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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.
