February 7, 1997
Shawn seems to be feeling better, but I have been affected by his moods all week. Or whatever. I’ve been much more introverted during the past week than ever; it must be a function of having to keep my mouth shut all the time.
Shawn is scared of love when Dot is concerned too. I was too late on the phone with her last night. She’s addicted to REM, and found Whisper at the library. Maybe I should look for it.
Yesterday Hannah was back in school; she was sick on Wednesday. Some time ago, Shawn had dropped his empty plastic soda bottle on her face when she was playing dead, so she has been taking every opportunity to get even. Earlier, she dropped the wadded-up wrapper from a pie-thing that Shawn sold his soul to Sudiptya for on Shawn’s face. Yesterday, Shawn was lying down, so he got this plastic (empty) Gatorade bottle on his face! He wasn’t very happy, but it was rather deserved.
I got to the Wood Center yesterday at sometime after four. I’d talked my father into taking me there, and when I got there, Josh Cogdill and Gretta were very, very close. This wasn’t the Josh she’d been talking about before. Josh C thinks that Josh-Shua looks like Ian Billington. Not the first person to think so, though. I was first.
Anyway, Gretta did hug me a lot, and told me that she and Shawn had been kissing yesterday. Oh, dear. Argh, Gretta, hands off! The guy is mine! Not yours, mine! Hannah doesn’t like Gretta very much, and neither, I think, do I, except when I’m around her and she’s in trouble. She’s getting much more tolerable. I think that going out with Josh C is going to be good for her. That happened yesterday evening. Josh offended Shawn by excluding him, telling him to go away, when he was talking about Gretta with me. Shawn was not very happy about that.
I saw his Klingon dagger. It’s a nasty piece of work, and he should not have had it on campus; he should not be carrying this thing about with him—he just shouldn’t have it!
One of the sabres in the GOA thing was damaged yesterday, so it was not safe to fight with. So Shawn, so no one would fight with it anyway, decided to make it very plain that this was not a legal weapon. So he takes the little knife that’s in the cross he’s wearing (he’s not Christian, so I think it’s in excreble taste) and cuts the padding off. The padding comes off in one long clump, so it’s this tube-shaped, long piece of duct-taped stuff, with a duct-taped knob on the end. The result was incredibly phallic. The thing drooped, okay? Here’s this obscenely long thing, drooping! The entire surrounding area cracked up. They laughed even harder (excuse the pun, please!) when Shawn takes this drooping phallic symbol and puts it on his middle finger. So now we have this teenage guy with a phallic symbol on middle finger, waving it around and flipping people off. As the surrounding people are also adolescent guys, there are horrible, horrible jokes, most of them about Shawn’s alleged virility. (Shawn, in grade school, had thought it just a myth that older guys often spent a lot of time talking about the size of their dicks. This was during a conversation doing just this. I was cracking up, in my Vulcan way.)
We did a lot of singing, leaving Wood Center. “Lida Rose,” “Pick a little, Talk a little/Goodnight, Ladies,” (John or someone, perhaps Ian, was insulted that Shawn was implying that the crowd there was a bunch of ladies) and “Love Fool.” I asked him please not to sing that one, because it hurt. He sings a lot. I like it when he sings. But him singing “Love Fool” does hurt.
Then somehow, Sudiptya insulted his acting. That hurt. I felt it too. Shawn walked away. He was not happy. I called after him for him to come back (“Get your lousy ass back here, Shawn Thomas Weixelman!”) but he didn’t come.
Shawn is going after Carrie Nebert. That’s really nice. I’m not happy. I don’t want to stop thinking about Shawn! I love him, and while I can stop thinking about him erotically, I can’t stop loving him.
Hannah’s over, and she’s not letting me think about Shawn. I just want to become deep friends with him, and then when he grows up, then maybe we could see. I just want to love him. Is that too much to ask?
I scared myself today. Shanna became serious. (Darn right I did, dear!) I don’t like the fact that Shawn is pushing me away, and away, and away some more.
Denali was back in school today. Shawn now owes me $4.25. He’s such a good guy…even though he’s not. Even though he only likes me as a friend, and maybe not even that. Hell, he doesn’t even care about me! And still I may be one of his closest friends here. Yes, I love your acting, Little One. Thank you for not decieving me as well. But still—I wish you’d cut the crap and care about me! Even just as a friend. I wouldn’t mind that. All I want is the emotional intimacy. Physical could come later, or not at all. I just love you and want you to care about me. Love, yes, I want that as well. I want your trust and to know about you. I want to trust you and let you learn about me. I don’t want to scare you off. You won’t accept me as a mortal, to put it in the terms you used. I will accept you, warts and all. You’re stubborn. Yet—somehow, I wouldn’t have you many other ways than who you are. I love you. Can you even imagine that?
Well, technically, I don’t love you. I can’t love you. I’m not even close to knowing you well enough to love you. The life and loves of Shawn Thomas Weixelman. That’s such a cool last name. I like it for itself. Even if I don’t marry him, I sure would like that name.
I feel like crying. Thanks, Shawn, Hannah. You’re both sick of me wanting him, aren’t you. But he’s him. Sure, he’s cute, but I want friendship and love more than I want sex from him, and that’s what scares him. If I only wanted sex without friendship and love, then he could handle that. But he knows me too well now to be able to see me as a sex object, because he can’t handle sex and friendship together. He sees me only as a friend now. Why is he so afraid of love? He’ll never have love if he keeps running away from any girl who tries to love him. Which is what he’s doing. I love what I know of you, Shawn, which is precious little. Thank you for pouring out your heart to me. Thank you for being yourself, whoever that is, in front of me that precious once, although the memory will rip my heart out. I will live, Shawn, and I will assure you that you will be remembered as more than the misfit clown who never really was a smart kid or well-liked. You may not be well-liked, Shawn, but you certainly shall be well-loved.
Shawn Thomas Weixelman is Alex Mage.
Enough on that subject said. My clown; my hero. I love him, whoever he is. I may not love who he is—is that what he meant? He said he loved who I was. What did he mean by that? What the hell did he mean by that? He can be whoever the hell he wants to be, he says. Is he borrowing again? Who is he? The actor’s true nightmare.