No Escape

Why am I attracted to crazy people!! Oh my god.

Letters from the Edge

So tonight I wrote a letter that I had been trying to write for a long time to someone who was really special to me that I hurt because I was confused and inconsiderate and lost their friendship, maybe forever. Sometimes you can't turn back from things.

I like to consider myself a person who has no regrets because I'm mostly a good sort of person who doesn't do regrettable things. But I guess you never know what kind of person you really are. I look back at things I've done in the past and I think, "how could I do something like that?" Even if I never do those things again, I AM a person who does those things.

Christianity says God will forgive if we repent. What good does that do? People can't forgive. How can you forgive someone who's really hurt you? You will always see the shadow of that pain when you look into their eyes and think: "this person i love." How does that reconcile? How can you love that person unless you love the hurt? That relationship is forever changed. Forever, inextricably tied up with that hurt. Tied up with the love and everything else.

I know why I'm thinking these things at 1:30am. I know why I'm looking back. I want the hurt to stop without stopping the love. But they're tied up now. They're tied up. Because I'm a person who does those things.

Credit is Scary

So I fucked up again. I forgot to pay my credit bill for my bed, two days late AGAIN. Which is awful because I have practically no credit at all and now my rating is probably in the toilet. FUCK ME.

AND I forgot to clock out again. For the second day in a row.

I hate being an adult. I feel anxious and I want to cry every day. Why can't I just be a kid again.

I'm going to crawl into bed and pretend that adulthood never happened.

No Surprises Here

Let me just say that my poor boyfriend is in bed asleep right now and he thinks I am there next to him. You'd think after rolling over the entire bed basically even his sleepy brain would realize the bed was empty. He's a heavy sleeper, whatcha gonna do.

So just for the record, I did TRY to go to bed at a reasonable hour. I did! I tried really hard. I laid in bed awake for at least 45 minutes before I snuck over to my computer. That's a very long time to lay in the silent darkness for a rampant neurotic like me. And on addition, it is not my fault my mind couldn't rest, it is not my fault that my ex-boyfriends keep popping back into my life on internet networking sites in pictures with their new girlfriends looking happy and wind-tousled on the beach. That is no way to start a night of going to sleep early! That is the way to continue the staying up late brooding I've been doing for the last few weeks.

So yes I'm up at 2:30 in the morning. But still, I plan to be in bed by 3. And maybe asleep by 4. Which really, is pretty much like every other night. But at least it's not later than usual. Eh? Eh? I may not be improving, but I'm also not worsening (word?). Now tell me that attitude doesn't spell success!

I did manage to clean my bathroom today, which I was really proud of because it was the first productive thing I've done for a really long time. Tomorrow before work, I will do one of the following:

1) Laundry
2) Gym
3) Clean the Kitchen

Since I can only do one of the above in my underwear without showering or brushing my teeth, I think we can all guess which shall be accomplished. But BUT my boyfriend will be here tomorrow which means MAYBE I will get out of bed when he does, and MAYBE I will apply that extra time to something useful and *gasp* outside the walls of my apartment!

Am I becoming agoraphobic? Thank goodness I have a job that requires me leaving home and interacting with people. What a disaster I would be otherwise. Imagine if I was, say, a writer (although, obviously little danger of that). That would be scary. I'd end up being dragged out of my apartment by men in white coats, probably on a stretcher since I'd weight 600 lbs, spending the rest of my adult years in a padded cell eating food portions the size of golf balls after I had my stomach stapled shut, while my family and friends cried their eyes out on Oprah over my sad sad fate.

Do you think I'd get a free make-over?

No no that would be tragic, definitely not worth whatever free cosmetic procedures and/or automobiles Oprah might send my way as a gesture of her support.

Ok I'm bored now and if my boyfriend wakes up and catches me on the computer he's gonna be soooo mad. Maybe I'd better hop back into bed and start counting sheep.

baaaa.

This Election is Like a Stomach Parasite

ENOUGH ALREADY!

Holy gallop poll batman! CALM THE FUCK DOWN PEOPLE.
I'm voting for Obama based on the issues and nothing else, its a complete no-brainer since these two candidates politically have nothing in common except for the fact that they're running for the same office, so stop bombarding me with pointless sensationalist bullshit on EVERY NEWS OUTLET every two seconds. I DON'T CARE! Now I just hate everyone, they all seem slick and disengenuous to me (well ok, no one more than Sarah Palin, but still). I literally have a visceral reaction every time I see any of their faces - and not in the good way.

Is it motherfucking November yet? All the hype isn't making me want to vote, it's making me want to move to Iceland.




No really, I hear it's nice there. Plus Bjork is from Iceland and she's crazy awesome. I wish SHE was running for president.

Random Thoughts Before September Runs Out

DOH! Too late!

Ok thought #1:
My chronic insomnia is a product of my recent increase in anxiety, which arises from my general depression lately. Which is derived from letting myself go in the career and organizational departments, which being my total most vulnerable zones about which I am most insecure, make me feel like a complete and total waste of space. Even though I still get out of bed and work a full time job 5 days a week.

Thought #2:
This is more of a question really.
Why is my Time Warner bill so expensive? We don't even have any premium channels AND our internet sucks. Why is it still costing us $115 a month collectively? This seems wrong.

Thought #3:
I hate going to work but it gives me piece of mind that although the economy is imploding on itself, I somehow still make $15 an hour, 35 hours a week. Granted, I could be making a lot more than that if I sold my soul to the devil. Instead, I sell my soul to cranky old folks of the upper west side. Which is just fine with me because I happen to like some of those cranky old folks.

Thought #4:
Is this fucking election over yet? Cheese and rice people, I can't take this shit anymore!

Thought #5:
Grey's Anatomy is not impressing me yet this season. Except for that sexy army doctor, with his crazy vagabond ways and his "So?". I could do without the pen in the throat though. That was a little much. Also, how did he get that in there?

Thought #6:
My mother is coming for christmas for like 18 days or something. This is a lot BUT not a complete 3 weeks like she wanted. I consider this a compromise. I also think her compromising at all upon this point, is a big victory. Therefore, I win. Although also I lose, obviously. 18 days. AND its the holidays. There's nothing that quite reminds you of how fucked up your family has become, like being around said family during the holidays. If there was a textbook about my family, the holiday chapter would be subtitled, "We don't speak to each other and here's why:"

Thought #7:
I still have a boyfriend. This is good (?) yet terrifying because I'm usually in the midst of the break-up by now. Or at least at the beginning of the break-up. I mean its gonna be 6 months soon. It's like somehow I've managed to withstand the break-up and somehow he's still around. Like the cat who came back the very next day. Only I like this cat and I totally open the front door and let him in. And I leave food out for him and stuff.
Listen I don't know, I couldn't carry that analogy any further. The point is, I'm so used to having major rifts in my relationship at this point that I sense myself sabotaging it by being so neurotic.
I know, that is SO unlike me.
Bottom line is that I don't love everything about him but I still really like being around him. After our 3 day weekend I still wanted to see him afterwards. He even met me downtown after I finished grocery shopping. What is that about? I really like him I guess. Its so weird...

Thought #8:

I can't wait for the Paper Planes video.

Thought #9:

I'm going to drink a glass of water (out of my Brita! How white am I now?!) and go to sleep.

Thought #10:

I wonder what I will dream about? I hope they're good dreams.

Thought #11:

Oo I have to wake up early tomorrow and wash some stuff for work. Crap. I hope I have enough quarters.

Underground

Wow. I am so over this. I think I'm starting to get a little depressed. This summer-feeling just drags on and on, only its just getting colder while everything else stays the same.

I wake up, go to work, come home, eat some food, go to bed, sleep, wake up, go to work, come home, eat some food, go to bed, sleep , wake up etc etc ad nauseum maybe for the rest of my life.

The new job is fine, whatever. Its a job. Plus new jobs are depressing because you're still learning the new restaurant so somehow everything you think you do that is right, is actually not such a good idea. Which your GM generally points out to you as abrasively as possible.

My apartment is a mess because I don't have the energy to clean it. I just sit around and try and keep the pile of things I have to do from suffocating me completely. And yet I STILL have a front hallway full of boxes I used that I need to sell - and they've been there since I moved in. IN MAY. Seriously, its ridiculous.

I've been sleeping until noon every day because I don't get home till 11:30 and I'm too wound up to sleep until 2. Last night I stayed up till 4am. I dreaded going to sleep because I knew I'd wake up in the morning and have to do it all over again. I didn't wake up until 1:45, I couldn't believe it. This is got to stop.

This weekend I'm going to some friends' wedding and I think getting out of the city will help me feel a little more alive.
I should start looking for auditions, but no one is mounting any shows because there isn't any money and the economy is exploding, apparently.

I just feel totally buried.

blehhhhhhhh.

Guh Guh Guh

Losing Track of Time

So somehow between graduation and today, my entire life is a completely different entity.

I have two restaurant jobs and an apartment and relationship, and I do things like spend weekends in connecticut. Do they let people my age do things like this?

And I DON'T go to school for the first time I can remember. Which is totally weird and yet totally anticlimactic. I didn't even realize I was approaching a major life-change until my boyfriend ordered a pumpkin spice late at Starbucks and I said, "wait, aren't those seasonal?" and then realized by the look on his face that it was in fact fall already, and I was totally warped by my habit of working full time during the summer months between terms. It hasn't set in yet, I just feel like its a really long summer or something. I'm sure once it gets cold and windy and I'm schlepping it to work, I'll wish I had a warm classroom to curl up in.

I don't miss the stress though, that's for sure.


Of course when one stressor disappears, another promptly presents itself to take its place. My relationship is a total confusing mess, my job situation is in flux (although at least I'm not unemployed), my financial situation is looking perpetually paycheck to paycheck, and my career is non-existent. And my mother is talking about a visit. And my room is a mess. And I need to have clothes taken in. And I'm broke. And I should really start going to the gym again.

Blah Blah Blah.


Mostly my relationship is the big question. I just never seem to know when to cut and run and now I've gotten all into it again. I go back and forth and back and forth so violently that I'm getting exhausted just thinking about it.

The point is, I should be back in therapy.



The end.

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

Ok so I know everyone who reads this blog and you know me.

So let's say I were to ask you, what is my favorite television show of all time?
If you didn't immediately scream out Law & Order SVU like a maniac, our friendship is a complete lie and I am ashamed of myself for allowing this charade to continue.

So guess, just guess, what lovely lady came into my place of work today for a pick up and TOTALLY introduced herself and shook my hand and was AMAZINGLY nice?

Oh I don't know, maybe...MARISKA HARGITAY!! I seriously couldn't believe it was her, I thought I was hallucinating. She's only my favorite ever!!

If you don't know who she is, I am appalled. You don't deserve it, but here is a picture that should spark a memory if you have ever watched television. Ever. Any channel really, it's always on.



I think I seriously had heart palpitations. She was so courteous and sweet and I was trying not to hyperventilate so she possibly thought I was mentally disabled. I can't believe SHE is the first celebrity I see at my new job. That is like, a sign from God. The only thing that could have made it any better would have been if Christopher Meloni came in WITH her - oh man. I really would have died. Literally, I would have been killed - there are stairs right behind where I stand and I would have backed up in blissful shock and tumbled down them, I can see it now.

And its true, I can no longer see Mariska (I can call her that now, cuz SHE INTRODUCED HERSELF TO ME THAT WAY) until I get my coveted spot on SVU. But when I do, I can remind her of our chance encounter, and she'll ask me why my palms were so sweaty, and then we'll laugh and laugh and be best friends forever!

The point is, this was a huge momentous event in my life. She is definitely on the top 5 list of celebrities I unabashedly admire and I MET HER TODAY.

In fact I now reclaim this day, August 5th, as Mariska Hargitay Day.

We can call it Mariska Day for short. Actually, no. No one else can call it that, everyone else has to call it Ms. Hargitay day. But I can call it Mariska Day.

The Boyfriend was significantly less excited than I was when I called him bubbling over with excitement to tell him. But you know? He just hasn't seen every single episode of Law & Order SVU like I have.

Anyway. Wow. It was great. She was great. Everything was great.

Happy Mariska Day! I can't wait till next year!

Live from my Head

First of all, I just downloaded Katie Herzig's latest album, Apple Tree, and as usual it is beautiful and thoughtful. DO IT.

Secondly, I saw HAIR at NYSF last night in Central Park. Now I do love the musical, but even if you are not a fan, I suggest you see it.
The most satisfying thing about the production (besides the full frontal, duh) is that it really captures what I imagine the sentiment was behind HAIR's creation. And I must say, I really did leave the theater wanting to love everyone and give of myself. Which on a hot humid night in New York City on the A train, is really saying something.
At the very least I wanted to sleep with pretty much everyone in that cast, especially Will Swenson who played a drop-dead sexy Berger. The performances are inspiring, the show's psyched-out energy is disturbingly contagious, and its just a beautiful thing to see a lot of talented people truly committed to their art. AND ITS FREE. Come on people. Embrace the theater, it will love you back.


In completely unrelated news, I was looking through a lot of my writing tonight on my computer, most of it archived since I haven't written anything that I bothered saving in probably 6 months at least. Maybe now that I'm a grown-up the poetry bug went back to its business of biting angsty teens. Or maybe now that I have real concrete problems instead of feeling vaguely lost and trapped and lonely, its harder to be creative with my grief. Who knows.
Some of the things I wrote were during some pretty dark times and I always wonder to myself if I'm actually out of that place, or if I just happen to be on a brief sabbatical from despair. Either way, reading back and looking forward, I hope that I've learned to reach outside of myself instead of sitting alone and locked down, imploding inward. I suppose we'll see next time I plunge to the depths, eh?

Katie Herzig makes me so introspective, seriously :)

The Meat Market

I got a job! Yay. I'm hosting at a lovely restaurant in the Meatpacking District, which for those of you who don't know, is where all the rich people go to spend too much on food and beverages and parade around drunkenly in designer labels.

Although I have to say the food at my restaurant is incredible and is probably worth the money.

So far, today was Day #2, everyone I work with has been extremely nice and cool, so I think I'll be very happy there. The only problem now is that I'm generally in excruciating pain, which is bearable on the feet (I try and stretch them out subtly when things are slow), but totally unbearable on my back. It throbs and aches through my entire shift, and when I finally get home and lay down, it hums with pain. I've been laying on a heating pad, but then I have to leave the AC on as I fall asleep. Which translates to serious $$$ on my electric bill.
I'm guessing this might be a temporary problem? I'm just assuming that instead of being an inevitable consequence of standing for 7 hours, it is the consequence of shitty footwear. I've been wearing a pair of flats I bought at costco for literally 8 dollars. So, now I know what I'm doing with that first paycheck.


WOW that was dull. Sorry! I'm just exhausted. I got out of work around midnight and the street was crawling with people, hopping from pricey restaurant to expensive lounge to pricey restaurant. I am so not a part of these social circles, although I know people who are. And no judgement, if I could afford that, I would totally do it. Not every weekend, but it might be fun with the right people. Every now and then. I do love to eat delicious food in beautiful places. Don't be fooled because I just finished eating cottage cheese barefoot in my kitchen...

I like exciting things. I just don't have the money to enjoy them. Tomorrow, my lovely boyfriend is taking me on a cruise to see the waterfalls, for which I am very excited. I love my boyfriend, if it wasn't for him I would never do anything fun. I'm too cheap.

Oy. I'm gonna go put my feet up. Goodnight everyone (you three people who read my blog)!

Happiness is not on Craigslist

I'm going to get a job tomorrow. I'm going out armed with resumes (real and embellished because apparently lying is the only way one finds a job in this town) and I will end with the promise of a paycheck. That's right!

I even cleaned my absolute disaster area of a room in preparation. This week will not be like every other week of my pathetic summer. Everything will be different!

At the very least, I will live my life as if I had a job. Eat regular meals, go to the gym (or AT LEAST do a pilates video or something, jesus), accomplish long-undone tasks in my life, do my laundry before it surrounds me in enormous piles, keep my apartment clean...you know, normal people stuff. Because feeling sorry for myself since I haven't been accomplishing anything except feeling sorry for myself, is probably at the root of this whole problem. You know like think positive thoughts and make positive choices and positive things will happen in your life. Or whatever. Listen, I haven't read The Secret but I'm not a complete fuckwit.

Anyway, so to kick-start this whole development (I'm REALLY desperately trying to stay hopeful, can you tell?) I will go to bed before 2am. And awake before 11. I know. Crazy talk. But I will do it, even if it kills me. I will begrudgingly wake up to my alarm at 10:30 tomorrow. And then you know what I'll do? I'll iron clothing for my fantastic job interviews which will go famously and everyone will be clamoring to hire me!! Go to the bank (v. depressing but as I'm actually making a deposit, I feel ok about it)! Maybe I'll do a good deed! Go for a brisk walk! I don't know, anything's possible!!

Yess!! This will be the day! Hoorah!

Plus then I will have something to tell people when I see them on wednesday and they ask, "so what are you up to?" Ah, it'll be grand. I can hear those awkward conversations dissipating into the past as I type these words.





Oh shit its 12:53 already. Christ, well I better get sleepy very soon. Maybe I'll have a glass of wine. No no no, alcohol should be kept to a minimum in new fantastic peace-bringing lifestyle.

I'll just eat something starchy.

Jesus F****ing Christ

Oh today is a dark dark day. Rain clouds are gathering and I am in a foul foul mood my friends.

Its hard to find something positive to hold onto, even though I had a really lovely weekend. Everywhere I look I see problems and missed opportunities. Going away to somewhere do idyllic and pleasant just brings my actual day-to-day life into stark contrast.

I feel discouraged ALL the time. All the time. I don't really feel like getting out of the bed in the morning. I have nothing to do all day but domestic messes to be cleaned away, little insipid errands to be run, and then its back to my lonely dark apartment to waste time until I can reasonably go to bed, just to wake up again and repeat the same. Thank goodness I'm so broke, or I would just buy food and eat incessantly.
Guh and I know I've said this 10,000 times already on this blog, but especially these last few weeks, I feel like the more I put myself out there (which is REALLY hard for me p.s. because I have serious social anxiety issues) the more humiliating it is that I'm still getting nowhere.

I could really use a break, man. Seriously. Just like, a paying job would be really great.

Sunday Still Sucks, Even When You're Out of School

Euch. What a wretched day I've had.

I woke up alone in my boyfriend's apartment since he had to leave at 5 in the morning for work. We'd had another nonsense fight the night before, leaving me in tears wondering if our relationship is ever going to work in the long run.
I managed to actually half-express these fears before letting him convince me they were completely irrational which I now realize in retrospect was not entirely true. He's just so impossible to reason with and that really worries me, I feel like half the time he's not even really listening to me, he's just reminding himself to stay patient because I'm fucked up emotionally. Which is true, but I also do have legitimate concerns, I'm not a complete basket case and I do have rational feelings of my own. Grrrrrr.
It probably didn't help matters that we had sex later anyway and then after sex I was in a much better mood. But these nonsense fights are still a huge problem and make me feel insecure in the relationship and that will eventually make the sex a lot less mood-enhancing.

Ever since I came home this morning, I've been really depressed. I mean how incompetent am I that I can't even find a fucking job in NYC of all places. And I can't even tell my boyfriend how I feel. What the fuck. Have I suddenly regressed to some infantile state? It seems like such a cognitive split would result from more than a negligible stressor liek graduating from college. It's the being unemployed that's got me really freaking out. That and this whole mess with relationships.

I just feel like my whole life is a mess. My mother is becoming increasingly less supportive since I have basically nothing to tell her about how I'm progressing my career by staying in new york and she went so far as to tell me today that she doesn't think I should sign a lease on my apartment. Which basically means, she thinks I've already failed. Which is NOT true, that is not true, I have not failed. I just haven't really tried yet. Which is totally different.

I just need to find a fucking job to pay the bills and have a schedule so when I audition for shows, which of course don't pay, I can answer questions that are sure to arise, such as "what's your schedule like?"

I mean I don't even feel like that's a rationalization, I feel like that is totally legitimate.

I seriously hate sundays. They have always been so depressing and although I thought the whole graduating from college thing might alleviate those feelings, apparently it has only aggravated them - as every sunday I am reminded what I did not get done the week before. And now we are talking things like, "make money to pay rent."

AND my internet is failing, I swear to god, every time I've tried to send a resume this weekend. Every junk email comes through loud and clear but as soon as I try and send a resume? Nope. 'Connection failed'


Jesus. At least I have the hip-hop of my neighbors on the street to console me.

Philadelphia

I have finally learned to spell it!

So the weekend was mostly a huge success, although slightly dampered by the monstrous hang-over I had from thursday night (during which I drank half a bottle of tequila and then spent the next 3 hours throwing it back up into the bowl my poor boyfriend was holding as he slicked back my hair).

Before I go on, let me tell you how amazing my boyfriend is. First he finds my incredibly drunk self stumbling around his apartment with his best friend's girlfriend. He then helps me into bed, where I throw up on his sheets (oops!). Then he kindly takes me into the bathroom and helps me get undressed so I can sit in the shower. Then he puts on swimtrunks (!!) so he can sit next to me in the bathroom while I lay on the floor of his bathtub and moan into the drain, telling me everything will be ok. Then he lifts me out of the bathtub, naked, drunk and very nauseous, and tries to get me back into bed because I've turned the water off and fallen trying to do it myself. Halfway there, I start feeling sick again and he holds me upright, while also holding the bowl into which I'm being sick, AND holding my hair out of the action. Then finally he tucks me into bed, bowl on one side, boyfriend on the other. In new sheets of course.

Amazing huh? And he wasn't even mad the next day. He was so sweet to me all morning and made me some toast and let me eat his roommates' banana.

I love him :)

I met a couple of his really close friends and despite my insistent nausea, I think I made a pretty good impression. I took a nap later on the boat (yeah, a boat + hangover requires some serious self-control over the digestive tract) and ate a steak sandwich and I felt much better by the time we went for a drink before the fireworks.

On another note, Philadelphia is a very charming city. I like all the row-houses and old colonial-style buildings. I really go for that stuff, being from Seattle, where the oldest buildings are from like 1920.

We walked around a little, hung out with his Dad on the boat, went to a Philly's game (they lost, although the bf rallied a little for my sake) and spent two lovely nights together. I just love waking up to him. It feels good on such an instinctual level waking up with a man. I don't know. It makes me a little giddy.

Now I'm back and I won't see him until friday - which is maybe best when I get in moods like this and don't feel so hot about my own life. I need to refocus and get shit done. I WILL get a job this week. Every day I will do something: email resumes, call, drop by. I need a paycheck like whoa.

I also can't believe its almost mid-july!! When did that happen? Jesus. I feel like I graduated yesterday.

Weird.


p.s. sorry about all the boyfriend stuff, but he really won me over this weekend :)

I Don't Wanna Fight Death and All of His Friends

You know, at first I wasn't sure about the new Coldplay album, but the more I listen to it, the more it becomes a PERFECT summer soundtrack.

Yesterday was absolute bliss. We went out to Coney Island and sat in the sun all day long, soaking up the UV rays and the sand (which was in a fine layer over my entire body by the end of the day, giving me the appearance of being finely breaded and ready for the fryer). I spent most of my time obsessively applying and reapplying sunblock, which I am proud to say worked admirably as I, the palest human being on planet earth, was in the sun from 12-6 and I didn't burn at all. Hoorah! It can be done!

Now all my clothes smell intoxicatingly like the beach and I never ever want to wash them. It was a perfect summer day. And then we all went to Puttanesca for Em's Birthday and had more warm + friendly times. It was just nice. Nice to be back.

I love summer. Even though it is sort of a black hole of progress so far. It's the island of the lotus eaters.

But this summer day, will be a productive one. In fact, the month of July, I predict, will be a very productive month. It must be. It will be. Today I will put aside my anxieties and do AT LEAST the following:

1. Clean my room
2. Unpack
3. Buy toilet paper
4. Go to the bank and deposit my $$ and get a roll of quarters
5. Do laundry
6. Call Sava Spa once I know the name of the receptionist, and inquire about the job

These are my projects for the day.

If I feel especially ambitious and energized by my successes, maybe I'll even go to the laundromat and wash my rug and coverlet, which I told my mother I had done 5 weeks ago and of course had never done.

And true, the day has not gotten out to a particularly productive start, but I let myself sleep in as much as I wanted since I hadn't done that in weeks. So even though I slept until 12:30 I will still prove to myself that I am a fully capable individual who can get things done just like everyone else.

Yes! I feel good about this. I'm going to eat my breakfast/lunch now.

ambien plz kthnx

well I've been back for approximately 24 hours and as you can see, not much has changed.
Still unemployed (although plus one paycheck for the guiding light thing), still agent/managerless, still surrounded by dirty laundry, still broke, still staying up until 4am for no rational reason.

I did take part in a reading series for a playwright's group tonight though, which was absolutely the most fun I've had acting since I graduated.
FIRST I read for a 35-year-old wise-cracking 18th century American socialite in an adaptation of a Henry James novel. In which the playwright was kind enough to mark in the script with red ink any lines with sexual innuendo, marking them with big brackets and the words "double meaning here". I mean it wasn't even subtext, there was literally the line, "I would appoint you my personal beefeater."

The delight of playing the role was initially diminished by my being recast due to the director's clear impression that I looked a lot older in person than he expected. Goddamit!! (Maybe its those bags under my eyes from staying up until 4am)

Anyway, in the end it was so much fun I wish the play had gone on and on purely for my own personal enjoyment. If I only thought they might cast me if they were to actually stage the play. But they wouldn't of course, nor should they, since there are plenty of perfectly capable actual 35 year old actresses out there.

Then we read the first scene of a play that is, for all I can tell, about a diner owner's obsession with Holstein cows.

It was hilarious. Definitely worth the treck downtown, plus I stopped at Whole Foods and had some Lentil soup and read my book to kill time in the afternoon.

All in all, I pleasant meaningless day but with substantial amusement, so I shant dare to complain.

I am rapidly eating through my life's savings however and by the end of the week, I MUST have a job. I'm looking into a receptionist position at a very swanky spa not far from my house. We shall see. If there is anything that qualifies you for a job like that, I should think that I have those skills.

Stockholm Syndrome

The creepiest thing about being at home is that it is so comfortable, effortless and easy that it almost lulls you into saying, "It's nice here..." I imagine this is what it feels like to become institutionalized, like in a mental ward, or possibly on death row. So angst-free when I'm not fighting with the guards, no pesky planning of the day ahead since it's all pre-regimented for me, lots of sleep. No uncertainties. Relatively little responsibility. Just be on your best behavior. Maybe freedom is over-rated.

I mean you wake up late, you don't go to work, people feed you or at least provide the means by which you can feed yourself, it's a lovely sunny, warm day (not stinking, humid and hot), you get to drive a car with the wind in your hair and the stereo turned up, your only "job" is to go through all your old crap (which for me mostly means my intensely OCD mother goes through everything and I sit and watch), and then you go to sleep in probably the most comfortable bed in christendom (I don't know why or how this mattress is so comfortable, I think we got it at costco, but it is so delicious that whenever I lay down my back goes, "ahhhhh!").

Ok so not really like prison. But with the same banal brainless sort of consistency that pleases simple beings like infants, the recently comatose, or, as in my case, the incredibly high strung.

If it wasn't for all the people I miss and all the fun I am missing I think I might be reluctant to go back early! Isn't that sick?! Because actually, I totally hate it here!! It just gets into you like some sort of zombie disease. Or the rage virus, only it's not rage it's just soul-sucking boredom.

I think what is making me feel so, you know, I-long-for-the-good-old-days-that-never
-really-existed, is all the uncertainty and scary broke-ness that I'm heading back to. Plus my lack of acting prospects on the horizon is a little depressing. I am doing a reading on monday though, so I really shouldn't complain.

And I have to get a job that I hate. I hate having a job that I hate! But all the jobs I don't hate, don't pay! And I need a job that pays. Like a lot. So I guess I'll be entering data for $15 an hour or something. Luckily I have enough pleasant distractions in my life to subdue the suicidal tendencies I'm sure that would drive any person to - like my 4th of july plans. Are you sitting down?

I'm meeting The Family! And by The Family, I don't mean mine of course. That would not be a cause for excitement, only self-mutilation. I mean the boyfriend's! I know, big step. I have fantasies of baking a gourmet home-made meyer lemon summer fruit tart to impress my hosts - so my mere presence won't be a let down - but I have a feeling it will be more like buying a gourmet home-made meyer lemon fruit tart to impress my hosts. But hey, that means I frequent bakeries - and that means I don't count carbs - and that means I'm not an entirely nervous wreck. And that is pretty impressive, for a New Yorker.

I will post soon with details about Meg's Visit and The Most Beautiful Wedding Ever but that delicious bed is a-calling!

June Bug

I think I am ill in the brain. Or possibly poisoned from the paint fumes.

My mother decided tonight was the perfect evening to go about painting the upstairs bathroom, so I've been in a tiny cubicle of a room priming, re-priming, and painting for the last 6 hours. And sweating, and getting paint on every exposed surface on my body, including UP my nose.
Yeah, I don't know either.
My brain is addled by the fumes and my entire body aches. Painting is just full of awkward positions - and not in the good entertaining way. In the ouch I've never felt that muscle before way. Which means tomorrow, I will be sore in places I've never experienced conscious sensation in before. Should be bracing!

Good thing too, because I've got to wake up at 7:30am to help my mother find the sprinkler heads in our lawn so when the thatcher comes tomorrow, he won't uproot the whole system.

This is why being at home is like being sucked into a black hole of very foreboding suburban banality. I feel like at any minute I will start finding dead bodies under floorboards, or be recruited into a cult by my oppressively friendly neighbors.
Actually, no. None of these things will happen. Because nothing new or interesting EVER HAPPENS HERE.

Well unless you count the haircut I got today. From the ex-boyfriend, italics intended, whose presence always sends me into a cataclysmic spiral of both joy and doubt, second guessing every decision I've ever made since I was 15 years old.
But to be fair, I would hardly call that new :) and therefore I'm sure no one would find it interesting.
I mean except me. I of course am endlessly fascinated by myself. I could hardly call myself a suburban white middle-class college graduate in my early 20's without believing my life to be the most complicated conflicted confusing thing on the planet. I would shock you with the intimate details I am privy to. It's a virtual circus of emotional pathology. Lions, Tigers, and Bears (you decide what those correlate to, I'm too exhausted to be researched).

I've been in a daze since seeing the ex, whom I was very happy to see but was not expecting to be so thrown from the whole encounter. It's not like we're on the path for reconciliation or anything, there couldn't be more reasons why that is NOT going to happen, but every time I see him I'm reminded of what it felt like to love him and that always throws me for a loop.

I know I should be really proud of myself for the progress I've made. I'm in a new relationship with a patient and understanding man who brings warmth, affection and stability into my life AND in turn not putting him up on some insane pedestal and setting up unreal expectations for either of us. Seriously, I wasn't really sure I was capable of that. I mean it hasn't even been 3 months so, I really shouldn't say this yet since I'll undoubtedly fuck it up, but this could possibly be the most healthy relationship I've ever been in.

Regardless of this, the memories of that consuming, forever fluctuating, breathless, euphoric, addictive, often torturous love that I felt before are so seductive. I feel like a new patient on Lithium, longing after mania. It's just foolishness. I really thought that I would never be capable of feeling secure and fulfilled in a relationship and it turns out that I am and that has made me so indescribably content.

But oh sometimes, I miss being foolish. Being smart sucks all of the romance out of everything, the fantasy, the drama, the poetry, the sensuality, what I had always thought of as beautiful.

If we are going to raise our children on fairytales then we should stick with the originals - I would have had much more realistic and informed expectations about falling in love if the Little Mermaid had ended up alone and offed herself at the end of the movie. I would have been traumatized possibly, but I ended up that way eventually in any case, so it hardly saved me any pain in the end.

Anyway, like I said. Paint fumes.

Steam & The City

So on Friday, hell opened up and the city of new york was flooded with hot humid air. All breeze departed for the weekend, possibly to the Hamptons, and we all suffered. Thank Jesus that I have an air conditioner, albeit the noisiest air conditioner in existence, to save me from drowning in a pool of my own sweat.

I mean it was 100 degrees and raining. That is just fucking disgusting. Not to mention how dirty that water is, and probably full of acid and pollutants. I should really have been showering more, but all I wanted to do was lay in bed in my air conditioned room.

I did however, see the Sex & The City Movie which I went into with low expectations. I'm not a super fan, I mean I've seen all of the series, mostly on DVD, but I didn't dress up for the movie or anything. Oh and there were PLENTY who did, let me tell you. It was blistering hot and sweaty and yet swarms of suburbanite teenagers and overly-orange soccor moms from Jersey out on 'Girls Night' flooded the Times Square AMC in their A-line halter dresses and high heels, hair perfectly coiffed, make-up caked and painted on in broad strokes. It was a sight to behold. Like some strange, tribal female right of passage or fertility ritual. Plus Gays.

Anyway, I had heard tell that the movie was like one long female-audience-inclined fart joke. I was ready to be underwhelmed.
And you know what? I had a grand old time. I laughed my ass off, I made side comments to Ian, I cried (that scene on the bridge - oh my god), I gasped and stared in awe at the breath-taking designer couture (bridal! eeeeeee!!). I wondered at how Jennifer Hudson can be such a powerhouse of soul when she sings and yet can't act her way out of a paper bag.

All in all I left that movie utterly satiated. Was it over the top? Oh god yes. But that's the beauty of the show. It's like crack, pop-culture crack for women who spent their early lives dreaming of prince charming and now have been dating for several years and wonder what fucking rabbit hole they fell down. With designer clothes and shoes. And gays. Did I mention the gays?

And girlfriends. Every woman dreams of having a close-knit group of die-hard girlfriends who would spoon-feed you yogurt in bed if the man you loved devastated you. No judgement or pressure, just total love, support and acceptance. Who would let you double-fist the margaritas if you felt like it. Tell the man who broke your heart that they curse the day he was born and let their water break all over his imported dress shoes. That'll show him, amniotic fluid will never come out of that Italian leather.

Anyway, a toast to my girlfriends who I love so very much! One of whom is getting married (bridal! eee!!!) the weekend after next and one of whom is flying 3000 miles to complete the trio at the wedding. I love you girls, in that true sister love sort of way where you can completely be yourself and be a better person at the same time.

:)

Currently: (a.k.a. I Keep Terrible Hours)

Listening to: ADELE's cover of Make You Feel My Love
Longing for: A little spooning...
Happy About: My lovely friends and a pleasant afternoon
Unhappy About: Ugh my career
Afraid of: Running out of money
Should Be: Oh, sleeping of course.
Shouldn't be: Staying up till 3am watching taxicab confessions/iron chef america
Crushing on: AOH :)
Hearing: Car doors slamming on the street, people talking, air conditioners...
Seeing: A large pile of unsorted papers that glare up at me menacingly. I'm sure there's a bill somewhere in there that I haven't paid. Real life is scary.
Smelling: My room, which is inordinately messy right now. Smells like pine (from my new shelves) and remnants of perfume and laundry. And almonds from my lotion.
Tasting: A nice cool glass of ice-water...mmmm...
Touching: My supple computer keys which make the loveliest sound
Crying Over: The Sex & The City movie this afternoon...don't look at me like that, I wasn't the only one! Vince did it too!
Rooting For: Any approaching cold fronts
Laughing About: My ridiculous responses to this exercise, as if it wasn't clear enough already that I lead a stagnant meaningless existence
Wishing For: An exciting acting prospect. Or to win the lottery. Or like six lotteries at once.

Alright, well, I'm going to go curl up in bed with a book and stop whining about my life because actually, I have so much to be grateful for. I'm not completely broke (yet), I have at least a survival job lined up for when I come back, I live close to all of my favorite people except one, who will be returning to new york city tomorrow. I'm hoping I can sneak my way into his bed tomorrow night, we shall see. I'm trying to maximize whats left of this week before I leave on thursday.

I'm coming back to Seattle for a couple of weeks on the 12th. I can't wait for the wedding but am otherwise dreading it completely. My mother was just here for a month ruining some of the most precious moments of my life. Why must this continue? Can't I get like a 2 month reprieve? Jesus.

And good night!

F*cking Bloody Transit Court = Day from HELL

Well I just wasted an entire day thanks to the New York City Transit Authority and the lovely men in blue of the NYPD.

Thanks guys! Not only did I spend my entire morning and most of my afternoon waiting to contest this absolutely ludicrous ticket you gave me (its a long story, I won't get into it, but it was a TOTAL misunderstanding) but in the end you didn't give a shit about my testimony, and I still have to pay the ticket in full! Great! You know, you might have just told me it would be useless so I didn't waste the time and energy schlepping out to brooklyn, where the office had been moved to some mysterious address I had to find with the help of numerous disgruntled shopkeepers. I took the day off work and I still have to pay this goddam $70?!

Well I mean I would have taken the day off work, if I had a job.

WHICH IS WHY I DON'T HAVE THE $70!!!

Good news is, the temp agency did finally call me, but now doesn't even want to talk to me until I get back after my trip (understandably). At least I'll have a job when I get back.

Oh and speaking of jobs, I have my first ever paying gig doing some background work on The Guiding Light this tuesday. I know, a little anti-climactic, and could result in the future in hefty union dues, but guess what? I need the money!

Especially now that I have to pay these motherf*ucking ticket.


As for my acting career, this manager who I was really excited about meeting with keeps putting me off. And I'm now sure I didn't get the part in that fringe show (and I bet I know who did).

Jesus.

I need a drink. Luckily the alumni reunion in tonight, and although it seems a little silly for me to attend since I only became an alumnus like two weeks ago, there is an open bar soooooooooo yeah I'll be there.

Guh

I want a career.

Retrospective

Last night it started to rain and the drops were plunking off my air conditioner (yessss thank god) and I laid awake in bed until 4am for absolutely no reason.
It didn't bother me too much actually, apart from the initial frustration. I am an occasional insomniac, a throwback to old times I suppose, and I didn't have anything to do early this morning so I just sat and waited it out.

While I obsessively checked the clock every three minutes, it got me thinking about how things change over time. Three months, three years, three decades (hypothetically speaking of course, since I have yet to live for three decades, knock on wood). I have friends getting married, earning their phd's, starting lucrative careers, HAVING BABIES. I sit with them at breakfast, chat on the phone, laugh about everyday things and then watch them step up to these huge adult milestones, and I realize how brave they are and how much they've grown up in front of me.

I look back to the person I was when I was 16, that's seven years ago now, and I still feel like I look at that girl in the mirror every day. I'm still chronically melodramatic, still stubborn and unbending, still careless and scattered, still leaping before I think everything through. I feel like I'll just look up one day and have wrinkles around my eyes without feeling any different. Life moves so quickly!

Which just throws into striking contrast my absolutely useless existence these days. I wake up, I eat breakfast watching the food channel, I clean, I go out running errands for a few hours or go to the gym, wander around the city a little (we've had beautiful weather after all, best to take advantage before it gets hotter than hades and I start hating it), come home, make dinner, clean up, check my to-do list (since there's inevitably one or two important things I forgot to do), maybe have a drink with a friend/friends or head over to Alex's, and then sleep. Repeat and repeat. It's such a silly existence and I am so bored. I hate feeling like I'm wasting these days. I should be seizing the day, you know, carpe diem and stuff.

Well anyway, I guess my subconscious decided to kick me into gear because I woke up at 8:30 this morning and cannot fall back asleep. And I was even planning on getting up at 10 to get things done! But now I've only have 4.5 hours of sleep and I'm already exhausted. What do I do at this point? Should I try and get some more sleep NOW? I don't want to fall asleep doing my laundry.

You see? YOU SEE? My life is absurd and pointless. These are the dilemmas I'm dealing with - when to nap. I mean jesus, with all this time you'd think AT LEAST I would be getting caught up on sleep!

I am a useless individual.

Also, check out the cover of Make You Feel My Love by the bluesy brit Adele. It makes even me want to commit to my relationship which, you know, is saying a lot.

The Place

Well as predicted, everything has completely fallen apart in my relationship. We are a step away from the break-up, I can smell it. It all depends on our conversation tomorrow and if it goes like I fear it might go, he will have given me no chance but to say goodbye.
I'm just so damn tired. Mentally, emotionally, physically exhausted. Its going to be a very long time until I date again. A very long time. It really could be years. I just can't trust anyone. I can't trust myself. I find someone I think is good for me, I start to fall in love with him and then WHAM!! He turns into someone else and completely blindsides me. I feel like I'm living in a fun house and as I turn each corner it just gets more and more warped and twisted until I'm dizzy and panicked, backed into a corner.

I was so depressed today after our huge blow-out last night, I laid in bed all day trying desperately to get some sleep to no avail. Luckily the promise of a much anticipated night with my two favorite girls on earth gave me courage and it was lovely, just as I thought it would be. You see? You can always count on your friends :) If it wasn't for them, I think I would lose faith in the whole world.

Sammy, you singing 'Papa was a Rolling Stone' put a big sincere smile on my face even though I'm sad.

I'm so so sad.

How Bizarre

Well. Now I'm here in my new apartment in the real world life post-college, all on my own (since my roommate is out of town).

Weird.

It's like a strange sort of vacation, except you're not sure how you'll get home because you're out of money and have no plane ticket.

I had a very indulgent day yesterday.

My mom hung around until late afternoon of course, she can't just tidy up and leave quietly like a normal person. She has to stay until the last possible moment and then suddenly find 10 more things to do or take a bath or something. She spent the last couple of days organizing and arranging MY apartment to her liking. Then before she left she felt the need to take me around room by room and show me everything like some crazed obsessive compulsive realtor with a rage problem. I will now spend the next 4 days arranging everything to MY liking and probably messing some shit up just to spite her.

Yes, I'm petty. I don't deny it. I'm being indulgent remember?

So anyway, I took her to the train station - where she had too many bags to actually manoeuvre on the train by herself but she refused my help so I just quit and went home - and then rode back on the A train uptown and walked up my street to my apartment.

I closed the door and looked around.

It was so quiet. And the hallway is totally full of trash that I need to take out, and my bedding all needs to be washed, and I have to hang pictures and things and organize shelves and somehow fit everything else into three tiny closets. But this is it: my new life.

I emailed off my resume to a bunch of temp agencies.

Then I realized: I was alone in my new apartment and had no one to watch me or scold me or guilt me and I could do anything in the world I wanted and no one would ever know.

And you know what I did? I smoked a bowl and watched Grey's Anatomy (OH MY GOD for anyone who saw that episode I SOBBED THROUGH THE WHOLE LAST 10 MINUTES) and then I had a glass of wine and took a long hot shower with my music on in the bathroom. When I got out I danced around my room in my underwear and then had an earth-shattering orgasm.

And after all that I went about doing the things I needed to do. But god, it was such a blissful couple of hours, I could have cried I was so happy.

Now I have to do laundry in my sketchy laundry room. I hope I don't see any rats.

Weekend Update (ho ho! a joke!)

So just to avoid keeping you all in suspense (all of my readers, who are many and diverse): I finished that damned paper. Worst thing ever, but 25 pages and therefore passable. I put it in the very hands of my professor and I kindly reminded him before I did of the conversation we had at the beginning of the semester during which he told me that 'even if your work isn't up to your usual standard, I think it will be just fine.' After that I spent the day going over the details of buying furniture and moving with my mother and then went to sleep hardcore. Unfortunately that little all-nighter I pulled cost me bigtime and I have been suffering from a pretty bad case of viral sinusitis ever since. I'll save you the gory details but suffice it to say that I'm pretty laid up and yet forced to push myself to the limits regardless.

But anyway.

My life is now annoyingly consumed by moving into my new apartment, yet my sheer excitement over said new apartment is enough to motivate me. Well, that and the knowledge that I graduate this weekend - which means my mother leaves on the 19th and I'll have my life back!!!!! Oh my god!!!! I can't tell you how excited I am, it's like being freed from prison, only minus the cavity search (although she is alarmingly meticulous in her inspection of EVERYTHING I do/own, so really is comparable)

After my parents are gone, my only plans are sickeningly fun and lovely things. Living in my new place, spending time with my friends, going on weekend trips with Alex, coming home for Sammy's wedding with Meg (and possibly Greg), being a real person. of course I have to get a job. Blech. But whatever, it happens, I've worked a just-for-$$ job before and I can do it again. Once the summer's over I'll consider getting an actual job that I doesn't bore a hole in my brain but until then, I want NO responsibilities. Yup. You heard me.

I want to enjoy myself for once.

Oh no!

Disaster! Have got to 20 pages and realize have nothing left to say.

That means I must do more reading.

So unprepared.

To console self, just ate celery sticks, peanut butter, and a baked potato. Listen, I don't know. It's 1:36am. I haven't been outside in two days.

I got so close and yet turned out to be so far away.

Le sigh.

Ok I am definitely losing it.

GAH!

Frantically now have written 15 pages and can feel myself slowing down.

MUST...CONTINUE...WRITING...BORING...SLUDGE...OR...WILL...
DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Ugh KILL ME

Well I've done it again, left it all down to the wire. I knew I would but I was kind of hoping that maybe, just maybe, JUST ONCE I would be able to do things like a regular person.

But no. I have 5 pages of a 30 page paper done, a paper that is due on tuesday. So effectively, tomorrow. And it MUST be done on tuesday.

I can do it. It is possible. But I will have to push myself really very hard and I am so not good at that. I mean obviously. Or this wouldn't be a problem.

This is all compounded by the fact that it is officially the most uninteresting boring project ever to be assigned. Seriously. Even the men who spend their lives (oh and they are ALL men of course) writing about this stuff know that its the dreariest topic on the face of the earth. Example: I found the following sentence in the preface to 'The Elizabethan Conquest of Ireland: A Pattern Established 1565-1576' by Nicholas Canny:
"In the short term I will be more than satisfied if my critics judge me to have answered Professor Sir John Neale who once challenged me 'to make sixteenth century Ireland interesting.'"

If fucking Nicholas sodded Canny is saying that, he who wrote what must be thousands of pages on that very topic, than I know that I am not just an ignorant american. This shit is INTERMINABLE. They should read it to rapists in prison until they go insane.

Oh my god. It is awful. I wish I was dead.

I have my first professional meeting tomorrow as an actor and I wish I was dead. Perfect. My career is getting off to a fabulous start.

Ok, enough stalling.

Girls of Summer

It is raining in New York, it has been for days. I must finish my thesis by tuesday at the very latest so the rest of my weekend and monday will be spent in a mad semantic-drowned scramble to the finish line. I don't even care if it's awful, I just want it OVER WITH.

Showcase was a blast and it went really well I think. It was all over so quickly. It was sort of like Christmas usually is for me, the racing around and stressing out that starts when I get home on the 23rd and then ends definitively two days later. We spent all of sunday in the theater teching the show, from noon to midnight. Then the show ran for two short nights and then...it was over. I had been obsessing about that moment for years and it all ended in a flash, as it usually goes I suppose. Life is funny that way. Everytime I make a big deal out of anything it ends up slipping by just like any old thing. On wednesday we had the directing 3 projetcs, the Three Sisters scenes, which went well I think. My last sweet moment on the fordham stage. Finit enfin! Tralala! I had woken up that morning a little depressed. The post-show slump, feeling myself very much on the way out into the great unknown.

And now I'm stuck in my room, which is still fully my room, I haven't begun packing a bit. My roomates are moving this weekend up to their apartment in the heights, just a few blocks from mine.

I promised myself I wouldn't start anything else until I'd finished my thesis - that would have been just like me, to take up a new project before I'd finished the first one. And since the thesis is required for me to graduate - well, it takes first priority. Plus I'm not actually kicked out of my current place until the 18th at noon. And my bed doesn't arrive uptown until the 10th. I've got to paint the room before anything arrives. I picked a color - 'cafe royal'. It looks just like coffee with cream in it - delicious. I can't wait to get set up. Cook in my new kitchen.

All waits on the thesis. I have 3 pages of the projected 40, although I'm not gonna lie, I may just stop after 30. Who wants to write 40 pages about identity politics in the 16th century british isles? That's right. No one. Because it's boring.

I wish it wasn't raining but at least I'm not being called outside and jealous of the sunshine. There is no sunshine, just gloomy misty gray.

Oh! I got a call from the casting assistant at Guiding Light from showcase (I'm hoping its the first of many calls, but that may be a fruitless wish). I have a short interview on monday in which I will be beautiful, witty, and enchanting. Grace, my vocal teacher (of the Fitzmaurice bent) urged me to apply for grad school in the fall saying 'you've really got something there'. I was extremely flattered/ considered asking, "why, can you get me into Yale?" I'm considering it. Not quite sure if I'm ready to go back to school. I mean, I'm not even really out yet. I can't make that decision. Plus, what if I had to move? I just found an apartment.

Anyway. Off to work I go. Bored out of my mind.

Denouement

I woke up this morning and I can just feel that everything has changed.

I'm sitting here in my room, in the building I've lived in for the past 5 years, in this community I've surrounded myself with, in this neighborhood I know like the back of my hand, and I'm listening to the familiar sound of the traffic outside and the lawnmowers on the plaza - and I know that I'm no longer a part of it really, I'm on my way out.

Next year these halls will be filled again and I won't be walking them. It's weird to look at everything that way. I was walking down them last night, it was getting later, they were almost empty, and it all just hit me.

When I think back to how I felt when I first arrived here, and how familiar this whole college life has become, it really moves me.

These five years have just been so...I don't know...huge, I guess, in a lot of ways. Leaving home for the first time, keeping an apartment, cooking, staying up all night with your friends, grocery shopping, stumbling down 9th Ave on the weekends and dreading class come monday, strolling over to the park for the afternoon. Everything was so close, so easy, so if-you-feel-like-it.

My life won't be much like that anymore. Now the work begins. Which means things can really happen for once. But you know, it's different. No longer in that cozy college bubble. No advisors to run to, professors to bargain with.

I just want to be able to relax and enjoy these last couple of weeks. Sit out on the plaza in the sunshine. Soak up what's left of my college years. My college years. GOD that is so weird, weird, weird that they're over. I just can't believe I'm 23 and graduating from college. When did this happen? I still feel like I'm in 7th grade most of the time.

Alright. Enough talk. Action.

I'm gonna make pancakes. You see? Taking the initiative!

Caution: Rant

I've had a very short fuse today. Then my mother arrived. Now I'm ready to pounce on the next person that dares to make any extraneous noise.

I am sooooooo stressed out. I'm also exhausted from running around all day, rehearsing, and being mary sunshine perfect daughter for my mom for 5 hours. I didn't work out, I didn't eat healthily, I didn't make time for myself, I didn't get my haircut, I didn't take in my dry cleaning, and I didn't work on my thesis. I didn't even drink enough water. I still don't have Eva's comments on my resume and I haven't counted out my headshots or printed out my scenes. For the amount of things I didn't get done today, it's remarkable that I'm so exhausted.

And then the 1 train has been shut down from 72nd to 42nd, meaning I had to get out and walk (not so big of a deal) AND my mother is going to have to get out and walk (bigger deal since she still wears a brace on her knee).

Why does she have to come at the very worst possible time? Why God, why? I miss comforts, I miss sleep, I miss snuggling, I miss having nothing to do for three hours together. I can't wait for this hellish week to be over and it hasn't even really begun. And I should be excited! Showcase! Real-life! Future!

I'm utterly useless right now, I have no energy except negative energy. I'm grouchy and frustrated. And I feel filthy although probably without any reason. Although I have no business doing so, I am going straight to bed.

Or...I guess I should do laundry. I don't know. Maybe I should take a shower? When am I going to work out tomorrow? When am I going to do all the things that need to get done! I just want to cry. I hate how difficult this stress is for me to handle. And how wound up I'm feeling.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!

Hmmmmm

Seriously, who am I?

I'm starting to get a little nervous. Things are going a little TOO well. On thursday some of my ADD pals were talking about how their lives tend to function on a maddening sort of sliding scale - if their love-life is going great than their career is shit, or if they land a promotion at work, things in their personal lives are falling apart. Nothing is ever balanced. We can't multi-task like that.

Things in my personal life are so great, save for a few worries about a couple of friends who I know are going through rough periods right now, that I'm starting to expect the bottom to drop out any minute. You know, just a vague sense of dread. Nothing new of course, that's how I am, that's my neurosis, perhaps it's not rational - but that's usually how my life functions. It's a learned response, I wasn't naturally this high strung.

Luckily I can relax with the knowledge that I have unimaginable amounts of work to do on my thesis before I can even think about life after college. That should take care of the whole career going to shit part.

I just wish a great personal life wasn't so damn distracting! At least when my personal life is crap I can then throw myself into my work. I get things done. It's great. I mean miserable, but great in a way.

You know what I mean.

Fuck. I make no sense. I'm too dreamy, all I can do is look at furniture online and fantasize about all the sex I'll be having in my queen sized bed and the evenings of cold $1 cervezas with my friends in the heights.

Wow.

Get Me Out of Here

Why someone would want a career in academia is now officially beyond my grasp.

I've been reading article after scholarly article on JSTOR for my thesis (I have that huge presentation on tuesday) and I just want to bludgeon my eyes out with a pencil. These people CANNOT write anything worth reading. They are full of information of course but you have to read it so bloody closely that you end up exhausting yourself after 5 pages. Who cares how much information you've crammed in there if no one can make it through the piece ALIVE?!

I'm now at that stage of sheer and utter exhaustion where your whole body feels incredibly heavy and yet like it's floating at the same time. Does anyone know what I'm talking about? Sort of like someone put you in slow-motion against your will and you're resisting.

I am just so stressed out. SO stressed out. And I'm starting to understand that I won't get to feel any differently until, well, basically until June. But by then I'll be stressing out all over again about leaving New York for a month.

I just need a BREAK. Seriously. I need some R&R.

Well I'll tell you this much. My birthday is on Saturday and I am not going to do a damn thing I don't feel like doing ALL DAY LONG. I'm gonna get really drunk the night before and party with my friends, and I'm going to sleep in until noon. Then I'm going to eat a lot of delicious indian food for lunch, laze around the park if the weather permits, and then just maybe I'll go out with a nice guy and enjoy myself.

And after that, I won't have any more fun until the end of May. Work work work. There's a play to be translated and a 40 page research paper to be written. And another research project to be finished, although I've already written the bulk of it one night in a fit of stress-induced mania.

Man, I knew this was going to happen. I knew my spring was going to be hell. I'm stoked for the summer. When I'm out of school FINALLY and all this academic pressure is off, I will be a completely new person.

Right? It could happen.

Merry-Go-Round

They say in my support group that every day that you get something productive done is a good day.

Well, then they should all try looking for an apartment in New York City with a budget of $600-850. Hell hell hell. AND I'm a female in my twenties, so unless I enjoy feeling threatened and harassed every day - which I tolerate particularly poorly - there are entire chunks (the most affordable chunks of course) of Manhattan that are completely off-limits.
You look and you look and you look and you start to make deals with yourself like, "well what do you really do in a bedroom besides sleep anyway?"

I finally went to see an apartment today that I liked. I could see myself living there. However the bedroom is like 11x12. Its just...ugh. Daunting and tiring and inherently discouraging. I just want a room where I can keep my books and piano and all of my clothes. And a full bed. I feel like it shouldn't be so hard but it is a complete head-ache and now I feel totally drained and huffy and anxious. I don't like leaving things up in the air. I'm a stress-ball as it is right now, I don't need the extra worries.

I'll keep y'all posted, but this is going to be a real struggle and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna end up compromising my needs big-time. I'm so tired of doing that. That's the real power of wealth, my friends. If I had more money I could get more of what I wanted. Wouldn't that feel nice?

In A Style Entirely New!

I could not for the life of me sleep tonight. I lay in bed for hours and stared into the dark and finally, I decided to watch a movie. The choice was clear: Mansfield Park




God, that movie just makes my heart ACHE. Just ache and ache and sigh and sigh.

Johnny Lee Miller...shut up. Harold Pinter? Shut UP! All topped off with good dry english wit, themes of equality and social justice, tortured affections and the most impossible beautiful love story ever?

Sign me up baby. If I'm going to be up until 6am, I might as well be doing something destructive to my expectations of reality in romantic attachments...

chicken little

today I felt like the sky was falling.

first it thundered.
the lightening came and scorched tiny spots around my feet.
then it poured and poured for three hours, straight from my eyes.

then in chunks and swirls the whole atmosphere came down upon me and I sat there on my bed gasping for air while all the oxygen was sucked away. all of the forces of the universe repelled from me like opposing magnet poles and i was left marooned in soundless breathless limbo.

i fled, as fast as i could, i fled to the only place that feels free.

and when i came back the sky was hovering above me, watching my every move, without a word, as if nothing had ever happened. as if it would never happen again.

i'm not so sure. i'm not so sure of anything anymore.

Let's give it a try, shall we?

I've been reading a lot of memoirs (for class mostly) and I think I may have stumbled upon the reason everyone tells me I'm 'world-weary' or an 'old soul'.

"I think it's important to note that [there] might be a cultural and generational phenomenon of plain old-fashioned burnout.
[...] We grew up in a world in which the surface of the thing is infinitely more important than the substance - and where the surface of the thing had to be "perfect," urbane, sophisticated, blasé, adult. I would suggest that if you grow up trying constantly to be an adult, a successful adult, you will be sick of being grown up by the time you're old enough to drink. I got tired of trying to be that kind of adult. I don't think I was the only one. I couldn't imagine what the hell I was going to do with myself once I attained "success," but I couldn't give up the panicky need to achieve it either."

You know, maybe I should write my own memoir. I wonder if I could make any money at it. Money would be nice and god knows I love talking about myself to a random abstract audience whom I never have to face.

Halftime Baby!

Well I've finished Scene 6 of 12 and I'm on page 69 (hehe) of 126.

Hooray!

Its roughly hewn, it needs to be sifted and sculpted and well, basically rewritten entirely, but I have the the blueprints.

Well, I mean half of them...

I was kind of hoping to have an entire draft done by the end of spring break (which is monday) butttttttt that just didn't happen. I'm at least pleased I got to some concrete milestone.

God I wish there were more of those in life, don't you?

The Piano Lesson

There is one place in the world that I can go when I feel overwhelmed, confused, nearing the apex of my anxieties and doubts of myself. It is in the dark warm corner of my parents living room, seated at the old piano, my fingers resting gently on the cool familiar keys, whose pression responds to my fingertips with delicious recognition.

When I'm there, the whole world melts away. I can only really play a few songs for memory, songs I taught myself as a girl, and sometimes the passages come and go, but when my heart and my body meld, they just pour out of my fingertips and for once in my life, serenity is simple and effortless.

Thoughtless muscle memory unlocks something miles deep inside of me, to the place that no one has ever touched, and when that music comes breathlessly I feel like it's my heart singing.

I love that piano. It's old and probably out of tune and sometimes the keys stick a little. Its full of dust and it's wise.

Last night, in a terrible fit of paralyzing stormy thoughts, I sat down to play and I kept hitting traps. Passages I couldn't remember. My fingers felt frantic, amnesiac, like strangers, as if all the energy and weight inside them had flown out. Nothing felt right. I touched key after key, searching for the right note, determined to find it, determined to get through that song. But I couldn't. I sat with my eyes closed and my hands resting on the keys and I felt completely lost.

I abandoned the song that would not come, and I played some low and mismatched chords I made up as I went along.

I went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night with the sheets twisted in knots close around my body. I'd thrown the comforter completely off. I was shivering.

When I woke up this morning, I silently made myself breakfast. I read the paper. I glanced at the work I'd done the night before, still sprawled out on the dining room table. I pulled a blanket around me and I walked into the living room and sat down at the piano.

I put my hands out to play a different song, afraid to tackle the same as the night before in case the loss of memory was permanent. That's what kept me tossing and turning all night. I can't bear to lose that song, that song in particular. It was the first love song, and the only one.

But anyway, my hands took over and I played it. With a few mistakes but I played it through and by the end I felt the door unlock.

I knew I couldn't lose that song forever. Its too much a part of me. There are some things that get inside of your bones. And they'll never leave you.

Oh Jesus!

That's all I have to say.

Lost in Translation

I work much better once it gets dark outside so I usually leave a bulk of the bare bones translating until evening and then I work until I get tired, usually around...well...now.

I light a few candles and shut myself in the dining room facing the giant wall of mirrors.

I go into the world of this play which is profoundly dark and lonely. Extremely lonely. It really sucks the warmth right out of you. Especially this one character. This one guy. Leslie. He really gets to me. He creeps me out. He just, I don't know, I don't like getting inside his head. He's intensely fucked up and he works it out in ways that I find really disturbing. He's not killing people or anything, nothing like that. Nothing criminal. Just...unsettling. He's falling off the edge.

Especially tonight because I'm working on scene 4 which is mostly made up of his prolific monologues. And all my candles keep mysteriously burning out. I'm starting to think this play is haunting me.

I finally start getting a headache from staring at the computer screen and the shitty lighting reflecting into my eyes. I go upstairs and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling my parents had painted with a glow-in-the-dark starmap of the day my sister was born - it used to be her room - and I lay awake for a long time. Last night it was hours. I just can't chase away this loneliness and my mind races through hundreds of snapshot memories trying to pull my own self out of Leslie. I know it sounds weird, and by morning I'm perfectly fine again. But boy am I having trouble falling asleep.

As for my Brit History Thesis...well I just don't want to work on it. I can't make myself do it so instead of doing nothing, I work on Sallinger. But man, I just may take a break and dive into 16th century literature because that Koltès is really getting to me.

And I'd like to get some sleep!

The Spring Break Plan

ok, so I'm sitting in my parents living room and mapping out 'the plan'

SO my basic everyday schedule will involve the following:

- wake up at 9:30
- bike to the gym
- shower
- help pressure mom to actually get the things done around the house that she claims I am here to do, that she always claims I am here to do, that she will forever put off so she can force me to come home to do said things...
- 3-4 hours work on one or both thesis projects

to this I can add some social activities, including of course seeing a few plays with my mother so she doesn't feel neglected...

today I am going to set up camp in the living room with all my books (which I had to lug home in my bags - which were subsequently 8 lbs overweight which cost me an extra $25) and then make a list of goals with mother dearest so we can ACTUALLY get things done.

I have GOT to stick to this plan. Otherwise I will have insurmountable mountains of work awaiting me when I get back to New York and back here when I come back in June.

Alright! Go team!

T-t-t-tuesday

What a strange unsettling day.

First I got to spend the first two hours of it watching Leaving Las Vegas in my Disabilities Studies course, which - in case you haven't seen it - is an INCREDIBLY disturbing (because its true and terrifying) glimpse into the last weeks of a violent alcoholic's life as he drinks himself to death in the company of a fragile and sensitive prostitute played heartbreakingly by Elisabeth Shoe. The only good thing about that whole part of my morning was my delicious breakfast from the cart on 9th Avenue. Mmmmm coffee with vanilla creamer and a croissant with eggs and bacon...all rendered nearly inedible by the image of man shaking violently from withdrawal as he drinks two bottles of vodka in the shower and screams at the top of his lungs, and a prostitute being gang-raped (sorry: spoiler!)

Anyway, then I came home and instead of doing any work - like for example my history thesis proposal that was due a week ago - I went back to bed. Then I woke up to man the ticket table for V-Day and I ate a giant cup of frozen yogurt, trying to make myself feel less guilty about putting off my proposal.

Then I went to class and my professor, who I admire and let's face it am half in love with, looked really disappointed when I AGAIN didn't turn anything in. Even though I dominated the conversation in class, still, I could feel him avoiding my eyes as he referred to other people's proposals. I felt so terrible I bolted out of that room as soon as he ended the lecture. He saw me in the hall later and he didn't say a word. I was afraid to look at him, I felt so guilty. This is probably all in my head, I don't even know why I'm so obsessed with pleasing him. He's just one of those teachers. And he's a man. I wish that wasn't part of it but I know it is. Why do I always have this insane approval-seeking compulsion with men! Its so Freudian it's disgusting, I don't want to be a cliche. Besides, Freud is a douchebag. Ok not a douchebag, a narcissistic patronizing misogynist. Potato potato.

Anyway I just kept telling myself for the rest of the day that you can't please everyone. Which I know is true. But still. If I can't please my British History professor, who can I please?

Then I went back to my room and attempted to actually write the damn proposal but the minute I crack any of those books open, my mind reads two sentences and says 'forget it.'

I went to the grocery store. I bought some tilapia and vegetables. I came home and cooked it. I went to the gym. I took a long shower. I tried to persuade my mother not to email people on craigslist about apartments for me.

And now I'm here. It's 2am. I don't have a proposal. I don't have an apartment. All I have is the light in this room and my clock blinking at me. I should probably just go to bed. I hardly got enough sleep last night.

I'm thinking about going to a support group tomorrow that I found on the internet. I've never been to a support group. I feel incredible anxiety about it. I feel compelled to create some new identity for the meeting, but I know that would defeat the entire purpose of going at all.
My name could be Grace, or Delilah, or Heather. I could work in publishing. Marketing. I'm a writer. I'm professionally neurotic. I don't have a problem. I can stop anytime if I wanted to.

Here's to wednesday!

Thesis Crunch

So we finished the Vagina Monologues, it went so well and we raised over $2300 dollars for charities I love and admire.

Now I have my life back and I will be splitting my time between translating my play, writing a history thesis on the devolution of gaelic societies of Scotland and the channel islands in the 16th century, and working out. I'm also hoping to reconnect and patch together lost friendships so I will have a solid support system when I graduate. I have lost touch with SO MANY people I was so close to, and that should end right now if it can.

Yikes.

Its crunch time my friends.

Luckily I already have the soundtrack all worked out: it will be a random mix of two albums: Goldfrapp's Seventh Tree and Weightless by Katie Herzig.

I'm also heading home for two weeks on March 12th. I'll spend a couple of days in Ashland at OSF and then splitting my time at my parents house between writing my thesis projects, and helping my mom sort through her rooms full of hoarding that have accumulated in the last 10 years. It is going to be IN-TENSE. It has to be done though. At least there won't be too many distractions I suppose. I'm still debating whether I should pursue coffee with a certain someone. I kind of want to but I'm wondering if I shouldn't? I'm not thinking about it too much for now. He's probably too busy anyhow.

I actually could really go for one of his haircuts too.

Oh and I got my headshots! I think they are pretty, I mean they look like me. Its hard to be objective about that, but I think some of them are really pretty. I'm too embarrassed to show them to people however, so if you want to see them you'll have to ask. And I'll probably have to think about it for a while.

I feel good though. Even though its all ending so fast and I have no idea what I'm doing. But you know, besides that : )

Hiccup

Ok, I know I'm trying to start this new positive outlook on life but I forgot when I said that, that I'm an actor. Which in case you did not know, is the worst profession on the face of the earth.
I haven't had a professional experience in which I felt engaged and stretched OR felt passionate about SINCE 2006. TWO YEARS AGO.

I feel completely invisible. Or worse. I feel thrown away.

I don't know how to describe it and no one can be sympathetic because they all say some really helpful variation on if you can't take the heat get out of the fire. Matthew McGuire echoes inside my head "there are some fish who swim along and you know they're gonna make it downstream and then there are others who you see struggling against the current..."

I just don't know what else I can do. There HAS to be an answer. There has to be a reason why I get callbacks but NEVER EVER the part. I am begging someone to explain this to me, what I am doing wrong. I'm not even out of college yet! This should not be so hard already! I feel ridiculous, I feel like the butt of a joke. Am I really terrible and no one wants to tell me? I feel like I'm losing my grip on reality!

I feel like a pencil mark someone erased.

And now I have to go run a rehearsal.

FUCK ME.

Me and Kosovo

So first of all, big headline today, Kosovo (well the albanian ethnic majority) has declared its independence from Serbia. Watch out my friends, this could cause some serious ripples in what's left of the whole post-soviet baltic conflict. We could see some action in Moldovia and Georgia. Not to mention the Serbs who are pissed off, but they know if they retaliate militarily they will be nailed to the wall by most of the western world (excluding russia of course).
If you want some albeit biased but still engaging background on the conflict you should check out the audio slide show on nytimes.com called 'Endgame in Kosovo'. I tried to put the link up here but when I copy and pasted, my computer did the electronic equivalent of a blank stare at me, so that didn't work out.

I decided I am also making a new start and I'd like to write it down, so that when all this progress goes right out the window, I can refer back to this post and try to remember what it felt like. I am declaring my independence from regret. My freedom from dwelling over the past. Mistakes are made, shit happens, and the more time you let yourself get caught up in it, caught up in blame and judgement, caught up in inexpressible anger, the more you weigh yourself down. I was starting to not feel like myself, I could feel it when I went out and met new people, I felt like I couldn't speak because everything natural felt completely stifled. I felt strangled.
Now I don't feel that way, and its all about letting go. Learn from it and let go. That's my new mantra. ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Its almost March?!

Wow, I was updating my calender today and I nearly had a heart-attack. How is time flying by so quickly! Everyone tells you it will and you intellectually know it will but in less than two weeks it will be march. That is CRAZY. Wasn't it january yesterday?

I'm feeling a little overwhelmed! Thank goodness I have a 3-day weekend.

The V-Day gala was amazing, Glenn Close and Jane Fonda performed. And Brooke Shields, who seemed a little crazy but then again she is a scientologist so...saw that one coming a mile away. Leslie and I had a blast. We held hands during all the speakers and kept turning to each other and saying, "this is so beautiful". The martinis helped. And I'm pretty sure I gave my phone number to every lesbian in the greater city of New York.

I'm hoping for a huge turn-out for our production, we shall see. The fact that we even have to fight to perform it is the very reason we do it, so that's the ultimate goal: just to have fun and celebrate. Rehearsals are eating my life, it will be a huge relief when this whole production is over, but I'm grateful I got the opportunity to get involved.

I'm boring today. Time for the gym.

Long live February!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Man, I feel great today.

Well I'm still sick. And my ass is really sore from those lunges yesterday. But anyway.

I feel great. I've had a super productive morning, I got a bunch of shit done. And I got free lunch at Club Day. I'm currently finishing up my reading for class tomorrow before I head to vocal lab, so when I get home I can just change and shower and go. I get to wear my new purple dress. And I know my mom sent me a Valentine's package which is waiting for me downstairs right now.

I also had a very unexpected phone conversation last night which, to spare you the gory details, left me feeling about 20 lbs lighter and really proud of myself for how much progress I hadn't realized I had made. I hope it didn't derail the path I was on, I hope I don't relapse into those negative thoughts again, but I don't think I will. I think I've been really healthy about putting the negativity behind me and surrendering my judgements and cynicism and compulsive destructive thought-patterns. I was starting to doubt whether I was capable of that, but I learned last night that I am. I feel great about it. So great that it almost seems a little surreal. We'll see if that all collapses. I'll keep you posted.

Tonight is the V-Day Gala downtown, so I get to start drinking at 6:30, be fed delicious food, hear interesting brilliant/famous people talk about feminism, then dance the night away and drink more with a bunch of cool chicks and some gay men maybe! And its all free for me!

Fabulous.

This is gonna be the best Valentine's Day ever!

Intermezzo

Whenever I need to relax and meditate a little, I put my big noise-blocking headphones on and I listen to the Budapest Phil play the Intermezzo from Mascagni's Cavalleria Rusticana.

That's what I'm doing as we speak. And I'm watching the sunset over the Hudson and mid-town manhattan.

I've pretty much had about six mini-meltdowns in the last few days from all the stress of directing for the first time, dealing with logistics surrounding the production (scheduling etc), getting ready for my headshots, making doctor's appointments, sending things off for Valentine's day, school, all of my classes, my two theses, working out, eating, laundry, sleeping...I'd been sleeping terribly. It just felt like an avalanche coming down on top of me.

Luckily, one of my roomates is a famous micro-manager, so she helped me make lots of lists. I still had a lot to do, but at least it was written down and not rolling around like loose marbles in my skull. Plus there is nothing like the simple satisfaction of crossing things off your list. Yessssss.

I still have a million things to do. I have about 4 books to read for classes, things I already should have done and now I need to catch up on. I have to see three different doctors this week for various reasons. I need to find some killer scenes for senior audition. My headshots are supposed to be on wednesday, we'll see if the weather warms up. Somehow I will find a way, even though I have class all day long and rehearsal all night long.

I'm really pumped for Valentine's day. I get to go to this fancy benefit dinner for V-Day for free and its a thousand-dollar-a-plate affair. Plus Eve Ensler, Jane Fonda, and a bunch of people are speaking. Free cocktails, free food, then more cocktails, and then dancing at the Hammerstein Ballroom. I'm REALLY looking forward to it.
I'll keep you posted on all the fabulous famous people I meet whilst dressed to the nines and extremely drunk and giddy.

I hope there's champagne!

What's a Weekend?

Today after my roomates watched me burst into tears AGAIN they helped me make an itemized and time specific to-do list.

I will be going going going from 10am tomorrow until 4 am on sunday. And that's just saturday's to-do list.

Goodbye sanity!


In related news, February is the cruelest month known to man.

The Birds & The Bees

In the gym today I casually picked up the Newsweek and was immediately pulled into a fascinating article about the evolutionary and scientific paradigms about romance, love & sex.

I eat that stuff up like candy, so I had actually read a lot of it before but there were a few things I found particularly intriguing and hilarious.

There was one section about how we choose mates by recognizing through specific olfactory signals that our mate is enough unlike us genetically to guarantee a viable pregnancy. It went on to say that being on birth control, and the hormonal fluctuations characteristic of this, pervert a woman's ability to correctly receive those signals.

I had a moment - mid squat rep - where I thought to myself, "well, that explains everything." And then I had a good chuckle to myself in a public place - but it was ok, because they were all listening to their iPods.

All my heartache because of birth control.

If anything helped me stop feeling so damn sorry for myself, it was that. This is a two-sided coin. It would just be easier to believe that if I wasn't the only one without, oh I don't know, pictures of me and my new guy/girl half-naked on top of me on my myspace page. For example. Totally random.

I had a discussion with my friend Drew about why New Yorkers are neurotic.
Because they always think about the future and try to grab it by the throat, they unconsciously alienate themselves from all present reality. Which of course further propels the anxiety - its a cleverly self-sustaining system. No wonder everyone thinks we're always in a hurry.
Well mostly Drew said it and I said, "whoa...yeah, huh?" Clearly I haven't quite caught on just yet. But I can absolutely contribute my share of neuroses.

Its funny that one day, probably by the time I have children, they will be able to isolate all the compounds that give me whatever anxiety or compulsive disorder or chemical defecit that I have. They will be able to isolate them and then to remove those mutations from my children's genes.

I think I wouldn't.
I think that would be a shame.

I love Kate Nash.

the trail

I'm reading about addiction for my disabilities studies course. I have a horribly addictive personality. If I had any money, I would be a complete alcoholic. I already have enough compulsive behaviors for a room full of people. I'm just good at hiding them. I thought they were better this summer, but...I was wrong.

Plus, don't even get me started on relationships and how hard those are for me to let go of. My mind still drifts in his direction about 5 or 6 times a day at least. I've even dialed his number a couple of times but I never have pressed send, so...I suppose that's a step anyway. I know that I have to make a clean break. I know that there is no perfect ending. I know this because its the only way I could do it before. But for some reason, it felt easier when I was 18.

Everything did I guess.

Closure

So I flew to Chicago for Diane's memorial. It was lovely. My mother and I and my great Aunt and Uncle gathered with 6 of Diane's neighbors and friends at this café and we told stories and talked about Diane and all the joy she brought into our lives. It was so lovely, I think she would have really been pleased. I hope my family and friends do the same thing when I pass away. And I want them to play the story by brandi carlile.

My favorite part was when, looking through Diane's pictures, we found one of her dressed as a hobo for halloween. She had stippled on a scraggly beard, she had a forty in a paper bag, and she had a handful of dollar bills and cigarette in her mouth. What a ham.

Anyway, I feel better. I feel like I'm finally letting go of some of the things that have been holding me back. I'm excited now to graduate from school, be an adult, enter the real world. Feel like I'm contributing something meaningful! I guess I needed closure in a lot of ways.

Although now of course I have impossible amounts of work this week. In any case, it was a good weekend for looking at life as it actually is and not how it feels when you're burried in it. I need that from time to time, I get so emotionally entrenched in the day to day and I blow things out of proportion and get so discouraged...

I feel lighter!

Maintenant

Maintenant, c’est la perte qui m’embête. Qui me fait penser à lui, même plus qu’avant, d’ailleurs. Je meurs d’envie de lui parler, de le voir, de me perdre dans ses bras, d’oublier tout qui est passé entre nous, comme un cauchemar extraordinaire, et de commencer au début, au nouveau.
Maintenant je me tiens profondément à chaque souvenir tant que ces images deviennent comme des peintures obscures et fluides qui se décolorent lentement derrières mes paupières.
Même le son des lettres qui forment son nom, murmure dans mes oreilles comme des prières aux vêpres,
Et quand le soleil se couche vers l’horizon, je rentre à la maison qui se cache ton fantôme. Il reste là, dans mon lit la nuit. Il attend que ma tête lourde et lasse se tombe sur l’oreiller. Il me prend doucement par la taille, sa main froide sur mon ventre, son souffle froid sur ma nuque, jusqu’au lever de soleil le matin.
Toute la nuit, je ne me dégage pas. Je ne sais pas pourquoi.
J’aime la froide. Comme ça on s’engourdit, on glace comme des ruisseaux sans courant.