April 17, 1989

My Dear,

Only thirty-two more days for this school year to be over.  And for once I am not afraid to say I want to go home.  This has not been the best semester for me.  Oh sure, I have had a lot of fun but things are so hectic.  I have been living out of a suitcase and I am so tired.  I always feel bad, I think it is because I am not eating right.  I don’t know who I am living with next year and that worries me.  I know I am living with C. and that is starting to make me nervous.  I am tired of school and I wonder if I have any friends?  I am running out of money and I am seeking male companionship.  I am smarter than most in knowing I will not find him at a one night stand.  So when guys come home with me it is more or less a joke.  The only guy I really respected was M.  but I haven’t seen him since and I sometimes wonder if he wasn’t the one?  I feel awful because I am so fat, I feel guys don’t like me because of it.  I do feel I am prettier, though.  Writing this down, I feel so stupid.  The way I see it.  Thirty days of hell to go than three months of complete silence and then I will be ready for the hectic pace that is college.

You are right, I can hear you now, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself”, you would say.

I will my love, tomorrow.

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January 30, 1988

Just a boring Saturday, painting, listening to Sade. Feeling slightly guilty because I am not doing homework.  But I did do the laundry.  Big deal. I have been thinking about going to that other college again.   I wish I could definitely decide.  I think I only want to go when I am bored.  Which is stupid because I will be twice as bored back home.  This is the weekend that we are moving into the new house.  Too bad I won’t be there to help move.  Oh well. I am dreaming a new dream.  I see a man murdered and he is part of the mafia so a CIA agent and I go into hiding. But a lot of cops and agents are involved so we go over seas to hide.  We spend some time in Paris but then we are discored.  That is all I have so far.

I need to write a great story.  I can’t think of any good ones though.

Let’s change the subject.  I am trying to write a collection of 1920’s slang words:

  • Cat’s pajamas
  • Bee’s knees
  • Take a powder
  • Scram
  • Hit the bricks
  • Humdinger
  • Don’t give a hoot
  • Buddy
  • Yammerin (talking)
  • Be a pal
  • Hooch
  • Bronze Cocktail
  • Dance the hoochie coochie
  • Cocking with gas
  • babykins
  • bear cat
  • shiek
  • eatn  him (bothering him)
  • floozies
  • lover
  • take a hike
  • In the flesh
  • Kick off your shoes
  • Scotched it (Messed it up)
  • Says you
  • Come on in, the water is fine
  • That’s what I figured
  • Rag top (Convertible car)
  • Big Shots
  • Go on
  • So long
  • It was a real gas
  • Piece of talent (girl)
  • Living it up
  • Out of the running
  • Great time of things
  • Swell
  • Can (butt)
  • Hittin on all six’s
  • Stiffo
  • Brother
  • Swell digs
  • How’s about
  • Stick around
  • Dime a dozen
  • It’s been a ball
  • So long

Check out H.C. Handy, the father of blues, Scott Joplin, Jelly Roll Morton, Duke Ellington, and Bye Bye Blackbird.

December 7, 1988

I am not writing you from the beach, as you may think, but from the bedroom.  I changed my mind when I woke up this morning and decided against it.  I just watched The Sting II.  I wish I was a con artist.  Just for the excitement and adventure. Like it seemed to be in the movie.  I would give half of my money to charity.  But like all things, give me a week and I will change my mind and want to do something else.  You know, I have always been afraid I would always live in a dream world.  I don’t. Live in a dream world all of the time, that is. Only when I am here, at home.

I should try and make it a point to be as friendly as possible.  Ah, right now, I am listening to

Ah, right now, I am listening to Somewhere in Time. That melancholy tune that keeps me in rapture every time it is played.  I changed my major to Social Science.  We will see how long that lasts, eh?

I want to write you my most valuable and secret thoughts, how did the woman in Somewhere in Time say it?  “What every woman dreams of in the most secret beaches of her heart.” After all of that, and I have nothing to tell, no secrets to give away. Just a bored and restless soul yearning to be free. I am sure I will get over it once school starts back up.

Nae’ living man I’ll love again
since that my lovely knight is slain
with a lock of his yellow hair
I’ll chain my heart forever mare’

I did not write that.  I found it in a book.  I just felt like writing it.  I can picture a wife in front of a castle that does not belong to her, clutching a lock of yellow hair, while a knight in armor tries, awkwardly, to comfort her.  Her children are running around her, oblivious to what is going on.

Oh, I can hear you say, such morbid thoughts for such a young girl?  By the way, Daniel Charmers is his father’s name.  Remington Steele, that is. No, I never stop.  Jealous?  Then come to me,

come to me my love…