July 9th, 1973
Dear Diary,
Okay, so I talked with my mother last night and I can't exactly say things went well. I'm thinking that maybe I started it out all wrong? I mean, I just walked right into her bedroom and was like, 'Mom? Can we talk?' and all the times in the past that I've ever done that we've talked about me. We've talked about school trouble and things like that; all subjects pertaining to me. Never once, have we talked about something directly relating to her so it was kind of hard to get the conversation moving after that first sentence. Especially since she gave me the cliché reply of, "Sure, honey. What do you want to talk about?" and then there was a long awkward silence as I tried to determine how to phrase my next sentence… so, yes. That didn't go very well. My silence had put her imagination into overdrive and she almost accused me of doing something shady and underhanded behind her back, which in a way I did, spending time with Keith and the other Partridge kids against her wishes and all, but I wouldn't necessarily call it 'wrong' and her thoughts were miles off from mine. So anyways, after we got all those misconceptions straightened out, I was able to finally get my words to go together and I asked her flat out: why didn't she like the Partridge Family?
As you have probably already guessed, she started to feed me all those silly excuses of the past about them being 'show-business people' and all that, so when she had finished, I launched a second question. Why did she hate all show business-people just because of Dad? But after I had said it, I instantly wanted to take it all back. I knew mentioning Dad would lead to a bunch of trouble, but it had just slipped out. I was all ready for her to get angry with me and yell and scream and the whole bit, but then she didn't. I mean, she was kind of quiet for a while and then she got all teary-eyed and started talking about how she should have discussed my father with me years ago and then it was as if she was debating whether she should even talk with me now about the subject. There was this long, awkward silence and then she looked at me and said softly, "I just don't want to see you hurt, Donna."
I was almost angry at this point. Boy, did I ever feel like telling her that it was too late for that and that she was the whole reason for it, keeping me away from Keith and all, but I didn't say a word. I decided to call it quits and said goodnight, before quickly escaping to my bedroom where I spent the better part of an hour lying awake trying to determine what went wrong in that conversation. I mean my whole purpose of even trying to talk to her was to persuade her that she was wrong about the Partridge Family and that she shouldn't judge somebody just because of their occupation, but then it somehow turned into a discussion about Dad and about my 'not getting hurt'. I mean did I miss something or what? Why can't life be more simple? Why is it that every time I go to talk with my mother, I end up getting nothing accomplished? What a drag! It looks like I'm going to have to try again. But for the time being, I'm going to give it a rest.
Miserably,
Donna
July 10th, 1973
Dear Diary,
Today is Sunday. That means there are only three more days until the concert! I am so excited! I can hardly wait! The only down side is that neither Candice nor Karri are going to be able to make it. I guess they both have a family reunion to go to or something. That's too bad. Especially since I'm a little nervous about Keith's plan for that night. All I have to remember is to stay after the show; to tell Mom that we should wait for the crowds to disperse before leaving the auditorium. I am so nervous! I hope Keith's plan works because I don't think I'll be able to get the courage to talk to Mom again before Wednesday.
Anyhow, today was about as uneventful as yesterday. I spent the majority of my morning weeding the flowerbeds in the backyard and then went shopping with Mom and Ricky until about dinnertime, which is when I escaped up to my room and spent the rest of my night listening to records.
Life's been going by at an unbearably slow speed since I last saw Keith and I can only hope that these last three days will pass by quickly. I can't wait until the concert! The suspense is becoming almost unbearable! At least I know what I'm going to wear, and I have my part of the plan all memorized, but still, the waiting is just terrible!
Anxiously,
Donna
