Tip me over and pour me out.

If I have to spend another day in my own house, alone, melting from heat, unable to find inspiration, I'll scream until I lose my voice. I woke up this morning and found a miniature teapot from a project I'm working on in pieces on the tile floor. Isn't that just what I needed? 

I'm a listener. Just like my mom. It's what we do. And in the past week I have been doing more than my fair share of listening. Stories of recent attempted suicide, possible migration, unemployment, rape, shit talking of the middle school caliber, rancid men trying to harbor my sibling in another state,  my mom's job situation, my dad's shitty relations with ill-headed bigots;and it all takes place in the course of three days. There's nothing I can do about any of the situations, so I just have to watch. I'm not feeling creative. I'm not hungry. I can't make a good video to save my life. I'm not responding to and interacting with people the way I usually do, or can, and I can't help it. The only time I can seem to put that aside is when I'm working. Be it on a show I'm in, or I'm doing tech for. 

August is going to be hectic with rehearsals and openings of four different shows, and school starting halfway through the month in which I'll start my internship co-teaching the drama class. It will all be good though. If I don't stop I won't have time to think too much.

waa waa waa all the way home.That's all. I just needed to get that out I guess, so someone else can listen for a change. I've got to take my dog outside, and eat some cereal.

Maybe I'll glue my teapot back together.

No, no they can't take that away from me.

I spent my day off from the theatre learning choreography, planning costume pieces, radiating hate towards a dirty old fuck of a man from my past at Subway while scarfing down a meatball marinara, looking at next month's schedule, and filling my brain with new inspirations. I was fine being around just me, but I wasn't any more than fine. A very recent discussion with a friend of mine opened my eyes to my behavioral patterns from the past few years. The bouts of depression I would get into, and periods of overwhelming insecurity were when I gave myself too much time to think. When I had time to dislike myself as opposed to just the things I do. I must constantly create or I feel useless, and when I feel useless I don't want to feel. I'm afraid of where this entry might go so I'll end it here, while I'm still fully aware of the recognizable techno I hear unrecognizably coming from my dad's room, and the volume of my cat's breathing.

Blood on your face. Blood in my eyes.

Last time this year I was scared shitless about going back to school because I was coming out of a summer that made me happy, and that finally made me feel important. I was afraid that when I started school again that I would lose that feeling, and something, this coming out of sophmore year, made me feel like I was going back to a place that was going to make me feel awful and unwanted. I was proven wrong... slightly. I realized a lot of things as a junior, or maybe I just solidified a lot of the things that I already knew to be true. I became great friends with Jessie Birdman. We're fairly similar, both maybe a little ahead of our years, but the differences that we have and our ability to vocalize them with each other makes it easy to have a friend my age. A friend my age. Just one. I realized that again this year too. When I'm at school, all I really have is Jessie, partly because she's the only one who will put up with my incessant talking about the what's going on at the theatre, or who I was running lines with the day before last, or the plans we might be able to make granted I get a day off. And partly we're both just fucking crazy, and know and accept it. My relationship with her is like gold in a pot of fools, especially when what I thought was one of my strongest friendships came to an end last year mainly because of the inability to accept that I've been more and more finding it hard for me to apply myself to relationships that will hold so little weight after high school. I could go on about this specific incident for hours, but I'll spare you the whining. All I will say is that it definitely made me more aware of the priorities I have for myself and what I do. I was most unhappy this year during those little slots where I wasn't at the theatre. Those were the moments that I felt like the zombie, math hating, smart-ass in Democracy, the most. All year we would meet in advisory, or at the beginning of another class and we'd be asked what our weekend was like, and I would find myself telling the same people the same story, but I think mostly because I wanted that teacher to know where I was at in my days. I didn't give a shit that that sixteen-year-old pot smoker was tired of hearing about the show I just saw, or rehearsals I just started. Where am I going with this blog? Oh yeah.
The past few days, and almost week I have been home for a good eight or less hours of the day, most of those forcing myself to sleep and get ready for the day in the hot, sticky, house that I've been using as a pit stop where I fill up with coffee, and charge my cell phone. I've eaten out almost every meal, whether it be at a restaurant I haven't been to since age eight, or at the welcoming home of my un-biological 'mama'. I've had about five or more scripts in my head in the past week and have somehow been finding time to sketch and sew until my fingers...still don't feel like falling off. At dinner tonight, specifically I saw three people who were formerly students at my school. They were seniors when I was a freshman... and now I'm a senior. And now I'm a senior. I'm not scared shitless this year to start back up at school because I've become so comfortable with what I'm doing, and where I am in my life that as long as I've still got a year of planned education as the penciled in base of this crazy painting / collage that is my life, that's made up of the coffee, and makeup, and costumes, and scripts, and everything else that I manage to fit in my huge purse, I'm going to be fine, because I know what I need to make me happiest. I've got my class ring chosen, and it doesn't even have anything to do with my school. I've got more than I know what to do with in front of me, and an increasing amount of beautiful, loving people who know exactly what to say to make everything I'm doing not only feel right, but be right. I feel like as I feel like more of a person, people will see me as less of one, and whereas that's probably not the best... it feels damn good to be able to almost function properly for the first time in a long time.

I can't wait to see how much I contradict this entry in the coming months. I will be seventeen in less than one of those months, and it's gonna be a big step... but I'll take it... and I'll take it in the highest pair of heels I have.

All the odds are, they're in my favour

I don't ever really like to feel out of control of the decisions I make, so that seldom happens. I do, however like to feel in control of the decisions other people make, which makes me feel disgusting, because it's the occurrences that I don't expect, the things people do or say to me that I don't anticipate that make me feel like a person. There's that in itself. Feeling like a person. Right now I feel so appreciated, and wanted, and as much as it's human nature to want to feel that, it's something that I don't tend to be able to achieve, and it's selfish and it's beautiful, and it's fresh. I will admit that there are still little bits of me that have been saying things like, "watch it. all those words you may or may not be throwing out there are going to push everyone away," but it seems as though those feelings are grossly outweighed by the love I've been receiving, and the love I've been letting myself give. 

My hands are covered in cat scratches, and the bruises I have are all sore. All at once, probably due to the temperature in my house.

As much as I like to say that the constant work, and plethora of plans this summer hasn't affected me in a negative way, my body likes to remind me that I'm wrong in doing so. My legs, head, arms, and face all ache a little from overuse, and injury and I'm all a-whine about it. 
It's crazy how often my opinion of myself changes, and I think it's very apparent in these here posts. As much as I've just recently written about being more self-aware, I find myself at the present taking the opposite standpoint. I'll never be done trying to make myself feel good, even if it makes everyone feel awful, including me. I want so badly to be the person I am around certain people, around everyone, and it's still not happening, and that still makes me unhappy, and if it does happen it is still around people who I won't be seeing for very long, or who are guaranteed to hit the road when things get rough. 
This entry is getting cryptic too.


I had a good fucking piece of pie tonight. And the laughing abdominal workout of a lifetime.

We'll begin with a spin.

Today during the music session of theatre camp I hit a note that I had only ever sang for myself when no one was home. And I felt fearless. It's becoming more and more apparent to me how much I've changed even in just this past year. I'm definitely a lot happier than I was last summer, which isn't to say that I wasn't.. things are just different. I've been feeling really analytical of myself lately, and not in the usual, "why did you say that?" "you're awful." "everybody must hate it when you do that." sort of way. I guess I'm just more aware of things. My singing voice/vocal range has changed greatly in the past year, and I've been on the stage more than ever before be it dancing, singing, or acting. Granted being more 'aware' doesn't mean that I now like everything I do. Not by any means. I do like myself, though... for now. I can just enjoy being around myself, not that I'm often without the company of others. We'll have to see how consistent that is when school starts again, but something tells me that senior year is going to be remarkable. There are still things missing from my life, alongside things that I'm still not willing to share with others, but these are at the present moment being outweighed by the things and people I do have, and the strange amount of  I feel like I've been pumping out. My fortune the other day of my Panda Express cookie read, "you have a reputation for being straightforward and honest." It's even been in the past couple weeks, maybe months that I've been starting to let go of things. As much as I used to like to tell myself things like, "you don't care what they think," "you need to get over it," I've been able to be more honest with myself and that's helping me to be more honest with everyone else, and to be able to hold more truth in those things I used to say. I've also been thinking a lot about dwellers. Yes dwellers. And how although I've never been too bad about it, I'm completely repulsed at the thought of continuing on a path that would push me into being one. I often see situation where people are dwelling on things, for days, or weeks, or months and I can't wrap my head around the point. You shouldn't spend all of your time feeling sorry for yourself for something you did or something that happened to you. There's no time for that, especially in my life.

Did I mention the tacos I made last night were some of the best I ever had? Harry, Ron, and Hermione could account for that, they were with me at home all day.

This would be the piece I mentioned in my previous blog.

All the color was done on my tablet. The initial sketch was done by Tess Fowler.

I'm proud of it, but my eyes are angry with the amount of hours they were subjected to looking at the computer screen. It took me quite some time. From 10pm to 2am, and then 11 am to 4pm.

marvelous? i could have sworn they were saying motherless.

I signed into this account I don't know how many times today because I wanted to write. I signed out I don't know how many times telling myself that I could be more productive than that. Today was different than usual. I finished up the recording sessions for the Lady Gaga cover that I was asked to be a part of with my friend Allison. Counting today and Wednesday we probably put about ten hours of time into it [about five today and five the other.] After I got home I did some tweaking to some art pieces, and then went to Borders with mum to get some iced coffee. We sat in their little cafe for probably somewhere around an hour. I read the Lady Gaga article in Rolling Stone. Some parts that I found amusing I read aloud to mum. I adore that woman. Lady Gaga? Well yeah. Half the things she said in that article sounded like they came from my mouth. But I was talking about my mum too. We sat there in the air conditioning for a little too long, just enjoying the fact that we weren't at home. When we did get home though I took a shower. I've been taking so many extra showers lately. I feel disgusting this summer. Constantly. I got a text message from Kristi about Mr. Marmalade being cancelled tonight. I didn't know what to do with my extra time, so I eventually funneled all my creative [and somewhat coffee driven] energy into photoshopping a male artist friend of mine into a voluptuous woman, and ate some patriotic tortilla chips and sourdough toast for dinner. Given the opportunity, I could eat four times my weight in buttered sourdough toast in one sitting. I've been sitting at this computer for the past... I dunno... probably six hours practicing with the Wacom tablet by coloring an old piece Tess Fowler did of me as a faerie. Maybe if/when I finish it I'll post it on here. Maybe not.

I feel like I'm in a cocoon. It's alright. If that is the case then I can't wait to see what hatches out of it.

This post was a little bit pointless. I need to stop criticizing my posts.

Batman, Here I Come.

Last night I couldn't sleep due to a series of unwarranted panic attacks about something not worth discussing. It's the only thing I ever have panic attacks about. I was up till about 5am drinking water, trying to steady my breathing, and hiding from the sun [my bed is the only place in the house that sunlight shines in on in the morning because of the blinds in my room, and the positioning of my twin size.] I'll go for long periods of time without having panic attacks but when they come back they do so with a vengeance. I'm only really writing this entry because I don't want to go to bed for fear of it happening again, and I know that's kind of just asking for it but I feel like there's nothing I can do. I really should be sleeping because I'm going over to Dany's house again tomorrow so Allison and I can finish our cover of the Glee version of Poker Face and I have to be up at about 8am.
Today felt off and I'm fairly sure it's because of the afore mentioned circumstances. All it really consisted of was reading magazines, bitching about this hussy who's creating "online conflict" with me and drowning in her own stupidity, eating, and Mr. Marmalade. I'm not sure what exactly I'm feeling right now but I know that it's not great, and I know that I've got to get my head out of the beehive it's in. Maybe reading a comicbook will help me sleep.

ah.. but always arrives overdone.

I burned my tongue on a Meat Pie. This is the second night in a row that I've skipped dinner for Mr. Marmalade and then eaten a meat pie at one in the morning. Speaking of which, Mr. Marmalade that is, we opened the show tonight. It felt wonderful. It felt so wonderful.This is going to get sappy, just forewarning the non-readers of this blog [that was a joke because no one reads this blog (now I've made things uncomfortable and I sound foolish)].


I wonder how in the fuck I got so lucky having LTW as such an integral part of my life, and I wonder how depressed and disgusting I would have been without it, granted I still on occasion am depressed and disgusting. I feel like Hercules in the Disney version of... Hercules, but after "go[ing] most anywhere to feel like I belong," instead of choosing to stay on earth with Meg like a good little lovestruck mortal I chose to live in Olympus amongst the gods and godesses that made me feel like a hero in unnecessary circumstances, while I simultaneously looked up to them as the people that I wanted and still want to become some day. God I'm a dweeb. You know, the first show that I saw at Live Theatre was The Seven Year Itch and to have people from that show message me online with kind words about performances I've done is still like a kick in the pants. And opening Marmalade tonight felt so good that I almost cried in the car ride to Ally's house after the guy at Cold Stone Creamery told me that he thought the bow in my hair was nice, because I was describing again to Ally about seeing Bug as my first ETCETERA experience, and the unbelievable feelings it gave me. I thought about Christopher coming on stage drenched in blood, and Jason motionless on the floor until the end of the show. I thought about about that overwhelming feeling of intrigue I got. And now I think about how I felt when I was stage managing Danny and the Deep Blue Sea and how even that was incredible to me, working with those people that inspired me so much that made me want to become a godess. I'm realizing that whereas I'm closer than ever to living in Olympus, I'm still only up the first few steps of cloud that it's going to take me to get there. The thought of ever being that person that makes someone want to become a god or godess [so to speak] is still foreign and weird and knowing that at some point that is who I could become is incredible. That sounds pretentious.


Also...I've been finding out lately that a lot of the friends that I've been surrounding myself with were intimidated by me upon our first meeting. That's just great. I don't know if I've mentioned in this blog about how self concious I get about how people perceive me. It's bad. I'm rarely very vocal about it. I can't explain how deminishing it is to be every second under the impression that people don't want me in the room, or that I'm screwing up a relationship with someone/everyone. I think some of the reason that I'm so grateful for Live Theatre is that although I still feel that way a lot of the time, I know that there are probably people there that feel similar, or that I'm at least being appreciated for something that I do. One of the single best feelings on stage is knowing that all of those people in the audience watching may have an opinion about the performance I'm giving, and where I hope that it's good, it's okay if it isn't because I'm doing the thing that finally makes me happiest. In middle school I started doing plays, and it was the one place where people couldn't throw food at me or call me a whore or some shit because I was wearing camouflage tights with a checkered hoodie with cat ears on it, without getting at least a detention. It was and can still serve as the great escape from that which is myself and the fears I have towards people and their views. It's funny to me that in some instances putting yourself out there in such a manner can be the biggest way to open yourself up to criticism, and I don't get nervous about that. I don't get nervous in the moments before I walk out on stage. I don't get nervous when I can see eveyone out there staring at me, and I don't get nervous about the murmurs in moments of silence. I do, however, get nervous in the weeks leading up to performance days because I don't want to let anyone down, especially myself. This is quite apparent when I can't control my body or speech filter, can't sleep, and can't respond to people appropriately during tech week. I will ride myself harder and harder into the ground ever night over everything. Everything. I won't be able to do anything right and to my own satisfaction and although those emotions might still be with me before and after the show, when I realize that they wont matter when I'm on that stage it's like a never-ending, flavour-changing Eegee. It's like the feeling you get in Disneyland when you forget everything about yourself that you hate, and everything about your life that seems wrong, even though you're somehow more aware of those things than ever, they don't and can't matter at that moment. I fear that my words may be getting cryptic, if they weren't to begin with.


This entry is gross. I'm going to bed.