The summer of 1969 begin a time of turmoil within me.  It started that the summer after graduating from 10th grade when over the summer several of my friends that lived nearby moved away.  That coupled with me working the afternoons, I wasn't able to spend as much time with the guys as I had in the past.  Bill was still there, living a few streets over, but saw him but mostly on weekends.   I had always been who some would describe as self-conscious, but I thought of it more as being introspective when I began to consciously focus my thoughts.  I decided to start a journal with the first entry as follows:

"I read that man uses less than 50% of his brain. After thinking about this I came to the conclusion that a person that is able to use more than 50% of his brain is a genius or is cable of doing more than a person that uses less of his brain.  

Wanting to be a genus (doesn't everyone?) I figure that I must develop my brain so that I am able to use it more efficiently.  I then made up the hypothesis that if I think about something constantly and all the time it would develop my brain.  So, I then started to think about things At first I found it difficult. Why? Because when I'm washing dishes, cutting the grass, washing the dishes or just walking I don't usually think about things. After about a week it became easier, and I was always thinking about something. "

And so, began my journey with conscious thought. 

The next thing I turned my thoughts to was family. I would say my family was pretty much like the Cleavers on Leave it to Beaver, or My Three Sons but with a mother, oh, and add two sisters into the mix.  We were a happy family, enjoyed life, lived in a nice house, ate well, good schools, and were all loved.  Mom and Dad never fought or raised their voices at each other, although more than once to scold us kids.  Of course, there were occasional squabbles between the siblings, more so between my brother and I.  I described this in my journal in 1969, "I get along with my older sister rather well, we like each other.... we like many of the same things."   And about my younger sister, "Although I like her most of the time, sometimes I don't because she is like my brother and likes to annoy me."

My brother on the other hand was a whole different story, we had always fought, or squabbled over, often trivial things, like the time we wanted to watch different TV  and ended up breaking the aquarium, but by now it was getting to a new level, he seemed to annoy me most all the time, I wrote: “I begin to develop a strong dislike for him, he likes to purposefully irritate people to the point of making them mad, especially me.”

A perfect example was the entry in the journal about writing the journal  itself:  

“An example of this was when I started writing this David wanted to know what I was writing about.  Of course, I wouldn't tell him because I was writing about him and because I don't like people to read what I'm writing while I'm writing it as it interrupts my thoughts and because I am afraid they will laugh at me, which I don't like, although it doesn't bother as much as it did when I was younger.  This is common fault of a lot of people, including me, although it shouldn't be. When people laugh at someone else it either is because they don't understand or because they are fools. If the person doesn’t understand you can try to make them understand, but if the person is a fool then it really shouldn't matter if he laughs at you or not.  

My brother tried everything to find out what I was writing. For about an hour he tried to look over my shoulder, talking, or making noises to get me to let him read it.  When this didn't work, he tried to steal the paper but then I threatened to use violence so he quite, for a while anyway.  This is the way it always is with him,

Being a teenager wasn’t easy for me with school work, my friends moving away, no girlfriend, no one to talk to about such things,  I wrote:

“I’m sure most of you like to sleep and catch up on your sleep on weekends and during vacation, well so do I but for another reason.  I have often thought about what it would be to sleep forever, to go to sleep and never wake up again. Why? Because when I sleep I am in another world, I am unaware where I am and what is happening around me, I am relaxed, I have peace of mind, I have no worries.  I don't worry about school, work, term papers, science projects, money, war, the bomb and most of all I don't worry about death. On in other words when I sleep I escape from reality.”

And then there was the beginning of my questions about religion. Having been brought up as Southern Baptist with my mother being the daughter of a Baptist Minister, let’s say I got a good strong dose of Baptist religion.  Now there were some good things about it, not so much the religion, but the social aspect,  I made several good friends there in following years.  But I begin to question the faith itself, writing:

“Do you believe in heaven and hell? What happened or where do you go when you die? A Christian would answer this by saying "if you believe in Christ and repent you shalt be saved and go to heaven.", but what about some of the Jewish faith, they don't believe in Christ but they believe in the same God and in going to heaven. What about Muslims or any other religion, they all believe that their religion is "The" religion. The same for Christians, Jews, and so on. Who is right? You could swear that your religion is the one, but so do they all.”

When it came to girls I started falling into a funky mode, finding myself, wanting, longing for a girl in my life I wrote:

Sanity

Sanity isn't needed you see
At least I do not believe
So I will flee
From my sanity
Because you will not be
in love with me.

I am quite insane
Yes I am insane
Insane is fun to be
Yes I do agree

So how about you and me
Being insane you see
and I shout with glee
so don't you  see
I lost my sanity

Don't you see
I need you with me
That's the way it should be
so I shall be
completely insane over thee
until you come to me
can you not love me

Ok, I’m not much of a poet, but it expressed how I felt.  Turning ever more inward, I wrote:

Searching

“I search the deep inner recess of my mind for truth, understanding and for the true meaning of life. In the eyes of eternity I have searched but a brief moment but to I it has been a life time, for little have I have I found. No matter how deep into my mind I search, I find my life lacking, lacking the true meaning of life, to me life seems so hopeless because I will exist but a brief moment in which I can contribute little to this world in which I live. Sometimes I ask myself, why do I live, is it to contribute to the madness called society or is it to search for the true meaning of life. A goal which I believe is impossible to reach. What is the True meaning of life I ask myself, is it understanding, knowle4dghe, or wisdom? If it is it, it is impossible for a man to gain these in a lifetime. Then I ask is it love? love of one's God or love for another?   I do not know and doubt that I will ever know.  It is all hopeless.”

It was the beginning of my blue period.

To the Moon