Winnie’s Journal of Serendipity and Things Like That But Not Exactly

4-23-05

Mood – apathetic, concerned with the subject “Myself”—I have much to say on this indefatigable matter

I hereby inscribe in my “Sanskrit” writing (so I am informed by despairing teachers and cries of “perfectly illegible” from those not oriented to deciphering code) on this cool late morning of April 2005, my first journal entry.

Note on a later date - This account, it must be admitted, is only one more on a longer string of failures to paint the canvas of my life, to immortalize what I have accomplished—in short, keeping a daily diary is something of a trial.

I will assuredly persist in this pretentious endeavor –my first admittance of honest intentions—unless I am taken violently ill, a disapproving rodent chews through these pages, or I forget.

And now for some spiteful comments which are (almost) wholly undeserved—friendship, untried and thus unformed, counts for nothing more than a doggedly tedious shadow play of mouth-sincerity and other such nonsense.

Relationships formed through habit have no stronger ties than convenient proximity and a mutual agreement to tolerate each other’s freaks and foibles.

They are, on the whole, without meaning.

Should I vanish off the face of the earth (I apologize for the cliché, it’s only that the depression does not allow for originality) no one would mourn my absence, only rejoice to occupy the considerable physical space I have left. IN the intangible world of hearts and minds, I will never have existed.

If such a thing can be, I am as dust scattered in empty space. I cannot collect myself, nor is there anything solid for me to cling to and thereby “precipitate,” to painfully call to mind a chemistry term associated with undesirable memories.

In closing I write this uniformed and unenlightened statement, which encapsulates man’s achievements for 2000 years and then pops the pill into a Supreme Being’s mouth for some relief to slight indigestion.

There is to ignorance a strength unmatched by anything to be found in half-knowledge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4-23-05

Cont. because the “verbal dysentery” of today will compensate for the sure mental constipation of tomorrow.

On youthful fledgling wings inadequate for the body mass it carries, I soar to the highest of delusional optimism, confident that I can equal any power on earth.

I then proceed to fall with alarming speed to glom and beyond, swiftly by passing reality in its temperate zone of “Middle Earth” for the oppressive caverns of depression below.

My sister and I laughed over a certain teacher’s tendency to overstep the boundaries of personal space. I remarked thoughtlessly that I too had fallen victim to that discomfiting proclivity, and had, not knowing what else to do, simply stood there “taking it”—my olfactory senses being reluctantly aroused as to the exact nature of the mouth freshener he did not use.

Humorous as the retelling unintentionally was (I concede, and “not very nice”, as I have worse faults pertaining to body odors) I soberly realize that “taking it” because I know hw to do nothing else is illustrative of my helpless approach to life and its challenges.

Doubtless I have a personality. Certainly an attitude (my mother can attest to my “fresher” moments) but I lack a definite character. As such it is subject to endless, impermanent shifting and shaping, an outflung mass of flotsam in the sea, loosely strung together with some sunk of he adhesive variety and compelled to a shape by the more forceful tides

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4-26-05

My spirits have lifted considerably, while inversely the results of my academic endeavors leave much to be desired. I will regret this writing, as it has a vindictive and unjust air. Nevertheless, I will proceed.

I would like to recount a moment of particularly tender mercy by a teacher who wrote on my admittedly low-scoring paper to the effect of “Winnie, why don’t you read what you assigned instead of that other book?”

Perhaps I cannot be forgiven for preferring the fascinating A Distant Mirror by Barbara W. Tuchman to the exceedingly unbearable Hemingway.

That personal feeling aside, I regardless would have strove mightily to plow through that literary field so liberally strewn with ordure and yet infertile of imagination…but I must not digress.

Certain pressing circumstances prevented me from doing work of any kind prior to the exam, a state of affairs which some would enjoy but I thoroughly deplored as a dedicated, responsible, and conscientious student should.

There has been no greater lie than my last statement, except for Cortes telling the Aztec Emperor that they should be the best of friends.

While I neither expect nor want understanding from teachers who could humanly know nothing of my plight, I would politely request that they refrain from comments of that nature in addition to the score on the paper.

Such personal remarks, I feel, are unworthy of an instructor sufficiently enlightened as to comprehend the limits of his knowledge, especially as regards the private lives of her students.

I failed. Very well. How and why I do is my business, and unless he has some electrifying opinion to offer, if he would kindly wait until he has full knowledge of the circumstances, I would be much obliged.

posted - 7:15 PM