Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Journal: still December 1986

Here is my last 1986 entry. It is just before I went to college or University as they say here in Europa. I know I have returned to these notes before, rereading them to get a sense of where to go next without losing direction of where I had wanted to go. I guess that is what I am doing now, but the difference is I do it with you. Signature...

August begins
with a cool breeze
rustling Magdeburg leaves. 
Scattered heatwaves
heals a few beating
days but now
back in to the stir,
the future unknown,
braving it alone
ironically with you

//19-December-1986, 7:08
A long delay, I know but things have been hectic. I did go to the winter dance in a nice suit Lil borrowed from Kenny. Baggy pants, black tie, baggy white shirt, and a black coat. I look pretty nice. Karen had on white lace dress, not a long dress. Everything went smoothly until after dinner and we went to the dance I remembered that I had forgotten the tickets. I felt pretty stupid, dumb, lame,...etc. I hope she didn't mind. You know I try not to let other people's ideas of me make do what they want but I'm very self-conscience. I notice what people say about me. Anyway we dance took picture, not in that order. Then afterward we were going to go down to Westwood in Tessie's limo but no headlights, too much hassle, so I stay at Karen's and talked to about 12:30 then went home. That's when the trouble came. I thought I was so smart to park in the garage. But the only parking place in the garage was to the right, and I had never parked there before. Turning in, I scatch the right side of the car. this is too painful, ha, ha, sob... I'll just continue after I get back from my job, that's right I got a job.

Hmmm. And then there is no more entries until 1989. I don't comment on how I cried (the few times I remember crying when young) after my Dad saw the scratch/dent in the door. I already felt horrible and guilty and when he started yelling in anger, I cried... in Ba Ngoi's room. Probably he felt bad afterwards. I am him now, and would have also immediately felt sorry for losing my temper and yelling a my son for something that all teenagers do, making mistakes.

There is no remarks about working a Discount Desk, my first job. Sylvia (not even sure if I'm spelling her name right) worked there too, the girl I went to the prom with. No notes about the actual prom. I got drunk and Sylvia had to take me home, and I slept on her Mom's couch. No notes on studying for the SATs or my friends, playing tennis on the team, driving my old, second hand car around. Driving down Venture Blvd with Tommy and Thuan looking for Turkish coffee. Getting ready for UCLA. Living my first quarter in Dykstra Hall. Rushing the fraternity. Nothing. It is fading in my memories. I don't live those glory days. I don't know anything about anyone from those days. It all seems soooo distance now. Figuratively and literally, half a world away.

Enough for today. Perhaps tomorrow we go to 1989. Today, I try to catch that plastic bag hovering in updraft, suspended in space-time.

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