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November 18, 1999.Sniffle sniffle. Sigh. I'm sick. Not silly existential teenage "what's the point of it" sick, but "why won't my head stop pounding" sick. I've spent the whole day with tissues tucked into the elastic waist of my pj's, shuffling from room to room with the Decameron under my arm & a deep-seated desire for someone to make me soup & tea. It would help if I wasn't being given the gears here at home. Last night was Game, so I waited to call my parents until I had spent a suitable amount of time pretending I had any influence in the world. I was having a good night, too...people were talking to me, I was involved in some action...it was pretty fun. But when I called home, I connected with a very angry mother, who informed me that my father had come to pick me up at 9:30. Never mind that I've called for a ride every week except last week...this week he'd taken the initiative and I wasn't there, which made all the difference. In consequence, I not only left the game without saying goodbye to anyone, I didn't even look at anyone on the way out. Which may not be such a big deal in a little while: the new direction of pressure from my dad is intended to get me to give up the Game altogether so I can come straight home from class. Don't get me wrong. I highly regret that my father, in doing me a large favour, wasted his time & energy waiting for me at the station. That's just not fair. What I resent is that it's always entirely my fault. It's my fault that I didn't get in touch with them, although they could've gotten in touch with me at any point in the last two days. It's my fault that they, on the basis of one week, guessed wrong. And it's all because I'm an inconsiderate airhead, intent on my own pleasure to the exclusion of all else. Mistakes happen. I can't be any more conscientious than I am without becoming obsessive about constant communication with my parents. The last goddamn thing I want on this earth is to be any more connected to them. But until I'm perfect, I lose all the accumulated credit of being good whenever a mistake is made.
Just so you don't get the impression that my parents were the only rain on my parade yesterday, I should mention that I got an inexplicable nosebleed in the middle of the afternoon whilst exercising. There's nothing more disheartening than to be on an exercise bike for the first time in months and to have blood suddenly tumble out of your head in large quantities without warning. It's like I popped something by even pretending to be capable of physical exertion. Sigh.
At least Monday & Tuesday were okay. On Monday I was reunited with my 6's after a long 2 weeks. I try not to expect any connection from them, but a couple actually asked me where I'd been. I find that for the most part, they have yet to be alienated from education in general, which means I get to be babysitter more than cop. It also means that they'll just strike up conversations with me out of the blue. I had to walk home at the end of the day, and as I passed a kid in a parka, he recognized me & started to chat. me: so if you live on this street, you must have gone to this school. I went there too.
And he just grinned. Took me long enough to figure it out.
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