Introspections

So I recently found an old journal I kept on my computer a few years ago. It's mostly boring stuff like what I did that day but every once in awhile I was particularly...shall we say chatty? I have run across some stuff that I figured I'd put up here since I'm too lazy to write a proper blog and too immersed in keeping up with the grueling demands of my one book a month that I'm reading for my book club (only got halfway through this month's selection) to read any of the books on my list.

So, as I sift through the journal I'll post whatever I think might be amusing. What's scary about what I'm posting today is that even though I only wrote it like 3 years ago I barely remember it at all. So if nothing else this blog may be a record of what I used to think when my brain was still functioning.

Enjoy...

The End of Innocence
or
There Were Early Warning Signs
By: Lori Cain

I have this tendency to feel trapped. Even when I know I'm the reason I'm in a situation -- through choices. One of my earliest memories of feeling trapped?
You know how in grade school there are these really strange indicators of popularity? Things that are "cool?" Well, in first grade, one of the things that indicated you were cool was if you sat with Suzy [last name removed to protect the innocent] on the bus. She had a sister, Tonya, who was older but I guess she wasn't nearly as cool because I don't really remember ever wanting to sit with her. Tonya wore glasses. You know how it is. I had my sights set on Suzy and, because I was apparently reasonably cool myself, I was a frequent seat-mate of hers.

I was the slyest, most conniving little kid. I really was, it's kind of disturbing. Anyway, I set up an elaborate scheme to become Suzy's exclusive seat-mate. I was in class and it was someone's birthday which meant that the person had to bring in a bag of candy to share with the class. It got late that day so the treat dispensing didn't happen until mere minutes before the bell rang. It was chaotic because people were already shoving their shit back in their desk and this little girl was running around frantically handing out these bright red cherry suckers. I loved those suckers. I couldn't help but notice that even the students who were absent that day had suckers on their desks. I couldn't help but take advantage of the end-of-day hubbub and sidle up to the desks of absent students and steal their suckers.
I now had three bright red cherry suckers. Ever the capitalist, I pocketed two of the suckers, accepting the 100% profit with satisfaction. But the third sucker? Oh, I had plans for that sucker.

On the bus heading home, I casually flashed my extra sucker to the little girls in the seats nearest me. Today Suzy was sitting with a skinny red-headed girl named Wanda, whom I inexplicably hated. All the girls were excited and immediately began begging me for the sucker. I relished the attention. I was coy. I accidentally let it drop that I had two more suckers in my pocket and Tonya pointed out that I was being a total selfish bitch (in a less offensive, first-grade venacular.) I gave her a cold look. Suzy very much wanted the sucker and negotiations began. "You can have the sucker if you promise to sit only with me for the rest of the school year." Wanda gave me a look as if to say, "what the hell are you playing at?" Suzy was reluctant. She was a really nice kid, which is why everyone liked her. "Well, but that wouldn't be fair to my other friends." My smile became steely. "Those are my terms," (in a less Gordon Gekko, first-grade venacular -- you get the idea.) After much reluctance on her part and relentless, inflexible insistence on mine, ("What about every other day?" "No.") Suzy gave in. I gave Suzy the sucker and if I recall, she ended up sharing it with her friends. She was really nice.

Fast forward to the next day. My victory has been gnawing at me almost since the moment I achieved it. I had to sit with Suzy...every day. EVERY day. What if I didn't want to sit with Suzy? What if I wanted to put my knees up against the seat in front of me and disappear into my coat and look out the window? What if I wanted to sling my legs to the side and read "Ramona Quimby, Age 8" the whole way home? What if I wanted to sit with Wanda? How could I possibly have entered into such an iron-clad contract, why hadn't I insisted on sitting with her every other day instead?
Throughout the school day I plotted for a way to escape the yolk of my horrible agreement. I daydreamed of my mom coming to pick me up outside of the school, I fantasized that Suzy would have forgotten the whole thing, I toyed with the idea of telling the teacher I'd thrown up and needed to go home immediately...

In the end, I escaped the verbal contract in the lowest, most cowardly way possible. I hid from her. Sweating with anxiety, I made sure I was the first person to get on the bus and I quickly went to the very back -- somewhere we first grade girls never went. I slouched down so low in the seat that my head could not be seen from above. I waited and prayed that Suzy's mom had picked her up from school, or that she'd forgotten the whole thing, or that she'd vomited earlier in the day and had to be sent home immediately. I waited. Not usually on the bus so early, the minutes seemed to stretch on forever. Kids started to trickle on, and I got strange looks from the back of the bus regulars. No Suzy yet. For greater security, I decided to actually get off of the seat and sit on the floor, my legs stretched out under the seat in front of me, my lumpy bag serving as a shield for my face.

"Lori!" My blood ran cold.

"Lori!!!" More insistent. "We're sitting together today!" Suzy singsonged.

I could hear her asking our friends if they'd seen me. They hadn't, but they knew I was in school that day. Where had I gotten to? Finally Suzy resorted to walking up and down the aisle. I could hear her getting closer, "Lori?"

She spotted me. I can only imagine what the expression on my face was. Hers was expectant, mildly puzzled -- she looked as though she at first thought I was just being silly old Lori. But the expression on my face stopped her cold. I assume it had a look of dread, terror and self-loathing on it so profound that Suzy immediately understood what was really going on.

"We're supposed to sit together," Suzy said softly -- but she already knew that I was never going to be able to sit with her again.

I don't remember what I said. Probably something lame, something that clung to dignity like, "I don't feel like it," or, "I told so and so I was going to sit with her." My first-grade brain had no idea how to explain the truth -- "I'm sorry Suzy, but I have a crippling fear of committment that seems to have just now manifested. I cannot begin to tell you where it comes from, but I expect this issue is going to cause me more than one awkward situation throughout my life."

I do remember that I hurt her feelings. She got this kind of look on her face like she might cry. I find it odd, even now, that she took my neuroses so personally. I felt like SUCH an asshole. I also felt relieved when she walked away and I stayed in the back of the bus trying not to listen to the whispers and, "what the hell?s" coming from the other girls, my friends. I think I was never really Suzy's friend again after that.

Moral of the story? I really, really, really don't like to be obligated to do anything.
__________________________________________

This journal entry went on and I meandered into some truly strange territory that I'll spare you.

It's book club tonight and I'm returning to the scene of my crime - running over the nice English lady's lawn. I'll let you know how it turns out this time...