My Life (Vol.1 Of 41)

Fifth Edition

Volume 1: January 2-February 15 1996

Monday, January 2 1996

It's freezing cold outside, and snowing. This is not great weather for doing anything today, so I'm kind of hibernating. At this moment mom should be home soon. I will eat dinner and then walk over to Loomis. I know that there is a snowstorm, but I want to check if the computer room is open. I will be too bored here. Already I've watched The Big Chill and The Naked Gun, and I have The Color Purple left to watch. My new date for my driving test is January 9 at 7:30 P.M.

Tuesday, January 3 1996

The Color Purple (starring Whoopi Goldberg) was a moving and emotional movie, and I cried a lot at the end, when the two longtime friends were finally reunited. It might not have been too smart to run a half hour today in a snowstorm though I did, and that says something about my endurance and persistence. Liz and dad's day were canceled due to the snowstorm. It's flurrying out.

For breakfast I had eggs, toast, bacon, and two glasses of orange juice, and for lunch I ate two delicious bowls of Honey Nut Cheerios and a bowl of greasy minestrone soup. I might take a couple pictures today of the harsh, wintry landscape in my backyard, and I only have a couple of pictures left on my roll of film.

I am wearing a very good-looking, comfortable, cool-smelling sweater that I got recently. It's warm in my room, but all I see outside my window are bare trees and a hilly landscape covered entirely in powdery snow. We have a forest in our backyard with about one hundred bare, skinny brown trees. I wonder if the bare trees are elms? What are the trees called that have white bark? I remember in my childhood being able to peel this bark off to reveal a sticky substance below. Are the trees with the white bark called birch trees or beech trees? I don't remember. I have only written in my journal for twenty minutes!

Wednesday, January 4 1996

I ran today for an hour, and I was so exhausted by the end of the run though this is only natural. My mom just called, but I have no idea what we talked about. She said that she will talk to me when I get home or something like that. At Loomis dad is at rifelry practice, and Liz has her first day back. I am home and am writing on my computer after watching Cyrano de Bergerac, which is a great French film with English subtitles.
I am hungry because I only had a bowl of cereal for lunch; otherwise, I am pretty much the same psychologically as yesterday, except for the fact that I felt more relaxed and mellow from my long run. I just did a compulsive move. I reached for my runner's log on my bureau, but mistook it for my dream notebook. So, I put the small notebook back and just got my training log- no harm done. Anyway, it is not snowing outside, actually, and it is sunny. People are out blowing snow from the sidewalks with their snowblowers. I just finished putting an entry in my runner's log.
My body is doing well reacting to the added strain. I could run even farther though its awkward running over the powdery snow, which is about an inch thick on the sidewalks and roads when I'm lucky. Also, the snow on the road is slippery because of all the car tires going over and packing it. I hope to practice driving tonight, and my driving test is in five days; I have to pass it this time.
I also got some movies: I Am the Cheese, Mean Streets (directed by Martin Scorsese), and Cyrano de Bergerac. I remember joyously the year of the sixth grade when I was twelve years old at Clover Street School. One should be able to discover this fact from the many vital journal entry parts and fond memories that I have of that great year. Memories abound of the sixth grade probably because I had so much fun! I am currently suffering from intense boredom. Not that it is not fun talking to you, computer, but I am just getting a little tired.
I think that I have already fought my war with the panic attack that I had, and I think that I no longer have any hate left in me. The panic attack had taken so much from me as though a part of me had died. Everyone has to be reborn, and everything heals with time. Good night.

Thursday, January 5 1996

It was cold tonight. I must read a book now before it gets late.

Saturday, January 7 1996

Storm Ginger hit Connecticut about four hours ago at three o' clock, and the total snow accumulation of this storm will be about one to two feet tomorrow. The storm season this winter has been incredible! Snowstorms keep coming and cover our state with a lot of snow. When you least expect it, another storm hits with a windchill of twenty below zero and steady snow.
Wait a few minutes while I do twenty-five pushups and sit ups. Cool. Whew!
I am listening to a Wynton Marsalis CD called "Carnival," which is the best instrumental CD that I own. I have been thinking of writing back to Ratna because I got a Christmas card from her, and I am so happy that she is in school in America at Dana Hall School in Wellesley, Massachusetts. I will write her back.

Sunday, January 8 1996

I finished dinner about ten minutes ago. What's up? I just did twenty-five sit ups and twenty-five pushups. There is not much to say. I did nothing today because of the blizzard, and it's still snowing lightly out now. It's freezing out. Last night I practiced my trumpet and played through Haydn's Trumpet Concerto twice until I was tired. Otherwise, everything is fine. My driving test is canceled tomorrow. Something just isn't satisfying me while I'm here at home. It is always good to psychologically rest at home, but I yearn for some action.
I love Connecticut, which is the best state in the United States. Each of the turning seasons is equally beautiful and aesthetic. Windsor is a good town to live in and possesses much tradition and esteem. Windsor has The Plaza movie theater and Baskin-Robbins. By the way, Liz makes the best ice cream sundaes that I ever had. She puts hot strawberries, hot chocolate sauce, and Breyer's vanilla ice cream in them, and they taste so perfect. My ambitions are coming back to me as some positive enthusiasm, and I think that that is a good sign.

Monday, January 9 1996

I got some driving practice in the snow today. I had a great dinner tonight- chili! Tonight I got along with dad well as we drove to the post office to mail my envelopes and then went around Loomis. Since I'm so isolated from civilization in this winter weather without a stupid driver's license, I think that it can be a good thing for me that he has a tendency to bring me more down to earth sometimes. I just finished a movie called Demolition Man, which stars Wesley Snipes and Sylvester Stallone and which looks like a cheesy movie on the surface though it's really great. It's about a cop and a criminal who are frozen in cryogenics before coming to life in the year 2039 as rivals.
Sylvester Stallone plays the character of John Spartan, or the Demolition Man. I am bored. I maybe watch a ten o' clock movie on TBS, but I doubt it since it has started ten minutes ago (I like to see movie from beginning to end). My sister is finishing her homework. Even though I am still melancholy, I feel that my spirits are consistently being uplifted by some benign yet mysterious force of nature.
I am growing, and I am having great dreams. I seem to be confronting my enemy. It is too soon to tell exactly how I am doing because often there is a calm before the storm; however, I think my major storm may already have passed me over. Mom came in and said, "You know where to get the best pictures developed? Mystic Color Lab." She drops off the yellow package on my mouse pad. Tonight during Demolition Man, I ate another bowl of chili, a glass of golden eggnog, and hot humus on eight imitation Ritz crackers.

Tuesday, January 10 1996

For some reason I thought I had written today. My dad and I went to Essex, Connecticut. I drove around the town, and we went down to the docks. We talked about college and what I would do this spring. My next driving test may be January 30, which is three weeks away. Last night before I slept or died, I had a premonition that I would die or that some terrible transformation would overcome me, and I thought about how many people have a very good sense of their own death.
I felt a feeling of my own mortality, I guess, though I do running, but tomorrow I will definitely run. I replaced the Canon Bubble Jet ribbon (which was out of ink) for my sister, and I replaced it with dad's Macintosh StyleWriter II cartridge- the two are interchangeable because both printers are almost identical. Now her paper came out fine. I am sorry that I am short with words tonight, but I guess that my well has run dry. So, I hope for a full well of words tomorrow.

Wednesday, January 11 1996

I had a good run today: tempo runs for an hour. I returned the movie Nadine to the library.

Thursday, January 12 1996

It is really snowing now; I can't believe it. Mom called to see how I was doing, and my saying that I am doing pretty well is, I think, a good indication of how I am doing. I would rather be running, but it is snowing outside and is freezing. Last night I drove with mom to McCrory's and CVS in Windsor Locks. Looking outside my window, I see my tree stands alone in an open yard of snow. For some reason, this tree is different than the others. I wake up from biting pain at night, and I see this strange tree outside my window all the time. It is the figure against which my pain stands.
The forest forms a circle around the house and the tree, and we re in the middle of the circle as if situated in a sacred enclosure. In back of our backyard are the train tracks. For lunch I had panini tuna-fish sandwiches and a huge glass of water, and for breakfast I ate a bowl of some Special K, which I love.
Last night dinner was awesome, and Mom made cranberry sauce, broccoli with cheese, roasted chicken, corn, potato salad, and hot baked beans. How can one get used to this weather? Mom and dad should be coming home early because the storm is severe. It's still snowing, and it is already 3:49 P.M.! I remember beginning to write at 12:00 P.M., and it is about time for dinner. Time flies so fast, and I don't know that it does so.

Friday, January 13 1996

What's up? I am a little tired today though I ran. All seems well, and I feel that in time I will heal now. I know that it will be difficult, but I think that it will happen. I just want to get stronger. Maybe this is what everyone wishes, but I will develop into a golden boy someday. Do you think My Life is a cheesy title for an autobiography? Perhaps it is because I already ran into the title twice. Oh well, it was original when I thought of it.
Running today, I was slipping, lurching, diving, and crawling on snowbanks and roads during my long run. Tomorrow, I hope to run for about a half hour. Hopefully, some of the slush will have melted. Anyway, I guess that I do not have anything planned for tonight but just sit in the house and do nothing.
Only when I commit myself and push myself, can I truly achieve anything worthwhile in me. For example, the first forty-five minutes of my run today were very lazy and slow. At around forty-five minutes into the run, my legs got lighter, and my psyche improved to a higher level. Running became easier. Not only did I surpass my expectations, I had created an entirely new, stronger me. I sense I have great internal resources, and I need to tap into my resources more to commit myself to a cause.
"Living in the moment" is very important to everyone's strength and vigor. Without ideas life would be purposeless, and the goal and dilemma of humanity is to find a use for this consciousness and conscientousness that we all have. After all, what would we be if nobody cared? I feel lucky because I have a beautiful Muse, who sings through me and who gives me such interesting dreams and thoughts to get through life well. Like a Montague and a Capulet, I share a passion.

Saturday, January 14 1996

I did not feel well last night and into this morning. My neck aches from strain, and I have a headache. Maybe the hard running yesterday brought these ailments on. Anyway, I may run a short ways today though I am not sure of how these ailments will turn out. I want to get psyched up now because I have been reading for most of the day. Actually, the pumping low bass from the subwoofer causes my head to pound with the beat.
Sickness is a blessing for me because it manifests into mellowness. The sun is out today, and it is warm. The snow is melting. The air is fresh and sweet, and it smells of life. What a great day. A perfect day to run if only I was not sick. When spring comes, I will be able to play tennis and to run at Loomis and elsewhere. Most of all, I need a vacation in a warm place, where I will just soak in the sun, and right now I am listening to The Best of Mozart CD.
I ran twenty-three minutes in mild weather down Cone Street, Oxford Street, and Beacon Street to Elizabeth Park. It stinks that my neck hurts. It is funny that it is already dark out since it seemed light out not too long ago. At least I eat dinner soon, and I could eat a horse. I had a poor breakfast and lunch though I did have some good egg-salad sandwiches.
I briefly watched the Colts/Steelers game; I love football. I am looking expressionless at my eyes in the full-length mirror again. I am looking for a distinct facial expression or a gleam in my eyes, and I see a ghost, a shadow of my former self, just staring at nothing in particular and looking at me in the mirror. I brought my Blizzard skis up from downstairs because mom told me to a couple days ago. The cool skis, which turn well, are lying against my left wall.
I suppose that I could use some well-cooked meal, and I definitely could use something hot and wholesome, like mashed potatoes and chicken. Sorry if my prose lacks eloquence today, and I'll try harder later. Dinner may be ready and waiting as I speak (I should say write). I wonder when dinner will be edible, but it's not ready yet. It smells like mashed potato or chicken. Don't I sound like a child? When will it be ready? Oh, smells like... Shoot, it is not ready yet.
Looking to the future, I see myself calling a temp. It is really not that I am psychologically sick but that I am physically sick. I am also tired. Of course, my physical sickness does cause a psychological tiring in me. Tonight is movie night, a nice relaxing night in front of the TV watching a good movie. Ideally, I will find a good movie in the TV Guide. I am sitting down and reading it. Escaped Liz's rope-jumping capades and am in my room. I just finished my dinner, including chicken with red peppers on top and a persimmon.
We talked about getting a golden retriever. I should let you know that I have made a pledge to make the dinner table more conducive to conversation for the sake of Elizabeth. I do not think that we all talk enough, so I am going to make myself talk more. For Liz's sake, I think that she might open up if I talk more.
It is not much for me to do, but it is the least we can do for our family and for Elizabeth especially. Maybe some tough love and loquaciousness will help us all. Who knows? I think that I can make a difference with a commitment to talk to Liz during dinner. Shoot, I just remembered that she is never home for dinner on weekdays. I can make the commitment for the weekends.

Sunday, January 15 1996

I called some employment agencies today and have a scheduled interview at 3:30 P.M. in Windsor this Wednesday. I might run today. My birthday is on this Friday, January 19, and I was born in 1977. I am beginning to feel better... Hah. Well, time to run.

Monday, January 16 1996

I dropped at the library off a book, and I have read about 400 pages from it, and I did not find a book about journals there to take out. On the computer I only noticed a few old diaries from famous people. The sky is beautiful- a mix of blue sky and riptide people. The sky is beautiful- a mix of blue sky and riptide clouds. The sun is out and is melting the wet snow, which is still about two feet deep. The air is warm and crisp to walk through. I haven't seen any birds flying yet though I guess it is too early for that. Of course, it is too early for the birds to fly North. Wishful thinking, to think that spring is fast approaching.
When I think of spring, I think of tennis season, warm weather, running long distances, and vacations in Cape Cod or Florida. This Mozart CD reminds me of the movie Amadeus, which is about Mozart and his nemesis, Sirolini, who is much less talented and who is also jealous of the talent of Mozart. I learned from my last reading book that Mozart made tens of variations of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."
I did not even know that he made that. Sirolini saw Mozart as a gift because Mozart was gifted and perfect at composing and playing music. Time for twenty-five pushups and twenty-five situps! As I sit back on my wooden chair, I am finished. I relax in my chair wearing Gap jeans and a long-sleeved polo. Phew, that was good. The sticks that go up from the ground, which are tilting to the right against each other, look like a patch of hair on a leg of snow. I do not know what you would call the trees if the snow represents your skin. Unless you were wearing a dog collar with spikes.
What if you wore a crown laurel of pine?
There are two tall pine trees in our backyard. The other trees are like small shadows of the pines. Of course, the sky dwarfs them all. Liz thinks that we will discover new life on distant planets. I agree with Liz, but I do not think that humans will find such wonderful life in the near future at least. I am feeling better today, and so is dad. Mom is at work. Letters mean nothing until they form words, just as music is nothing without individual notes. Sorry that was random.
I'm listening to a song I like called "Dies Bildnis ist bezaubernd schon," Tamino's aria from The Magic Flute. Josef Protschka, a tenor, sings the solo. Just kidding, I don't like that song. I ate split pea soup and V8 for lunch and Life cereal for breakfast; these meals weren't very nutritious, but I am hoping for a very nutritious dinner. I just returned from the library.
I am ready for a great dinner and for getting a book on journal writing tonight. I think that I can improve this journal if I had a book, which are in stock at Barnes and Noble bookstores, about journal writing. Time went by painfully slowly today. Basically, I have done nothing but go to the library. Where would I be without books or music- I would go crazy without them.

Tuesday, January 17 1996

Nothing will ever be the same. At the interview I felt nervous, and the nervousness grew over time. I was interviewed by a very nice person, and I waited for twenty minutes before the interview started. I also had to fill out forms when I came in. I am going to Ski Sundown in a half hour, so I do not have time to write much more. The interview was worth it even though the lady asked me if I was nervous. I am looking forward to skiing.

Wednesday, January 18 1996

A busy day of living; I had a great time skiing even though I did not get to snowboard! When I woke up this morning, my mind was clear, I felt heavy, and I felt some anxiety. To recapitulate the events of yesterday: read At An Intensive Journal Workshop until 3:20 P.M., interview at Snelling Temporary Agency, and I ski till 9:00 P.M.
So, obviously my day was really great. What was the most important thing about the whole day yesterday was that I built up my self-confidence. I no longer feel as alone in the world. After each run down Nor'easter intermediate trail, which would be a green trail in Vermont, I had built up more confidence and skill skiing down the slope.
At Ski Sundown in Avon I felt two people staring at me, a mean look by an attractive cashier, and a feeling of being lost and alone in the crowd of people in the eating area; however, on the slopes I felt comfortable and become exhilarated, and I did not even feel that self-consciously. The snow on Sundown last night was a little icy, and I fell down once.
My birthday is tomorrow. Although I will be nineteen, I do not think of me as being that old; I am happy that my birthday is tomorrow, and maybe I will ask for the whole family to take a vacation, which is what we really all need. I asked for a printer for my Power Mac 6100, and I really will need a printer for printing out this journal. Anyway, I feel well now.
I am sitting here typing, and it gives me a good feeling to be able to put my feelings about yesterday into this journal, as now I will be able to remember the moments of yesterday forever. What a wild wild world. I am so hungry, and I also might catch up on some sleep. It's good to have. Two days ago I bought a book called At An Intensive Journal Workshop at Barnes and Noble bookstore in West Hartford, and I drove to and from there. Yesterday I worked on the journal techniques that I saved another file called "Intensive Journal."

Period Image 1/17/96

Stirrings in my body; my stomach becomes acidic; and my head feels an uncomfortable pain. Images of the ambulance and of me on the hospital bed are remembered. The terrible thoughts that I might die. The sound of the ambulance workers taking tests on me and telling me that they "would not let me die today." The thoughts that they might have to use the resuscitation to revive me if my heart stopped beating.

Twilight Imagery Log:

I am now drinking Espresso coffee, which tastes OK, and at dinner I ate salad, rice, and a veggie burger. I am a little tired from eating dinner at our quiet table and from lack of sleep. Tonight I may watch Blade Runner and read At a Journal Workshop. I have not decided what to do yet, but I want tonight to be relaxing for me.

Thursday, January 19 1996

Mom and I may go this morning to pick up a printer, my birthday present. It rained this morning, and it's warm out. Trees and flowers will bloom, and soon spring will be upon us. I cannot believe that it's my birthday today, and I am starting to get really psyched about it. I remember a birthday when I was a child and went to see 2001: A Space Odyssey at The Plaza Theater.
What a great day it is today. A shorter entry can be better than a long one. Yesterday I watched Blade Runner, starring Harrison Ford; Awakenings, starring Robin Williams; and Misery, starring Kathy Bates. What a starry night it was last night. I seem to be digressing now, so I am sorry about diverting from the subject.
I think that I will write more of this entry, though. I still am a little confused about what I want this journal to be. I mean, it is a compilation of life experience, but I also want some literary technique used in it. Can I come up with a balance between purely subjective feelings and objective facts and literary techniques. If I can, that would be ideal.
Well, my birthday dinner has ended. For dessert I ate my ice-cream cake on which were the words "Happy Birthday, Jonathan." I drove to Office Max in Enfield with my mom, and we bought my birthday presents. Mom bought me an Apple Style Writer 1200 printer, the latest ink-jet model in the Apple line. With the printer, I finished printing my autobiography.
Mom is home, and she made me some peppermint tea. I have had some reading block lately, and I will try to get rid of it by reading a book tonight. While I was practicing driving tonight, mom and I noticed a huge incandescent light fill part of the sky momentarily, and we both did not know what it was. The light was magnificent, and then I suggested that it was a UFO, but we could not explain what caused it.

Saturday, January 21 1996

I had a good day of skiing. My choice of trails on the mountain was varied: I went down easy, intermediate, and expert trails. I began with the easy trails, and, as I improved, I went down Temptor (a black diamond trail). Today there is nothing to do. I woke up at about 10:00 A.M., which is about the latest time that I have woken up the past several months, and I was in a heavy state between dreaming and waking for about ten minutes.
It was hard to get up. Last night, I skied until about 11 P.M., when the lift closed. My turns have improved a lot, and I am skiing almost parallel now. I just had breakfast- oatmeal with dates and brown sugar and a grapefruit. We may all go to the Westfarms Mall today, a day which is stark and cold.

Sunday, January 22 1996

Greetings. I have returned from the ski slopes at Avon. I skied a few expert runs, but I basically skied the intermediate trails tonight. I bought a hamburger in the lounge area, and I left Sundown at about 10:30 P.M. I had a good time, and now I am tired out because it is so late 11:38 P.M. Skiing was great tonight, and I did not pay for a ticket. Skiing for free is a good deal, and I hope that tomorrow night I will get another chance to save money. Hasta manana amigos.

Monday, January 24 1996

I have been thinking of memories spurred on by reading the book by Marcel Proust. I thought of the sunny, hot summer days in which I stayed in my room for a cool shelter and a shadowy abode from the summer heat. Also, I just remembered how I enjoyed reading in elementary school, and how I liked the book with the horses on the front cover.
I remember the book covers that I made either from a brown Geissler's bag or from the ready made book covers with different designs. I can identify with the young man who reads by himself and finds pleasure in the mental state the books' adventures bring. All of the feelings that are so familiar to me that I get from reading Remembrance of Things Past are difficult to put into words that others can also identify with. Proust does spectacularly, and in doing so has helped me to remember familiar memories from my past that made my mind tingle at the thought of them. I had to take a minute to say that the barriers separating me from my childhood memories has been opening and letting in a flow of good memories.
It is a rainy day. I have a book that I love to read now in Remembrance of Things Past. I have been reading the entire day and am now very hungry because I have not eaten a very good meal. I hope that the fifty pushups has kept me in decent physical shape, and the reading has indeed sharpened my mental capacity. Soon, I hope to run for ten or fifteen minutes.
I feel well today, if not a little tired from the dreary day. The movies The Fugitive and Howard's End are both good movies that I would give up two thumbs up to; however, The Fugitive is an action movie, and Howard's End is a drama. I like The Fugitive, starring Harrison Ford, much less than Howard's End, starring Anthony Hopkins.
Even though Howard's End was nominated for eight Academy Awards, The Fugitive has a better impact for giving you an adrenaline rush. I have been thinking lately about my past, and it seems that, bit by bit, my past is reemerging. These sweet bursts of images, feelings, and memories of my life come to me when I am engrossed and concentrating on reading a book, and they also do come when I am idle.
Obviously, I am happy when they come to me and it feels like a great thing. Only this great thing comes from within me (perhaps it comes from my unconscious) to surface and congeal in my conscious. For example, I mention memories that reading Remembrance of Things Past caused me to think of. I love the rich prose of Proust, for it is so alike my own thought in some fashion.
There is a special feeling when I read, a feeling of being within oneself and of a sacred boundary that softens, distances, and protects one from the harshness of reality. It is not a happy or a giddy feeling, but is one of mellowness that is like listening to a Beethoven symphony. One feels the interconnectedness of the notes, and the symphony that the notes form. One must exert a conscious effort to understand the flow of the notes; it is the same with moments, words, and meanings in life itself.
The energy that one acquires from books is useful for reading and for life itself, and the memories brought up from the well of your unconscious will bring about a familiarity with oneself that one did not think that one had. One can uncover one's experience through someone else's use of words like with Marcel Proust (although I write well, also), but I hope that I am not writing to produce escapism in my life.
Personally, I think there is no "harm" in escaping reality with books or writing. However, if one does use reading and writing as escapism, then what one reads or writes will not have very much value to one. One has to put love and effort into understanding things, but while escaping one is only writing or reading to "hear yourself talk."
This is a trap which I think young people often fall into: reading or writing for the wrong reason. One must read or write in order to understand the inner and outer realities more fully. The energy that one acquires from books is useful for reading and for life itself, and the memories brought up from the will of your unconscious will bring about a familiarity with oneself that one did not think that one had. This familiarity is like being is released from your id with identification. Perhaps I am an idealistic teenager, and I say that reading is good for you.
The energy that one acquires from books is useful for reading and for life itself, and the memories brought up from the will of your unconscious will bring about a familiarity with oneself that one did not think that one had. This familiarity is like being acquainted with an old friend, and consequently, an energy is released from your id with this identification. Perhaps I am an idealistic teenager, and I say that reading is good for you.
In Remembrance of Things Past, the young man, through his remembrances, is becoming familiar to me, is helping me to become more familiar with myself through a release of energy that brings up my memories. Anyway, dinner is waiting, and I am starving to death. After dinner, I will probably read more of Proust's book and then go to sleep.

Wednesday, January 25 1996

Good afternoon. I am still reading Remembrance of Things Past and am doing 55 pushups and 50 situps per day. I am listening to Beethoven's Ninth Symphony on my Power Mac CD player. I really do not have that many classical CDs. I wanted to mention that I hope to run for over ten minutes in a couple of hours.
I am constantly reading the mammoth Remembrance of Things Past by Marcel Proust, containing two volumes that are a thousand pages for each volume (in small print) and that will take forever to read through. For the rest of the day, of which I have about nine and one half hours left, I hope to read Marcel Proust's book and to run for over ten minutes. Meanwhile, I am writing in my journal.
Last night at Service Merchandise in Enfield, I bought a 10-pound barbell, a Betty Boop mousepad, and two frames that did not fit for my situation. I drove both ways, the driving test is five days away. A synopsis of the book that I am reading: the young man recalls his childhood in waiting patiently for his mother to come upstairs to give him a goodnight kiss after dinner, then his hometown of Combray, his great-aunt on her deathbed (and the maid Francoise (she is jealous of Eulalie).

Tuesday, February 6 1996

I had Frosted Mini-Wheats again this morning for breakfast, and for lunch I ate a cream cheese and jelly sandwich. I am going downstairs to get me something to eat, like a cup of orange juice or an apple. I have got an apple and a glass full of water with ice. Wall Street is a great movie; I saw it last night till 1 A.M., and I woke up half-consciously on the blue comforter that was pulled near my head. I pulled up over my head the comforter because the sun came up, and its stinging rays hurt my sensitive eyes. I finished my water and apple, and they were both great. Oh man, I am beat from doing nothing, I guess. I want to ski today.
I shot some hoops outside on our driveway. I am wearing my faded blue jeans and a sweatshirt; they both feel comfortable. I have the motivation to do self-exploratory things. Most of these things are running errands, and they are car-related.
In any case, I am seeing more of the world than I have in any of the years in my past. This year I am seeing how people talk to each other and how they react to different situations. I am a human being, and reading tons books might just be keeping me sane.

Wednesday, February 7 1996

I think I will read now.

Thursday, February 8 1996

Humans breathe air, and fish have gills that allow them to live in their water environment. I find these facts fascinating. Two very astute observations to keep in mind throughout life: humans breathe air and listen to every word carefully.

Friday, February 9 1996

I will read and maybe get a movie at the library. I am listening to Beethoven's Third Symphony right now. I have been reading much of Remembrance of Things Past, and I am now on about Page 700. The young man is on a train to Balbec at the moment.
Since the weather is so warm and sunny, I will run around the block. I am healthy this morning but am a little anxious and lethargic. I hope that a nice run to see the nature will help me to "wake up" and "smell the coffee." I am wearing cool blue running pants, a Kaiser-Permanente 5K Classic tee with a white turtleneck underneath, and Saucony 6000 running shoes. I'll be back in about twenty minutes. First, I have to shut off the CD player that's playing Beethoven's Third Symphony... I returned from my run.
I am feeling a little queasy and nauseous from yesterday. I will see what to do later. My thoughts fly from one thing to another. I guess almost each second I have a different anxious or normal thought. My stomach is acidic and is in a little pain. I think that my run triggered some anxiety in me, and I expressed the anxiety by writing down whatever I thought without censoring much. Also, I am not feeling very well.
Mom got me some wonderful dinner at Boston Market. I wonder when Liz will call me about picking her up at school? I am listening to Beethoven's Third Symphony. I will probably read alone on this Friday night since I am not feeling well; there is not much else to do. (Will be continued).

Friday, February 9 1996

I do feel much better this afternoon. In Remembrance of Things Past, the young man has reached Balbec, but his expectations fall short of what he sees there. (Will be continued).

Sunday, February 11 1996

If my day was any better, it would be a sin. Anyway, we went to visit Mamaw and Popee and just hung out. Mamaw is doing well, I think. Popee is also looking well, and we played a few fun and good games of ping-pong. He played well, and I have admired him greatly for how great a person he is. Popee said that I looked "natural" in The Masters School picture that I brought over for them to see. I enjoyed my time there; if it was any better it would be a sin. I am listening to my Wynton Marsalis CD, and I plan on resting tonight by reading and watching a TV movie. Anyway, I accomplished a good twenty-minute run today.
I felt great running, and I will do pushups and sit ups to keep myself in shape. In the meantime, I am enjoying my short runs. I am going to go downstairs to read- I just wanted to let you know before I fall asleep.

Monday, February 12 1996

What's up? How are you doing? I was reading Remembrance of Things Past this morning in which the young man has some new friends, consisting both of the nobility and the "ill-bred" of the middle class. So far, I am enjoying the relationship that he has been building with a young man of the nobility, who wears a white coat and a monocle and who walks erect. It's a clear day today, and I might run for a bit. I mailed a Mystic Photograph package with the film, which will probably take a few days to develop and which has pictures that I took at night of trees, stars, and the moon. Since I am getting very bored with myself, I might go over to the library to look at some books and to maybe pick out a movie if I see one waiting for me. Bye.

Tuesday, February 13 1996

I saw an awesome movie today and yesterday. Yesterday I drove to Blockbuster Video and took out Nine Months, starring Hugh Grant, and I watched it twice. Remembrance of Things Past is keeping up a good pace of action. The young man has his attention caught by some girls, who passed him by, and he wants to find out about the one who winked at him on her bicycle. Someone tells him that she is Mlle. Simonet, and he is determined to meet her with Saint-Loup's help. The world of the three girls is an unknown mystery to the young man, and he wants to find out more about them than just the sidelong glance of Mlle. Simonet.
I am actually finished with this huge book, for I am on Page 869. There are two other volumes containing just as many paper as this one, so I will be busy reading in the coming months. I better return them to the library tomorrow, though, when they are due. Tomorrow I will read and go to the Enfield Mall with mom.
I think that I am regaining or gaining psychological strength by the way that I feel. While reading Remembrance of Things Past, I noticed a passage that I liked the idea of. Actually, I am off to practice my trumpet. I feel like a pretty sweet guy tonight. I am just in that mood, I guess. With dad I think that I will appreciate him more when I am off at college. Mom is a great soul, and I am so positive of her goodness that if there was a goodness meter made, it would be that she come out tops on the scale of goodness. I wish to depart by saying that if I was any better, it would be a crime.

Wednesday, February 14 1996

It's already 4:06 P.M. The day has flown by pretty fast for me, and I think that I looked around enough not to miss it. I have been reading Remembrance of Things Past, and now the young man is in the studio of the painter Elstir, and he has been admiring Elstir's paintings of beautiful women and of the nearby sea. Mlle. Simonet comes by on her bike at the last moment and greets her friend, Elstir, and she goes off before the young man gets a chance to greet her. He wishes that he had had a chance to meet her; now he has a connection to her.
I should return that book today. Both volumes of Remembrance of Things Past are one day late, and I will call to make sure they are renewed. I am totally over the sickness that has plagued me for the last few days. I am listening to the Carmina Burana CD, which I really enjoy. Mom is back! How is she doing? I'll go ask. Her shoes were kind of slippery.

Thursday, February 15 1996

I am finishing the rest of the first volume of Remembrance of Things Past, which means that I am not over Page one thousand. The young man has fallen in love with Albertine, but when he tries to talk to her, she resists, telling him to stop. Now he is trying to shift his passion to another member of the "little band," such as Andree or Rosamond; this is easier said than done because of the closeness of the band. The young man always hangs out with girls on the beach. Before he was contemplating what it would be like to know the girls, and now that he knows them he is currently thinking about which of them attracts him most.
He is in the process of deciding which girl he wants as a romantic partner; meanwhile, he does not know if one of them will accept him as a lover, so he must feel some hesitation. I think that he will find one of them, and he sure is doing a good job of trying to secure a hand in romance. The storyline is great. I do not mean to speculate, but I think that the next volume will begin at Balbec, where this volume left off, with him searching for a love in his ripe teenage years.
I do not think that he will return to Combray because he wants to start a new life and love away from his childhood sorrows of being away from his mother and because of memories of Gilberte. He needs the separation from them, but I will update you on the happenings in the book later. I renewed both volumes yesterday, when I called the library to renew. It is definitely a beautiful day.

Friday, July 26 1996

My writing is a good reflection of myself at any given time. Today, I went to Deerfield and Amherst, Massachusetts with dad. I just finished practicing my trumpet for about fifteen minutes. It's too hot to run, but I might run for about ten minutes after dinner at dusk. My trumpet playing is actually not that bad, and I just have to back into it. I am going to sign for Latin and ancient history and Jazz Band at Trinity with Mr. Carabillo. Classes start September 3, and I think that I will be ready to go by then. I am still reading Arabian Days and Nights by Naguib Mahfouz. In what I read today, a slave of the governor, Qut Al-Quloub, was almost killed by the Chief of Police. She lived to allow a man to go free and to accuse al-Mu'in ibn Sawi of murder. Aladdin is introduced- he is Ugr the barber's son.  He was set up for the crime of stealing a gem when the Chief of Police's son put it in a cupboard in Aladdin's house. In the quarter there was a fake sultan who pretended to be the real one.
The fake sultan, who was Ibrahim the watercarrier, actually set up a fake trial to find out who set up Aladdin for murder. In the end, the real sultan saw the trial, and made the same judgement that the false sultan made: al-Mu'im Sawi. Darwish Omra, and Habazlam Bazaza (the son of the Chief of Police) were beheaded and al-Fadl ibn Khaqan and Haikal al-Zafarani were dismissed from their posts and had their property confiscated. There are a lot of chiefs of police, secretaries, and governors fired in this book because of their corruptions. Also, Fadil Sanaan was corrupted by a cap of invisibility given to him, I think, by a genie: the power was too much, and he ended up stealing, murdering, and committing all sorts of acts of evil around the city.
In the end he gave back the cap to the genie and stood trial for his acts of evil, and Fadil was beheaded for all of his outrageous acts. The cap helped him initially to escape from prison, but eventually he did not even care what the consequences of giving his cap back were because it would have given him a life of evil had he kept it on him. Right now I am reading about Ma'rouf the cobbler and his disagreements with his wife. I think that I am slowly getting back into reading, and this good book surely helps me. I might go over to the library to pick up another book by this author. I had some great soup at a Malaysian place in Amherst.  My dad bought a book on poetry and twelve ears of corn. I am listening to a sentimental and inspiring CD, which I got last Christmas, by Wynton Marsalis called Carnaval, and the song that I am listening to now is called "Variations sur Le Carnaval de Venise."