Thursday, April 29, 1982


I wandered into school late morning and got involved in the usual self-defeating arguments about politics. As usual too, I was uncertain and totally unsure of myself and indeed, “unable to provide any alternative.” How can I hope to ever get my views across if I’m so bloody ineffectual that I grind to a stumbling mumbling submissive halt? “You’ve gone quiet, Marty!” leered Duncan. Yes I have, because I don't know anymore! I make it all sound so unconvincing.

At times like this, getting called those stupid but annoying names (“Tina,” “Marty”) and allowing things to get on top of me too easily, I can honestly say yes when Grant asks, “Do you ever feel you’re isolated at school?” But really none of it matters because I can never match my resolve at home with the realities of school.

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