Tuesday July 7, 1992
apprx 11:15 outside my women’s lit room
I can feel the ghosts in this hallway. I spent a lot of time with my back aginst this hard wall last summer. If I concentrate hard enough I can hear Angie whisper her revenge against Max and I can hear the whisk of paper being shyly slid across the floor and see eyes quickly scan poetry and trying to think of a gentle comment.

I feel the cold linoleum and my heart begins to race I am waiting for Jon to make his entrance through the door ten feet away. I can still feel Jon and Andy’s laughter at my story of the manual blinkers. What would they think now that they both work?

But as I said, those are just ghosts. I rarely see any of them now — and if I do I brush past them avoiding the rejection i may see in their eyes. They take my fear as snobbery, and I sigh.

The hall will soon fill with new people — friendly all the same, but there will be no shy exchange of poetry with held breath wiatinf or their reactions.

No now we will freely exchange ideas and opinions not truly caring what the others think. But friendships will develop and maybe in the fall my eyes won’t hide in fear.

Wednesday July 8, 1992
10:44pm, before bed, sleeping in mom and dad’s room
after soc class the gorgeous guy in my class stopped and talked to me and sarah andrew. he initiated the conversation by saying what a supremeist that lady was. sarah noser in on the conversation, i didn’t mind.

he is so cute, smart too! he is a music education major. he’s taking a poetry class this summer and wants to read poetry to women with great passion (my knees melted when he said that).

We also talked about political topics and Beger walked by and was kind of stunned. Now, the only thing, I don’t know his name.