Dear Diary

Joey Dipollo came to our school to talk about AIDS. He was so cute. Me and Mia got his phone number. I feel so terrible when I really should feel happy. I fooled around with Blake (1st) and Kris H. (2nd). Now I have to choose??? Tragedy and happiness always seem to come to me in the most bitter ways. I would sometimes feel relieved if I had some incredible talent that I could just crawl right into. Like poetry or ballet. Will I be someone? Will I fall in love? I hope to G-d yes.

I try really hard to like my dad but he always has to ruin everything. I write to you today with tears in my eyes because he can just be the biggest asshole. I got to 2nd with Kris but I don’t like him and Blake is a jerk. Butch hardly ever calls me anymore. What’s wrong with me that I turn guys off all the time? I can’t concentrate with my dad’s fucking music. I hate men! They are all stupid plastic heads with no feelings! I HATE HIS FUCKING MUSIC!!!!!

Not only did Mia and I ask for guy-with-AIDS Joey Dipollo’s number, but we actually fought over which one of us would get him. We laughed it off one day after school, well, because he had AIDS, and everyone knows friendship is stronger than AIDS (mind you he came to our school to educate, not date us).

Although my dad drove me crazy with his baby boomer music (Stevie Ray Vaughn, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, John Hiatt), ironically it is now the music I have come to love.

Is that a becoming-your-parents thing? When my dad overheard me listening to Sick of It All, he rolled his eyes in disgust. I grew up thinking it was a personal attack but see, isn’t that just a My Dad thing?

My parents drove me to dance class and gave me a new diary every other month. They even shelled out the dough for my booming college experience at Hampshire. I was privileged, upper, white, and middle in every way. My terminal uniqueness still gets the best of me. But it could be worse. I could be going out with a guy who has AIDS.

LESLEY ARFIN