Three Sisters-esque

We're leaving for Moscow!

I'm aching to get out out out. I want to enter a different world.
I need perspective. I need to breath. I need to forget.

Everything will be different when I come back, and magically bearable. And I will feel refreshed and content. And life will go on.

I've done it before, I can do it again.

I'm going to stand in Red Square among the masses and drink champagne and cheer as fireworks bring in the new year. I'll watch the past explode shimmering, into darkness. And when the smoke clears, everything will be clearer.

thank god thank god thank god!



(I'll take lots of pictures, don't worry)

à bout

I'm glad the semester is ending. I mean I'm not glad I have finals on tuesday - jesus - but I just feel completely drained. All my energy either went into healing from my accident or Life is a Dream which was a huge dissapointment.

I'm dreading going home. The holidays are always an explosive time at my house. Last Christmas my mom threw my dad out and so he spent all day at the movie theater and then he told me about how humiliated and alone he felt sitting there in the dark. Seriously. God, I felt like I was in some horrible teen movie starring Mandy Moore. I wish I had something solid, something. But I don't think I do.

Even a little escape. Where I could go and just not worry, just let the rest dissolve away. I think I would be stronger if I had that. It's hard for me to be happy when I don't feel safe. I mean god, that's natural isn't it?

I leave for Russia on the 27th. I can't wait. I know I will feel breathless and free. And even if it only lasts for two weeks, I know I'll feel more alive there than I have felt in a really long time.

I have my drawing final on tuesday and an essay exam for theater history. I fly home on wednesday.

I don't know what happens after that. I don't know what I want. I just want it to be easier. I want to feel lighter.

Venting Ahead:

Acting is so damn hard. I can't tell you the number of times I'm crafted scenarios in my head, ways to escape this whole fucking world and start a new life without any of the frustration and sacrifice and powerlessness of this business.

Its incredible how just...elastic people expect you to be. And how you need to be. And at the same time impregnable. You have to be incredibly INCREDIBLY vulnerable and yet never let subjective judgements of your most precious personal self even touch you. You have to let them roll off your back. Sometimes I wonder if I would get more by giving less. If that would make it any easier.

I just can't do it right now. I'm so discouraged. I feel like I've grown so much and I'm being punished for it. It's just making me angry and hurt, and coupled with the rejection I'm feeling in my personal life, it's too much right now.

I want to do this so badly, so so badly. I haven't played a part I loved in a play I loved in a REALLY LONG TIME. I feel completely castrated artistically and its fucking making me really depressed!

This Breaks My Cardinal Rule: See If You Can Guess

I think I maybe

possibly

honestly

think

my third favorite thing in the world, the #3 best feeling imagineable

(1. sex
2. playing the shit out of a great scene in a great play)


is smoking a bowl and watching Gray's Anatomy.



I know what you're thinking.

But you know what? Deep down in places I try not to share whenever possible, I am really just a sweet girl and that stuff gets to me. Deep down beneath the necessary objectivity of reality, I subjectively believe, contrary to all indications in real life, that you can fall in love with someone and stay in love with them, and that they can stay in love with you. I know, its irrational. But so is life sometimes.

It really is, I didn't always believe that but now I do. Sometimes shit can really happen to you for no reason, and it is not a consequence of your own actions.

That car accident taught me so much. Its incredible. I didn't realize how much until long afterwards but seriously, it is unbelievable.

I'm going to bed.

No Excuses!

So I finally got my copy of Sallinger and now I can start my thesis!

And by that I mean now I have no excuse not to start my thesis!

good or bad? Too soon to tell.

I started translating the forward. This is what I'm in for (this will only be interesting for those who speak any french, sorry!)

<Impressions d'acteurs>> : qu'est-ce qu'une lecture et qu'en reste-t-il lorsqu'on s'est détaché du souvenir de l'oeuvre? Quel est le souvenir final? Est-ce un personnage, un rapport, une absence de rapports, le tableau d'un élément vital, ou même rien de tout cela, quelque chose de beaucoup plus essentiel, qui a touché au plus profond le comédien, et qu'il veut, par ce spectacle, transmettre?
Totale liberté de l'acteur, et soumission totale à ce qui fait la force et l'existence d'une oeuvre qu'on a aimée, Lecture Américaine est une première étape à la fois dans l'approche de l'oeuvre de Salinger, dans la définition de ce qu'est une impression de lecture et, enfin, comme il s'agit de comédiens, dans l'investigation du pouvoir et des limites du théâtre pour les dire.>>

Not too tough linguistically but a bitch and a half to make clear on a purely literary standpoint.

126 pages...

You heard it here first:

Auditions are the most absurd enigma.

Its like stepping into a tornado. You walk in the room, all kinds of stuff happens that you didn't expect, both good and bad, REALLY QUICKLY and then you walk out. You feel like you've suffered severe head trauma because you can't put together a goddamn coherent sentence about what happened in there. Possibly you were abducted by aliens.

the only time you do seem to know what happened is when it went horribly horrible wrong.

So I suppose this is the best case scenario.

But auditions....what the fuck. How that is supposed to gage someone's talent and potential is beyond me.

that is all.

Cross-Section

Everything is mysterious, confusing, muddling. I feel like life is running me over, and I get so afraid that I sabotage everything. I think I must do it on purpose, albeit subconsciously, so I don't feel completely blindsided. I suppose I'd rather walk straight into traffic so I can brace myself before being struck down. If that makes any sense. Instead of being run down on the sidewalk, unsuspecting.

I was in a very frightening car accident in august and I now have a very visceral memory of what it felt like to be the one careening out of control, feeling yourself floating in air, about to hit cement and feel glass and metal crushing but not feeling it yet. And powerless, in the hands of God some would say. Suspended in time between the unchangeable past and an imminent razor-sharp explosion.

You hold your breath.

And I mean its nothing so serious. This feeling now, it isn't life and death. But you're still running out of air and the consequences are coming closer and closer. It all happens so fast. One gesture and its all over.

And you can stop everything and at the same time you can't. You're omnipotent and yet crippled by what you can't control. You're just scared scared scared.

That's what's horrible about falling in love.

I think I need to breathe. I think that's the key. I think I need to breath and let go. Why do I worry so much? If I'm suspended, frozen between what I've already done and the inevitable consequences, then what have I to worry about?

Today I will ground myself and focus on what's at my fingertips. And breathe.

McDreamy

You know, its funny. On television, particularly shows with a primarily female audience like my beloved Gray's, there are always these intelligent, sensitive, emotional available, giving, respectful men who just wait around for some certain adorably complicated, tortured, scared and commitment-phobic woman to finally get over her issues and fall in love with them - because why wouldn't she? He's perfect. Its like some sort of sick (i.e. very clever) emotional pornography, we just eat it up - and whats funny about it is all of us women watching the show aren't Meridiths, we aren't represented by the actual woman in this situation. We aren't tortured and self-loathing and emotionally unavailable (not more than usual anyway). We're the McDreamy's. And we're always falling for men who are exactly like Meridith, and that's why we keep coming back, even though this season kind of sucks. Because we all have that male-meridith (or in my case a grand parading series of them) and we long, we long so tenderly for the day that we meet a Dr. Shepherd who lives in the wilderness in an incredibly spacious and well-furnished trailer and gets up at 5am to catch trout every morning before kissing us awake and ravaging us so we can make it through our harrowing (yet sweetly hilarious) day of back to back surgeries with a smile.

Plus, I mean, I wish I had someone to pick out indie-folky-rock gems for my life's soundtrack.

And I mean...let's not forget that he SAVES LIVES.

I don't know what to do with myself.

I was getting ready to go to the gym this afternoon. I'd had a strange night of unsatisfied sleep, it took me hours and hours to finally get comfortable, I couldn't even keep my eyes closed until practically 4 am. I woke up and slept again, woke up and slept again, and I couldn't drag my body out of bed until past noon. I should have known something was very wrong.

My mother called. My Aunt Diane is in the hospital on life support. She may not make it through the night. The woman who survived multiple surgeries on her inner ear and brain, who survived breast cancer all on her own after her husband left her, the woman who is always there for my mother and who had become a fixture in our family even though she lives in Chicago, the woman who sends me three email forwards a day with pictures of kittens...she could be gone in the blink of an eye.

The man who basically is her only family and friend, her life companion, the man who had quit his job basically to take care of her in the last couple of weeks while she was suffering from what she thought were severe panic attacks, was the one who called 9-1-1 when he discovered her unresponsive in the middle of the night. Her lungs had begun to collapse and her heart stopped beating. He was DENIED to right to see her and to speak with her doctor because he's not a relative.

And now I'm sitting here in my room in sneakers and workout clothes, and I'm staring at my telephone and the clock and thinking about what I should do before class and rehearsal, what could possibly make sense to do right now. I can't go work out, I can't go to the grocery store, I can't run to the bank, I can't do anything I need to do, I'm rooted to the spot. I can't do anything that makes any sense because nothing makes sense. Nothing makes any sense.

Sleep? What?

After pulling a crazy all-nighter, where I can honestly say that I actually worked through the entire night, and somehow struggling through my oh-so-favorite day of the week, I get home at 11pm and what do I do?

I watch TV and dick around until 2am.

There just comes a point where you are so tired that you just can't stop not sleeping. You think to yourself, "well, it can't get any worse than this"

and then "oh look! A show about the Nick's City Dancers, I should definitely watch this."

The 'weak' in 'weekend'

Sammy came to visit for the weekend and it was so great. She and I and Meg spent lots of quality time together. It was so lovely! I miss having them around. I miss normal people! I mean normal but secretly weird and hilarious, but seemingly normal. Actually what I really mean is functional. And not addicted to drugs or alcohol.

Anyway it made us all very nostalgic. Its sad that we'll never all live together in the same town again, considering we lived in the same apartment for three years.

What a great weekend!

Of course I got none of my work down however, so I'm gonna have an awful week full of sleep-deprivation and stress.

I really need to rethink how much effort and thought I put into managing my time.

And less effort and thought into how I'm going to afford to drink.

song beneath the song

I like drawing with charcoal. I love it, in fact, so much better than pencil or ink. I think because I can get my hands into the shadows and spread them daintily or piercingly as the case may be. I put my computer on one of my pandora stations () and just zone out.

I also like tearing my putty eraser into long strings and feeling the fibers go soft and downy. Then I rub the charcoal off my wrists and palms (and arms and face and legs etc...I'm a naturally messy person).

I went to bed at 10:30 last night because I just couldn't think about anything that was going on in life right then. I was sitting there discussing the night before with Morgan and I just was so overwhelmed that I stood up, went to my room, took off my clothes, turned the lights off and went to bed. At 10:20 on a saturday! I mean that's not me.

Even so, getting out of bed this morning was still difficult. Not in the I-have-nothing-to-get-up-for way, certainly not, I mean, if nothing else I was hungry since I'd never actually eaten dinner. But my whole body was just so exhausted and I kept waking up and rolling over again, back to sleep.

I was talking to Meg today (love her) about how terrified I am of my show. I mean really if you put it in simplistic terms it's a celebration of a story that...I think is imagined. Not that I don't long for those things too, I mean of a perfect goodness in the universe, but when you come down to it, I can't believe that exists. I mean I can hope it does, but can't fully surrender to that belief. And that's my own fault, I mean at some point in my life, that was a choice I made, somehow.
I often wish I could turn myself around, to get down on my knees, and to give it all over. I've even tried, honestly, even the whole getting down on your knees part. I even tell myself I've done it. But in the end, it turns out that I haven't really, and bad things happen, deep dissapointments come and come again, and I know that they always will. They always will.

That isn't to say that life isn't beautiful, it is. That's what makes it worth living. Some single moments and experiences are so unspeakably beautiful that they can sustain a person for a lifetime, and most lives are full of those moments.

In the middle ages they thought that fate was a wheel. Spinning on the axis of time, you're always on the way up, or on the way down. How can you love the force spinning that wheel? I suppose knowing that once they plunge you into darkness they'll bring you back into the light. But then they just plunge you back into darkness again - i mean - how can you trust that person, give them your love and your faith. And forgive them. My mind and body revolt from surrendering to someone who hurts me, call it hyper-vigilance, call me what you will.

And in the end, it doesn't make a difference what you believe. That wheel keeps turning, time passes and there are beautiful moments and terrible ones, and that is life.

How can I play this part and sincerely wish people to do something that to me, makes no sense? That to me, at least for now, is empty?

Deborah Kerr

Gorgeous, classy, sophisticated, legs for days...



What a loss.

The Run-Down

So I woke up at 7am this morning to go to the physical therapist.

I was walking across town on my way there and it was a beautiful morning. A little chilly but not too cold and not too windy. The streets were still relatively calm, people just starting to make their way to work but before the 9am rush. It was lovely, I felt really awake and ready to face the day.

Then physical therapy was just depressing. Although I am pretty happy with the progress I've made the pain is not actually any better. Not any better after the two weeks in the fucking brace from hell. My physical therapist looked worried and she left the room while I was doing electrostimulation to call my doctor about it. She's still convinced that I've got a tear in my ACL or meniscus that's keeping my MCL from healing properly. Her version of the bright side? The other injury may be inoperable, so there's nothing that could have been done anyway.

I'd call that a reach for a best-case scenario.

Now I'm just filled with anxiety. I'm going back to the doctor tomorrow morning, she may want to take another MRI. I just want it to be over. I don't even care about the pain, I just want to know that my knee is going to get better really really soon. That my career isn't permanently handicapped. That I'm not going to have to go through an extremely painful surgery that will take me years to recover from, and have arthritic knees when I'm 30 years old.

This is just a fucking nightmare and the pain makes everything ten times worse. I'm irritable, hyper-sensitive, unmotivated and unproductive, and extremely withdrawn. I really need some comfort and I just have nowhere, nowhere to get it.

And I felt so good this morning! It really makes a person feel utterly defeated. And its not even 10am and I'll be in class or rehearsal literally until 11pm tonight. How am I going to get through this? I already want to burst into tears.

Dear Weatherman:

Do you ever feel like a hurricane?
Tearing aluminum roofs off in anonymous trailer parks?
You are like a wise and patient meteorologist.
You have a good storm sense.
And I like the way you look.

I’m sorry I rage.

It’s just my nature.

Forgive me?

Meow Meow Meow

So funny story.

You know how I was looking forward to getting my brace off, counting the days, you know, planning all the things I was finally going to be able to do. I was excited.

So turns out, life sans brace = a new level of pain.

I literally cried through all of my exercises. It was awful. And my range of motion is HORRIBLE and I cannot walk normally. I think I forgot how and my body is NOT anxious to remind me. I try to walk normally and my body send a message from my knee to my brain saying, "Whaaaa wait why would you want to do that? It hurts! Absolutely not. No no no. Nope, busy, no."

I got really scared so I called my mom (listen, I'm codependent, its not a crime) and she assured me that it would get better, that she felt the same way, that is was hopeless but it really does get better, and I should go to the YMCA and swim, meow meow meow. And she's right.

I would have done it today but its raining! I don't like walking in the rain. New York City rain is not ok. Seattle rain is nice because its light and clean and smells good. New York City rain is hard and smells horrible and probably has little droplets of incinorated body parts in it or something. Or bed-bugs. Something really disgusting. I got caught in the rain on my way back from a reading I did downtown and I was soaked to the bone, through my clothes and everything. Not anxious to do that again.

Alright well, I'm going to try my exercises. I took a pain killer, hopefully it won't be completely hellish.

Melancholy Tide

I took the plunge and I hit the water hard but it felt so cool and dark and inviting that I swam deeper, knowing it would be heaven to let go. But now the light is fading above my head, and I'm so far down that I don't know which way is up. I'm all alone at the bottom of the sea while he tugs on away across the surface.
Its an uncomfortably familiar feeling. Reminds me of the first time I felt it, six years ago, and each time after. Its just hard to believe I dove in again - even harder to believe I was eager to do it.

A body never learns.

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

I've been listening to the Across the Universe soundtrack for pretty much 48 hours nonstop. I tried to listen to it while writing my paper, but I mostly sang 'I want to hold you hand' for about 6 hours.

Ok, exaggeration. But I got NOTHING done, which means I'll be working my ass off all night tonight, while Kelsey is here, which sucks. I suck!

Oh well....close your eyes and I'll kiss you, tomorrow I'll miss you, remember I'll always be true!



first acting class today with Diane Weast! Excited...wish I wasn't in an enormous leg brace!

Block

I've attempted to write an entry several times, and I have such anxiety about things I shouldn't write, or things being too innane/psychotic to write, this is all I can manage, self-consciousness aside:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crunchy (a link wouldn't work, I don't know why)

why have I been feeling like I need to censor myself? Where is that impulse coming from? Why do I get so ashamed of myself and insecure? I feel like I've been knocked off my pedestal and am fighting to get back on top of it.

Strange.

And in case you're thinking, "wow, you see? She's so aware of her issues, so she won't keeping those for long," don't get ahead of yourself. Turns out that being self-aware doesn't make you less neurotic. It makes your neuroses more sophisticated.

I'm a gifted genius when it comes to insecurity.

I'm so advanced!



anyway, you should check that link, I found it while browsing wikipedia (one of my favorite hobbies) and it's hilarious

Blink of an eye

Today we got an email from our senior audition teacher. She apologized for being unresponsive to our emails (we're sending her stuff for class) and explained that after class last week she had a message from a State Trooper saying her husband had been involved in a fatal car accident and that he had been killed.

I can't even imagine. One second and your life is one thing and then a split second later your life is torn into pieces so fine you can't make it out anymore. I would lose my mind with grief. Imagine you start your day, you wake up next to your husband of what I assume is many years, you get ready, you say "see you later" and that afternoon some stranger calls and tells you that your husband is gone and you will never see him again and there is nothing you can do and you have to face it.

I really think my mind would crack, I'd probably end up in some psych ward somewhere. God, and I'm sure she has kids too. Jesus Christ.

I don't know why it hit me so hard but I've been feeling really out of it all day. I was just seized with this fear of something horrible happening to someone I love. I could hardly concentrate in class. I couldn't be present at all in vocal tech because I knew I would just cry my eyes out.

My dad got one of those calls. From the State Trooper. When I had my accident. I mean, we weren't dead, but still. I can't imagine. Even my father who "doesn't need emotions" must have been so...scared.
He called me twice today, just to chat. I know I should talk to him but it just feels so staged. I know it would make him feel better, even if it makes me feel worse, I should probably just bite the bullet.
I don't understand that man. I don't understand who he is. I just don't want to be dissapointed over and over again. His potential for good and for evil is bottomless and I don't like sticking my neck out on the chopping block. I mean, can you blame me? That's just basic survival instinct. Why should I offer him unconditional love when I know I won't get it in return? One minute he wants to chat for an hour on the phone about whats going on in my life and the next minute he's provoking my mom to call the police to our house. AGAIN. WHO ARE YOU?!

guh.

Poor Jason, I texted him 5 times tonight to make sure he was driving safely. I'm a nut.

Fucking tuesday...

Sweet Home _______

fill in the blank, please.

I only thought of that because today I was exhausted when I finally slumped home at about 6:30pm. So upon arrival I was debated whether or not I should suck it up and take a nap and I decided I didn't have time to take a nap. So I turned on the tv thinking I would at least give my mind a snooze without giving in my whole body, but apparently my body disagreed, because about 10 minutes into Sweet Home Alabama I was out like a light on the couch. I woke up two hours later, sooooo sore.

My whole body hurts.

Physical therapy sucked today. I'm tired of being in pain and not being able to run and jump and work out. I'm getting fat, it makes me sick. So then I eat two candy bars to make myself feel better.

But seriously, I'm realizing that there is no way to get through this recovery without tempting a flare-up of my Achilles tendonitis and this whole thing is just spiraling out of control. My knee isn't ANY better, I'm getting the name of an orthapedist (who the fuck knows how to spell that word) to see exactly whats going on. The rest of me is still sore from sunday because I'm so out of shape.

I'm still sleepy. I'm so sleepy I'm almost a little nauseous. Does that ever happen to you?

I had a nice time in drawing today, for a change. I got to play with ink. Ink is fun. And is now all over my entire arms and hands. I have a special talent for making messes.

I read a great play by a playwright who I know (sort of know) tonight and I was relieved because it was REALLY good and hilarious and creepy because you're so disturbed and amused at the same time. I love theater.

I feel a little crazy right now. I feel a little...untethered.

hmmmmmmmmmmm maybe I'll go lookin for trouble

Case of the Mondays...

ugh, today is a disgusting awful day.
i felt it the moment i woke up, after i hit snooze 23 times, although i was cheerful.
i should have known, as soon as i burned my pancake - always an omen of bad things to come.

My whole body hurts, the weather is awful, they were all out of thumbtacks at CVS.
i have tons of drawings due tomorrow, none of which are finished, and I have to be up at 7:30 am to start my day.

Oh awful awful awful.

Mostly awful because I don't feel myself, I feel irritable and petty. I was selfish this morning on the phone, with the one person i never want to be selfish with, i couldn't snap out of it, i was getting sort of...i don't know, all tied up inside. And then i was so distracted by worrying about what he would think of that behavior that i could hardly concentrate in class. All I kept thinking was, "this would be easier to sort out in person" but of course if we could sort it out in person than the whole problem wouldn't exist and everything would be blissful.

I talked to an old friend of mine this weekend and he asked me about my love life and he laughed. "nothing simple for you, huh?"

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

Christ.

Learning Curve

Last night was horrible.

And I felt horribly selfish and blind which made me feel even worse. I just finally worked myself up so much that I felt sick and went to bed. I know I should be grateful and I know everything happens for a reason and blah blah blah but GOD why do I seem to be always having these lessons forced down my throat. If something, anything, could just come easily to me - that would be great.

Well that's an exaggeration. Some lovely things do come easily to me, things that mean more to me than any project (you know who you are) but even those things come with strings attached and stipulations and take a lot of strength and courage and faith. I'm just feeling very blighted right now. Is that a word? Well it is now.

I'm feeling sorry for myself, basically. I know I do that a lot.

It just digs into me, you know? It gets under your skin, time after time, never getting exactly what you strive for. You start to falter and doubt and resent which makes it even harder, increasingly harder each time. To think positive and to believe.

And I know in my heart that I would have been so GOOD.

But I suppose this role gives me a chance I haven't had in quite sometime, in that I will be able to completely transform myself into something completely different. I mean my character isn't even earthly, so you know. It will be interesting. I'll probably learn a lot. But I'm still kicking myself. And I still wonder what might have happened if I hadn't auditioned for the second show.

I'm just...GUH...dissapointed again. Seems to be a common theme.

Luckily I have people in my life who I am convinced can see me through anything. Not very many but a few choice people. And Feathers.

Fuck Fuck Fuck

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

FUCK!

I got a letter from Clipper Navigations Inc. kindly informing me that due to the cancelled boat to the San Juan Islands, I had rescheduled a party of 2 to Victoria instead and then forgotten to cancel their previously booked hotel in the San Juans. So they're deducting $185 dollars from my commission check.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK dhfsjhfjksdhjkflhui3y4uigfufgehjvbdhcvbhjevfhjvfejgedhjfgeiuyeghfjd


I need a job really soon. How the fuck am I going to do this.

Thick Skin

I just downloaded Sara Bareilles' album Little Voice, you should do the same.

Some things get easier every day and some things just get harder.

One thing I forgot about being at school is how alone it feels sometimes. My close friends are so busy and I often end up feeling like there's no one really REAL out there to connect to. That's the problem with being an artist, particularly in theater, is that people are sometimes so fake. I mean, they're entertaining as fuck, but they are just so...caught up with appearing a certain way, maybe because they feel so vulnerable, I don't know. I just feel very alienated.

I would love to go and see Meg or go out to Queens maybe, but I can't go anywhere. Unless I can afford cabfare which, let me cut the suspense, I can't.

I'm too tired to worry about money. I'm just exhausted all the time. Standing up for 20 minutes completely wipes me out, and I keep pushing myself too hard so that when I lay down at night I'm in too much pain. I've been putting off some of the treatment that my naturopath gave me, I don't know why. I just...is it going to make it any better? No. I'm still not going to be able to walk, I'm still going to be unable to make around and get myself a glass of water or walk to the grocery store and cook something. I just feel paralyzed and so its hard to really care about anything.

I know I told Jason to have hope and courage to see through the pain and I realize I'm being a huge hypocrite...sigh...no I mean I do have hope - in a month, I'll be walking fine, but for now I just feel completely helpless. And I hate hate hate it. I just want to cry every time I want to take out the trash, or set up all the kitchen stuff, or do any number of things that I can't really do.

And I suppose I saw it coming but no one can help me by going up to Harlem and supervising the movers tomorrow, so I'm gonna have to take a cab up there and then take a cab back and do all of it myself. I'm hoping it goes fine. We'll see. I mean I don't really have a choice at this point.

I miss Jason, so much. He gives me some kind of courage I just can't get anywhere else. Its hard to summon that feeling from 3000 miles away but I guess I'll have to try for a while. That's the only thing that got me up to 93rd street the other day to get my wheelchair.

I'm just dreading tomorrow. I shouldn't, I should be positive.

It'll be fine. It'll be great. I'll have all my stuff and I will be able to sleep on my own sheets and comfy bed. That will be nice. Ok. I can do this.

the pain drain

I woke up this morning in a lot of pain again, and it struck me, maybe for the first time, how really helpless I am. I can't do shit, and I have no idea how I am going to have any semblance of a normal life.

I mean, here I am with a full day in new york city before I can move my stuff in (yeah, no idea how I'm going to do that either) and I can't do ANYTHING. I can't go to the grocery store, I can't even go to the mail room. All I can do is sit on the fucking bed and read or watch television. Its pathetic, I feel awful. I really really hate this. I hate having to ask people for help for every tiny thing. I hate being dependent on the caprice of others, because I know that I'm gonna end up stuck most of the time. I fucking hate hate hate this.

To top it all off, most of my stuff is in storage, which I have somehow got to get out on saturday. Which is fine, because we hired some extra movers to basically do it all for me, BUT someone has to go up to Harlem and "supervise" them. I can't go, needless to say, so I have to find somebody who will. And I don't know a single person who is willing to do it. I don't know what I am going to do. I'm not sure I'm even gonna be able to supervise them on this end, I really can't walk on my crutches for very long without getting really really tired.

Sorry about the self-pity fest, I know I should be happy that I'm alive and that it could have been much worse. But its still a nightmare.

Nice.

Listen, you know what? I am a nice person, I like being a nice person, being nice is very important to me. I want people to think I am kind and fair.

And I am, so fuck you.

So today I had another one of those horribly unsettling incidents when someone tries to undermine you by using your nice-ness.
They pull something dirty and treacherous and then make you stopping them doing that not nice thing (robbing you blind and sideways) seem like YOU doing something terribly not nice.
Which is absurd and unfair.
And it is that very kind of behavior that makes it so hard to be nice in this world, that EXCUSES people who are not nice and makes them think its ok not to be nice, because nice people only get SCREWED OVER.
BEING NICE SHOULD BE EASY! WHY DO YOU ALL MAKE IT SO FUCKING HARD?!
Maybe if we all stopped being so fucking worried about ourselves and started just being nice then everyone else would be nice too and then you wouldn't have to be worried about yourself because no one who is nice would ever hurt you!
Wouldn't that be...nice?! FUCK!! ITS NOT FUCKING NUCLEAR FISSION!!

I mean god, save your aggression for the bedroom people! Or Tae Kwon Do! Jesus fucking christ!

Look, if there is a problem and you come to me when you discover it then maybe we can work together towards a compromise. I'll probably even be more than commonly generous, which I do AL THE TIME (remember, I'm a NICE PERSON).
But when you go behind my back, when you lie and cheat, and when you are not only not nice to me, but to whoever else may get pulled in along the way, then I have am not particularly inclined to be self-sacrificing! I mean I'm nice, but I'm not a doormat.

AND THEN to put the proverbial cherry on the passive aggressive sundae, you try and make me feel bad about standing up for myself?! HDJSKALHJKDSAHJDSKALHDJSAFKLHFDSJLKFDHJKLDFHJKDSLFHJSKAL!!!!
It makes me so angry because although you probably don't realize what you are doing, (people like you never tend to think on the grander scale) YOU ARE KILLING THE IMPULSE TO BE NICE IN PEOPLE!!!

Look, people would like to be nice, I really believe that. Its why people fucking love those Extreme Home Makoever shows, or when Oprah gives some poor family a new home and tons of crap, because we long, we simple LONG for niceness. It makes us feel good, and we would LOVE to be a part of it. People would love to be nice most of the time. Its so FUCKING OBVIOUS, its the most obvious logical thing in the world. But people learn, after encountering people like YOU, that when they are nice they get screwed. And instead of attaching that blame to YOU for SCREWING THEM, they blame themselves. Because people are too nice to blame YOU!! ISN'T THAT SWEET BUT PATHETIC?! We blame ourselves and we say, "well that's what I get for being nice". And so we stop being nice, eventually. And we don't blame people for being selfish and opportunistic and dishonest and cruel, we just stop being nice, thinking that we'll be prepared for it.

God its so sad.

Anyway, I'm continuing to be nice and hopefully I inspire other people to be nice too. And it makes me sad when people aren't and today is just one of those days.

The end.

Sorry that was so long. And that I swore and used the Lord's name in vain. But I just get so angry sometimes! Well anyway, you know.

Stuck

Around dinner time last night, my parents start bickering again. My dad refused to make what my mom had laid out for dinner, he cooked something she didn't like instead, GOD KNOWS WHY, and the fighting commenced. And there I sat in the middle of it, wishing I had one of those bells they use in boxing matches. Round 1!

Then my dad lost his temper, called her a nasty old bitch (nice one dad) and stormed upstairs. Then we were left without anyone for a couple of hours. Then he came back downstairs and I asked for my pain medication and my mom berated him for not being on top of my care. "You're not doing your best John, stop lying to yourself!"

Now my mom and dad are in the other room, fighting out of earshot. Which i suppose is better than fighting over me right in front of my nose.

But I'm still alone, stuck on the couch.

I'm worried about coming back to new york. How will I move in? How will I go grocery shopping? How am I even going to participate in my classes?

I hate this so much, but I must be grateful that it wasn't any worse.

I'M FINE I PROMISE

So I was driving down I-5 with my mom on our way to Ashland for a little vacation, I just remeber driving and then all of a sudden we swerved out of control across the 4 lanes of traffic, we were struck by another car, hit the median, then slammed by another truck. Then we flipped onto the ceiling and skidded back across the roadway on the roof until we came to a stop when we hit the other guard-rail. I have these flashes, the same images of the crash playing over and over in my head. I still can't remember how it started. I remember unhooking my seat-belt and then my mom's so we wouldn't be hanging upside down from the ceiling.

We are ok in the end. I mean were are both banged up really bad, but no broken bones. My ankle is sprained pretty badly and my other knee has some sort of tendon or cartilage tear. The back of my scalp has three staples in it (THAT was weird, now I know how the paper feels) and the right side of my face is still swollen.

My mom is in a lot of pain and it kills me, because I was the one driving, I feel so responsible. Its awful. And my parents are bickering like mad.

Jason has come over every day. He came over yesterday and again today. He's...amazing. I'm so impressed with him. I wish he was in less pain though :(

Anyway, I just wanted to let everyone know what's happened. I'll heal soon! Mostly now I just sit on the couch and either sleep or watch tv. I do a lot of icing...that's exciting. Sigh. I'm trying to focus all my energy on healing and as little as possible on how this will affect my year because, well, not much I can do about it now.

Summer In Smoke

I really feel like I've been tossed around and stretched out like one of those plastic dolls whose arms and legs are extendable...what are those called? Stretch Armstrong?

I was taking out the garbage tonight, walking down my empty driveway in the dark and the closeness of my leaving and the amount of things that I wanted that never got done just washed over me. That and I don't know when I'm gonna see Jason again. Have I already seen him for the last time without realizing it? Well ok not the last time, but the last time for a while. A scary lonely while. God I'll miss him.

I haven't seen my sister, or Mara, or Daniel or a million friends I intended to catch up with. I have been so defeated lately I haven't been going to the gym. I haven't sorted out my health or my emotions. I haven't put the past behind me. I haven't laid in the sunshine. I haven't done anything except wish that things were a thousand times different than they are and look at my pathetic life and feel so discouraged that I could up and quit if I thought that I could live like this.

I'm terrified, terrified that I've wasted all this time and I'm no close to what I want.

Well except for finding love again, forever maybe, I hope, I don't know.

I went to see a naturopathic doctor and we spent most of my appointment talking about the painful emotional state I'm constantly suffering through. She listened to me talk and cry and anguish and she said some things that really made sense.
She said I was grieving and struggling to forgive my parents for being cowards.
That in order to rationalize their behavior I was forcing myself to think and feel in a way that my soul felt had no integrity. She said I needed to sit down and write a long letter.
And somehow that's going to make it all easier. I don't know how to write this letter. I don't know how to start. "You make me miserable".

Its just not fair is what the little child inside of me says. Why do I have to dig myself out of this hole? I don't feel totally responsible for being there. Its not fair.

But I suppose if I'm going to keep people from throwing continuing to throw fistfuls of dirt at me I'm going to have to climb out all by my fucking self. Typical.

God its going to be ugly. I'm terrified. I've actually never been more terrified in my life, I'm afraid I don't have the courage to do this. I wish I was stronger, like Jason is. He always amazes me. I never amaze myself, except at my own stupidity and obtuseness (word?).

I just feel very trapped and very exhausted and I know I am impatient and irritable and unconstructive and selfish because of it. And I hate feeling that way.

Today has been a rough day. I really feel very weak. I think I'll lay down.

Talk about deathly hollows...

so I'm going to take this brief opportunity to try and catch everyone (and myself) up with what has been going on. I've hardly been writing, mostly because 80% of my time is spent working and the other 20% is divided between spending time with Jason and having emotionally torturous rows with my mother. Just like high school! Its great.

And by great I mean horrible.

except for the Jason part which has been...indescribable. I'm afraid to put anything in writing, say it out loud, because it is bringing me so palpably close to real concrete happiness and because I know its going to change in a very bad way in less than a month. I already feel my heart breaking when I drive away from him. I forgot what a good friend he is. Sometimes we talk for hours and hours and we argue about things that are important to both of us and he listens intently and makes a point to respond. One night he even called me the next day to tell me something he had thought of relating to what we had discussed. He understands, he engages, he is funny and thoughtful and sensitive. I guess I had always heard those couples who say things like, "He's my best friend" and most of the time - out of desperate jealousy I suppose - I would simply laugh it off and mime sticking my finger down my throat. But I think I may be starting to understand what that feels like. I feel...it feels good. I don't know, there are no words. All I know is it is going to be terribly hard to leave him.

He has been particularly helpful in supporting me through my conflicts with my mom which have recently become frequent and destructive. Now I admit I get overly emotional to these kinds of things but that woman has an uncanny ability to sharpen every blow to hit you at the very deepest and most vulnerable place. It makes you want to fight her even if she's right. But then you are left so bruised and dazed that you don't know what to think. You start seeing all your behavior laid out before you in glaring burning letters: selfishness, thoughtlessness, disregard for the feelings of others again and again and again. And I start to doubt my own emotional responses - what is my subconscious agenda? I end up feeling so helpless and worthless and looking at her heart so raw in the face that I become incredibly depressed. Its hard to get perspective, to grab hold of anything constructive from a place like that.

I told her point-blank: this is why I fear to move home, this is why, because I cannot live my life like this, I WILL NOT SURVIVE IT. I will become just as eternally dissapointed and beaten down as you often feel. And I am afraid it would poison whatever goodness there was in my life, poison my relationships, poison my work with self-loathing. It reminds me of a very bleak time in my life, a time where I developed some very dark habits to deal with the self-loathing that was tearing me apart, and I have no desire to go back to that place.

I was supposed to go to Sequim this weekend but those plans were derailed. I would like to be with Jason right now, but I needed to come home and deal with the mess that was left between my mom and myself. I am very weary and I do not feel very...lovable. I guess. It does not make me feel very lovable and it makes me afraid. That someday they all may stop and then I will be left with nothing.

OH MY GOD

i cannot possibly express the anguish to which I am driven living with my parents. i turn one way and slam into the world's most tangled guilt-trip and the other way I bump into the volcanic relationship between my mother and father.

this must be what hell is like.

Short lil' somethin

Sooooooooooooooo summer?

the weather has been insanely beautiful. I spent this whole "weekend" (thursday and friday but hey close enough, right?) hanging out with my new favorite person and feeling summery and great, if a little sweaty. But that can be hot, right?

errrr yeah.

It so funny to see what time does to the way you look at the world (and yourself in it I suppose). You feel as if everything has changed and yet nothing has changed at the same time. I feel afraid and fearless. You know? I guess that's just crazy talk. Its fun to be in love in the summertime, especially with someone who you can really let your freak flag fly with. That's great, there should be more people like that.

What? No i didn't just say that.

ANYWAY. Back to work tomorrow at DAWN (god still hates me). Not another week! And I've had to go off my medication because of some random recent health issues. That's a whole 'nother story though.

My body is going CRAZY. My resting heart rate is apparently 125 bpm. This has my doctors worried, although I feel totally cool and normal. Just as a precaution they have me going off of my medication for a week to see if that effects my heart function or not. I almost hope it isn't that because facing the ordeal of sorting out new dosage on a new medication makes me want to give up on medication completely - which is a shame because some of it can be really helpful. And I refuse to let people throw any of that "you shouldn't have to take medication, you're polluting your body" bullshit on me, because I have a fucking deficiency you assholes and I don't like being moody and neither would you. Fuckers. I hate being judged.

ok debra, positive affirmations: if i judge no one, no one judges me and all is love, all is love, all is love...

(I'm trying)

omg i have got to sleep, tomorrow starts in only 6 hours!

Sinuses?

I don't know if any of you have heard of a little invention called the neti pot, but its a quite spellbinding product. It looks like a little clay tea kettle except for instead of pouring tea into a cup, you pour warm salt water right into your nostril, and then it comes out the other one! Its crazy. At first it was fun and made me feel better because it flushed out my sinuses.

But now it goes in one side, meets the wall of congestion and then reroutes down my throat, which let me tell you - is not pleasant.


I'm totally bummed! I wanted to go up north to see Jason's band tonight and hang out with him, I haven't seen him since like ALMOST A WEEK AGO! That is absurd!
But I think maybe I'm too sick to go, I don't know. I mean I feel like crap but i want to go, but I know this is probably not a good idea. I will probably feel worse tomorrow, when I have to work, if I stay up all night AND I certainly don't want to get him sick either. Hmmm this is one of those times when I should be an adult and make the wise decision. Instead, I am going to put it off and go to the gym. I'm hoping I will pull a complete recovery in approx. 2 hours.

wish me luck.

WHY?!

and how how how did I wake up this morning dying of a cold and possible sinus infection?

hjdfskahfjasdklhdsjakl ok this is annoying IT IS ALMOST JULY!!!!!!!


i will be very upset if this keeps me from enjoying myself tomorrow night

Highway to nowhere

driving down mercer street tonight in the dark, the streetlights shining off of the cars buzzing around me, my body tired and my head feeling empty and drained, I had to laugh at the familiarity of the moment.
its funny how life takes you on a million excursions but in the end its still a circular road, all moving in the same direction. Passing milestones that appear increasingly and alarmingly alike.

A part of me looks back at the adventures I've lived and is hungry for so much. For that feeling again. That feeling I used to get every day as I left my apartment in Paris. The evenings I spent on the terrace in italy, planning the next day's hikes or beach combing. That feeling that is un-nameable but makes you sure for the first time, so sure and positive that you could shout it out and no one would disagree: "I'm alive! I'm alive!" Breath-takingly startlingly living your life instead of sitting and watching it move past you.

On the highway coming over the bridge I looked at the cars around me as the bass from the radio pounded over my eardrums. All the cars traveling the same speed down that highway left me unsettled - as if the bridge itself were moving, the world itself were turning past and all the cars were standing still. All of us inside them feeling sure we're going somewhere when really were are as static and cemented as the pylons of that bridge driven down into the earth.

Part of me wants to run far away, let this feeling fall away and replace it with an endlessly changing landscape of adventures and the instability that comes with them.

But the other part of me...the other part is too torn between a million things to put enough thoughts together to do anything. Most of it is wrapped up in the lingering warmth of his arms around me and his kisses on my skin. That part of me is so hungry, so starved for contact that it sends panic signals to my heart when I spend too much time alone. Even though alone is when I feel the most myself. Alone is also when I lose the most control. I suppose maybe that's the attraction of it. That unrestrained feeling.

And now that part of me is telling my brain to go to sleep. Telling me tomorrow will come early and another mindless day begins. So I surrender and trust that either one or the other part of me will lead me onto the right path.

Diagnosis

Had a physical yesterday. They drew some blood to test all kinds of things I guess, in case my tremor stems from an actual nervous disorder instead of just me being certifiably the most neurotic human on the planet.

Other than that I'm in perfect health :)

Work is pretty mediocre. I forgot how much having a job SUCKS. However, having money is pretty cool. I suppose the ends justify the means, but BOY do I not want to go in today. I wish I had a cool job. Or at least one where I could wear my own clothes.

Hilarious new development: every time I come home after I've spent the night with Jason, my father likes to make snide comments. Last night he asked me where I was going "all dressed up" (I was wearing jeans...I don't know) and I told him I had a date. When I got home this morning and passed him in the hall he mutters, "that was a LONG date"
Creepy. He should be happy I'm not out being impregnated by felons and flushing my life down the drain.

I hate that I become simpering around men I'm dating. I feel like I get quiet and weird and nervous. I wish I had more courage. Or...whatever it is that makes some girls awesome with men. I just feel so shy and self-conscious. ESPECIALLY on the phone, oh god, its humiliating

well I should probably figure out something to actually accomplish today before I leave for work in about an hour...hmmmm...

I miss you all terribly! Write me nice messages, I get lonely a lot here!

Working Girl

...is the greatest movie. Melanie Griffith - what happened to you? Man Cocaine and booze have ruined a lot of people.

ANYWAY. So I pretty much spend my entire life working now. I have been waking up LITERALLY at the crack of dawn, lugging myself off to a thankless job where I have to be nice to incredible daft and rude people, and then heading home again, COMPLETELY drained of any energy whatsoever. Then I usually collapse into bed. Sometimes I work out before I collapse into bed, but collapsing into bed is always an integral part of the equation. Only to be woken again at 5am the next day to start it all over again.

My only solace from this has been spending time with Jason, which has been really kind of incredible so far. Its funny to see how we've changed (and not changed) these last five years. I wish I could see him every day but I know its probably best to resist that temptation. I can't get used to it, because I'll be leaving again in August and I'm preparing myself for it all to go back to normal.

I have such a good time with him. I admire him a lot, as I always have. I think that was a good part of what attracted me to him at first. And he's sensitive, which is good for me. And patient, which is great. And he doesn't seem to mind my neuroses and quirks and he remembers all my hang-ups. He makes it very easy for me, which is refreshing. It doesn't have to be a struggle with him. We communicate a lot better, we talk about how we feel about one another, I express my opinions to him much more freely now.

Anyway, this is the dullest post of all time. I can't believe I'm even posting it.

Next time I'll post something more exciting, I PROMISE

Au Retour

bizarre new developments but i think i like them.
at the very least i can see that he's grown and that he understands the way he made me feel, which is vindicating. i'm not as crazy as i thought i was :)
we went to a really interesting concert that a client of his was in and i was reading the bio's that these woman and men had put in the program. OH MY GOD. this one woman is a registered nurse at Children's Hospital, and she has two kids of her own, and she sings in a renaissance choir, and she gives back to the community, and she has hobbies and a life and everything you could imagine. i kept thinking, jesus, what am i doing with my own time.

the new job is...well, i don't know. it is at the very least NOT monotonous and boring. so i suppose that makes it worthwhile for what it pays. i was seriously stressed out yesterday though, when the phones got really hectic and i answered about 4 calls that required me to make two simoltaneous bookings, i thought i was going to lose my mind. and then afterwards i had a mad headache, but i think that was because i forgot to eat lunch. hah.

last night we were invited to this special event hosted by grayline and the space needle, and we went to this studio in ballard where they blow glass art. we got to go down in the studio and help spin the glass, and mould it and everything, it was really fun. sometime when i have the time and the money (so, never) i would like to take a class on glass-blowing. and photography. and get a nice camera. that would be fun.

then we went to the space needle for a fancy reception with wine and amazing food and i just laughed my ass off knowing that i used to work there and have to stand around all day being nice to a million anonomous jerks. so this time, i was the anonomous jerk, and i had three glasses of wine and i enjoyed myself. so there.

then on the way home my mom brought up the problem of plane tickets to france, which we both have recently discovered are ungodly expensive to the point that i probably won't be able to go. words cannot express how dissapointing this is to me, i want to go so badly, and i deserve to go! fuckers. i hate money, it ruins everything EVERYTHING when you don't have any. if i want to go to moscow in january, which i feel is important for my career, then i shouldn't go to france. unless miraculously $1500 dollars falls into my lap, which (let me save you all the suspense) IT WON'T sooooo i'm fucked, basically.

I started one of the books that Tim recommended to me, based on the Course In Miracles. it's a little too "surrender to God" for my taste, i don't know, it puts me off a little bit. but she did have one idea that i loved because its SO TRUE.
there was this part where she was talking about how she had the habit of getting into the same destructive patterns in her life, and then through much self-reflection and thought and therapy she was able to distinguish them, categorize them, look at them objectively for what they were, these patterns of behavior and association that brought her down to her knees. And she imagined people around her thinking, "well she is so self-aware, now she will be able to rid herself of those patterns."
But being able to recognize and articulate these patterns didn't make them so away, it just made them more sophisticated. There is a deep and wide gap between recognition and a complete physical and mental 180.

i suppose i should try to break my patterns, of course, BUT easier said that done.

Paradigm

No rhyme with reason singing tunes
To play among the sinking dunes
Of miles and miles of empty
Colored faces

When I reveal myself to one and all
I’m facing yet another wall
Too weary still
of many high up places

To the mountains and the skies
Olympic strata lullabies
Rock our baby souls
To sleepy dreaming paces

But now all I can see are wars
Between the oceans and their shores
Spitting bones and bodies back
Onto their bases

So instead I often stay awake
Try to decide which bumpy road to take
Will I choose the one
Who already knows the cases

Cuz the thought of leaving him
Makes my heart so sick and dim
and without him there are
black and frightening spaces

So I lay here in the night
Afraid to sleep and see the fight
Of subconscious fears
And conscious feeling’s traces

In my drowsy wishful head
I feel him next to me in bed
And these sensations trump
The darkness he replaces

How could I ever say goodbye
To a man who made me cry
But who brought such
Simple peace and humble graces

Who's Fault

In the middle California there’s a crack in the earth.
It runs deep down into the crust, striking through rocks and great boulders and layers of primordial clay until finally it reaches the steamy center of magma pools eventually down to the burning core.
Spitting and boiling there is the force and pressure that opposes the universe expanding. One day it will spill over but until then a delicate bargain has been struck between order and chaos and somehow the grass still grows above.
All of us carbon-based life forms, we exist atop invisible valconoes, in our towers of glass and our illusions of wealth. The earth is kind and self-effacing, and most of the time it tolerates us. It even cradles us, feeds us, like a beautiful majestic mother bear.
But she is unpredictable. And one day the cracks in her lovely countenance will crumble open and swallow us up, and only then will we face the charred and scalded face of our mortality. Only then will we taste the fleeting flavor of our triumphs, when it is too late to return and reap anything more from the poor crop we’ve sewn. The land is ravaged and the minerals too few in a once nurturing soil. If we break land, we’ll only find more cracks and be swallowed up all over again.

________ makes the world go 'round

any guesses?

so I find myself after this year exactly where I was two years ago. Which is ironic because I feel like so much has happened - but the only real concrete change its fashioned is the big fat 0 in my bank account SO here I am.

I got a job. Which is alright. It pays about 13 dollars an hour, more if I make above average comission. That being said, I have to get up at 5am. You win, you lose.

I'll tell you one thing I've really been enjoying: my bed. My giant queen-sized bed, all to myself. Which I'm sure will make me sad by the end of the summer, I mean the fact that I'm all alone in such a big bed, but right now I'm quite enjoying it. I stretch out sideways and I throw my arms splayed out like a snow angel. Its lovely.

I still don't know what I'm going to do in August. Don't ask me that.

My mom and I had a long conversation about my new view on life the other night after we saw The Skin of Our Teeth. I was deeply shaken by Mrs. Antrobus' announcement that "life is never how you hoped it would be, but somehow you go on". I was almost scared to, but I asked my mom if that was true. How horrible if that is true. I do hope I might get SOME of the things I hope for. I'm not asking for fame or fortune, I would just like to curl up at night with a man who loves me and feel good. I don't see why that wouldn't be possible, its not a lot to ask. And to do something that means something to me. That's all I really want. I want it to MEAN SOMETHING and feel good about it. There are people who get that sort of thing. Aren't there?

Anyhow it all feeds into my new realization: that you cannot live your life for the end result. It is the journey of life that makes life worth anything. Because you should never quite get there maybe - maybe death should interrupt it all, and then you should say, "Oh I was almost there, but look how far I came!" I don't know.

I saw 'Away From Her' with Julie Christie, who I imagine is the most beautiful woman who ever lived. She has the most profound and untarnishable beauty and grace. I would like to be a woman like that. Her beauty is pervasive, it spreads around her and splashes and spills away from each footstep she makes. Loveliness is a halo around her head and she makes everything lovely by shining upon it.
I would love to be a woman like that.
Its ok if I'm not, but I aspire to that. I suppose you are born with it or you aren't. She was probably that beautiful from birth, and I have never been that beautiful. I am normally beautiful I suppose, but no more than normal. I am not extraordinary.
I would like to be, but if my exterior is never extraordinary that would be fine.

I am feeling very mournful today. Somehow I feel like as each day passes, time slips away from me and is wasted.

I'm not doing anything that means anything.

I'm just making money, and sleeping at night in a big bed. What the fuck is that accomplishment?


August. I must [not] think about august, I must not not think about August. I must not. August. Fuck it.

Dinner. Fucking A. I'm having a glass of wine. Only alcohol could make this tolerable.

Suck It

A, A-, A-, B+ bitches.

Best semester ever and how much did I smoke? A lot.

The Arrangement

Two of my best friends got engaged the day of graduation. Sammy has a big fat rock on her finger and everything. Its crazy. I just can't fathom that we're now of the age where people trust us with decisions like that. I feel like someone should shake us and say, "what are you thinking?!" It makes perfect sense for them, though, of course. But it baffles my mind, thinking of being at their wedding.

Meanwhile I'm crawling back into the cradle, crashing with my parents this summer because I'm broke. Working full time, helping my mom around the house, trying to take care of myself as well. I still haven't decided if I'll be going to France in august. I can't think about these things.

I was walking home from Sammy and Eric's tonight, through the quiet streets of New York (it is monday night afterall) and I was looking around at all the things I really will miss. But most of all its not New York itself that I miss but the feeling, the sentiment of my life here. The freedom. The endless hopefullness. The expanse.

Its both easier and harder to feel caged in. Its a bizarre dichotemy.

My plane leaves at around 4pm, so I'm having breakfast with Meg & Sammy. I realize this could be the last time the three of us hang out until Sammy gets married next year. That's crazy! I'm used to seeing them every day!

I just feel very dazed and dizzy and filled, as usual when I'm headed home, with a great sense of dread for the drama that I know will be going down this summer.

Sigh. Here we go.

Endgame

it ends.

next year is the last and yet it feels like i've got many mountains to climb before then. i think about the next three months and i see an incoherent blizzard of confusion and familiar torment. i no longer look forward to the things i thought that i could count on. to put it in colloquial terms: it sucks. i've had a strange eerie uncomfortable feeling all day, a gentle inclination of the horrified.

i don't know. i'm putting off communicating and asking the important questions, maybe because i'm afraid i already know the answers.

meg is leaving, my best friend and my angel. not having her around is going to be hard, she was one of the only people i felt really at ease with, unfrustrated, uncomplicated. And sammy too, my little sunshine.

it feels unfair that i'm nostalgic.

but i suppose life is unfair blah blah blah.

i just don't want to make any decisions. i don't want to move. i want to stay imobile and rot if i have to, instead of splattering on the bottom of a cliff.

enjoy the image.

i'm getting some much needed SLEEP. what fucked up dreams will this night bring?

The Last First Time

The first time I said I love you it was while your back was turned away from me and I said it without sound so you wouldn't hear me and I wouldn't hear myself.

The first time you said it you said it in english so it didn't mean anything and yet you could hear yourself say it.

The first time I thought you meant it, you didn't say it at all, but thought about saying it and I felt you but you didn't know.

We communicate in codes of organised silence and signals that only you know the meaning of, you hold all the keys but you keep the doors locked between us.

There is the you that you speak.
And the you in your touch.
And the you in your eyes.
And the you in your myspace blog.

I just don't know who you are and I'm tired of waiting for the silence to mean something when all it is is silence.

I'm shut out. I'm in this all alone. And that's too much to risk.

I'm not an angel. I'm not all goodness. I'm so sick and tired of being that to you, as if my goodness will somehow be there to save you some day. As if my martyrdom is some testament to your worth. I am boiling and burning inside and I keep it there hidden, not because I want to, but because you want me to. And I want to do anything to make you happy.

But in the end this silence gets stale and it ferments into a rejection so stinging and palpable that it disgusts even me when I look at what I have become in your eyes.

You cannot be my mirror, because when I look at myself in you, I see something that is worth nothing to you.

I do not blame you. I should have let go long ago. I was foolish, so foolish to not accept the place that was available for me. To not realize I could not shrink myself down to the available space in your heart and your life. I thought somehow I could make it grow, but that is such a typical mistake.

I love you, truly, deeply. But someone must love me too. Someone must.

Untitled (for now)

My papa used to sell used cars and when we were kids we would walk down to his lot on summer days and buy ice-pops at the store next dear. We’d troll the lots looking for what Papa called “stealers” - which cars were bogus. Which ones Papa had filled with sawdust and which ones had their meters turned back.
I learned real quick to see the bullshit behind the battle. That’s what Papa called it. “Don’t fall for what’s in front of you. Go find the bullshit behind the battle. That’s what you’re really fighting against.”
I was always real good at pickin’ out the phonies as a kid and my Papa was real proud of me. “That one’s got a good eye,” he’d say, and he’d wink at me.
When I was 11 my Papa started letting me come down to the lot to watch him work. He didn’t approve of having women in the family business, I couldn’t work in the chop shop like my brothers did when they were older, but I didn’t mind sitting in the showroom with Papa so much. It was air-conditioned. Plus I got to watch him with the customers.
Boy was he a killer. My Papa could sell glasses to a blind man. The first trick is to get real humble, just telling ‘em that you ain’t got nothing good enough for ‘em. Not special enough for someone like them. Then as the two of you walk to the lot, you make sure the first car they see is a real doozy. You know, show ‘em something that’s way out of their range. Papa used to keep this souped up Chevrolet he had just for this very purpose. No one in our kind of town could afford anything like that, plus I’m not even sure the damn thing still had a motor in it, it just looked real nice. Shiny chrome fenders and caps, glossy black paint-job, original leather interior – every small town boy’s wet dream.
You’d just sit there and watch ‘em blush as they walked by, all them boys with their first few month’s paychecks in their pocket. They’d look at that beauty in front of them, and they’d know they wanted a car just like that.
That’s the first step: you plant the dream.
Now they’re not thinking so much about getting something simple. Just to get to work. They’re thinking about cruisin’ the strip on a Saturday night, they’re thinking about some pretty gal in the backseat, they’re thinking about being a real hot shot.
Then you explain, “Oh you like that Billy/Johnny/Timmy/Joe? Yeah she’s a beauty, she is. Maybe someday, eh?” And you chuckle in a very wise way as if you knew everything there ever was to know about their dreams.
Then you show ‘em all the crappers. Cars you wouldn’t sell to your worst enemy for about a million bucks. You dumb ‘em down. You show them the ideal, and then you show them the bottom of the ol' barrel. This will pour a whole lot of cold water on those visions of pretty gals and they’ll start getting antsy, getting scared.
Now here’s the clincher: now you take ‘em by the car you want them to buy. You got to have a car ready for any guy who comes on the lot. Some piece of wreck that you fixed up real nice on the outside but who’s got a few screws loose maybe. It ain’t too hard and don’t take too much time to throw on new tires and rims. Cleaning up on the inside is a whole heck of a lot harder. And it ain’t no job for men like my father, that’s for sure.
So they see this car, lookin’ pretty hot. And their mouths start to water. They can hardly believe it. And you see them droolin’ over this car so you say, casually, “oh yeah, this one here. She looks real good, almost brand new, owned by an older woman who ain’t driven her much. But she’s got some rust damage on the inside, you’ll have to tinker around in there some. Nothin’ too hard, if you don’t mind that sort of thing. But I don’t know if you’re that type of guy” and you say this like it’s the biggest compliment you ever told anyone.
Now it’s a matter of machismo. Now he’s lookin’ at this car like it’s the damn holy grail of man. You let him poke around the interior. He’s thinking, it’ll be my creation. My resurrection. My triumph. And damn ain’t she pretty?
You’re sold. He’s ready to buy. He’s so distracted with joy that he don’t see the contract that he’s signin’. And you get as much of the money up front as you can cause God only knows how long that wreck will drive before the motor falls right out the bottom onto the road.
Needless to say we moved a lot when I was a kid.
Spending my summer’s down at the lot wasn’t so bad and after a while I kind of enjoyed it. It was like watching a movie clip over and over. Sometimes I felt a little bad, especially as I got older and those boys started lookin’ kind of nice to me. But they are all the same suckers. All wanting the same thing. Some idea of a dream that don’t got no insides. And that don’t do anybody no good.
Not me. Not my Papa. Not none of them boys. Because a dream that’s nothing but a shell will always cave in on you someday. You just end up sittin’ around, waiting for the bottom to drop out.

End Of The World Party

to sum up last night, tequila = death.

but since I spent so much time in bed this morning, post-tequila damage relief, I had a good while to think about things.

in the end it doesnt really matter how I feel. And I mean that in the sense that I will feel how I feel regardless of how others react to it/think about it. I can either try to rearrange myself every 3 minutes and just give myself more problems, or I can stop trying to suit myself to other people and be happier for it. I have no reason to be ashamed that I have a deep emotional connection to what happens around me, in fact I consider it my greatest strength. And if you can't deal with it, than why would I care what you think anyway? If you don't respect me than I don't give a damn what you think, basically.

Amen.

And this includes him too, I guess. I can't keep stressing about my feelings for him because they are what they are. If he lets them slowly wear away because he's afraid to love me than he turned away from true happiness. And I move on. There is more love in this world than what we offer each other and somewhere out there there is someone who can love me as much as I can love them.

I am not alone on this planet with a heart beating harder than anyone else.



I also gave a lot of thought to what I want to do after school next spring. Most of my friends are graduating this year (as I would have if I didn't have 3 majors and a heap of hang-ups) and watching them move on to the post-undergraduate abyss that is the world inspires me to think about my options. Everyone in Senior Showcase this year got a call from agents, casting directors. That would be LOVELY if that happened to my group but I'm already understanding that maybe it won't. And that's ok.

I'm just not a young girl on the inside and until my inside matches my outside (read: probably another 5 or 10 years) I don't know if I just want to sit in New York City working some dead-end 9-5, auditioning my ass off and never getting anything except face-time with casting directors. I realize that is somewhat valuable, but not enough to sustain me emotionally for that much time! I mean I would go completely bezerk!
So here's my plan if I don't get an agent out of showcase:

1. Graduate.
2. Get a job (any job will do. That pays at least 12 an hour. Hah.)
3. Save up 1000 bucks.
4. Get my TEFL certification (teaching english as a foreign language)
5. Get some teaching experience under my belt in new york.
6. Get a job in France!
7. Move to France.
8. Be wildly happy.

I figure I'd stay for maybe a year or two. Just be a person in the world. I would love to do some sort of theatre there, that would be amazing, but maybe I need some sort of de-tox. Anyhow, then I would eventually move back to the states and go to grad school. So what if I'm 27 when I go to grad school. Who cares. Whats the fucking rush anyway?

Life is what you make it, not what someone tells you it is. If this is what's right for me than its right. End. Of. Story.


Oh and everyone should listen to Feist. She's an amazing canadian songstress (and I have never used the word songstress before in my life and will never use it again).

Do you realize?

He’s got this uncanny ability to strip me down to my bones
And then keep throwing stones...

The Return

I passed her in today
gave her over the counter medicines
but none of them worked
so I passed her in
I asked for a refund

They put her back on the shelf
And people looked but never
Bought
And slowly the dust settled
And every time I needed
A new razor or some gum
I’d pass her on the shelf
And see it gathering on her eyelashes
Like little feathers

Once I tried to blow it off
But my guilty conscience
Just made her sneeze

On Sunday in the paper
There was a flier with her picture
“half off” it said
And I figured I’d go down there
And explain

But when I got to the store
And I stood before the door
I still hadn’t decided what to say
So I just got in my car and drove away

I can still see her on the shelf
In my mind
Under the fluorescent lights
The rouge on her cheeks
Looking feverish
But her eyes I never see,
Sitting there with her feet dangling,
because
She never once looked up

(I have to) Obamarama

I just read the New York Times article about Barak Obama's 'faith'

Its so bizarre. The relationship between this culture and what lies behind that buzzword: 'faith'

In America we don't worship religion. We worship religiosity.


We love to muddle. Its our coping mechanism to the universe.

Twisted

Oh my god, if you want to be really horribly depressed and sickened, go check out how many anti-feminist groups there are on facebook.

My god. People have NO IDEA what feminism is.

"This is no simple reform. It really is a revolution. Sex and race because they are easy and visible differences have been the primary ways of organizing human beings into superior and inferior groups and into the cheap labour in which this system still depends. We are talking about a society in which there will be no roles other than those chosen or those earned. We are really talking about humanism."
-Gloria Steinem

Nostalgia

This time last year I was living in Paris.
During the strikes, so no classes.
Cozying up to frenchmen (frenchman).
Vacationing with my mom in Spain.
Thinking about my summer plans.

Which would change my life forever.




This is a crazy life.

Self-Esteem?

So I'm gonna share a little story with you.

So last tuesday I went out with some friends for a girlfriend's birthday.
We went to the Hudson and drank. A lot.
So I'm sitting there chatting with Minda after dancing a little bit and this guy comes over and starts chatting with us. He's decent looking, business-type, un-creepy normal guy. So inadvertently I start flirting with him, just for once. Well one thing leads to another and I guess we ended up kissing. He is staying at the hotel (he's from LA) and he invites me up to his room and I OF COURSE say no. I mean please. I'm not that kind of girl.

SO the next day he calls me and leaves a nice normal message asking me to meet him for drinks, and I can't go (and don't really want to) because I went to dinner and the Opera with the honors program and didn't get home until like 11:30 anyway. Plus I had class in the morning etc. So I asked if I could take a rain check.

So he suggests we "do something fun together" on thursday since he has a light day, apparently. And I sort of hesitate, and decide I will just agree to meet him for a drink late that night, after I see Pericles.
So I go to meet him.

He's with a couple of buddies at the bar. We talk and I'm trying to get into it, when he starts kissing me. Now I realize I kissed him before but it was all very abrupt and it took a little warming up to. And by warming up, I mean a couple more drinks. Well, eventually I told him I needed to leave and he invites me up to his room again. I say no. He asks me why. I tell him I don't intend to sleep with him. He asks why not. I say, lamely, because I'm not that kind of girl. He says I should come upstairs "just to see the room". I laugh. He presses it. He kisses me. I agree after he promises he'll let me leave in 10 minutes. I figure maybe we'll kiss a bit and I'll leave. That's it.

Well as soon as we get in the room he's all over me of course (as I guess I expected) and he starts trying to take my clothes off and I won't let him. So he stops and we kiss some more and I'm thinking about how nice it feels (and wondering if maybe I DO want him to take my clothes off) but how weird this all seems to me, especially since I can't stop thinking about someone else (and I'm really not that kind of girl!!), and so finally I decide to leave and after 15 more minutes of him pleading with me to stay (including hilarious ploys like, "I promise we won't have sex" and "I'll go right to sleep" AND EVEN "I won't have time to have sex in the morning either, I'll just get up and go") I finally get out the door and go home.

Because although I am pretty much ready to explode from sexual frustration and he was a little sexy (emphasis on little) I didn't really want to sleep with HIM. And I don't want to be that girl who sleeps with someone she met two days ago, in his hotel room.

Yesterday night, after I had decided to ignore him and not see him again, he text messages me: "Nice Dinner tomorrow night? Stop ignoring me :) "

So I wondered some more. Yes or No?

And part of me did want to sleep with him because I love sex and I would love to be having some and he did seem like he would be good at it (although not as good as _______ ).

But just because I like to have sex, doesn't mean I want to have it with everyone I can. In fact, I want to have it with very few people. I don't know what that number is, but its not very many.

I really wrestled over this. I guess I'm still navigating my own sexual landscape.

Anyway, so I didn't ever respond. Best to let it end I think. So yeah.




plus he introduced me to his friends as 'Megan'
My name is not Megan.
I mean come on. That pretty much sealed the deal really.

To Whom It May Concern:

Please stop this disgusting weather.

I can't go out, not even to the grocery store. Plus it is very depressing.

And my umbrella is broken.


sincerely,
Debra Morris

wasted weekend

I've spent most of the weekend in bed, trying to feel better. I have noooo energy and today it has been pouring rain all day long. I couldn't even make it out to the store, I have no food.

its also been three days since I talked to Hervé, I'm starting to worry. Its not like him to dissappear like this without saying anything. Or maybe it is, actually. Maybe I'm willfully forgetting all the other times he's done similar things. I don't understand. I'm tired of being afraid that its all gonna fall out from under me.

Well I have nothing at all interesting to say, my whole body aches and my mind is too troubled to think.

That one week or so when things were going well...that was a good week.

This is insane.

hard saturday

interesting article about crisis in paris suburbs and presidential race: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/15/magazine/15elections.t.html?_r=1&hp&oref=slogin

I'm somehow very sick, not sure how it happened. I also have a very frightened feeling that something is wrong. Not with me, I'm fine. Besides you know, the sinuses.

Also, new Maroon 5 album in May!! Fun.

The Other Life

I saw The Lives of Others tonight. Oh my god, what an AMAZING film. So beautiful and engaging and compelling and sad. And hopeful. And scary!
Go Germans! I may not prefer you to the French (sorry, I do have my loyalties) but you make a damn fine film. And its the filmakers FIRST major film! Gross! I hate brilliant people! You make me feel so...well not brilliant I guess. Ugh - well said Deb, very eloquent. Your thesis is due in like a WEEK and that's the best you can come up with?! You are doomed.

And talked to yourself.

Anyway, I couldn't help thinking during the film though, "no way a playwright and his actress girlfriend would have that nice of an apartment, I don't care HOW in bed with the government they were."

At least not my government anyway.

Oh wait, I forgot. My government has stripped the whole country of any artistic consciousness, thereby neutralizing any danger it might have posed to them.

Man, they're good.

In other news, my thesis really is due on the 16th. And I do have an exam on the 12th. And my portfolio is due...well pretty much tomorrow. And my acting class gets our new teacher on tuesday, to whom I would like to make a good impression but, I'm not crossing my fingers. Since my partner is AWFUL and never wants to rehearse. And I don't know when I'm going to be able to do a play again. I think I'm gonna have to wait for fall.

It looks like I'm headed to Seattle, to my parents house for the summer. Brace yourselves. Hopefully I won't completely lose my mind. And if I do, hopefully Hervé can help me put it back together again before classes start in the fall.
Hopefully I'll lose 25 pounds and get a tan.

Hahaha.

Ok hopefully I can get a job.



Why is the server down on a certain website, preventing me from reading my messages? Hmmmm? Just to torture me? Very clever.

Easter Weekend

In Ashland with my mom. We just had the most AMAZING meal. I'm so stealing the appetizer and making it my own. Prepare yourselves.

No internet access in the room, so I'm sitting on this very posh banquet level in my pajamas...inappropriate you say? Well I say the fact that I don't get wireless in my room is inappropriate. So there.

Slowly facing the fact that I'm gonna be home in Seattle all summer. It'll be fine. I'll make lots of money and it will be fine. Maybe I'll go camping or something. Anything to keep from jumping into uncoming traffic.


p.s. WHAT WAS LAST NIGHT?!?! I nearly missed my plane! There was some weird kids from the DR! And strange drugs. And booze. What? I dunno.

p.p.s. je veux lui parler, même si ce n'est pas raisonnable. voila, je ne suis pas une femme raisonnable. quelle suprise.

Hooray!

callback for Dark of the Moon tonight!

Reality check

Talk about reminding me about what's important!

My best friend Mara is in the hospital, she had a life-threatening blood clot and just underwent angioplasty. The doctors say she should be alright. I'm waiting for a call from her mom.

I'm not religious but its times like this that make me kneel down and pray.

Back to Black

I'm so angry, so angry angry.

I keep seeing slow-motion montages in my head of my blurred self tearing things apart in a rage, GOD I want to do it so bad. Just rip and tear at everything around me, my arms furiously reaching, everything coming crashing down upon my head. Scrape my fingernails down the white-washed walls and rip bleeding holes in the stark emptiness surrounding me.

"We only said goodbye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
I go back to..."

rien.

My brow has stuck all furrowed. My eyes scream out with injustice. A fire licks in my stomach every time anyone speaks, dares to open their mouth and let the lies pour out. I've shut myself up in my room and listened to the same song over and over.

I take pictures of my twisted angry self and I look at them as frustrated tears sneak out the corners of my eyes, laughing at me. You're not the only one with a dark side.

Is this what you wanted? To see this side of me? To push this little angry child out of my grown-up self to beat her fists upon the bars of her cage? Well I am stronger now then I was when we first met and now I won't hesitate, I will grasp them and shake them, echoing down the corridor, shake them hard and rattling loud, like a train off the tracks until I can't shake them anymore, until I finally collapse in exhaustion.

I hate you. Not in the real way, but I hate you for making me feel this way. I don't blame you, but I hate you all the same.

And then, then I do the worst. I nail the lid down on my own damn coffin. I stir in the poison myself, into the gasoline I'm sipping.
I look at the pictures of her over and over, I study her every feature, looking for what it is that holds you. What is it that doesn't manifest in me, that never will, never will be able to hold a man like you? I can't get inside there, not inside your hard walnut shell. But she's wormed her way in, she got inside of you and found me hiding there. And she's rotting me out, waiting until the toxicity gets too high and I evaporate and float slowly away from you.

She'll keep you forever.

Forever while I'm pushed out, drifting into nothing.

Its her and its you and its also another and another and everyone else too.
Its all of you who orchestrate the misery that chases me down until the moon rises in my window.

But you, you are the werewolf who devours me every night. You are the worst, oh so sweet and so vicious.

"we only said goodbye with words
I died a hundred times
you go back to her
and I go back to..."

black.

Oh Love's Gonna Get You Down...

I'm listening to a lot of sugary indie brit pop, and let me tell you - it is doin' the trick.

I've been a really rotten mood for the last couple of days. Everything makes me so angry, I feel invalidated and ignored and just icky and terrible. Plus I'm surrounded by people in beautiful relationships, which is great for them but toxic for me. All the old fears of being unable to secure something like that...well anyway they come bubbling up and all of a sudden I've worked myself up and I'm furious and sad.

Jesus. After a while I get even more furious at myself for letting things like that upset me.

Also, my thesis is due on the 2nd...

I'm auditioning for Ian's company's show, Dark of the Moon. I want it and yet it complicates things. I've got to find somewhere really cheap to stay, and I've got to scrounge around for a job when I get back to sea-town in July. It just sounds awful.
But then again so does going home and living with my parents.
Plus after the read-through last night, I'm developing attachments to the play...
God this is hard. Why did I chose this? I'm gonna have to worry about these same things and work my ass off for the rest of my LIFE. Sounds AWFUL.
Why can't I just be an accountant and have normal ambitions that involve a social life?

August can not come fast enough.

shut out

above all else, I am so afraid I am nothing to him.

Filing

I'll put these in the folder marked, 'I know I shouldn't, but I will!"

I also love how in the last one, I'm clearly trying to communicate something. Men are so obsessed with themselves. If he wasn't so gorgeous and adorable I would be annoyed. Sigh. Isn't he cute?

So much stresssss

I NEVER get a break, I swear to you.

I hate tuesdays.

Plus I'm still in a fog from the trip (jet lag?) I went to sleep at like 9 last night because I wasnt feeling well and now I'm up because I have so much work to do.
fuuuuck. I'm fucked. fuck fuck fuck.

Ok, I have to:

research Jen Genet
Go over my monologue
try and do SOMETHING for portfolio review

and tomorrow is gonna suck even worse, because I have to go to the museum AND write that 7 page paper.

And did I mention I have a thesis due in four weeks?

yeahhhhhhhhhhh

shortie

I want to talk about my trip but I've been stripped of the capacity.

Many things in my life are becoming unbearable, I don't know what I am going to do. I know I need to change them, but the prospect is so horrifying that I resist again and again.

Maybe part of me fears that if I don't have her I will have no one.

And the rest of me thinks she is right, and I am cruel and selfish.

What happens to the human soul when you are so acutely entrenched in your own entrapment that freedom no longer seems enticing enough. What it will rip from you is too dear, and you fear you would not survive the exposure.

Here it is again: the consoling lie. What is truth and what is not, is there anyone who can tell me?

Départ

I'm leaving in a few minutes.

I have a meeting with Julie first, my acting professor to talk about my work in class. I have NO clue what she'll say. Probably the same old thing about how I need to work on my connection to the text and embody it blah blah. She's great though, so nice and knowledgable.

Then I leave directe for the airport! I'm just gonna take the train I think, it's cheaper. Whatevs, I'm poor!

la la la France la!

au revoir mes amis! Ta Linotte reviens!