1979 - January 1980
21 & 22
(I knew) that sooner or later I would be forced to make the decisions
that must now be made.
I guess I just didn't expect "sooner" to be
quite THIS soon."
lunch ... a double screwdriver, lots of ice. Ordinarily
I don't drink my lunch, as I'm doing today - it makes typing a bitch
when I get back to the office - but today is different. Today is one of
those landmark days you have ten or twenty times in your life, when you
run smack into change ... when you're dropped without warning at some
type of crossroads ...
morning I found out, for absolute certain, that Scott has been offered
the job in Portland, Oregon, and that he will be moving there
permanently before the end of October. Until now it's been an "If
& Maybe" sort of proposition. I knew that the chances of his
being offered the job were good, and that sooner or later I would be
forced to make the decisions that must now be made. I guess I just
didn't expect "sooner" to be quite THIS soon.
moving before the end of October, and it is now September 6th. That
leaves me only a few weeks to make the decisions and get things in
order. Right now I'm feeling dazed and overwhelmed by the enormity of
journal will chronicle the next few weeks -- the conclusions I come to,
the preparations we make, the move itself. More than ever, I'm going to
need the comfort and the support of my journal. So much to think about
... so much to write about!
At least this journal will be an interesting one. And when
we're finally settled into our new home in Oregon, I'll begin another
new journal, which will chronicle the beginning to my new life.
OF THE DAY: Fear.
double screwdriver has turned into 3 ... obviously, I've decided not to
go back to work.
tired, run-down ... but not entirely unhappy, oddly enough.
yesterday! Without going into all the sordid details, I ended
up smashed out of my mind and AWOL from work. I made a lot of
drunkenly erratic phone calls I couldn't even remember today, and then
I got into my car for a two-hour drive (or more accurately, a
two-hour "weave") through parts unknown. Luckily, I pulled
myself together enough this morning to make it to the office by 10:00,
and got only a mild reprimand from Howard, so my job is still intact,
thank goodness. It would really be a bitch to get fired a few weeks
before I have to resign.
to move to Portland with Scott because I want
to. That's the most
important thing to consider, and the argument that has the most bearing
in the long run. Sure, I have hesitations - I've lived all of my
(nearly) 22 years right here in Washington State, and it's never easy
leaving a place that has been home. The concept that has changed in my
mind, though, is that "home" can change. Home is where the heart is.
I are sitting here in bed together, watching TV (the second half of
"Breaking Up Is Hard To Do"). Naked. Violent rainstorm outside our
bedroom window. A little toot -- just enough. Very cozy, relaxed.
hopped into an old sweatshirt and pair of jeans and made an emergency
beer run to 7-11.
later. Not a lot has changed. I still don't know when we'll be
moving. Everything is sort of at a standstill at this point. My
feelings (about the move) have shifted a little,
though ... from panic to acceptance, even
anticipation. I imagine that my feelings will shift back &
forth again between now and the time we actually leave, but for now I
feel calm as I face the prospect.
hot in our apartment ... one of those
post-summer/pre-fall hot spells. I've got a rotten cold and my period
started yesterday, so my bod is in a temporary state of
been tooting up a little, which may or may not be a good idea ... my
nasal passages are so clogged, I don't know if anything is getting
through. It gave me enough of a buzz, though, to get a few slipshod
letters written (Bonita, Arlene, Marilyn, Susan P). Now I'm at that
awkward "plateau" stage where I'm buzzed enough to want to write, but
too buzzed to be cohesive.
is all in a swirl. Not only because of the drugs, but because of all
the things that are ahead of me that I can't even see. I know that all
of life is like that, with corners to turn and no way to know what's
around them, but that doesn't make the waiting any easier. Part of you
wants to go forward and find out what's around the corner, while part
of you says "No, wait - life
is short enough as it is, without wishing for the future to happen now."
When you're a little kid you can't wait for time to pass, so you can
hurry up and be a grownup. Nothing ever seems to happen fast enough
when you're a child. But the minute you start to get older, things
begin happening too fast. You start to count your minutes.
be up in a minute, so I've put on some "presentable" clothes. I'll
write more tomorrow, if I can.
from right now I'll probably be reading all this - probably tooted up -
and I'll have a whole bunch of the answers that I don't have now.
Damn it -
another swelteringly hot day today, somewhere in the 80's - and the
apartment is like a furnace. I'm sitting on the floor in the hallway,
next to the electric fan, sipping an ice water in an effort to cool
off. My cold is worse today, and I felt horrible at work, but I'm
starting to come around a little now. I almost wish we could go out and
party a little bit, but I guess I don't have the energy it would take
to dress and fix my hair and repair my face and the whole business.
told me today that we may not leave for Portland until November.
went to 7-11 to get some beer and pop ... I just changed into my robe.
Randy and Sue were here for about an hour and a half ... I was
beginning to think they'd NEVER leave. I hate feeling so cranky and
unsociable on a warm Friday evening, but my bod is shot.
thought: it only tonight dawned on me exactly how difficult it will be,
telling Grandma and
Grandpa that we're moving.
upset ... perhaps irrationally, but I don't seem to have much control
of my moods anymore.
left the apartment at four this afternoon to spend some time with his
mother, promising that he'd be back in a couple of hours. Now he just
called from Bruce's house, where there's some kind of big party going
on. I just lost control. I couldn't believe it. Lately this has been
happening so damned often, it's unreal - he'll say that he's going one
place and that he'll be back at a certain time, and then he'll call me
hours later from someplace completely different, with no idea when
he'll be home. Anyway. I ended up hanging the phone up in his ear after
screaming at him, shrewlike, for five minutes. Now I wonder if he'll
even bother coming home at all.
I'm angry because I spent a lot of time this afternoon fixing my hair
and putting on makeup, hoping that he and I could go out and do
something ... but he sounded as though he was having a fine time
without me ...
hour. Standing in the kitchen with half a glass of beer in
one hand, dying for a cigarette, waiting for Melinda Z. to call from
New Jersey. Buzzing from a couple of very nice beans, a gift from
Randy. Kind of down today. I don't know if it's just my paranoia
working overtime or what, but I have this feeling that something is
"up" around the office. Just from what I've gleaned from passing
conversations & whatnot, it sounds like Howard is hiring a new
typist - at least, he's scouting around for one - and it makes me
wonder if my job is on the line. I've screwed up in a BIG way a few
times lately, and Howard always assures me that he wants to keep me in
the company but that I need to improve in some areas ... so I figured I
was "safe," provided I watch my step and not miss any more time at
work. Now I don't know. First there was the girl who came in to apply
yesterday, and Howard showing an unusual amount of interest in her ...
and then today, the lady from the Employment Agency calling about "an
available typist." Hmmm.
the people in the office are acting a little funny around me, too ...
Max and Patti, in particular. Do they know something I don't?
it's probably all my imagination, and I'm
being ridiculous to dwell on it like this. I'm going to have to quit
this fall ANYWAY, when we move to Oregon, so I don't suppose it would
be too great
a tragedy if Howard did let me go. I just don't want to be fired.
I'm going to need good references and a solid resume when I start
job-hunting in Portland, and being fired from Ridgway wouldn't help
recap of the weekend, incidentally. Scott came home at 8:00 Saturday
night, full of apologies, and we had a nice relaxing evening in bed,
watching TV and getting high. We both fell asleep before 11:00, I
think! We really screwed up on Sunday, though. We left the apartment
early in the afternoon with half a g., ostensibly to drive downtown and
see the movie "Dracula." Before the movie, we stopped at a couple of
nice waterfront bars, and to make a long (and familiar) story short, we
got drunk, struck up a conversation with some Canadian guy
named Brad, and the three of us ended up drinking and carousing until 2
in the morning. Needless to say I felt like SHIT all day at work
yesterday, but it serves us right for getting crazy on a work night.
You'd think we'd learn, wouldn't you?
it's time to hop in my car and head back to work. Freda is watching the
switchboard today and she has a 1:00 lunch date. I'm going to make an
effort to stop feeling so downcast this afternoon ... chances are, I'm
just imagining the problems at work. If I spend all my time catering to
my fears, I'm never going to get anywhere.
situation as yesterday ... sitting in the kitchen during my lunch hour.
My fears yesterday were groundless. The Employment Agency called Howard
again this morning, and he told them that there definitely aren't any
day. Busy typing a zillion-page job summary for Dave Cromar, making myself
a wish list. Scott has the flu - I'm going to make him something nice
for dinner tonight. Maybe my "famous" pork chop and potato casserole
Scott is out to dinner with a customer, and I am home alone again. He
had originally planned to take me to dinner with them, so naturally I
was very hurt and disappointed when he called me at work and told me
the plans had changed. He says he'll be home by 9:00, but I know how
THAT goes ...
apartment is neat, dim and soothing. I'm going to take a shower, smoke
a bowl and slide into bed.
come home until 1 a.m. No surprise, really. Sent me flowers at work
today to apologize.
in bed, watching "The White Shadow" on TV, trying to compose a letter
to Susan in Pensacola, feeling nice after an unexpected toot. This day
wasn't half-bad. I had a slew of posting to do at work, so I was busy
all day & the time passed quickly. Scott was a little bit late
coming home, but he brought some KFC home with him for dinner, and
we're now settling down for an evening of television and reading, as
soon as Randy and Ted leave.
sweaty. Terri V. needs a shower, fast.
recap: Friday night we had dinner at Vince's, then came home for a
quiet evening in bed. Saturday was lazy, Saturday night we hung out at
The Towne Crier until closing. Spent all day Sunday in bed,
to be Day One of my new diet, but Scott came home at lunch bearing
hamburgers and all my resolve went flying out the door. (He also
brought me the new Tim Curry album, "Fearless," and a couple of toots.)
Having a busy day. So down in the dumps about my weight - 141 lbs., if
you can believe that, and I'm only 5'5". None of my clothes fit
anymore, and I feel like twenty pounds of potatoes squeezed into a five
pound bag. When I moved in with Scott I weighed 118 ... sigh. I've
certainly "blossomed," haven't I? Like a watermelon.
biggest problem, aside from my unswerving devotion to food in its most
fattening forms, is my impatience. I want to be thin NOW. I want to be
on a diet for one day and then walk into the office the next morning
and have everyone say, "My
God, you've lost so much weight!!"
I can't stand the idea that it'll take me weeks, probably months, to
start looking thin enough that people will notice.
(his brother) Randy are arguing in the kitchen ... I have retreated to
the sanctity of the bedroom. No TV, no radio ... just quiet. (The
shower is dripping.) Still depressed about how much I weigh. Am I ever
going to weigh 118 again?? Scott bought a bunch of groceries tonight,
mostly diet-oriented stuff like low-calorie canned fruit, skim milk,
imitation mayo and margarine, D-Zerta Jello, etc. All the bland,
textureless, flavorless things I hate. Last summer I dropped 15 pounds
in less than a month by taking Benzedrine, drinking coffee and not
eating food ... but even that wasn't easy. I guess no way is
easy, but the worst and most difficult way of
all is eating this artificial, boring low-calorie crap. It takes all
the pleasure out of
food, and makes dieting seem like drudgery. No wonder people cheat. No
I'LL probably end up
face of all the problems in the world, I guess that my extra twenty
pounds really don't amount to a hill of beans. Maybe a hill of french
... thank God. September has zipped by amazingly quickly - Monday will
be October 1st already! - but this week was a slow one. Sometimes I
wonder why I'm so worried about leaving Ridgway Packaging. It's not
THAT great a place to work. The consensus among the men in the office
is that I'm all boobs and no brains. I'm patronized, underpaid,
overworked or underworked at different times, and regarded as low
person on the totem pole.
("In case of fire, Terri will remain at the switchboard.")
When the girls go out to
lunch together, I'm not invited to join them. I'm the butt of dirty
the sales guys, I'm only making $600 a month - LESS than I made at Lusk
I have the worst parking spot.
Prowling the apartment like something caged ... waiting for Scott to
get back from another of his interminable "runs."
like crazy, waiting for people to come over (Bruce, Randy and Candy,
Randy W. and his new girlfriend Heidi ... ad nauseum ...)
depressed today. I've got the flu for the second time in less than a
month, and that combined with a lot of other petty irritations has left
me with a gigantic case of the cruds. I hope it passes soon; there's
nothing worse than feeling low when your roommate is feeling on top of
the world. Talk about conflict.
I got a
letter from Dick today -- he's in jail in Shelton -- and it's been
bothering me for hours, because I don't believe he really wrote it.
It's not his handwriting, or at least not the way I remember his
handwriting looking. Even more, it's not his style. It sounds forced,
artificial and slick ... not the Dick I know at all. He even refers to
me as his "little sister," which is pretty odd when you consider the
fact that I'm fourteen months OLDER than he is. I don't know what to
think ... or how to reply.
speaking of brothers: Randy left this weekend with his friend Ted, for
"parts unknown." Might be awhile before we see him again.
quick word. Went to dinner with Ken and Phil and their wives tonight,
at The Saratoga Trunk (they are customers of Scott's). I was a good ten
to fifteen years younger than most of the people at our table, so I had
practically nothing in common with anybody. I felt like such a little
kid. Every single person there was a parent, so when the conversation
turned to kids, I had nothing to offer. I just sat there and smiled
cutely through most of the evening, feeling like "Scott's little
girlfriend" ... kind of a degrading feeling.
is Dad's 45th (?) birthday. Scott and I are going to Grandma and
Grandpa's house in the morning to see him. First time I've seen Dad
I left the restaurant at 10:30, picked up a six-pack at 7-11 and came
home with half a gram ... now we're sitting in bed watching "Saturday
Night Live," Maureen Stapleton hosting. Cozy, relaxed, happy, in love.
don't really feel like writing. Foggy October night, fire in the
fireplace, worrying about Randy - he and Ted are in trouble in Reno.
1:00 in the morning; David Letterman is hosting The Tonight Show for
the second night in a row; I'm sitting naked in bed with a towel
wrapped around my head, Scott is sitting beside me, sucking on a pipe
and reading the front page of today's Seattle Times. I'm wound up
tighter than a watch spring. I spent most of this evening tooting up
and sitting in front of the typewriter, pecking out letters. At 12:30
a.m. I was feeding the cat, putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher and
calling Jerry at his dorm. I can't seem to slow down. God only knows
how I'm going to slow down enough to fall asleep and get up at 7:30
a.m. for work. EEEK. (Visions of calling Howard in the morning with
some far-fetched story about how I won't make it to the office until
... oh ... 10:00 or so. Give or take an hour.)
Scott just looked up from his paper and asked me, "Did we fuck up
seriously," I said. Actually, it's too early to tell. Right now I feel
terrific, and it's a damned shame ... it's far, far too late AND it's a
work night, but I feel marvelous and just want to go on & on,
all night. What a waste of a great mood. Morning is when you can tell
if you fucked up or not, unfortunately ... and I have a feeling that
when the great mood is gone, there's gonna be TROUBLE ...
up getting approximately one hour of sleep last night ... buzzing
HORRIBLY until dawn. Even so, I crawled into the office on time and
managed to maintain a semi-human mood until I left at 3:00 (said I had
and I are celebrating one year together tonight ... with champagne,
flowers, toots, dinner, music, conversation, candlelight, incense, a
blazing fire. It is a crisp, foggy
October night, and I love this man, wholly and completely and forever.
Sometimes life is
magic, isn't it? Every once in a while a dream does
come true, doesn't
it? Scott is my dream ... our love is my reality. I pray that it will
always be so.
am as happy - and as fulfilled - as I could ever hope to be.
Saturday morning. I've just finished showering and dressing, and am now
having my first cup of coffee and cigarette here in the living room.
Scott left yesterday for a weekend-long sales seminar in Bellingham, so
once again I'm home alone ... this time for three days and two nights.
I stayed home from work yesterday, mainly because I was burned out from
our big "anniversary celebration" the night before. Scott packed and
left about 1:00 yesterday afternoon, and after he was gone I just layed
in bed like a lump, eating, dozing, watching TV, reading. This morning
I woke up at 11:30 and probably could have given in to more of the
same, but in a rare burst of energy I decided not to waste a day. I
showered, shampooed, swallowed a Molly and made a cup of coffee, and
now I'm preparing to roll up my sleeves and clean this filthy
apartment. (No exaggeration - this place is in the worst shape it's
EVER been in. I almost wish Scott could see it, just for the shock
value.) I easily have two hours' worth of cleaning ahead of me. After
that, when my hair is dry, I'll probably have to drive to the store and
pick up some groceries, since I pretty much ate everything yesterday!
We have a
houseguest, by the way ... a little orange & white kitten that
I've nicknamed "Otto." Later
I changed her name to "Molly," in honor of my favorite amphetamine.
I thought it was the height of cleverness to name our pets after
drugs. I eventually hope to find her owners, but until
Scott comes home it's pleasant having two cats around the apartment
back to the old grind again after a nice, impromptu four day holiday
... I've been incredibly busy all morning trying to catch up on
paperwork, and there's still
a stack of projects on my desk ten miles high. Feels kinda nice to be
back, though. This weekend with Scott in Bellingham was nice for the
peace and quiet, but I got bored and lonely and it feels good to be
surrounded by other human beings again.
came by for awhile on Saturday night but left before 10:00, which was
just as well since there was an uneasy tension between the two of us.
She brought me news of the "old gang," though -- said that John and
Karen are married now and have a baby son -- also said that she ran
into Scott S. and Jerry W. at Music Mart in Burien, but that they very
pointedly ignored her. (No surprise, considering.)
home last night at 10:30, a little drunk and a lot apologetic (he
originally had promised to be home "early in the afternoon"). I made
egg sandwiches for a late supper, and then we sat in bed and talked a
little and made love before falling asleep. Late or no, it's nice to
have him back. I expect that tonight should be relaxed and easy.
orange kitten is still with us, and in spite of myself I've grown
really attached to her. No one has called to claim her yet, and by now
I hope they won't because I want to keep her! She's very sweet
tempered, and she and Toot are getting along famously. Even Scott has
started to accept her as part of our little family.
night 9:45 p.m.
in the kitchen, wearing a hot sweater, talking to Scott, buzzing
wildly. Good toot.
the morning. I honestly didn't mean to stay up this late, particularly
since I have my Third Quarter Objectives conference with Howard first
thing in the morning, but I accidentally got caught up in writing my
Objectives outline (15 pages!!), plus a letter to Georgia Rodriguez in Illinois
and Bonita Stognief in PA - and the time just flew past me before I knew it. Now
I'm awake, mainly because I'm worried about Scott. He left almost two
hours ago to visit RT for a minute, and he isn't home yet. 1:00 in the
morning on a work night?!?! Where in the world could he be, my God?
I've tried calling RT's, and
Bruce's, and I don't get an answer anyplace. I can't help but worry. I
know damned well that he's somewhere tooted up to the max, and that he
probably went out to get a couple of drinks to take the edge off,
probably with RT, and he'll come through the door any second with
tequila on his breath, apologizing like mad ...
long I've had this queer, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's
nothing I can explain -- just a "still" feeling, as though I'm perched
right on the edge of disaster, and any minute someone's going to push
me off and over and down. Something awful is about to happen, I just
know it. Scott's been busted, or Randy's been caught, or
Grandma has had another heart attack. I hope I'm wrong, but until Scott
comes home all I can do is stand here by the phone losing sleep, doing
little tiny toots that will make it impossible to sleep later, and
worry. Might as well call RT's house again.
sleep, but now it's totally impossible. Scott called from R's, and my
worry was justified -- two cops walked into RT's tonight while they
were playing poker, and they confiscated a large qty. of illegal stuff
-- without any arrests, though. Now Scott is cornered in RT's house,
though, because one of the same cops is parked quietly, a block or two
away ... waiting. I can't remember ever being so scared. My heart is
positively frozen with fear. Lord Jesus, full of grace ...
nights later, and time again to make some comments on the state of my
is fine, first of all. The other
night turned out to be nothing more than a case of hyper-buzz and wild
police did come to R's door, but it was merely for a routine check on
Steve, who is on probation or something. There were no drugs in sight,
no confiscation, no
arrests. The policeman parked at the Post Office a block or two away
could have been there
for any reason. Scott was wildly buzzed and high when he called me at
2:30 a.m. (he'd been freebasing, I found out
and he exaggerated
everything. I ended up getting about an hour of sleep altogether, and
he came home at 7:30 a.m., just as I was crawling out of bed to get
ready for work. He didn't go to work at all, but I'd missed 2-1/2 days
from work already just last week and couldn't afford to miss any more.
I made it through the day, but just barely. Most of the time I sat at
my desk in a semi-comatose state, trying to function. Today was much
a) new Plant Superintendent at Ridgway ... Bill Pechin, gradually
phasing out Dick F. (who is dying of cancer). Power failure at 2:30 --
lights, phones, machines, everything was out for nearly 15 minutes,
creating a lot of panic and confusion and totally destroying a press
run in progress at the time.
not going to believe this, Journal --
hell, I don't even believe it -- but we're fucking doing it again.
We had just managed to get our bodies back to normal, more or less
(after screwing up on Tuesday night), and now here we are again
already, with more of the same ... Scott is out in the kitchen drinking
beer and doing toots with a couple of guys (Mike I knew, don't
recognize the other) ... a "Traffic" album playing too loud on the
stereo ... and here I am in the bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the
waterbed, dabbing my runny nose with a wadded Kleenex and listening to
Johnny Carson's monologue. I'm all tooted up and I feel terrific, and I
know that I'm not going to fall asleep until 5:30 a.m. and then go to
work on two hours of sleep, feeling like shit. Hmmm. Why does this keep
happening, anyway? And why so often on WEEKNIGHTS, when eight long
hours of work loom directly ahead? Some weird form of self-destruction
feel just terrific when I'm on this kind of high, and the first thing I
do is either sit down in front of a typewriter or pick up a pen
& notebook ... cocaine makes me want to write!
Letters, journal entries, lists, memos, anything. It makes Scott want
to talk - "babbling madly" is what we call it -- but it gives me this
tremendous urge to put my thoughts down on paper. The only trouble is
that the stuff I write when I'm all coked up is usually
garbage!! Which makes it all seem kinda pointless and sad,
I hurt. Sleep is something I used to do in a former life ... my body is
completely incapable of it now. I am seriously considering hurling
myself down the staircase at Ridgway in the morning, so I can
harmlessly break a bone or two and come home early and sleep.
Desperation can make a person a little insane.
burned-out, run-down and depressed. I asked Scott to leave me a couple
of toots for my lunch hour - I left him a note this morning - and not
only didn't he leave me any, he didn't even leave a note explaining
why. I swear to God, I don't know how I'm going to get through the next
four hours. I feel horrible. I finally fell asleep on the living room
sofa at 3:30 a.m. ... Scott's snoring drove me out of our bed. I got to
work an hour late, but at least I made it.
managed to get through this day and stay in one piece ... barely. But I
couldn't get much in the way of actual work done, and by 5 p.m. my
whole body was trembling frantically. I'm so relieved that it's Friday
night, I could cry. Max covered the phones for me so I could slip out
fifteen minutes early.
days later. The weekend was very nice. Friday night, in spite of the
fact that I was terminally burned out when I came home from work, Scott
and I ended up sitting in bed with toots and beers until 3 in the
morning. Scott went down and picked up his kids Saturday morning, and
they stayed with us for most of the weekend. Brittany's birthday was on
the 18th, so this was our way of celebrating, belatedly. It's the first
time we've had the kids since ... when? Sometime last spring? So it was
a little strange, all over again. I can't believe how much they've
changed since the last time we had them.
Me with "Brittany" at Idyllwood Park
two weeks later. Life is still placid, calm and unchanging. We
celebrated Scott's 27th birthday on Friday night, October 26 ... he
came home from his Spokane trip that evening around 9:30 or so, and
after he opened his presents (I bought him an Eric Clapton album,
"Slowhand," and two nice sweaters, one beige and one dark blue velour)
this night. After work tonight I went out for a beer with John Rea and Dave Smith
from the office -- then Scott and I went out to a couple of bars.
11, 1979 9:39 p.m.
myself to write, even though I don't really feel like it. I'm growing
lax again about this. Earlier this evening -- about 5:30 or so -- I had
a nice buzz from some good toot, and I had this TREMENDOUS urge to pick
up a pen and write ... but unfortunately I ended up drinking a few
beers (first at Denny's with Bruce and Scott, then later here at home
when Randy and Candi stopped by), and now I just feel burned out and
incapable of expressing myself. What a shame.
again forcing the old fingers to pick up a pen and write, even though
I'm not in the mood. Good toot again, but not the kind that makes
writing come naturally ... more of a pure buzz. Plus a few
Brittany are sitting on the kitchen counter beside me, nightgowned and
chattering, eating macaroni and cheese. Scott drove down to Auburn and
picked them up this morning while I slept (until almost 1 p.m.!!), so
it's another weekend of non-stop noise and toys spread all over the
living room floor.
on. I've been happy this past month, in a pleasant, routine sort of
way. Autumn has made the area breathtakingly beautiful this year.
as I just finished my last toot and burn-out should ensue shortly ...
winter now, and I scrape the ice off my car
in the mornings. No snow yet, but I'm watching the sky and waiting.
week was pleasant; Scott and I and his mother drove down to my mom's
for a turkey
dinner + all the trimmings. First time I can remember ever having
Thanksgiving with that
side of the family! Mom and Ken, Debby (sporting a new
"frizz"), a retired and
gray-haired Gram St. John, Uncle Jerry, Aunt Jody, and a talking,
two year old Kelli Ann. Scott was properly charming and funny; Scott's
mom Fran fit right in and spent of the time in the kitchen, chatting
with Gram. We drank a lot of beer, ate far too much, and had a
generally good family holiday.
Oh my god look at my grandmother giving him the stink eye!
At the time I thought my family was as charmed by the BASG as *I* was.
in jail in Reno for armed robbery, and probably won't be released for
18 months. We got a letter from him today, and Scott is understandably
depressed. He's made arrangements to fly down and visit Randy this
weekend - his Dad is also going to fly in from Erie and meet him there.
That means, of course, that I'll be alone again this weekend, but in
the face of everything that's happened, I would look like a real heel
if I complained. Might as well be brave about it ...
stock up on frozen pizza, beer, magazines and typewriter
ribbons, and enjoy my solitude. We have our annual Ridgway inventory on
Saturday, which I'm somewhat less than thrilled about, but at least
part of my weekend will see me busy doing SOMETHING.
in Reno now, and I'm home alone on a freezing Friday evening ... the
last of November. Tomorrow is December. I
just took a hot shower, washed my hair, put gooey junk all over my face
did my nails, and now I'm snuggled under the comforter, munching potato
chips and watching TV. Alone, but
not lonely. Quietly happy. Scott called a couple hours ago from his
room in Nevada - his dad is there too - and they're both already full
I miss the companionship of having him beside me in our bed, but once
while it feels selfishly nice to be alone ... free to throw my clothes
on the floor and let
the dishes pile up in the sink and leave
the closet doors open if I feel like it. When I came
home from work tonight the apartment was immaculate, just the way Scott
likes it; four
hours later, I've turned the place upside down. I love it. I can have
the heat on, in
the WHOLE APARTMENT, all day and all night long. I can wear my frumpy
old flannel pajamas.
I can leave my dirty glasses and dishes on the headboard for two days.
I can leave the
stereo on in the living room when I go to inventory tomorrow morning,
so that music is
playing when I come home. I can go to bed with four layers of
moisturizer on my face. I
can sleep two nights straight through, without being awakened by snoring
in bed again, following pretty much the same program as last night ...
leafing through magazines, waiting for my makeshift dinner to heat up,
doing an occasional crossword puzzle, watching TV, talking to Toot (who
is doing his Ray Charles impersonation here on the bed beside me) and
thinking about Scott. Lazy day, for the most part. I had to get up at
6:30 a.m. for inventory at Ridgway, but the actual physical count was
over by 10:30. It was even fun, actually ... lots of good-natured
kidding around and camaraderie. I spent the rest of the day watching
the rain & writing letters.
Had some nice toots, which prompted me to finish writing out my
Christmas cards, but it's gone now and I want to shower and smoke some
pot shortly, before the inevitable burn-out ensues. Thinking. Alone.
Scott is out to dinner in Seattle with an Important Customer tonight.
I'm beginning to come down with another
sore throat and cold, and I feel a little punky this evening, but I'm
in fairly good spirits overall. The Christmas season has descended in
full force ... I woke up to the first snow of the season yesterday
morning, and even though it melted almost immediately, it's cold enough
to do it again. Last Friday night was our Christmas party for Ridgway
employees, and today Pam and Max decorated the tree in the reception
area. I've finished addressing all of my cards, but I haven't even
begun my shopping yet.
in bed next to Scott, momentarily buoyed by a fine toot, feeling
satisfied with life in general. I stayed home from work today -- called
Howard at 8:30 this morning and told him that I had the "stomach flu"
(when in fact I was merely terminally hungover after a late night of
carousing with Scott and Bruce). I didn't just sit around on my duff
all day, though ... I took myself out for an omelet breakfast at
Cindy's, then braved the Bellevue crowds and did a huge chunk of my
Christmas shopping. I haven't bought anything for Scott yet, and there
remain a few odd things for other people that I need to pick up this
weekend, but I got a satisfying amount of it done today and that
birthday last weekend was low-key but pleasant. I was down with the flu
and spent most of the day in bed, but it had snowed the night before -
a lovely surprise - and Scott served me breakfast in bed and waited on
me throughout the day, so I felt properly pampered. He gave me several
new albums, a Scrabble game and a Blues Brothers poster. We went out to
dinner at my favorite restaurant, The Butcher, but made an early
evening of it and came home with a bottle of champagne by 9:30. The
next day we put up the tree and decorated the apartment.
now in the kitchen talking to Bruce, who stopped by bearing gifts.
day. Right now Ridgway's Christmas party is in full swing downstairs in
the plant; my assigned hour to watch the telephone switchboard is
4:00-5:00 this afternoon, and since I had time to kill I just hopped
into my car and came home for awhile. I spent about an hour at the
party, drinking Scotch and talking to people, but I'm not
feeling especially socially inclined today and decided I'd
rather pick up a six-pack at 7-11 and get a little lubed here at home,
before I drive back to the office for my phone shift. Across the room,
the Christmas tree is shimmering and glowing; outside, it's raining
like crazy. I feel very good right now ... a little high, a lot happy.
Playing my favorite records on the stereo, sipping a beer, feeling
feel much like writing, so this will be brief and illegible. The day
after Christmas ... always a downer of a day. Work today was hectic and
tense ... piles of paperwork, and everyone in the office was grumpier
than usual. Post-Christmas blahs, I suppose. I have the same problem so
I can't fault anyone.
gave me a tape deck for my car for Christmas, and since he's on
vacation this week, he took my car today & had it installed for
me. I'm TOTALLY thrilled with it, and it was definitely the high point
of my day. After work we went and had a drink at Presti's, went and
"visited" Chris, then came home to host a parade of people knocking on
our door ... Vince ... Rick & Scott ... now Ray, standing in
the kitchen behind me, talking to Scott.
night 7:15 p.m.
journal entry of the new decade, and it will be just as brief and
sketchy as any other. Full of thought and things that deserve mention,
but I'm too distracted to write as much as I would like ... there are a
million people coming and going out of our apartment tonight (Bruce ...
Ray and some buddy of his named Buck ... Tony - later? ... Bruce and
Robin G.?) I stand here in the kitchen in the midst of it all (Ray is
shouting obscenities over the phone), trying to ignore it, but enjoying
the activity, enjoying being surrounded by people we know. A month from
now we'll be in Portland, totally removed from anything in the way of a
friendly/familiar face. Better appreciate it while I can, huh?
I returned late this afternoon from a five-day house-hunting expedition
to Portland. We left early on Monday afternoon, the 31st, spent New
Years Eve & four consecutive nights thereafter at the Greenwood
Inn in Beaverton, and just returned an hour or so ago. (I haven't even
unpacked my suitcase yet!) We spent three days driving around with a
real estate agent, Shirley Johnson, looking at a bunch of different
houses in the Beaverton/Hillsboro area. Scott made offers on a couple
of different houses, but was turned down each time. Needless to say, we
were quite disheartened and depressed about it, but yesterday Scott
submitted an offer for a gorgeous four bedroom condominium in a complex
tomorrow - interrupted.
later, 9:13 p.m
in my life, there are many things that I feel compelled to record in my
journal right now, but not enough discipline to sit down &
commit myself to a good scribble. I've had a couple of exceptionally
effective toots and am all out of people to write letters to, so I
thought I'd try to outrun the buzz and get some things written before I
start to fade.
in the living room, deep in conversation with his friend Phil. I look
rock-bottom horrible, so I'm hibernating here in the bedroom (where
I've spent most of this weekend). Some terrible movie on TV, "The
Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders II" or something - just on for background
noise. I'm sitting on our rumpled and soggy bed with Toot, surrounded
by Sunday papers and letter-writing paraphernalia. The toot is terrific
and I'll probably be up insanely late, but I've literally been on this
bed for two days and I'm definitely not hurting for sleep.
to Oregon is now less than three weeks away, and it seems as though
everything is starting to happen at once. Although the initial panic I
felt at the beginning of this journal has been largely replaced by
acceptance, and even anticipation, I still see myself trying to make
these final "Redmond days" stand still.
almost every day this past week ... almost ten inches between Monday
and Thursday. That was really magic.
I turned in my notice at Ridgway Packaging. It was just as tough as I
knew it would be, but at least the hardest part is over with. Actually,
that's not true. Resigning was hard, but harder still will be breaking
the news to Grandma and Grandpa V. I did finally tell Dad, about a week
ago, and he's offered to be the one to tell them. Coward that I am, I
may take him up on it. Dad was surprisingly supportive and positive
about the move when I told him. I think that I underestimate my father
rate, the news is out at work. I padded the story a little and told
Howard that Scott & I are getting married. Howard is a deacon
in his Mormon church and has the kind of moral, Walter Cronkite face
that you don't talk to about adultery. But he was also more supportive
and encouraging than I would have expected. My last day at Ridgway will
be Thurs. January 31st, and then we'll move that weekend.
new home. We didn't get the deluxe (four bedroom) condo at Tanasbrook
that Scott made an offer on ... we found out he'd been turned down on
Friday, and needless to say Scott was depressed and angry, and I was
disappointed, because it was such a beautiful
place & I'd
already started making decorating plans & all that.
Dropped on our heads again. Fortunately we had a fall-back position,
and as far as I know this one is definite. It's another unit at
Tanasbrook, smaller and less expensive. It's not as architecturally
impressive as the other one, but it's still nicer than our present
apartment & I believe we'll "survive" ... !
thing comes of our taking the smaller unit:
our finances won't be so tight, so I won't have to go out and get a job
immediately. I can take a few weeks off to relax and adjust and get
prepared." Oh boy ... does that sound good
through this condo with our real estate agent once, and then also went
through the other units immediately afterwards, so my impressions of
our home-to-be are a little muddled. Orange carpeting ...
somewhat musty smell upstairs that put me off a little ... odd-shaped
bathroom upstairs ...
late - 10:13 - but I'm not too worried about it yet. I can't believe
how much I've managed to write tonight. Wish I were always this
prolific. Most of this journal was written while I was tooted
up, now that I think about it ... I'll bet that
whoever reads it in the future, if anyone, will consider me some kind
of obsessed cocaine junkie, don't you think? Hmmm. I don't think I am,
of course. Coke is my favorite drug, admittedly, and I have a good time
writing my brains out on it, but I think to believe that I control the
drug, rather than the drug controlling me. Obviously, though, I'm not
the most objective judge of the situation.
desperately like to have one last little "up," but now it's 11:05 and
Scott is out in the kitchen with Phil still ... I believe he's
forgotten I'm here. Sigh. Maybe if I crash & bang around a
little, I'll jar his memory and he'll come, bearing more drugs.
we're settled in Oregon and out of reach of our friends with drugs, I
imagine you'll see a dramatic decrease in our coke usage. Which will be
a good thing, I realize. At the same time, there are other changes I
would like to see take place ... part of the "starting-all-over-fresh"
process that Scott and I both want so much. I want to find a successful
way to lose the 30 lbs. I need to lose. I weigh a disgusting 150 lbs.
right now and I hate myself for it. I also want to expand my social
life more, and find at least one close female friend ... find
a more challenging and better-paying job ... become more
financially-oriented, opening a savings account for starters ... and
lots of other dreams.
have a feeling that the best and most exciting part of my life is right
around the corner.
Was I right?
toot -- the only
one for tonight -- prompts me to scribble a quick entry for today.
Burned out and wrung out all day long at work today, the result of too
little sleep last night. Tonight is a "recovery" night.
and feeling so awful I can hardly write ... but still I'm doing toots.
Some people never learn, right? I've been totally hungover all day
today at work - Scott and Bruce and I went out last night and got a
little crazy at Hector's, and I paid for it all day long. But with the
move to Beaverton drawing so close, I find myself more given to
throwing caution to the winds as far as partying & craziness go.
gone out to the store for cigarettes, and I'm sitting here alone
watching "Best of SNL," sipping ice water, buzzing, hoping I don't get
sick to my stomach. Hoping I'm not pregnant. I don't think I am, but I
was inadvertently erratic about my b.c. pills last month so I'm
monitoring everything very closely this month. That would be the
absolute LAST thing we'd need.
alone this evening. Just had a wonderful, half hour talk with my father
on the phone ... now sitting, bathrobed, in the living room watching
sitcoms, brushing my hair, sipping beer. Scott & Bruce are
somewhere in Lynnwood (at last check). With my characteristic
intolerance, I was shrewlike and screamed at him over the phone when he
called to "check in," and now - also characteristically - I regret my
lack of cool. I only hope he comes home tonight at all. I don't
understand why I always
overreact when he decides to go out and do something
without me. While I'm yelling and screaming over the phone at him, I
can SEE myself
doing it and I hate myself for it. It certainly doesn't do anything
positive for our
relationship. Scott resents it like hell. I don't blame him. On the one
hand, I beg
him to call
me on nights like this, just to let me know where he is ... and then
when he does call, I act so entirely infantile and childish that I
can't even believe myself.
alone and drank beer, got moderately high, talked to people on the
phone (Dad, Mom, Fran), and was completely back to normal by the time
Scott and Bruce walked in, both of them full of tequila and sloppy
are staying with us this weekend ... Patty dropped them off about half
an hour ago, and already there are toys & misc. junk
EVERYWHERE. Feeling sweaty, dirty, hungover, buzzed and twitchy. Once
again we partied with an apartment full of virtual strangers until 4
a.m. - this time with a neighbor from down the hall, Pete, his
girlfriend Lee, and two of their friends visiting from San Diego, Larry
and Randy. It was pretty fun, and a few toots right now are helping me
feel semi-human, but I'm TIRED underneath it all. We've been running,
hard, for a month or so now, practically nonstop, and it begins to
catch up with you after awhile.
sitting here on the kitchen counter with my letter-writing crap and a
glass of ice water ... wearing the only pair of jeans that fit, a
sweater of Scott's, my "rooster" ponytail hairdo and no makeup. (Tony
is on his way up.) The girls are swarming around the kitchen,
chattering nonstop. They haven't been here long enough to be
irritating, but I foresee tension a few hours or so from now ... once
the incessant screaming and hubbub become unbearable ...
the toot. Afternoon ... the sun is shining; the pond is
frozen over completely. Cool breeze from the open sliding glass door
across from me. An old "Twilight Zone" on TV - Roddy McDowall trapped
in a house. This journal is almost completed. Five months between the
first page and the last. I think that I'll go ahead and begin writing
in a new one immediately, rather than waiting until we're in Oregon ...
that way I'll be able to chronicle The Big Move, and the settling-in
journal saw me grow a little in at least one
way ... I came to accept the move to Oregon as a fact, and even began
to anticipate it.
I put on far too much weight, and I feel AWFUL about the way I look.
None of my clothes fit anymore, and I'm so bloated that Grandma V.
actually asked me if I was pregnant. I eat compulsively, without even
paying attention to myself. And I drink beer. The combination of the
two have made me heavier than I've ever been in my life, and I
desperately want to do something about it before I lose all
self-esteem. Hopefully that will be one of the changes that Oregon will
prompt in me.
little queasy. Too much toot on top of a hangover ain't the world's
most intelligent combination.
Vangelis (my new favorite song)
has taken Brittany and gone out grocery shopping, leaving Mindy and I
alone. Supposedly Ray is on his way over with more toot for Scott, and
until he gets here I can only sit and quiver and crave. Junkie.
gone again ... he and Bruce are driving down to Kent to make an
appearance at Al Greenstone's bachelor party, and that leaves me here
alone with Brittany & Mindy ... babysitting! My
nerves are fragile and frazzled. He left me what he called "almost two
whole g's," which I am slowly working my way through, but I suspect
that it's been heavily stepped on (for placebo purposes?!)
I'm writing two letters, working on a paperwork project and
finishing this journal, all at once. (I just switch off to something
different every couple of minutes or so ... my attention span is
somewhat limited.) The girls just took a bath and got into pajamas, and
hopefully will begin to wind down here shortly.
me, I'm incredibly buzzed ... which is perhaps a "highly" appropriate
way to close this journal.
LAST OF THE REDMOND DAYS ARE ...
a million questions at Ridgway about the move ... writing to Randy in a
Reno jail four or five times a week ... weighing 150 disgusting pounds,
and not having anything to wear that fits anymore ... meeting Leslie
Wilson at The Somewhere Else ... snow, for four days, and Bruce staying
at our place ... a new tape deck in the Chevette ... "Paradise By The
Dashboard Light" ... peyote buds ... the new "Star Trek" movie ...
I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO:
marriage proposal, my wedding, and a happy marriage to someone who
knows me inside and out.
kids ... a son, a daughter?
first house jointly with the man I love.
my hair all the way to my waist, losing a bunch of weight and looking
terrific at my 10 year high school reunion ... and my 25th!
my first poem, and then my first novel.
all the places in Europe that I've always read about.
SONGS DURING THIS JOURNAL:
Peter" - Flash In The Pan
Seat" - Sniff 'N The Tears
"Rolene" - Moon Martin
"Bootleg Woman" - Moon Martin
"Lovin, Touchin, Squeezin" - Journey
"The Shape Of Things To Come" - The Head Boys
"Cool Change" - Little River Band
"You're Only Lonely" - J.D. Souther
"Tusk" - Fleetwood Mac
"Storms" - Fleetwood Mac
"Refugee" - Tom Petty & The "Heartbreaker" - Pat Benatar
"No You Don't" - Pat Benatar
"It's All I Can Do" - The Cars
"Jane" - Jefferson Starship
"Confusion" - ELO
"Roxanne" - The Police
"Alpha" - Vangelis
to throw a rock?