Laughter was not only for myself, however, for I had to maintain a degree of humor regarding both my appearance and my general situation, spanning isolation to body dysfunctions, to retain my normalcy in the eyes of those around me. Laughter makes an unpleasant event more acceptable despite its inherent distastefulness; even my wig afforded certain individuals with unbridled laughter when I would put it on backwards and, playing a mock guitar, pretend to be a member of a rock band. Had my reaction to adversity brought a shadow of gloom over my face and personality the suffering endured by my family and friends would have been greatly multiplied; as a result, my isolation would have grown. Depression is as catching as humor, yet unlike humor, it is not sought and possesses no magnetism of itself. Feb. 1, 1976... I got sick in the night last night. I was real cold, then really super hot. I started to make little whines, hoping Mom or Dad would hear me. Finally, Mom heard me and Dad came to see what was the matter. He helped me get situated on the sofa. I slept all the rest of the (next) day. I can't remember if I even ate today at all. All I know is that I'm having super weird dreams all of the day. When my mom began to teach, I remember my jealousy toward the faceless names which daily she brought home. Conversation I did not mind, yet her employment involved much more than that. She sometimes came home quite late, and even after working over-time at school she managed to tote further work to our house. If she asked for help, I would do so begrudgingly, knowing that the time she saved by my assistance would only spawn other ideas from her conscientiousness. When I no longer wanted a stuffed animal or toy, she quickly rushed it to school; this was a true blow, for the kindergarteners were not only benefiting from her time at school and at home, but were now receiving my old and once-beloved belongings! My displeasure voiced itself in a cantankerous fashion as I stewed my over-all annoyance for small children's propensities (irrationality, brazen and loud mouths, uncouth mannerisms, and their tendency toward the profuse utilization of tears) under her nose. I finally discovered that, no matter how truthful my statements had been, she found a way to ricochet them back to my behavior as a child. Dad was sympathetic, for he knew that Mom's attempts to parallel one's behavior to that which one found disfavorable in others was one of her habits. I asked him whether I was like "this" or like "that," illustrating for him the exact scenario which I had placed before Mom, and often he would say, "No, you didn't do that... or at least not that bad." I only complained about those things which I felt I had not done, for I could not condemn a road that I had once walked as if my feet had never carried its dust. Finally, in exasperation, I decided my war against the kindergarten children should no longer be verbalized.