Lauren Isaacson Spring 1979

Love Is

Love is, It has no time, No place.

When there is love, One knows; It can be felt in the air Like a cool breeze From calm seas.

Love can penetrate The heart Like a sword; it can be painful, And tear one apart Piece by piece Until one is only half Of what he was.

And yet, One hangs on to the feeling, Scared to go on But unwilling to let go.

Love is an emotion When in its truest sense Is stronger than steel It will not die Even after life.

Love is beautiful, A feeling Which cannot be matched Or copied.

Love is.

Lauren Isaacson 1979

Searching

My life...

Sometimes like a lovesong; Contented with the little things, But forever striving for the love I feel I missed somewhere along the way.

It's all so confusing, this.

Life... so real, so complex.

It's everchanging, and sometimes I lose my way and stumble...

Always able to get up once more.

Maybe one day I'll not get up...

Just wait until someone picks up the pieces.

But my wait will last 'til eternity, For no one travels my path.

Alone? ... no.

Merely unique... one of a kind.

Finding a true friend is a search Not easily fulfilled...

But then love is not a song easily sung.

Love is serene and peaceful.

Love can make you go bananas!

Christmas...love with a special kind of warmth.

Love is a joy ride!

Love... the natural high.

Lauren Isaacson April 17, 1979

As I reflected on the words I had written, I perceived I had turned my back on my greatest ally, myself. I needed to depend on myself for strength and happiness, for a burden is essentially one's own to bear.

No amount of sharing and communication will take the place of one's personal acceptance of a problem; a candle cannot illuminate the darkness for one whose eyes remain closed.

I reviewed, also, my diary entries of the months pa.s.sed.

Feb. 9, 1979... Friday the ninth... what a fantastic day! I felt terrific. I talked to (him)...he came up to me at my locker! I was the one to say "I've gotta go now." Wheee!

Feb. 14, 1979... (He) and I talked. He said he was going to buy a Valentine's Day card (for me) but forgot!

Mar. 8, 1979... (He) and I may go to a movie this week-end for his birthday (on me). I was a little surprised he brought it up! I was in a great mood... had a great day!!

Mar. 14, 1979... (He's) making it a point to avoid me...nothing new though, right?

Mar. 29, 1979... I talked to (him) at least five minutes straight!

Apr. 19, 1979... I'm so down. I sure wish I could get out of it!

This is a real drag.

Apr. 23, 1979... I was in such a great mood today. Nothing really happened though. Ha! Oh, well. Maybe you're happier that way.

May 2, 1979... Cry! It would feel better...Bad day. I was depressed most of the time...

May 3, 1979... Talked to Dumbo quite a bit, considering I usually can never talk to him! I don't know why that makes me so happy.

May 21, 1979... Pretty good day. I talked a TON to (him). Yippee! He said he saw me Friday night on 23rd Avenue. He kept looking at me!!

He said his weekend wasn't that great. I guess that makes two of us.

June 1, 1979... Last month I saw (him) once. It was 10 days between then and the time before. I hope its never that long again, although I can handle it better this time...if it works out to be that way.

June 16, 1979... At 6:30 D. got me and we went to Peterson Park (because he forgot to take money out of the bank) and played frisbee and talked while (his friend) filled up the tires with air... it was fun. (He then took me home and went to a party.) I guess Norm and Mom and Dad were talking about him... he didn't go to the bank and get some money even though he knew we were going out that night. Norm told them, "If I knew I was taking a girl out, I'd make d.a.m.n sure I had some money!" He was a little mad. Mom told me that.

I saw my infatuation was rather pathetic. Ours was an empty relationship, devoid of stability in its most meager sense. I recalled how often his intentions were rejoined with apologetic excuses when those intentions were waived to pursue other activities in which I had no part. Such treatment consumed trust and debilitated affection, causing me to turn gradually from my romantic ideal and grasp reality, despite the pain that the action entailed; self-deceit would only delay the inevitable hurt that naturally accompanied unfulfilled dreams.

With summer nearly sunning itself on the doorstep, I fostered no conscious inclination to fret over my flickering flame; too well I remembered the previous summer, through which I mourned the loss of a different guy's attentions (whose attentions, I might add, were the first I had ever received, as he was my first actual date). I finally realized, after ruining my entire summer, it was the attention, not the guy, over which I lamented. I liked knowing that I was, to an extent, desirable and attractive for my feminine qualities, a knowledge which had to come from sources other than my mom and dad to seem valid. As I no longer required a male admirer to uphold or applaud various aspects of myself to a.s.sure my adequacy as a person, I looked forward to the upcoming months with reminiscent antic.i.p.ation.

Among the various events of the summer which followed 11th grade was the renewal of friendship between Steve, my next-door neighbor, and me.

Throughout junior high our meetings had been markedly spa.r.s.e, the result of differing circles of friends rather than personal quarrels.

After several brief conversations, we discovered we shared common interests which could provide the foundation for a friendship. Our "fellowship" introduced me to people who eventually became friends of my own, and those from school with whom I had previously a.s.sociated but drifted slowly toward other interests and destinations.