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.