skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Today was strange. I'm not used to my body doing whatever it wants and not letting me have a lot of say and control. With the news that while still at the theatre we had a good three hours until rehearsal began it's like my brain said, "Hey, you know everything that you tend to dislike about yourself and you usually do a pretty good job of hiding from the general public? Yeah I'm going to shove all of that up against the inside of your face between your skin and muscles and hope you know what to do with it... You don't? Well good luck getting that out." As much as I detest admitting it, it was probably all a big toxic stress buildup that was seeping out of that skin/muscle/in-between space on it's own. And really? Would I like to have this happen again? No. But will it? Most likely. I'll be fine.
I'd rather not keep on keepin' about all of that and about Mr. Marmalade and my less than satisfied self because if I do I'm bound to be typing for another four hours, and I'll still probably say nothing really relevant or interesting to anyone but myself.... like I always do.
On another note. Geezus kurhyst. I've just viewed the trailer for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the first time. My scalp hurts from pulling my hair a little too hard. My eyes are still watering and I'm on the verge of sobbing again just thinking about it. It was this time last year that I was reading the 7th book for the first time... because I'm a bad person, but mostly because I was terrified of ever letting go of the series. I read the first Harry Potter book in... oh god.... the third grade or something like that. Granted not all of it matched up maturity-wise for me, I grew up with all of those characters. Right along side them. Fighting my own battles while they fought theirs in their worlds of their own that will always magically be mine. And only mine. And incidentally everyone else's. As much as it probably sounds like bullshit to get so emotionally attached to and worked up over a book/movie, and you could make fun of my devotion just like I could make fun of you for putting on your Edward Cullen sparkly body glitter, there is no way of explaining to anyone who isn't my age, in my grade, who knows exactly how I already feel... how I feel. I watched this preview and floods of memories. Piles of people in my life who I've connected to because of this saga. Remembering not only the crucial moments in the story that I yearn to see on screen and loathe the thought of letting go of but having that mirror the things that I still want to see with all of these personal life escapades and people that I want more than anything but could never dream of letting go of.... I'm rambling. This is getting weird. I suppose the purpose of me saying all of this is that it's weird for me to think that I am so much more emotionally attached to these fictional people and to their school years and to what they're going through more than I am or have ever been to the people at my school and the things that I do there. I think that's slightly awful, but I know that I can't possibly be the only other person in the world that feels this way. It's hard to face the fact that this series that has kept me going... is coming to an end... it seems harder than my own public school career coming to an end. Maybe the stress and attachment to this will be my not-so-silent way of coping with the loss of this chapter series and all of the real people, characters, professors, relationships, misunderstandings, learning, hurting, self doubt, self disgust, rage, torn feelings, and every other godforsaken relatable underlying emotional journey J.K. Rowling somehow managed to fit onto however many pages that will never go forgotten. By me. By anyone who's read them. She changed the world and the lives of so many people that I almost feel disgusted even worrying about things like Mr. Marmalade, and not being able to fully skilled in using my wacom tablet yet, but at the same time it makes those things seem more important than ever. If she can do it anyone can. I'm turning this into a pep-talk. I need to stop. I could talk about this for days.
I've got some uncomfortable skin blemishes, I'm on the verge of throwing myself into an irrelevant panic attack, and I have to decide if I want to put that macaroni and cheese that I didn't eat away or eat it while the half-a-burrito I did eat digests further. I've eaten more food today than I have in a while. I think I should just put it away and have it for lunch. It'll be anice alternative to my week-long diet of iced coffee and crispy chicken sandwiches.
I need a Shirley temple an episode of glee, and to stop feeling like Mrs. Lovett every time I waltz... no... that one can stay.
I haven't looked at my lines for Mr. Marmalade at all since last night's rehearsal. I will be locking myself in my room to do so after I've finished writing this post. This week has been what I expected it to be: a big heaping helping of iced coffee, little sleep, extreme self criticism, small artistic victories, and fully aware and almost [un]regrettable snarky word vomit. If that doesn't fill you with fatigue and uncertainty just reading it, I don't know what would. I don't have the time for fatigue and unceratinty. I spent almost an hour and a half off and on writing those five sentences. Apparently I had the time for that.
Today the funny, awkweird couple on The Newlyweds Game won, and the open relationship loving, man-money spending, NBA player dating black woman got chosen by and agreed to go out with the cross dressing white boy on Baggage. That was fun.
The coming week consists of: volunteering 8am-5pm for children's theatre camp Monday through Friday, Mon/Tues/Wed 10pm-midnight Mr. Marmalade rehearsals, and a Rockin' Cinderella Outreach on Thursday. As j-j-j-jam packed as that is, and overwhelming as it might seem, it will probably be the best week of summer yet. I have to be doing something. I have to be doing something or I will not only go crazy, but I will lose my grip on my summer self esteem and most likely forget about the ounces of creativity I may or may not have running through my veins.
I'm hoping that maybe being around little kids will help me a bit with Mr. Marmalade, granted, I don't think the ones that I'm working with are four...it'll be a good way to get into that mentality. I'm stressin' balls about this show. It's probably the first time I've ever been nervous about a show in rehearsals. I won't get nervous opening night. Or the night after. I don't do that. But every day up until then I will most likely doubt myself until the cows come home... which is a rediculous metaphor to use seeing as I live across the street from a farm...with cows on it.
at a volume that's a little too loud:
"I love it when they sing in hallways. I LOVE IT!"
Last night... well...yesterday, after midnight via the power of technological communication, I was somehow reunited with some of the most unlikely people. All within about twenty minutes of each other. All three of them people who had tremendous influences on me in middle school or right at the beginning of high school. All who at one time or another have caused me to feel the way my previous post describes. Now before you express/fake concern, or assume this is going to be a rant, let me just say that although I was very freaked out at the sudden blasts from my pasts all contacting me at the same time... at this particular moment in time it was probably the best possible thing that could happen. It was strange and helped me wake up a little bit. That and a talk I had with my friend Ally in her car about an hour later. She and I have this uncensored way of being able to talk to each other. We're able to vocalize just about everything without fear of judgement or disgust. Mind you this ability is not always immediate. It usually comes down to a one to two hour emotion extraction process in a parking lot down the street from my house, while a man with a semi-truck unloads goods the Trader Joe's employees will have to unbox and stock the shelves with a few hours later. Last night in particular, the combination of chance digital rendezvous that gave me feelings of necessary & unexpected closure, alongside a downpour of difficult dialogue seemingly made me turn a painting on my wall upside-down wall I was asleep wearing two tanktops I don't remember putting on, and wasn't fully aware of until I got dressed for rehearsal around 9pm the next day. I spent a good portion of today alone, and when my sister woke up and mom came home from work I devoted myself to drinking iced coffee and working on lines for Mr. Marmalade. For the first time in what seems like forever, I didn't think about everyone else in my life. I didn't think about what they might have been doing and how it compared to what they did when they spent time with me. Or when I was going to see a specific person again. Or how I was or wasn't going to start a conversation with someone. Or... anything in particular dealing with anyone else that I usually silently stress over. All that was important to me was how much coffee I had left, how much pepper was on my maccaroni salad, the quality of the pen that I was using, and what was happening on the reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Logo that were playing in the background. And now all I can think about is how I want more Kool-aid, and to maybe buy some new fake eyelashes, and the fact that the person-sized spider that was just behind Willow in the current episode of Buffy made me have to turn on a light in the house.
I'm able to think about myself, and what I want. I'm not stressing over every sentence I said while I was out and about today that might have made me sound stupid or immature to someone else. I don't feel bitter about all of those people I provided descriptions of. I want to sing ballads upon ballads for the world to hear, and at this particular moment I feel fearless when it comes to questioning people and letting them know how I feel.
And you know what? It feels good.
It feels so good.
Every time I meet someone I probably at one point or another even subconsciously tell myself that I will not get to know them. That's it's not a good idea. Keep a distance. Don't get attached. You know what happened last time. Yet when I meet the ones that become some of the most integral people in my life I feel that same terrible / wonderful feeling of vulnerability. My skin is probably thicker than most, but there are holes, and tears, and areas worn that I will only allow a few to take notice of. More times than not I expect these few to be able and/or willing to sew up and repair those holes, and more times than not I am mistaken. They're usually there to make them bigger or push those soft spots to their breaking points.
I feel like I've got this awful curse. I attract to people who either seem to need me to help them break out of their shell, or people who seem unnecessarily unapproachable that for one reason or another think I'm worth their time that I end up helping through a tough time in their life. In either situation tend to end up caring so much about this person, more than they have any idea, and then right at the brightest moment we have with each other, when we seem most important to one another, something happens. In the first instance, it seems that the changes they've undergone through the course of being my friend, the differences in personality and interest... it feels so great. I feel so content and related to this person, and then the second someone else starts to appreciate what I've seen in this person all along, there is complete disregard of whatever it was that we had. There's someone new. There's no time for those feelings that we used to marinate in. "I'm cooked. I'm done, Lucy... you should just... marinate a little more. Get a little bit more seasoning. Okay? Bye." In the other case it always seems incredible how much this person could actually care about anything that I have to say, or that I do. This person tends to be someone that I really look up to. Someone that I can't stay away from because doing so could possibly physically hurt me. Someone who makes me feel unstoppable and so powerful and fearless in my own skin, but at the same time has me worried that maybe in comparison to them I could do better at whatever it is I pretend to do. Never has this type of person been someone my age. These people are the ones that keep me going, and the ones that make me think that maybe if I just keep pushing I will be surrounded by people who can keep me feeling unstoppable and powerful and fearless in my own skin. In their case it's usually something that changes drastically in their life that warrants a strange separation between the two of us.
I have this prominent feeling that makes me believe that I will always feel the way I do now, and always have. Ever since I was a kid I've had few friends. Ones that I give/gave my all to. It was always so strange when they would talk about having a sleepover with a bunch of other people they knew, or going to the photobooth in the mall with some kid they knew from their old school. I would and still think to myself, "I don't have stories to tell like that, because all I have is them." No matter how many people I am surrounded by who I know care about me, who I know love me, and appreciate the majority of what I do... it's like there is never that one person that I can go home to [so to speak] that will eternally fill me with comfort and tell me that everything will eventually be okay, and make it seem like finally things are starting to feel right. When it does feel like I have one of those people, they are ripped away from me in one of the afore mentioned methods into a stable, and unbreakable situation, requiring me to start over... again. Not requiring me as a part of their process anymore, leaving every feeling that I have for that person unrequited.
I realize that the majority of what I've written here is disgustingly selfish. I know that all of these people are so happy now, and I would want nothing more than for their happiness because I want them to always feel the way that I did when I had them in my life. It just seems like I eternally have to be the middleman in these situations. Like there's no middleman in my life because I have to keep starting over once they've found their place. I hate not being able to see the things that other people see in me. Maybe that's what I should focus on... but I can't ever seem to. I need to realize that the more that I start doing for myself, the more satisfied I will be... despite the fact that I'm rarely satisfied with anything I do.
Oh god. It's about five in the morning now, and if I continue on I will probably say more that is really uncalled for and possibly irrelevant. Hours 1-5 in the morning are usually when things seem most clear to me, and when I'm usually most delusional. You can go ahead and make the call as to which category this post falls into.
I've had a blog online for a little over a year on a different website. I posted way more information about myself than was necessary for others to know, which is why no one read it. That, and I never told anyone about it either. I thought I was doing myself a favour by getting my feelings "out there" so to speak, but really it was just damaging because the people I would write about, or the issues I had were being articulated, but to no one. I would actually write to specific people things that I wish that I could tell them, thinking that it I might find that initial expression of feelings helpful. I've come to realize that because of my personality, and the way I function I was often times affected in quite an opposite manner. I have since deleted that blog's contents.
My hope is that through this blog I can learn better ways of articulating things, that will help me better deal with situations rather than just talking about them / furthering their internalization.
