This was (has been) a holiday but it was a day wasted. Moving pictures have ceased to interest me, in fact, nothing interests me except John and that is why I am becoming narrow.
At least I have John. He is my hope.
This was (has been) a holiday but it was a day wasted. Moving pictures have ceased to interest me, in fact, nothing interests me except John and that is why I am becoming narrow.
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Movies. Will Rogers is a philosopher as well as a humorist. I'd just love to have his disposition.
I've managed to skip a day in my diary. I don't remember when but I've changed the dates I do remember. Beyond those I'm not sure. This is Tuesday and not Monday so here goes.
The curse. I'm sorry I've formed the habit of calling it that because at times I think of it as being almost a blessing. It quickens my feelings and helps me to see and understand things I would never know without it. I've been a regular calendar lately which would indicate a healthy physical condition. In the four and a half years we have known each other it seems that every time we are bored or discouraged or dissatisfied, something has happened to bring us closer together. All my threats of spinsterhood have ended in a night so sweet and a desire for nothing quite as much as being your wife.
I had a fight with my sister tonight and went out in the cold rain and walked for half an hour just to get away from the house and her. Mother is ill again. I cleaned the house tonight and am tired now. I would like to snuggle close to you and go fast asleep. I can think of nothing that could be sweeter than last evening - unless it be the complete surrender of our wedding night. I am glad that our first sexual union will be painful. There is a sweetness to pain that is born through love. The more painful it is the more glad I'll be, the more indebted and enslaved to him.
"Thou shalt not bow down to them nor worship them." Dear God, forgive me if I allow him to fill too high a place in my soul. Must the ecstasy of that hour ever leave me? Tonight I did with pride and joy and thanksgiving what last night I would not allow myself to do.
Last night death seemed like the only way out of a world of misery. Tonight there is everything to live for. I'm happier than I have been for months. The proud flag is gradually being lowered in surrender, which instinctively is a woman's greatest joy and only means of contentment: "It likes that." Then I, too, must be "It." "The calm cool face of the river asked me for a kiss."
"Four Walls" "Four great walls have hemmed me in Four strong, high walls: Right and wrong, Shall and shant." I can find just one reason why I won't go the limit with John. I tried to give him several but there is just one - I am a coward - afraid to do it.
The fact that he won't do it until we're married is a reason why we won't or don't. My reason seems to be the one. Today I have had one of the most painful and one of the most (blank) moments of my life. John called and said he felt almost sure he had a recurrence of the rupture.
The doctor says he has not! What a relief. Between the time John called and the doctor pronounced the verdict I lived and relived those awful weeks of hospital experience. I believe I could not go through them again. Marriage would help him the doctor says. Then it rests with me. Something is the matter with my boy. He is not active and lively as a young man should be. If he ever dreams of the future he does not share his dreams with me.
"Cheerless homes make morbid minds." Herbert Hoover |
ContextThis is the journal of Virginia Lee Scott, my grandmother, written when she was seventeen and first dating my grandfather, John Arnold Wilson. It's a dairy published by Media Drug Stores and includes space for two entries per day, with facts about the era printed at the bottom, which I have included in italics. Following, 1928, is the journal of John Arnold Wilson, my grandfather, at age nineteen and in love with my grandmother, followed by my grandmother's journal in 1931. Archives
April 2018
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