1971
Spring Madness

I finished my 2nd quarter on March 22nd, and I didn’t do very well making C’s in Contemporary Reading and Gymnastics but D’s in everything else and I was placed on “Scholarship Warning”.  

I registered for Spring quarter which started March 26th but a combination of not being all that interested in school (meaning I didn’t study) and being short of money, I withdrew on April 19th in time that any grades that I had made so far in the quarter would not count.  Money had been tight, the student job only allowed me to work twenty hours a week, at $1.63 an hour that gave me thirty dollars a week after taxes.  I stretched every penny of it as far as I could but sometimes it wasn’t enough.  One time I gathered coke bottles to collect the 5¢ deposit for them, with seven coke bottles I could by a gallon of gas.  Those were the reasons I told my parents and others, but I wrote in my journal the real reason…

“The main reason is failure with girls. I sat through 2 ½ quarters of school not dating a girl, not meeting any girls, and most important, not saying anything to a girl.  Let me tell you it doesn’t do much for the ego, it is very depressing.  I found it so depressing that I really gave up any hope of ever meeting any girl that meets my qualifications.”

I was depressed about girls and sitting in classes with girls all around me that I couldn’t bring myself to speak to made it more so.  In many ways life was good, living on my own, not having to share a small bedroom with my brother, I got along with my roommate, enjoyed working on cars, I liked my work although it didn’t pay much, hung out with the church friends, yeah, actually I had a lot to be happy about, but I wasn’t.  

So what qualities was I looking for in a girl?  I wrote in my journal…

“First of all, I want a girl that is understanding. She also has to be intelligent, devoted (to me that is), quiet, and reasonably good looking. There is something else but I can’t quite put my finger on, but it seems to be the most important.”

I go on about why girls can’t like me but why they should and then it comes out,

“I seem to be writing this as if I have one girl in mind, not intentionally but I believe it may possibly be true. I met this girl in 12th grade and I have been stuck on here ever since, Who is she?  Ginny Gordon.”   I still hadn’t gotten over her, “she is my last hope, you see I have given up on everyone else and my only hope is that she is the girl of my dreams, but as I said, I can't meet her because if I do and she isn't what I expect I will have no reason for living.” I read this now with the tone of Princess Leia’s message to Obi-Wan, “Help Me Obi-Wan Kenobi, You're My Only Hope.”

   <click to close>

I struggled to get my teenage emotions under control

“But this is where the conflict inside me arises. You see I have to find out if she is the ONE because I can't live not ever knowing and they way to find out is to see her. But if I am logical it is impossible for here to like me much less even remember me but I can't be logical because that would me no hope.  IT IS ALL A SUPER CONFLICT INSIDE ME THAT I CAN'T LIVE WITH MUCH LONGER because I can't stand the torment I inflict upon myself and I want to lose my mind so I can live in peace.”

I did try to go see Ginny once, well sort of.  I found what I thought was her address in the phone book, there were only a few Gordon’s listed and I was pretty sure it was her parents house which was several miles away, so I rode my bike over to the house and slowly rode by in front of it.  I could not bring myself to stop, much less going up and knocking on the door, so I rode by, and a few houses later turned around and rode by again going the opposite direction. I kept hoping that she might step out and then I would stop and talk to her, but that didn’t happen.  As I rode my bike home, I concluded I would never see her again. I wrote….

“I'm still stuck on her but if I ever met her again she would probably tell me to go to hell, which would shatter my dreams so I can't meet her but want to find out.”

And then I wrote the following:

So what was the real reason why I couldn’t talk to girls?  I wrote…

“Do you know why I am afraid of girls?  Well it is because I am afraid to really like a girl, I don't want to be hurt if I find out that she doesn't like me.  Solution: Don't get involved with a girl then I won't get hurt.  Side effect: I hate myself for not have girls like me. “

Fear of rejection that started that first time I ask Barbara Gray out in 10th grade. I was a mess, but it did get better.

“It has been about three days since I last wrote anything. I have been feeling better. By "better" I mean miserable instead of completely miserable, mentally that is.“

I thought long and hard about my situation, or should I say about myself.

“I've thought about it. I've even carried on a complete, or complete as possible having to play both sides of the conversation, asking questions and myself answering. But the thing is, I can't ask myself questions that really get to the truth or my inner self, because I want to hide myself from myself.  Or perhaps I just don't know what to ask myself.”

I felt isolated from others.

“At first I thought that I have been alone for just several days but thinking back, I can't remember when I was with someone. You see, I may be physically be with someone but not mentally. For a good while now I have been with many people and talking to them but more or less mechanically, just answering questions, saying little or nothing and when I do say something, I do so because I feel that I do because they expect me to do so, not because I want to.  For you see, I don't believe I would say anything at all to anyone.  I am alone. I have become so used to being alone that I go out of my way to avoid someone.  As each day passes my crust and defenses get thicker and stronger and I fear that soon I will completely isolate myself from everyone, living in my own real-unreal world.

And then a few days later...

“I have become empty and mechanical and with little or no feelings toward others.  My life, my body is an empty shell that only exists, and does not live.  For it takes love to live and love I have none to give or receive.  Whether or not I have ever lived is doubtful for if I did live when and why did I become only to exist?  I do not know, so I continue to exist in hope without hope that I may love and live again.”

Outwardly I probably appeared fine to my roommate Bill and to the few church friends that I spent time with, but inwardly I was in despair.  

---

I April I joined the family to go to Easter Sunday Services at the church.