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Rachel's Daily Diary
7 35 pm pst [ where is my conflict? ] Catherine, goddess of Naked Eye and moderator of the Journalers mailing list suggested a writing prompt on the list:
I drooled. I loved it. It set my mind whirring away. I tried to recall conflicts and I was flooded by bad experiences. |
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I recalled Mike, my first official boyfriend, the second man I dated* [right after David]. I bought a beautiful bonsai -- Japanese Maple -- in the week before school started my frashman year. I was so proud, busting with excitement over my new life. And upon arriving at his room (he was a senior at the time), I announce to him and his best friend that I had purchased a most spectacular miniature tree, and that I had talked the mearchant down from $25 to $20. Mike turned from me without responding, and to his best friend (Dirk) he said, "She didn't know she could talk him down more." I am an argumentative person, always ready to jump up and defend anyone's rights, especially my own, but i was so absolutely shocked that I just stood there. Language failed me. And then I shook the comment off with some sort of light retort, such as, "Oh, I knew, but I didn't feel like spending the time." To this day, remembering the devestation of that moment makes my heart beat a bit quicker. Memories of Mr. Deletia came in waves. Most profoundly, I relived his profound embarassment with me meeting his friends, because I was not only young, but I looked younger. * I Freudian slipped this as "many I dated" instead of "man I dated". |
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I had so many memories of David. I remember staying up all night on my 17th birthday waiting for him to call. He never did wish me a happy one. If you have seen As Good As It Gets (1997), you will understand when I say that the character of Carol felt about Melvin as I do about David. I found him attractive, but was repulsed by what an awfully cruel person he was. He was unkind to others, and unkind to me, and I required so little to be happy. And yet, for all of the nonsense of past memories that I drudged up, I was at a loss to come up with an actual conflict. I still can't come up with a good one. I can recall the vague vapors of preteen fights with my mother. But conflicts elude me. I suppose this is because I think of conflicts as verbal exchanges, and I am only searching my memory for well remembered exchanges. The interesting thing is, I can't remember the flesh of any of them. I can remember conversations, and activities. I can remember how I felt about being with them, but I can't remember how it felt to be with them. Is that true of anyone, of do I have this particular slice of memory missing from me? * * * And they say you only remember the good... |
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