for college next fall has "already been figured into the family budget," but knowing the mess he usually makes of our finances I wouldn't be surprised if I end up paying for most of it ($83 per quarter). I'm undecided as to what classes to take, so I'll probably just take some general courses and wait and see what I want to do.

That all sounds so far away ... the thought of me at college. I haven't even graduated from high school yet! So instead I'll just concentrate on things that are of immediate importance.

Tonight when Kevin and I were talking, he was trying to analyze why I let people walk all over me, the way I do, and he eventually came to the conclusion that I just don't care enough about myself. He's always telling me that I let what other people think become too important, and he's right. Tonight I was sitting there on the couch with my beer in my hand, watching (a couple of girls from school) talking on the other side of the room, and all of a sudden I became completely panic-stricken and paranoid because I was sure they were talking about me. I heard (one of the girls) say something like "She's the biggest slut I've ever known," and I was absolutely convinced that it was me they were verbally slicing to ribbons. I felt this uncontrollable wave of depression, and I thought that what Steve said was right - "Everyone hates Terri Vert." Everyone knows every single thing I've ever done, all the mistakes I've made and the things I've suffered, and the truth combined with the myth makes me seem like a pretty horrible person ... a slut.

Anyway, I was thinking all these terrible things, imagining that everyone in the room was thinking the worst about me. It wasn't until I finally had the courage to ask Kevin, "Were (those girls) talking about me?" and he said, "No, not at all" (Kevin doesn't lie to me) that I realized that my problem isn't my reputation so much as my fear of other peoples' opinion. Which is what Kevin has been trying to tell me all along. So now all I've got to do is gain a little confidence in myself, in my appearance and my talents and my personality. I don't know how I'm going to accomplish THAT, but once I do I'll be able to look other people face to face, without feeling inferior and worthless.

Another thing that Kevin and me talked about was Steve, naturally. Never a night or a party goes by that Kevin doesn't offer me some "friendly advice" about Steve. Tonight I think I surprised Kevin by saying softly but with assurance, "I'm finally getting over my DISEASE."  He knew exactly what I was talking about. He looked me in the eyes, which he always does when he talks to me, and said "I knew you would."  I said that it just wasn't worth it anymore. Kevin replied, "I don't think there's anything worthwhile left inside of him anymore. For a while, he seemed to have something, but he lost it. He's changed too much," I agreed with him and left it at that. Steve is gone. I rarely see him or talk to him, and in this case absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder ... it helps heal old wounds and prepare the heart for new loves.

Steve is gone, Scott has taken his place in my heart. My high school years are ending, but I'm looking ahead to college and independence and real life. Summer is here - I'm 18 years old, with a whole life to live ahead of me.

Such is the state of my life!

It's 3:30 a.m. now so I'd better close. I'm still not a bit sleepy but I've gotta try and catch some shut-eye. See ya around.

Sunday night
June 6, 1976

Sitting home tonight, relaxing and mentally preparing for tomorrow (Class Day). I just took a long, hot shower and washed my hair, and now I'm sitting curled up in Dad's armchair, watching a movie called "X, Y and Zee," savoring the soapy peacefulness of the moment. Scott was more than mad at me on Friday night - he was furious. We had an unbelievable fight on Saturday night, and the result has been a sort of invisible wall between us.

In my lovely "Urine Yellow" graduation gown
June 9, 1976

Sunday afternoon
June 13, 1976

One week later. Scott and I managed to resolve our differences (after a major fight at Cindy Koch's graduation party last week).

We graduated last Wednesday night, and I am now trying to adjust to my new role as high-school-graduate-with-nothing-to-do. I'm toying with the idea of job hunting, but until I find a job I guess I'm content to spend my days lazily and go out with Scott at night.

We're planning to go to Lake Limerick on Tuesday - Scott and I, John, Jerry and Wayne, and maybe Cindy  - and camp out for three or four days. That should be a BLAST.

Must Take With Me To Limerick:

Shampoo - PSSST Instant Shampoo - brush & comb - head scarf
Rubber bands & barrettes - makeup kit (Vaseline)
Toothbrush & toothpaste
Baby powder
Nail polish & remover
Party favors

Jeans - several tops - heavy coat - sweater or light jacket
Two prs. of shoes


Sunday morning
June 20, 1976
Kiss and Say Goodbye

Another week later. Seems as though I write in you every seven days, no more and no less. Last night Scott and I went to a party at Gary Coy's house. It wasn't all that much fun because the party was outside in Gary's backyard and it was TOO COLD. Not only that, the keg ran out early, and Scott and I both got tired of waiting for the second keg to arrive. Eventually we decided to leave early and go over to Scott's house. His parents are gone for the weekend, leaving only his grandma and sister Kim at home, so we did something we've been doing a lot lately - I snuck upstairs with him and crashed for the night. He brought me home this morning at 7 a.m. on his way to work, and I'm not sure but I think I managed to sneak in without Dad hearing me. He had his own little party here at home last night, anyway. I imagine he really tied one on, and is probably passed out cold in his bed. (I hope so.)

This past week was a lot of fun. Our big camping trip to Lake Limerick was a success ... HOWEVER, neither John nor Jerry could go, so it ended up being just me and Scott for three beautiful days and nights on his family's property. It was so much fun! We stayed in the trailer, and went swimming and walking in the woods and built fires and layed on the beach and talked and laughed. I think it brought Scott and I a lot closer together, being alone with each for so long in such an isolated place. We hardly ever argued - we shared and confided and grew. I know that I love him deeply, deeply, and that our private little vacation at Limerick helped cement that love.

It's just beginning to feel like summer, a little bit ... sunnier skies, warmer weather, afternoons with Scott and friends down at Seahurst Park, sleeping in late every morning and staying out late every night.

2 a.m.
Rock'n Me

Scott and I went to the drive-in tonight ... we saw "The Other Side of the Mountain," which wasn't as good as it was hyped up to be, and "The Great Waldo Pepper," which was only confusing and repetitious. But we had a good time anyway. I really love my Scotters (my nickname for him) and tonight it just felt extra-good to be with him. He was really tired and he fell asleep in my arms during the second movie, and while I watched him sleeping I felt like I'd never loved any guy that much before, in my whole life. Scott is so different and so special. Every time I think about him and about how lucky I am to have him as a boyfriend, it just seems impossible that I could have that kind of luck.

We've been going out for three months, and although we started out "just friends," love just crept into the picture and took us both by surprise. I never, for one moment, dreamed of falling in love with him ... it wasn't in my plans. I wanted to go out with Scott because I was bored and lonely and tired of sitting home, and because I was frustrated with my pseudo-relationship with Steve. I thought Scott would be a pleasant diversion, a nice guy who I could go to parties with and talk to ... but not fall in love with. I was fed up with "love" and love relationships, and I'd heard enough phony "I love yous" to last a lifetime. Things with Steve were a mess, and Scott came around at just the right time, offering an alternative to boredom and frustration. I didn't intend to fall in love with him.

But things didn't work out that way, and as I dated Scott more and more, I began to see the difference between him and the other boys I'd dated during the year. Here was a person with sensitivity and thoughtfulness and manners, a sweetheart of a guy who thought I was worth being interested in. During the weeks and months I gradually began to love him.

I guess that it wouldn't be honest for me to say that I've rid myself of all feeling for Steve. I can't say that because it isn't true. Somewhere deep inside of me there will always be that twinge of regret and pain ... a tiny shred of lingering love for Steve. The passion and desperation may be gone, but the memory will never die.

But I refuse to burn a candle for him. I've tried and tried to make a relationship out of our confused feelings for each other, but it was & always will be futile. It's just no use ... I realize that now.

Instead I'll just think about him once in a while, but I won't dwell. I love Scott now, and I will continue to do so. Please God - let our relationship last.


Monday afternoon
June 21, 1976

Summer vacation, thus far, has been dull and repetitious ... nothing exciting or interesting to do with my time. This morning I got up and answered the doorbell (Dick came over to talk) and then I spent the day doing little or nothing. Scott dropped by unexpectedly at 2:00 and helped me do little or nothing. We sat on the couch, talked, joked.

Only a couple things worth mentioning: two important phone calls I made this morning. First I called the Highline Community College Admissions office, gave them my name & address and requested an application. This time I'm going to REALLY go ahead and apply for Fall Quarter. Secondly, I called the Highline Jobline Service and made an appointment for a job interview on June 29. I think that after I find an interesting job (or at least semi-interesting), life will once again resume some semblance of order. Right now I feel listless and empty, as though there's nothing to be gravitating around, the way everything used to revolve around high school.

I don't know if Scott and I will be going out tonight, but just to be on the safe side I took a long, hot, soapy shower, washed my hair and put on clean clothes. Now Dad and I are sitting here in the living room watching "Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman" on TV. Think I'll go fix a cheeseburger for dinner and put on some makeup.

Before bed:

Absolutely dead tired, but I've got to iron Dad's work shirt before I can hit the hay ... so while I'm waiting for the iron to heat up, I thought I'd scribble a word or two.

Scott, Jerry and I went out for a few hours tonight. Scott bought a lid and Jerry used some fake I.D. to buy us a half case of beer, and then we went over to Blake Early's house to sit and talk and drink. I didn't feel like drinking or getting high, I was too tired, so I just kind of kept an eye on Scott. I don't like it when he gets too high. When we were at Cindy's all-night party after Class Day, he got TOO TOO drunk and slapped me across the face in front of practically everybody. (I was taunting & baiting him, though.) That was really terrible and very embarrassing for both of us, and ever since then I've made it a point to quietly keep track of how much he has to drink. Tonight was OK, sort of pleasant and laid back, but I get bored easily when everyone's getting wasted but me.

Tomorrow I think I'll try and scrape together some money - I have about $13.00 in pennies that I can cash in at the bank, and I can try to exchange my Class Day dress at The Bon Marche for a cash refund. I need some money!

I wish that everything in my life wasn't so centered around MONEY. It seems that that's the only thing standing between me & the things that I'd like to do. If I had money, Ledger, I would buy a nice little car and pay for my own college tuition and buy myself a new wardrobe and a good stereo system, and maybe get myself my own apartment ... things that I can't even begin to afford right now. I only have $70.00 in the bank, which wouldn't even be the first step toward a car or even my tuition.

College is going to be strange and hard to adjust to. For one thing, I haven't developed any useful study habits during my high school years. I never studied for tests or did my homework, my grades were terrible, and I simply felt no motivation. I think that I'm a very intelligent person and capable of achieving great things, but as my history teacher wrote in my yearbook I "let the frustrations of the intellect" interfere with my education. The potential was there ... I could have been an honor student, if I had applied myself. That's why college will be tough for me.

For another thing, I'm still not sure what course of study I want to follow. Lately I've been thinking about how much I would enjoy acting as a career, maybe in theater or stage work, but I'm not totally naive and I realize it takes an awful lot to succeed in that business. But what SHOULD I take? Journalism? Music theory? Art? Childhood Education? What???? What am I going to do with my life??

I guess I still can't believe that I've graduated from high school. For twelve years I looked ahead to June 1976 with mixed anticipation and dread, and now that I've gotten my diploma and hung my graduation gown in the back of my closet, I've got to start thinking ahead. The immediate future: get a job, get some money in the bank, buy a little car, figure out what classes to take at college. As for long-range plans, I can only speculate. Scott and I talk about getting married in two years, and we're sexually involved now so that an unplanned pregnancy wouldn't be totally unexpected ... and I do love him ... but I think we both have a hell of a lot of growing up to do before we contemplate anything as serious as marriage. So what will I do? Live at home until I do get married? Or will I live alone for awhile, like maybe in my own apartment or something?

Nothing seems real. Life is hard to figure ... time is hard to fight. It's too late at night for me to be sitting here philosophizing, so I'm going to go to bed. See ya.

Tuesday afternoon
June 22, 1976

God, I'm so bored. I have absolutely nothing to do every day but sit here in the house, listening to the radio and eating and STAGNATING. I'm so frustrated, it's putting me into a cranky mood. Scott called at 1:00 and all I could do was snap at him, eventually hanging up on him. What am I doing with my life? Nothing, absolutely nothing. I have no energy, no motivation, no sense of purpose, and it's affecting everything in my world. I'm dissatisfied with myself, with Scott, with my home life, with everything. This - as Scott would put it - is a fucked way to be living.

I have no other friends but Scott. He is the only person I go out with, practically the only person who ever calls or comes over. I never even talk to any of my girlfriends - Lori, Rhonda, Karen, Joada. I just sit here at home, watching myself grow fat and lazy and discontent. It's not healthy. I've got to start pushing myself into doing things, even something small like extra chores around the house or painting my bedroom or riding my bike. If I don't start doing things, my whole life is going to pass me by.


Wednesday afternoon
June 23, 1976

Scott and I went to Wayne's house last night for a private party ... only about 17 people there and a full keg, so there was plenty of beer & plenty of people to talk to. However, it was the last day of my period and I was in a terribly depressed frame of mind. I've managed to snap out of it today, luckily ... I've surrounded myself with housework and made sure I stayed too busy to be depressed. Scott and I are going to the drive-in tonight to see two movies I've been dying to see, "Embryo" and "The Stepford Wives." I've gotta go get dressed and ready.

2:20 a.m.

Feeling a lot more relaxed and together than I have in days. I'm still depressed about Scott's new job (with its terrible hours), but aside from that I feel fairly happy. Maybe not happy, exactly ... perhaps more of a tranquillity, or an inner peace. I'm not sure. We went to the drive-in tonight as planned, and had a very, very nice time together. It seems like recently we've been getting along so much better. Sometimes when he's holding me tight in his arms and whispering how much he loves me, I'm afraid my heart is going to burst with the joy of being loved so completely. I'm just selfish, I guess. That's why his new job bugs me so much. I'm scared to death that other interests & responsibilities are going to pull us apart, especially when we start college this fall, and I don't want that to happen. He just means too damned much to me!!

I've tried not to make him the center of my whole life - the core of my existence - my reason for getting up in the morning. But it's useless. He already is. He's all I think about during the day, and at night when I'm laying awake in bed staring into the darkness, I'm re-living things that I've done with Scott. I'm recalling the feel of his arms around me, or his kisses, or the disarming little nicknames he makes up for me out of the blue. Scott is everything to me.

I think he feels the same about me, but when it comes right down to it I'm probably the one taking it most seriously. That's why if anything should happen between the two of us and our relationship came to an end, I'd be the one hurt the deepest. In fact, I'd be willing to bet on itYou would lose that bet.

What I can't seem to figure out is why the hell I treat him the way I do sometimes? Why do I have to be such a bitch, taking my bad moods and frustrations out on him? Trying to cut him down or make him look stupid? When we're at a party, or with some of his friends, why do I try to embarrass or degrade him? Why do I react so emotionally and childishly to the slightest criticism on his part? Why do I do these things?

I love him like crazy, but I'm going to end up losing him if I don't snap out of it, QUICK.

Must think about it.


A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free
As in the whole world thou canst find
That heart I'll give to thee.
Thou art my life, my love, my heart
The very eyes of me
And hast command of every part
To live and die for thee.

~ Robert Herrick

Thursday night
June 25, 1976

I spent practically the entire day today cleaning my bedroom - something I hadn't done since CHRISTMAS VACATION, so you can imagine what a back-breaking job it was! It took me six hours of sweeping, sorting, straightening, dusting and rearranging, but I'm glad it's done. Now I have a pleasant, cozy, clean little bedroom to relax in. Next project will be painting it - perhaps in green or light blue - and sewing new curtains and a bedspread. I might even get a new rug, but that depends on the money situation.

Eugene called me this afternoon and asked me to buy some more of his speed. Naturally I said "yes" without thinking, but now I'm having doubts. For one thing, it's so damned expensive. For another, I would hate to find myself dependent on the stuff. Not only that, but Scott asked me not to take any more of it.

I'm not exactly sure that I even CARE what Scott thinks. I'm upset and angry with him this evening, and every time I even think about him I feel like punching him. That damned new job of his is going to destroy our relationship. He'll be working Monday through Friday, PLUS Saturdays if he wants to, and his hours are incredible ... he'll be working ALL DAY selling those stinking vacuum cleaners, and until 9 every night if he gets additional appointments. Shit. The only time I'll ever get to see him will be after 9:00 on weeknights, MAYBE on some Saturdays, MAYBE on Saturday nights. GOD DAMN IT!!! I'm so pissed about the whole thing I could just scream.

I was home alone tonight because Dad went bowling, so when Scott called I invited him to come over and keep me company. What did he say? "No, Hon, I'm too tired and I want to go over my notes for the job." Hell with him. I just won't bother asking again.

An hour later:

I've been sitting here in my (clean!) bedroom, writing letters and listening to the radio, and I think it's safe to say I've regained some sense of perspective. It's useless to sit here and fume about the whole thing tonight ... it'll only make me fall asleep tense and angry and wake up tomorrow morning feeling down in the dumps. I may as well look at this thing objectively. Scott says that he loves me. If he really does, our relationship should be able to withstand the pressures of his new job and the conflicts it may cause. That is, IF I can be mature enough to accept it and deal with it like an adult. After all, if my Jobline interview is successful, I may be working soon as well, and then Scott's working hours won't bother me so much.

I guess I'm just afraid that our jobs are going to pull us apart. After all, we'll be spending less time together, we'll be exposed to other people and other interests, and in the past (MY past, anyway) that's been enough to destroy happy relationships. I'll be so sad if that happens. I don't know what I'd do without Scotters in my life.

I'm such a big baby. I'm clinging too hard, too desperately. He's becoming much much too important to me, and I'm becoming too absorbed in our relationship. That's not good, but what can I do? Just sit back and watch the whole thing disintegrate? I can't change. I've tried, but it's impossible. How can I be something other than what I am? I've been spoiled rotten and now everything has to be just exactly the way I want it or ELSE. I'm strangling Scott, by trying to change him to fit my mold, to make our relationship exactly the way I demand. I know Scott must hate dealing with my impossible moods, my tantrums and complaints and whining. One of these days he's going to get fed up and say "goodbye."

How can I prevent it? I've got to change, I've just GOT TO. If I want to keep Scott, I have no other choice. Either I stop thinking about myself all the time and start considering him & his feelings, or else I lose him. That's all there is to it.

Things I Do That Probably Bug Scott (Things To Avoid)

1. Lack of enthusiasm (on the phone, at parties, on dates, at his house, etc.)

2. Lack of understanding (when he has to work or is too tired to see me)

 3. Expecting too much from him

4. Cutting him down or making fun of things that are important to him

5. Deliberately trying to anger him (hanging up?)

6. Complaining - continually

7. Focusing too much on myself & my own desires

8. Lack of tact ("That shirt is ugly!")

Friday morning 12:30

Eugene came by this morning and sold me four nickel bags of speed for $20. After I bought it he stayed around for a while and we talked about all sorts of things, like concerts and getting high and jobs. I told him all about Scott, so he wouldn't get the wrong idea and try to put the hustle on me ... what a relief to hear that he has a girlfriend named Debbi, and that he's going to marry her as soon as he turns 21 next week. That's good, because it means we can just be friends without any extra pressure.

After he left I checked the bag he sold me and was VERY pissed to find it only had 60 hits. Usually one nickel bag has 25 hits, and naturally I was expecting to find 100 altogether. I was mad and called him right away, but he said that it was excellent speed - "home made," he said - and guaranteed me that one hit alone would be enough to zonk me. I believed him but I still took three instead of just one - and my God, was he ever right. I think I'm higher right now on this wonderful stuff than I've ever been on any other kind of speed, and it feels great, great, great. Can't you tell by my handwriting? Every nerve in my body is tingling, I feel like I'm floating.

Monday morning
June 29, 1976

Just woke up and do I ever have one hell of a hangover. I feel sick, dizzy, depressed, embarrassed and dumb. What is wrong with me, anyway? Lately I've been really good about drinking at parties - keeping myself in check, carefully watching the number of beers I drink, making sure I don't get too drunk - but last night I blew it. Completely. I had WAY too much to drink, got myself stinking drunk and ended up screaming at Scott when he drove me home, over some dumb misunderstanding. Now he's probably mad as hell at me, and I'm too scared (and too proud) to call and apologize.

Something's wrong between Scott and I. The whole thing has changed, the relationship has a different feel to it, and no matter how hard we both pretend that everything's OK, somehow I know it isn't. I think Scott's feelings have changed. There isn't that same old excitement when he's kissing me. It's gone. Instead, the whole thing has become routine, comfortable, familiar, stale, confining ...

I still love him, Ledger, but I know what's coming. I've been in this exact same position so many times before. I know when the "I love yous" aren't real anymore. I've learned to spot the warning signs, the subtle indications that something is wrong and the relationship is dying. I'm just not sure I'm strong enough to go through another painful breakup ...

Oh God, this song, this song is EXACTLY the way I feel. I think I'm going to cry.

Many months have passed us by.
I'm gonna miss you, I can't lie
Understand me, won't you try?
Let's just kiss and say goodbye ...

Should I break up with him now, before this whole thing becomes even more painful? I can't, though. I LOVE him!!!!


As is my natural tendency, I over-reacted - to a tremendous degree. Scott wasn't and isn't mad, and all is right with the world once again. Someone should give me an Academy Award for my performance the last two pages ...

Tuesday night (very late)
June 29, 1976

Scott left half an hour ago (it's 1:30 a.m. now). We were sitting in my living room watching TV, it was nice. I love him, Ledger, and I'm beginning to feel a little more secure about his love for me. Tonight he let his guard down a little, just enough to let me know he feels insecure sometimes, too. He's afraid of losing me, and he really does love me.

Main things on my mind: Scott, as usual ... Steve calling me this afternoon, and telling his friends that I'm his "girlfriend" (no way) ... skipping my Jobline appointment, a very dumb thing to do ... seeing Scott tomorrow night ... SLEEP.

Wednesday morning
June 30, 1976

I Am The Walrus

I've got enough housework today to keep me busy for the next ten years. What a dull, unexciting thing to look forward to.

Half an hour later:

Don't ask me why (I must be weird, that's the only explanation) but I broke down and took four hits of that excellent speed I bought from Eugene on Friday. With all the housework I have to do, you'd think I'd have more sense than to get myself all whacked out on chemicals, but the high I get from that stuff is so great that I couldn't resist. Already my handwriting is becoming illegible, but I do feel good. I haven't even peaked yet, but I can hardly wait.

Scott's going to come over late tonight, after he gets off work at 9:30, and then we're going to Glen H.'s keg. That will be fun, IF I can remember to behave myself and not get too wasted like I did at Lori N.'s party ... and to not go off and talk to other guys, like I did at Sandy C.'s or Pat M.'s ... just stick with Scott throughout the evening.


I am higher than SHIT. I managed to work around my high and clean the living room - it is immaculate. Now I have to tackle the filthy kitchen and straighten the bathroom mess. TOO HIGH.


Almost through with the kitchen ... nothing left but some greasy pans, currently soaking in hot water. I'm going to SIT for a few minutes, put my feet up and catch my breath. I've been working like a whirlwind for the past half hour and I deserve a break, I think. I'm not as high as I was, but I'm still brimming with energy and feeling good. My head feels good.


Scott surprised me by dropping over at 2:45.

Friday afternoon
July 2, 1976


I layed outside in the sun for a couple hours today - it's up in the 70's somewhere - and managed to get a shade or two darker. Now I'm sitting in the coolness and privacy of my bedroom, listening to the radio and sorting things out in my head. For the past half hour I've been reading a stack of old ledgers - the summer ledgers especially, and the summer of ‘72 in particular - and for no explainable reason it has made me feel sad and reminiscent. In comparison to some of the other summers I've had (‘72, ‘74, or even last year), this summer seems dead and pointless. I have nothing to do but sleep, eat, lay in the sun, watch TV, listen to records and stagnate. The only person I ever see is Scott. Since graduation I haven't even seen Rhonda, Karen, Joada or Lori. The only thing I have to live for is seeing Scott at night.

Whatever happened to summertime? What happened to sharing secrets with a best girlfriend ... sleepovers at each other's houses ... swimming at crowded lake beaches ... going on church retreats to Idaho, Oregon, California ... summer camp ... the excitement of new boyfriends, and wondering if-he-really-likes-me? ... parades and picnics ... trips to Point Defiance, Woodland Park Zoo, the Seattle Center ... sunny days, laughter, new experiences ... What happened to it all? Summer used to be so special. Now it's just another time of the year.

Am I growing too old, or what?

I love Scott, and I'm thankful I have him for a boyfriend, someone to go places with. But now it's gotten to the point where the most "fun" we have is going to Seahurst Park beach with a half-case of beer, talking to Scott's friends.

Maybe I'm just in a bad mood. Maybe I'll snap out of it. I hope so.

Sunday afternoon
July 4, 1976

The United States is 200 years old today!! The big, long-awaited Bicentennial has finally arrived! Hooray!

I just got home after spending the weekend at Scott's house (I left Friday night), and as I expected, Dad is acting like a baby. I came trudging through the front door carrying my suitcase: he was sitting in his armchair reading the paper, and I shot him a cheery "Hi!" What did he do? No reply ...  not so much as a smile, a nod, a grunt, a glare. I came back here to my little bedroom, and now I can hear him slamming doors and cupboards out in the kitchen, muttering under his breath. Tough. I refuse to let him ruin what has been, thus far, a very pleasant weekend. If he wants to act like a child, there isn't a thing in the world I can do about it.

Let Your Love Grow

Tonight, as far as I know, we'll be going to Chris Peterson's party and then to the fireworks display at Moshier Field. That sounds OK, but what sounds even BETTER right now is a little nap, followed by a long, hot bath.

4:16 p.m.

Well ... at least now I know why Dad is so pissed off at me. I didn't tell him I was staying at Scott's this weekend - I told him I went to Lori's for the weekend - and guess who called me Saturday night?! When she called and asked for me, he said "Isn't she over there?" Lori, puzzled, said "No - is she supposed to be?" He got really mad at her and snapped, "I'm going to have quite a TALK with her when she gets home!" and slammed the phone down in her ear. Sometimes I want to move out of this house so damned bad I could just SCREAM. He is driving me crazy.

3:22 a.m.

My handwriting is shaky for several reasons, among them the fact that I took some more speed tonight and am only now beginning to come down, and the fact that it's very early in the morning and I'm struggling to stay awake long enough to write a word or two.

Tonight - the Fourth of July - we all piled into Jerry's car (me, Scott, John, Wayne and Jerry) and drove to Moshier Field for the fireworks display. Since we couldn't find anyone to buy us some beer, we all took a little of my speed before we left Scott's house, and then smoked four or five joints as we sat there on the dark, damp field watching the skyrockets exploding frenetically in the sky above. Scott and I managed to get off really good, felt wonderful. Cindy Koch and Becky O'Brien joined us, and the seven of us sat together, passing joints and cracking jokes and laughing. It was fun.

When the fireworks were over we drove around for a little while, unsuccessfully looking for a party. Eventually we just went back to Scott's house and sat in his living room watching "Cooley High" on TV and enjoying the buzz.

The guys left when "C.H." was over, so Scott and I had a chance to be along for a little while. Tomorrow we want to go and spend the day at the Seattle Center ... that is, IF this whole stupid mess with Dad clears itself up by then. What a hassle.

I love Scott very much.

Tuesday night
July 6, 1976

Sitting home for a change. Sitting in my armchair in the living room, listening to an old Johnny Nash album through headphones, feeling peaceful and worn- out from an emotionally exhausting day.

I think that I should write all the details of this day, although - to be honest - I don't really want to. I did something terrible, something awful. I know that putting it on paper will put me in a vulnerable position if anyone ever reads it, but it was something really important in my relationship with Scott & I need the emotional release of writing about it.

A few days ago when I was at Scott's house & quite drunk, I stole his mother's watch from her jewelry box. I don't know why. Maybe it was because I was too high and had momentarily misplaced my conscience, or because the watch was pretty and I wanted it. I don't know. I can't rationalize it or make excuses or try to explain it away. I just did it.

This morning Scott came over while I was still in bed, to "wake me up," and he saw the watch sitting on top of my dresser. He didn't say anything about it at first, but then he came right out and asked me, "Is that my mother's watch on your dresser?"

I was stunned, frozen into a silent panic, but with a sinking heart I realized that I'd been caught and there was nothing I could do or say. Lying would only make things worse. Without meeting his hurt look, I mutely nodded. Scott was sick with shock and disbelief, and when he left with the watch in his pocket he said that he "wasn't sure we should still go together." I've never ever seen him that upset. All he could say, incredulously, was "If only it was anyone but YOU (who had taken the watch)!" ...

I spent the day in a black fog of misery and shame. Scott had said he would "call later," but deep inside my heart I didn't think he would. I was sure I had lost him, and I was going insane with remorse. Late in the afternoon, as I was watching TV with Dad, scribbling in my sketchbook (something I only do in times of extreme depression), I heard a car pull into the driveway. My heart came to a standstill when I glanced out the window and saw Scott's Camaro.

He wanted to "talk," so I nervously sat down on the porch outside as he leaned against his car, arms folded, that same hurt expression on his face. He was dressed in his work clothes, but I looked awful. My eyes were blotchy and swollen from a day of crying and pillow pounding, and I self-consciously played with a strand of my dirty hair.

"Are you still upset?" he said, and I started crying again.

"I just feel embarrassed as hell," I said miserably.

He came over to the porch and sat down next to me, and after a few minutes he put his arms around me. "Look, Terri," he said, "I was pretty upset when I left this morning, and I guess I was kind of mean to you, but I just couldn't believe it happened. I still can't. I don't know why you did it, but I still love you."

The tears were streaming down my cheeks in torrents, and I buried my face in his shoulder. Dear, sweet, understanding, beautiful Scott. Then he whispered, "I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes." I shut my eyes, and a moment later he was handing me a red velvet box. "I was going to give it to you on our anniversary, but I think you need it now."

I held my breath and opened the box. There, gleaming in gold and jeweled splendor, was a beautiful new wristwatch.

Is it any wonder why I love him?

Sunday evening
July 11, 1976

Several days later. Today was one of the nicest and most fun days I've had in a long, long time. Scott and I went to the Seattle Center and spent the entire day going on rides in the Fun Forest, playing games in the arcade, having our pictures taken in the photo booth, walking through the Food Circus and the International Bazaar. Scott won me SEVEN stuffed animals, including a giant 4 ft. teddy bear and a giant polar bear. We had so much fun, I'll never forget this day. I love him so much.

Taken in a Seattle Center photo booth
July 11, 1976

Tomorrow is our four month anniversary. I can't believe it ... time goes by so fast. It seems like only yesterday that we went out on that first funny, awkward date with Joada and John. Now, four months later, I love him more than I've ever loved any boyfriend. Even Steve.

Steve and I are still in touch - he called last night, as a matter of fact - but I seriously doubt that I'll ever go out with him again. There's just nothing left. I'll never stop loving him, of course, because of all the things we went through together. But it'll never be the way it was. I don't want it to be.

Tonight Scott is going to a baseball game with the guys, while I sit home. I don't really mind, though ... this has been a full, tiring day and I could easily use some rest and relaxation.

Tuesday afternoon
July 13, 1976

Why is everything managing to depress me lately?? I got a postcard from Dee Dee this afternoon in the mail - she's in Washington D.C. with her 4-H group - and for some reason it made me feel just terrible. I guess I'm jealous - jealous that she's having a fun, exciting summer, while I'm sitting home alone day after day. Why does life have to be so damned boring and monotonous and empty?? I was afraid this would happen after I graduated ... that my life would suddenly take a nosedive. Does everyone feel this way after high school? Or is it just me?

3:00 p.m.

Spirits lifted temporarily ... Dad called from work, suggested that we go bowling when he gets home and then pick up some Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner. The prospect of physical activity, ANYTHING, even if it's only bowling with Dad, is enough to momentarily wrench me out of my slump.

Scott hasn't called me all day. Yesterday we celebrated our four month anniversary, but he was depressed because all he could to treat me to was a Disney movie at the drive-in (he got us in on a discount coupon) and a hamburger at Jack in the Box. When he brought me home he was so down in the dumps he was barely speaking to me.

Wednesday afternoon
July 15, 1976

Things between Scott and I are growing increasingly strained. I can't seem to snap out of this wave of depression, and lately he's been taking all of his frustrations and bad moods out on me. The result is that we argue constantly. When my feelings are hurt he grows mean and sarcastic, making fun of me for my sensitivity.

I feel so sad and sick inside. There's really nothing I can do. Either we work this problem out somehow, or else we'll break up soon. I don't want to lose him, Ledger, but what can I do?

He called me this afternoon. Our conversation was normal, no problems, until he asked me if I wanted to do something. My hair was dirty and I didn't really feel like going anywhere, so I said, "No, not really." 

He immediately snapped, "I knew you wouldn't. God, you're no fun anymore."

That really hurt my feelings ... a verbal knife cutting right to the center of me. I was silent and embarrassed and immediately sorry I'd said ‘no.' I asked him what exactly he had planned, and then came the cold, hostile voice he uses to hurt me deeper. 

"Nothing," he snapped coolly.

"You don't want to do anything with me?"


"Why not?"

"Because I changed my MIND," he said. He was deliberately trying to hurt me further by talking in that infuriatingly flat, expressionless voice.

"Fine," I said softly - and hung up on him.

"Some people know a lot more when you try to tell them something than when you ask them something."



We are so used to disguising ourselves for others, that in the end we don't know who we are.

~ Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Monday night
July 19, 1976

Things are straightened out - temporarily, at least - between Scott and I. I love him incredibly, and today it feels as though he loves me too. Sometimes I wonder, though. Then I begin to doubt and to worry and to speculate. Is it just a physical attraction? Is that all that matters to him anymore, just the physical aspect of the relationship? Today I tried, in a gentle way, to probe his feelings ... almost but not quite asking him if there were more to his feelings than just sex. He acted like I'd slapped him across the face and declared that he loves me for me, not for my body. I let it go at that, but I still don't feel completely satisfied. If that's true, then why do we spend practically all of our time together expressing physical "love" ... ?

Oh Scott. There are still so many things I don't know about you. Is what we're doing a mistake? Is everything going to come tumbling down around us when we least expect it? Do you love me even half as much as I love you? Or am I going to end up hurt and defeated again ... ?

Scott has so much sweetness still inside of him, but somehow in the four months we've been together I've seen him grow so much older and harder and colder. I don't know - maybe I'm just being crazy. It's late and I'm tired and my brain ceases rational functioning.

Tuesday afternoon
July 20, 1976

Steve dropped by unexpectedly this morning. I have no idea why, but I do know one thing ... I wasn't happy to see him. I have finally, completely gotten over him, to the point where I feel absolutely nothing when I look at him. He wanted me to drive to Kent with him, but I made some feeble excuse and managed to back out. I know he didn't believe me, but frankly I don't care. He's out of my life and out of my blood, and I intend to keep it that way.

Steve's personality consists of two parts: kindhearted, easygoing, affable Dr. Jekyll, and cold-blooded, irrational Mr. Hyde. You never know when he's going to change from one to the other. Whenever I was around him I found myself walking on eggshells. I never dared talk back to him. He berated me mercilessly, and I took it & took it. Once he got me under his thumb, it was never ending. He mistreated me when it suited him, whenever he got into one of his "black moods" and needed to abuse someone to make himself feel better.

My problem was that I knew how Steve could be. At times he was the sweetest, most tender guy in the world. He was just not consistent. I couldn't spend too much time with him and expect him to be that way all the time. I had seen his black moods and knew that nothing could prevent them. His attitude reminded me of someone kicking and abusing some poor, defenseless animal. He vented whatever ugliness was inside of him, taking it out on whoever was handiest. There was something about him at times that I just adored, and it was so frustrating to think, "My God, why does this person have to change so often?"

But all of that is behind me now. I don't love him anymore and I doubt that I ever will. No - I KNOW I never will.

Never say never.

"Do a disagreeable job today instead of tomorrow. You will save 24 hours of dreading to do it, while having 24 hours to savor the feeling that the job is behind you."

Wednesday night (late)
July 21, 1976

I did something this evening that I consider symbolic ... I gave Scott the black onyx ring that Steve tossed at me so casually last summer. Of COURSE I didn't tell Scott that the ring used to belong to Steve - I doubt that he would have accepted it if he knew - but by giving it to him, I feel as though I'm finally freeing myself of every last trace of Steve and declaring my love for Scott.

Monday evening
July 26, 1976

I'm feeling very blue this evening, and since I don't have anyone in the world to talk to except you, Ledger, I feel like pouring out my heart.

Nothing seems to be going right. I'm dissatisfied with myself as a person, my relationship with Scott is slowly disintegrating, there's no one I can turn to for advice or sympathy ... I almost feel like giving up. I still have about a nickel of that really potent speed left in the bathroom, and for one crazy minute this evening I considered taking all of it & trying to kill myself. In the light of reality, though, I know I was just kidding myself. No matter how desperate I get, I don't think I could ever do something like that. In spite of the world and the way everything seems to be crumbling around me, I still cling to the (naive?) belief that everything will be better in the future, that there may be something ahead of me worth staying alive for. At least I still have a shred of optimism left.

Scott and I simply AREN'T getting along. Nothing I do or say can erase the sudden coldness in his tone, the forced enthusiasm I sense beneath the surface. The only time it seems like he still cares is when we're making love, and that can't last forever. Sooner or later we end up arguing again - he becomes cold and arrogant, while I make a fool out of myself by begging for his forgiveness. It's a vicious circle. I love him, Ledger, but nothing I do can please him. Nothing. I'm always depressed, I'm too self-critical, I'm always complaining about one thing or another, I'm too shy and awkward, I'm too hostile toward other people, I can't be completely honest or relaxed around him. No matter how I try, I can't seem to change. I have a really rotten personality. I just can't seem to warm up to other people, and compared to Scott's natural warmth and friendliness I seem almost his polar opposite.

July 27, 1976

College starts exactly two months from today. Wow, I can hardly believe that.

Imagine ME going to COLLEGE.

Everything is really OK between Scott and I now. REALLY. I'm not sure, but I think there won't be anymore major hassles. Everything was said today and the air was cleared, and I discovered that we still love each other - more than ever.

We were down at Seahurst Park tonight, and when we were driving through the parking lot in Scott's Camaro, I saw Steve sitting in a white car with two other guys. He was sitting in the front seat, and as we drove by he turned his face away, as though he didn't see me. It didn't hurt me, not even an inch. I'm really free of him, Ledger, I really am. 

July 28, 1976

I've never been so bored in my whole life. The days just slip by, one after the other, and nothing ever happens. Tonight is a clear, warm, inviting summer evening, and I feel restless and lonely. Scott's going out with his friends, he said, because he "saw me last night." That means that I'm more or less stranded here at home with nowhere to go. I'm so depressed.

10 p.m.

Typical Terri luck ... the only television program I had even the slightest interest in watching tonight (during my enforced hibernation) has been pre-empted for some ridiculous special about life on Mars. I'm not surprised, I guess. I'm thoroughly and completely bored, lonely and depressed, and even this relatively minor blow comes as no surprise.

What am I doing with my life? I search and search for the answer to this one disturbing question, and each time I'm forced to realize the equally disturbing answer ... not a damned thing!! Sure, I have plans for college this fall, and in the hazy uncertain future a job, "someday." I'm relatively happy at home and I have a terrific boyfriend. I'm eighteen years old, (fairly) intelligent and (fairly) OK-looking, with some undeveloped talents and probably a lot of potential buried beneath all the self-criticism and procrastination. I have some assets.

But SO WHAT, for Christ's sake, if I'm not doing anything with them???

I'm stagnating ... mentally, spiritually, physically. I'm wasting everything that I might have. I'm not looking one inch beyond the way I am at this moment.

Since graduation, I have had NO mental stimulation. To be honest, I guess I'd have to say that it's been even longer than that, since I gave up trying in school along about the third quarter of ninth grade. The first time I flunked a class, I said "bag it" and threw the whole thing away. The only classes I even gave a damn about were my music classes (Choir, Stage Band) and Journalism. The rest of my classes - Math, History, Literature, Biology, Speech - I couldn't care less about. I felt no motivation and no reason for trying, and as a result I pulled in the lowest grades of my whole life.

Teachers had nothing to do with it. I adored Mr. Flynn, but still I ignored assignments, faked my way through tests and cut classes, earning a big "D" at the end of the quarter. On the other hand, I've rarely disliked a teacher as mightily as I disliked Ms. Milne, but I got straight A's out of her Shorthand class.

Since I "gave up" caring about grades and assignments, school became routine and redundant as far as classes were concerned. That feeling - almost an apathy about learning - has stayed with me. I watch the news with Dad occasionally. I know that Jimmy Carter is the Democratic Presidential candidate, and that he picked somebody named Walter Mondale to run with him ... but basically I'm very uninformed and out of touch with the world. I read exactly one section of the daily newspaper - "Dear Abby" in the Seattle Times and "Ann Landers" in the P.I. Once in a while I glance at the front page, but only if there's an interesting kidnapping or earthquake or plane crash to read about, and lately I've been skimming the birth announcements to see if Kim & Brian Carpenter had their baby yet.

The only books I've read this summer have been paperbacks, the Gothic romance novels that cost 95 cents at most supermarkets and take me four hours to read. Once a week I read the National Enquirer when Dad brings it home, and once a month I read the jokes in The Reader's Digest. Scott loaned me some old fan magazines about the Beatles a few weeks ago, and I sat in bed and read them in one hour.

Every morning I watch two game shows on TV - "The Fun Factory" (Bobby Van runs singing through an audience of giggling, shrieking women, offering them refrigerators and trash compactors if they can tell him which country singer has a last name that is the same as the capitol of our 38th state) and "The Gong Show" (a fat woman belching in time to "Meet Me In St. Louis" and "Taco, the dog with the computer brain" were two of today's contestants). Sometimes I watch snatches of a soap opera or an old "Partridge Family" or "My Favorite Martian" re-run.

Scott has taken me to see a few movies this summer. They have included a Disney movie about a Bolivian mule who kicks a football ... a horror movie about killer worms attacking a small Southern town ... another horror movie about a mad scientist experimenting with test-tube babies ... and a tear-jerker about an Olympic skier who breaks her neck.

With all of this high quality reading material & entertainment, is it any wonder my brain is slowly turning to oatmeal ... ?

Somehow I've got to find a way to get some mental exercise. Otherwise I'm going to be a magnificently dismal failure in college.

I'm suffocating in other ways, too. Socially, I feel almost dead and buried. Aside from Scott, my social life consists of talking to Grandma on the phone occasionally, going bowling with Dad on Thursday nights, and giving the paperboy 75 cents once a month. I'm getting so unaccustomed to socializing & being around other people that I was absolutely miserable at Lori & Sandy's party the other night. I felt shy and awkward and horribly out of place, and I couldn't wait to leave.

Physically I'm suffering as well. The most exercise I get is pushing the vacuum cleaner around the living room every morning. I've been eating for "consolation," and I've put on ten pounds (and it shows). My lack of exercise and poor eating habits are making me lethargic, cranky and moody. I go to bed too late every night, and then I sleep past noon every morning.

And finally, I'm suffocating spiritually. I haven't been to church in two months - since New Vision ended and I graduated out of the high school group, I've felt no desire to return. I don't think I've so much as cracked open my Bible in weeks. For graduation I got two new Bibles, one from Grandma & Grandpa and one from Dale & Alice ... they're laying on my closet floor, unopened and undisturbed as they "sleep in heavenly peace." I haven't prayed in such a long time that I've almost forgotten how.

Everything added together shows you just how dull and empty my life really is. The only excitement I get is when Scott takes me to the drive-in, or I clean my bedroom, or the sun shines I can lay outside and futilely try to get a tan ... but even these "thrills" turn flat and empty when Scott and I argue on our way home from the drive-in, or I realize how terrible my bedroom really looks, clean or not, or I burn instead of tan and end up wearing long pants to the beach to hide my pale white legs. Nothing is real. Nothing counts or thrills or excites anymore.

I wish I knew if I were normal. Is it normal for an 18 year old girl to be as discontent and bored and unhappy as I am? Or is there something really wrong with the inside of my head and my way of thinking?

I wish I knew.

A couple of days ago, when Scott and I had another one of our terrible fights and he left my house in an icy cold rage, I called his house in tears to apologize and beg his forgiveness. His mother said that he refused to come to the phone - that he told her to tell me "he wasn't home." His mom could tell that I was deeply upset, so she offered me some advice. "Terri," she said simply, "You know, when you're with Scott you really should make an effort not to criticize yourself so much."

She didn't tell me anything new. I'm not dumb. I realize that I'm probably my own worst enemy. My continual self-criticism has torn down every trace of self-esteem I might have had. I'm totally dissatisfied with myself as a person ... I have no love for myself. No real love, anyway. I may be selfish and self- engrossed, but basically I don't love other people because I don't love myself.

I'm eighteen years old, supposedly at the best time of my life. I have my whole life ahead of me. (That won't last. I'm going to grow old.) I'm young, healthy and fairly pretty. (That won't last either - with the passing of years, health and looks will diminish.) I have a fairly happy and comfortable home life. (Dad is a weekend alcoholic, the house is overrun with dogs and houseflies, I have too much freedom for my own good and the kitchen sink is clogged again.) I have a terrific boyfriend who loves me. (We fight every other day, I'm too dependent on him, he likes to play ping pong with my emotions, and neither one of us has any money.) I'm musically and artistically talented, and I love to express myself in writing. (No argument here, except that I'm seldom motivated enough to do anything about it.)

Oh well ... it's 11:30 and I'm suffering from a severe case of writer's cramp. Time to close.

12:15 a.m.

Still awake. I made Scott a little man out of red Play-Doh, with bulging eyes and a toothy grin, holding a little flag that says "I LOVE YOU." When it hardens I think I'll give it to him as a present.

Sunday afternoon
August 1, 1976

Dad went to the first Seattle Seahawks game at the Kingdome with Grandpa, so I was alone all afternoon. Watched a couple of old movies on TV, started a new book, talked to Scott on the phone.

Last night Scott, John and I went downtown to watch the Seafair Torchlight Parade. It was pretty cold, but that didn't dampen my little-girl excitement at the sight of floats, clowns, Seafair pirates, drill teams, majorettes, marching bands, horses, smiling queens, happy children ... it was fun.

Today I went through a couple of my recent diaries and found myself tearing out a lot of pages. I've decided that there are too many things in my past & in my thoughts that I would rather not reveal to anyone. (I didn't want Scott to know about the abortion.)  Next I'll go through all my journals and do the same.

Looking back, I think this is one of the stupidest things I've ever done in my life (and that's really saying something).  I've ALWAYS regretted censoring those high school and college journals. Consider this a cautionary tale, if you're ever thinking about editing yourself.  Someday, you WILL regret it.

Thinking. You know, it's really sad that I don't feel secure enough to confide in my journals anymore ... tearing out pages from diaries & ledgers lately proves it. I'm beginning to feel so paranoid that someone is going to READ the awful things I've written, and I don't trust myself to be completely honest when I'm writing anymore. More and more lately I find myself skipping around the actual facts or covering up the truth with nonessentials or white lies.

I've made a lot of dumb mistakes in my life ... that's true. I've said things I didn't mean, done things I shouldn't have done, associated with people who tricked me into believing things that weren't true. I've had my share of sorrow, regret and shame. But always, ALWAYS in the face of failure, I've confided truthfully and candidly in my ledgers. I haven't always been proud of the accounts I've written - there have been times when I've felt physically ill simply writing about some of my mistakes - times when I would have liked nothing more than to cover up the truth, or lie - but the need to be honest in my ledgers always prevailed.

Now that's gone. Now I'm afraid, scared, worried ... I'm afraid that something might happen to me, or that my ledgers might fall into the wrong hands, or that I might be tricked into revealing what is best kept hidden ... and I feel the need, instead, to destroy all evidence of my human weaknesses & shortcomings. That's why pages are missing, words are blotted out, accounts are incomplete (or missing altogether). Because I'm afraid.

I will always remember the things which I'm choosing now to hide ... maybe that's all that matters. I won't need a written account, for I'll have all my memories hidden inside my heart. There, at least, they will be safe.  I don't remember what I had for dinner last night, let alone unrecorded things that happened thirty-plus years ago.  Yet another reason you must NEVER EVER EDIT YOURSELF.

Monday early evening
August 2, 1976

I had a job interview today at Pacific Coast Services ... and I actually got the job!! I'll be working as a telephone solicitor, selling rug and upholstery cleaning services, six hours a day (9 to 3) for $2.30 an hour. The job might be a little monotonous, sitting at a desk for six hours calling people on the phone, but frankly all I care about is the money. I'm desperately in need of money, for new clothes, for a car, for my college tuition. I may not even be able to GO to college this fall quarter ... Dad and I are so broke it would take a miracle. Or a job. That's why I'm thankful to have this job, in spite of the terrible working conditions (stuffy little office, no lunch break, hard uncomfortable chairs) and the crummy wages. The only thing that worries me is the fear of being fired if I don't meet the sales quota. Scott works there too, and he said the company expects you to sell a minimum of three appointments per day, and that a person can be dismissed if they don't make any appointments for two days in a row.

This will be my first job, and I know that if I get fired I'll be crushed. I'm too sensitive about criticism and about my lack of warmth towards other people, and being fired would be the end of my world ... temporarily, at least.

It's past 11:30 at night. I have to get up at 7:30 tomorrow morning, take a shower and set my hair and prepare to join the working world. For that reason, I should be tucked snugly between my blankets, fast asleep ... but I'm nervous, and I can't seem to relax. Writing may help me unwind a little, enough to sleep anyway.

Grandma Vert is in the hospital again .. she went in Saturday night with heart problems, but I didn't hear about it until yesterday. Saturday afternoon Grandma called me and we talked for a half hour, about Dick and my new job prospects, so she must have had her attack while I was at the parade with Scott and John. I called her this afternoon at the hospital and she said she feels "fine" and she sounded glad I called. It made me sad to talk to her, though. She sounded so tired and worn and far-away, and I had an ache in my heart when I realized how old she is and how much suffering she's going through. I love my grandmother dearly, and I'm going to pray extra-specially hard for her tonight.

I did something different with my bedroom tonight. I got tired of looking at the dull, boring art prints I'd tacked to my west wall, so I used a little imagination and used the space to arrange several favorite pictures. It actually looks kind of nice.

Tuesday 4:30 p.m.
August 3, 1976

Well, so much for being part of "the working world." I got fired after only one day of work at that crummy place. I feel just miserable.

Friday afternoon
August 13, 1976

Yesterday Scott and I celebrated five happy months together. It seems as though it's been much longer than that! Sometimes it feels like I've been with him forever.

Actually, we're going to do our celebrating tonight - after Scott gets home from work, he's going to take me out to dinner. That'll be nice!

5:30 p.m.

Scott called and said he can't take me out to dinner tonight because his paycheck wasn't as big as he thought it would be. Very disappointed.

Why has everything been going wrong this summer? Lately I've been facing letdown after letdown, and it's all becoming a bit too much to handle. I was dumb to be so excited about dinner tonight  ...  I was just setting myself up for a big disappointment. When Scott called, I was so crushed that I actually hung up on him. Now I should call him back and apologize for my bad manners, but like always pride is standing in my way.

Monday evening
August 16, 1976

Spending the evening quietly, watching TV and relaxing. I stayed at Scott's house again this weekend, and it was beautiful. I've said it before and I'll probably say it a billion more times - I love him so much. As usual, Dad was super-mad at me for staying out all night Saturday night and all day Sunday, but I spent today doing an extra-thorough job of housecleaning and managed to butter him up enough to escape punishment (thank goodness).

Tuesday night
August 17, 1976

Bored, listless, restless, frustrated ... in some ways I'll be relieved when this summer is over. What a disappointment it's turned out to be. I thought the summer after graduation would be so fun and exciting and full of different things to do, but instead it's turned out to be a big fat disappointment. Scott promised he'd call tonight, but it's 8:00 and he hasn't so he probably never intended to. That means that I am, as usual, sitting home alone. All alone.

9:30 p.m.

This damned political convention is pre-empting EVERYTHING on television ... that leaves me completely devoid of anything to do. I've never felt this bored and at loose ends. Maybe I'm "un-American" to feel the way I do, but I hate these stupid conventions being broadcast on every major network all evening. I watched an hour of it tonight, and frankly I've never seen anything so dull.

Monday night
August 23, 1976

So much to say.

Sitting in bed, watching "All In The Family," relaxing and thinking and unwinding.

This weekend Scott and I went down to Lake Limerick with his family for the weekend. We left on Friday morning and came home late last night, and it felt really good to get away from everything for a few days and enjoy the beauty and quietness of the woods. Scott's family owns a lot near the lake, with a nice trailer and firepit. It wasn't exactly primitive-style camping, since the trailer has indoor plumbing and running water and three rooms, but Scott and I took several walks in the forest and down by the lake, and I felt a calmness and an inner peace that I haven't felt in months.

Today I "recuperated" from the trip ... I slept in late and then took a shower and washed my hair. Scott had the day off, so he surprised me by taking me out to lunch (Taco Time) and then we spent the afternoon rummaging through stacks of old records at Goodwill downtown. I made several excellent "finds" - two Simon & Garfunkle albums in near-perfect condition ("Bookends" and "Bridge Over Troubled Water") for 89 cents each. I ‘ve always wanted the latter because it has one of my all-time favorite songs on it, "The Only Living Boy In New York." I also bought fifteen 45's, including an obscure, hard-to- find oldie called "I've Had It" by Fanny, "She Didn't Do Magic" by Lobo and "Crimson & Clover" by Tommy James & The Shondells. Lately I've developed a passion for digging through old record stacks. They're usually ten cents or twenty five cents apiece, and I've found some old songs that used to be my favorites, songs I'd completely forgotten about. It's nice to have a new hobby.

Stupid as this may sound, my biggest worry right now is whether or not I'll be getting any money for school clothes. Last spring Dad promised me $200 to buy a new wardrobe, but something went wrong and I ended up going without. Now I'm about to start college and I have absolutely nothing to wear. I have one old pair of jeans which I wear every day, but NO other pants. I'm sorely in need of a few new outfits. I haven't scraped up the nerve to ask Dad whether I'm getting any clothes money or not ... I'm just crossing my fingers, hoping.

I wonder what college is going to be like ... probably completely different than anything I've yet experienced. Probably a little scary & a little disappointing & a lot harder than high school. At least I'll have Scott there to help me. Originally he planned to go to Green River CC, but after we started dating he changed to Highline so we could be together. Another thing I'm afraid of is that going to HCC is going to tear the two of us apart. I don't know what I'd do if that happened. Other people, other interests, other activities might come between us when we start college and destroy our relationship. But I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Tuesday night
August 24, 1976

Bored, bored, bored, bored, BORED!!!!!

Wednesday night
August 25, 1976

Bored, bored, bored, bored, BORED!!!!!  What else can I say? I've never lived through a more boring, uneventful period in my entire life. I'm practically crawling the WALLS. This boredom is affecting everything about me ... I feel irritable and grouchy, listless and dissatisfied for no justifiable reason.

Thursday afternoon
August 26, 1976

Not many pages left in this ledger, are there? A lot of things have happened in the past

(entry ends)

Tuesday evening
August 31, 1974

This is the last day of August - tomorrow will bring September and the beginning to fall and perhaps several important changes in my world and lifestyle (starting college, for instance) - so I think that tonite will be the last time I write in you, Ledger. Starting tomorrow I intend to make sure things change in my life, and I'll need a new ledger to celebrate a new beginning.

This has really been a disappointing summer, in that

(Entry and journal end here  ...  thank god)

Favorite Songs During This Ledger:

"Love Really Hurts" - Billy Ocean
"Silly Love Songs" - Paul McCartney
"Let It Grow" - Eric Clapton
"Combination" - Aerosmith
"Rock ‘n Me" - Steve Miller
"Kiss And Say Goodbye" - The Manhattans

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