Surprised at my self-analysis?
I have this psych course and I'm learning more about myself than I wanted to learn. I've even come to understand things about Dr. Foreman, although I battle back the memories.
It like trying to keep air bubbles from rising in a glass or something
I'm jealous of you, Phoebe. I haven't met anyone like your Ralston yet. We have these mixers with an all-boys prep school, but it all too artificial for me. I love spontaneity and I daydream about meeting Mr. Right on some street corner or in a store or in the park anywhere except a prearranged mixer approved by both schools.
Am I hopeless?
Maybe not. You know how sometimes you can feel something is really going to happen if you're just patient and you keep yourself up and happy? That's how I feel about Mr. Right. He's out there. We're going to meet.
Not that boys are all I think about anymore. I'm not going into modeling, but I have been told by my English teacher that I have more, that's the way he puts it, a flare-- for writing. He says I capture people and events so well, I should think about working, in film So, I'm enrolling in a film study course next semester. It involves writing scripts. When I'm big and .famous and important,I'll cast you in a
movie.
I wish my life now was all and only what I described. I still have bad nights, Phoebe. I see snakes. I see the buddies in the fire. I hear the screams. I'm getting better, but it's all not buried deeply enough. It will be someday. Won't it?
I miss the both of you. All my new friends are afraid of me or are obvious about how much they'd like me to like them. I need you too. I need to be reminded I'm not a big shot.
So, here's what I've decided. I'm getting my mother to ask my father to sponsor a trip for both you and Robin for my birthday. You'll both come to my big, rich house and we'll sleep on the floor and go to the bathroom outside, and plant a garden and take ice-cold showers.
Just kidding We'll
have a big, fat time Will you come? Please. Bring Ralston if have to. I just think we need to look at each other's ugly face again just so we know we are really here, we really matter.I'll work out the details.
Love, Teal
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Dear Losers,
I photocopied this letter so I -would only have to write y'al1 once. I did it at my mother's agent's office. I don't call her Mother darling anymore. She went ahead and wrote a song called 'Mother Darling.- She really did and it was a big hit in the county music world.
The good thing is she left the creep she was with shortly after I had been sent to Dr. Foreman's School, Then, she got a lucky break when a really big agent heard her singing and he helped her develop her style, got her a great backup group of musicians, and began to find her some important bookings. She has two recordings on the charts as we speak
Now here's the news. One day I was practicing with her just for the fun of it and her agent heard us singing together and decided we should do a song. We worked on it together. We really had never done anything like that together before, but she liked my suggestions.
I know y'all are going; to think it's corny but here it is. It's called "Mama, Let Me Be Me":
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Well. I've been growing up and I've been doing all you say.
I've learned all my schooling and I've worked hard every day,
You laid out directions and made me follow in your way.
But. Mama, oh. dear Mama, let me be myself today.
Let me be myself
Let me look a different way,
Let me find a voice that's me.
Let me try to be the woman I was always meant to be.
Say good-bye to your baby,