You know, I really try to avoid being too negative in this space, mostly because for me personally, it only makes me feel worse. But I’m in such a yucky mood, even though the sky is an unreal shade of blue and the 4:00 sunshine is hitting my desk at the perfect angle. I would like to believe that when I’m in these crappy moods that all of that is Nature’s way of saying, “Yo, lighten up.” Because Nature would say yo. Of course she would.
Anyway. I was so tired this morning and it was one of those mornings where I woke up trying to think of every possible excuse not to go to class. But for once in my whole school career, I forced myself to go. Stagecraft? Ehh, we talked about foam. Speech? Cute. We were all giggly for some reason and my teacher giggled with us. Practicum? My unconscious plight to be the biggest scene shop loser ever continues. I can’t cut straight lines. The screw shooter and I hate each other. The bandsaw and I are on speaking terms, though that may not last for long.
I’m dirty and gross and just ate spaghetti. Spaghetti is a good thing, and sometimes dirty and gross is a good thing because it means I actually did something physical, rather than sitting in front of my computer for hours on end. I haven’t seen Erik all day. He usually comes home on his breaks, but he didn’t this time and I won’t see him until late tonight. I have a big paper on two plays I haven’t read yet due tomorrow. I don’t know how to tell my parents I failed my summer classes. I got a parking ticket! I don’t have enough money to pay rent! I have a cold sore in my mouth the size of my entire head! Bah!
Anyway. If you like pretty piano music, good lyrics and a sweet voice, you should download Phil Ochs’s “I’ve Had Her.” So pretty. It’s become my new obsession song.
Alright, I should probably read those plays - Greek tragedies, of course, because what do I hate to read more?
Grrr. At least I have a comfortable bed to study on and a nice patch of sunlight to do it in. Right? Right.
Ever since I read this a few days ago, it has literally haunted me, especially the first paragraph.
Happy Birthday to Miss Elinor, who has now reached the grand and non-teenager-ish age of 20.
The party? Well. Mostly uneventful. I arrived, the usual theatre snotbrains ignored me and the nice ones danced to Britney Spears with me. I drank two shots of scotch, and then Abbey and I ended up in a car with an unbelievably drunk guy named Pete (”Do you want me to sew? I can sew! I really can!”) and his sober roommate, Doug, who had a french braid and a basement band named Chi. He invited us back to his apartment to watch a movie and while we initially went, when we got there, it just seemed a bad idea, since Pete (”That’s not my egg! I didn’t make any eggs today!”) was too much of a handful for the end of a night. So, Jason picked us up and we crashed at the Nerd House.
Today? Uneventful. A little grocery shopping, a little reading. Erik returns from his trip to the Cities (he’s been gone all weekend, did I mention?), which I’m excited for because the temperature is supposed to drop to 28 degrees F tonight and the bed is oh-so big and cold without him.
I was hyper tonight. I jumped around Beth’s room to music, while she looked up lemurs on the internet for her art project.
And now I might sleep. But we’ll see.
“A little bit of love and happiness - I’ll take my chances.
The scene, two hours ago:
I’m sitting, unshowered in one of Erik’s big t-shirts and my ripped up jeans, trying to decide whether to go to the theatre party or to stay home. For once, Matt is sans girlfriend. , Corina, Jason and him are laughing and drinking and it suddenly feels like old times, back in the apartments, back before everyone got all messy with the significant other stuff.
I decide to stay. Matt is encouraging me, like he really wants me to be here tonight. I say I’ll take a shower and that he should time me, because I’m a nerd. We all are. We always do stupid stuff like this. I race to the shower and rush through it. I turn off the faucet, wrap a towel around me and don’t bother to dry my hair. I race down the stairs, to see what my time was. But Jesse, the girlfriend, has arrived during my two minute shower. No one sees me. I slink back upstairs. Suddenly I am embarrassed of my nerdiness.
I dress and go downstairs. Matt asks if I’m going to the party or staying here. I say I’m going to the party. He looks at Jesse and then says, “That’s probably a good idea.”
And it’s nothing against Jesse, because she’s a cool girl. And I understand the beginning of love, how sweet and consuming it is. But I didn’t realize how much I missed Matt until I had a taste of our old friendship tonight. When they’re both here, it’s like Matt isn’t here at all - they’re one big blob of couple.
I still don’t feel right whining in my usual fashion yet. But that was a good try, I guess.
Theatre party in an hour. I couldn’t find a sober ride, so I have to drive myself, which means I can’t drink.
Karmic counteractance, because I need it more than ever: I wore Erik’s sweatshirt today and it smelled just like him. I talked with my Mom for a long time. The rain. The book I’m reading for class. Maureen recognized my voice on the phone. The feel of the cold air on my face.
Alright, off to bide my time until the party.
So, last night, Corina brought me some Drambouie Scotch and I immediately thought of Norman.
Our first, and in essence only, date this summer was at an Irish Pub called Penny Lane. The car ride there had been surprisingly comfortable - I had been anticipating the stilted, nervous conversation of strangers, conversation that is maddeningly strained. But it was pleasant and constant and we seemed to have a lot in common, though it seemed Norm had been trying his best to appeal to me (”You know, my ideal vacation would be staying at a nice hotel in New York and seeing tons of Broadway shows” and “Oh, you like jazz? Yeah, me, too. Um, I love, um, Billie Fitzgerald”). His eagerness to get me to like him only made him more endearing.
At the restaurant, we were sat at a corner table with a candle. Our waiter was a kid our age with black spiky hair who pronounced each word as if he were in a diction contest. Norm ordered a glass of Guinness because he told me earlier that they put a four-leaf-clover in the foam. They didn’t card him, so I ordered one as well. It was, and still remains, the only beer I’ve actually enjoyed.
I didn’t know what to order. As much as feminism is a part of my blood, I’m still terribly self-conscious about eating in front of people I’ve never met. I ordered what he had - London Broil (back in my meat eating days) and when I took my first bite, it promptly fell in my lap. Five minutes later, Norm dropped his on his shirt. The ice, that was already thin to begin with, was broken.
He told me of his past relationship, in which he was engaged to a woman with two children. He was set to marry her, when suddenly she found Jesus, and decided Norm wasn’t moral enough for her. This peaked my interest. Typical nice-girl-wants-bad-boy syndrome.
I told him of my then failing relationship and he listened and offered male insight. No judgment, no come-ons, just pure advice. We drank glass after glass of Guinness. I told him I liked Scotch and how I had only tasted the college cheap kind. We both got tipsy and giggly. His guard was down. His eyes were bluer and his lips fuller. I went to the bathroom and came back to find a small glass of scotch sitting in front of my place.
He said it was Drambuie, the best Scotch I would ever taste. I sipped it. It was like drinking sweet sweet juice, and the malt lingered on my lips. We shared the glass. I could see him run his tongue over his own lips, tasting the syrup.
We left a half hour later. We wanted to find somewhere else to go, to talk, to keep the spirit of a good first date going, but nothing was open and it was getting late. He took me home and we sat in my driveway, talking a little. That driveway has such history. I have sat in so many cars, with so many people, at the end of the night. There has been so many anticipations of first kisses, of last kisses, of botched kisses and beginnings and endings. That night, there was none of that, just a sense of something new, of time passing. I went into the house.
I tasted Drambuie on my lips for days.
Well, I haven’t been writing because, yet again, I don’t have anything to say. I’m drinking coffee, listening to Joni Mitchell and biding my time until 1:30 when I have to leave for my Literacy, Technology and Society class with the professor who looks like Dave Thomas and has a fit if you pronounce words wrong (”FormuLAC? NO, misguided soul, it’s formuLAY-IK! You’re in college?”).
Let’s see, things of note? Corina turned 21 on the 18th. We had a petite party, with cake and liquor. I didn’t drink ’cause I had a 9 AM class the next day and I’m a wuss now when it comes to liquor (oh, liver, remember those days of yore when you could down ten shots of vodka, still be standing and then wake up hangover free the next morn? Ah, to be 18 and stupid again). I do, however, plan on breaking in my bottle of Scotch at the first theatre party of the year this Saturday.
How are classes going you, say? Well, Stagecraft is a combination of my worst nightmare and biggest thrill for a class. Yesterday, we spent 50 minutes learning about power tools. My professor was so excited - he has one of those faces that never seems to move from it’s permanent grumpy mask, but yesterday he was practically salivating on the radial arm saw. I was sitting on the drill table, literally holding my eyes open as to not fall asleep in the wood shavings. The thrill comes from my shop hours, in which I got to cut metal and weld. Yeah, you know it. I’m cool. I was wearing a big flannel shirt, a full face mask and I was cutting metal with the electric scary steel cutter thangy (technical name). I always walk out of the shop walking like a football player.
Other classes are good. Acting II with Sexy Man is wonderful as always because, well, he’s sexy. And a good teacher, of course. I miss having Abbey in my class. We could swim in our collective drool.
Auditions for Romeo and Juliet are coming up soon. And though I know it’s a hackneyed show, and though it’s being directed by my least favourite professor (who, God knows why, seems to love me), and though it will be a month of rehearsal hell, I want the part of Juliet so bad I can hear it (you thought I was going to say taste, didn’t you? HA, goes to show YOU who’s boss! What’s wrong with me today? I don’t know). I think I have a fairly good chance, based on looks alone - she wants someone who will actually look 13 years old, and ah yes, I believe I can fit in that category considering just last semester I was mistaken for a junior high girl.
Am I corny for listening and actually liking Linda Eder’s version of “Bridge Over Troubled Water?”
What else am I listening to? Oh, late in the game as always, but Kristin Hersh, especially “Your Ghost.” Delicious. And Phil Ochs - Bob Dylan’s counterpart during the 60s. “Love Me, I’m a Liberal” is great. I’ll have to post the lyrics.
Today I slept through my first class, but it didn’t matter ’cause it turns out the teacher forgot to come to class. Yeah!
Alright, I suppose I should go to class. Keep it real, yo (just kidding, I would never actually say that. Though, I suppose if you WANT to keep it real, you’re welcome to do so).
Everyone is yelling at each other in this house. I even slammed the door in Erik’s face for no reason. We’re all so tense - we’re about to explode. There will be war, I suppose. History points to the fact that a democratic nation can’t last forever. It must come down. But that doesn’t make me any less scared. I can’t find my car keys. All I want to do in the world is go to the grocery store and buy the ingredients for an ice cream sundae. But no keys.
I want to hug Erik now as I listen to others fight around me. I feel bad because he didn’t do anything - I was just so torn up inside about everything and he was leaving to go out with a friend and I suddenly resented that. Why wasn’t he here, now, when I needed him most? But I don’t need him most now. I need to be by myself. And he’s always there for me now, always. Making up this summer to me in a million different ways.
The nights are cold already. Sweatshirt weather. Virginia’s leaves are starting to turn about now, green to red to gold to brown. “The prettiest October in the all fifty states - ”
Back to looking for my keys. Sometimes you just have to get out to get your head back on straight.
I keep wanting to write here, but everything seems like it would sound trivial. I’ve read a lot of that, actually - people don’t quite want to resume their normal lives yet because they feel it will be a sign of disrespect. But, I suppose it has to happen sometime. And why not start with a picture of a guinea pig in a bucket?
I saw Ellis last night at Amazing Grace. She is, hands down and any other body part you want to throw down, the best performer I’ve ever seen. Her presence and energy is (are? My grammar intuition has taken a bow and exited) exactly what I’m going to school to learn how to emulate. We sat in the front row and since Erik recorded her last show at the school, we’re all on a first name basis with her and her girlfriend.
Back to classes tomorrow. It looks like I’ll probably be failing my summer comp class, unless I can write 15 papers in 10 days, which seems like too much of an impossibility at this point. What do you think? Should I crash course my papers or just forget about it? I’m worried about the waste of money failing a class will be. Alas.
Back to reading the thrilling, riveting yet not so chilling assignment for Acting II.
It’s times like these that I wish I had a direct wire running from my brain to the keyboard that could record my thoughts the moment I had them. It seems when I have thoughts which could be considered interesting, if I don’t write them down right away, they lose their effectiveness.
Anyway.
I don’t know how I feel about things yet, but who the hell does? I have photographs, snapshots of emotions that flicker and then die and then rebirth themselves in other forms. No sense to be made there, I know.
Last night was a concert - The All Mighty Senators, a band I love and adore. Erik, who is the concert chairperson guy for the school, booked them and last night, we all went to see them. We danced and danced and sang and laughed and hugged our friends. The finale song was a cover of “Rockin in the Free World” by Neil Young. AMS said this was their message to America, and at the moment, surrounded by my best friends, my forehead sweating from dancing, my heart racing crazily, I felt 20 years old and free. I felt - no one can take this from me, no one. No one can bully me into being scared and hurt and mousy. I felt so damn patriotic and independent that I wanted to go home and stitch a million flags.
But. But.
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I haven’t written anything here yet, mostly because I haven’t known what to say. There really isn’t much to say when things like this happen, and whatever I’ve been feeling has been stated more eloquently than I’m capable of.
Yesterday was my easy day - one class at 2 PM. I slept in until 10, got my coffee and settled in front of my computer to sift through my usual morning sites. I was checking friends’ away messages and they were full of weird stuff, about praying and bloodshed and how this was the worst day for America. I checked the news, and there it was. I went downstairs and stared blankly at the news on the TV screen. The first footage I saw was of the airplane crashing into the side of World Trade Center. It took me a good half hour to realize what had happened, and even then I couldn’t absorb it. My first instinct was to call my loved ones. I tried Erik first, who was in class, but no answer. I tried my Mom, but the phone was busy. She called a minute later - she had been trying to call me.
I woke up Jason and Corina. Corina burst into tears. She sat on the living room floor with me and we watched. I didn’t go to class. It seemed insignificant.
In my classes today, we sat in circles and tried to convey our feelings, but it’s close to impossible.
Thanks to all who wrote me with concern. Candles and thoughts to all those in need.
My Speech for the Actor professor handed us this sonnet, and since I can’t seen to form two coherent words, I’ll let Shakespeare speak for me:
When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of outworn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed,
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage:
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
And the firm soil win of the watery main,
Increasing store with loss, and loss with store:
When I have seen such interchange of state,
Or state itself confounded to decay;
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate –
That Time will come and take my love away.
This thought is as a death, which cannot choose
But weep to have that which it fears to lose.
Today is Matt’s 20th birthday, hence the party last night that was 1/3 his.
So. Party. Full of people I didn’t know. First house party that I’ve actually been the host of. It was okay? I drank a little, but not too much ’cause I had taken Sudafed and being the hypochondriac that I am, I was, of course, worried about drug interaction. Nothing like being a reckless 20-year-old college kid. Erik and I hit bed early, and apparently in our absence, the cops came and broke up the little soiree. Ohwell. I suppose you can’t have a good house party without the proper amount of police force.
Casting? No go. I checked this afternoon, and just as I thought, I’m not in the show. And even though I knew I wasn’t, and even though I had predicted I wouldn’t be before I had even auditioned, my stomach still flipped a bit (or that could’ve been my uterus, considering the amount of womanly pain it’s inflicting on me right now). So, I will have more time for school? So much for impressing the Sexy Man, who I have class with tomorrow morning. Ohwell.
The Way You Look Tonight has to be one of my favourite songs of all time. In the middle of my grumpiness here, it came on my WinAmp, and it lightened me a bit. I think it became dear to me in high school, when Nick sang it with his show choir one year, and sang it straight to me.
I really want to make this a homework day. Really.
So, school is already beginning to wipe me out a little, which is why I haven’t been able to write here as much. I also haven’t written as much because our internet service has gone to a dark hell somewhere and hasn’t even sent a postcard.
I just took the first multivitamin of my life. I hope it doesn’t kill me.
So. Auditions. I didn’t think my audition went that well, but my Favourite Professor in the World (who, from therein out, shall be called Sexy Man) called me back for his show, a show I wanted to be in more than life.
Callbacks were last night. And since I was so focused on impressing Sexy Man, I completely blew my callback. The cast lists haven’t gone up yet, but I’m 99.9999 percent sure that I did not, in fact, get a part. The play is an original by one of our former students and damn funny.
I was upset last night, mostly because I knew I could’ve gotten the part if I hadn’t been trying so hard. That’s okay, this will mean more time to focus on my school work, yes?
School is . . . already rather tiring. I’m taking Acting II, Speech for the Actor, Stagecraft (9 AM and all around incredibly bad for me), Drama Titles and Literacy, Technology and Society (which I had to buy ten books for, but looks fairly interesting).
Erik and I are okay. Still taking it slow.
I hate updates that sound like summaries.
Karmic counteractance?
Hmmm. The theatre freshman this year are amazingly sweet and not like theatre people at all. For once in my life, though I bombed it completely, I had fun at the dance audition. There’s a party tonight, a triple birthday party for Corina, Matt and Chris J. It rained this morning, and I got to cuddle up to my love in the morning and listen to it. I found an awesome patch of purple wildflowers in our side yard. I did awesome in Acting II yesterday, and Sexy Man complimented me.
Alright, I’m off to meet Erik at Barnes and Noble. I don’t have the luxury anymore to take lazy days like this, but I suppose I’ll do as I always do, which is to do exactly what I want to do, when I want to do it.
In just a little over an hour, I have my first audition for the school year. I already bombed the dance audition but that was to be expected. Wish me luck!
My first class was . . . strange. The professor used about forty different accents in the duration of the class, ranging from Kentucky to Boston.
There’s an all department meeting for theatre at 5. I.dread.it. Seriously, I’m sitting here just blarging about it.
I really should put my energy into school work. Right?
So, hi. It’s the first day of school, and the day feels just like any day, which is kind of disappointing because I’ve always loved the excitement and anticipation of the First Day. This morning, I realized I hadn’t even bought school supplies and I had no idea where my first class was.
Actually, my first class doesn’t start until 2, and it’s my only non-theatre class — Literacy, Technology and Society. Sounds interesting? Maybe?
Erik arrived at 4 AM this morning. I was barely awake when he came, but it was nice to feel him slide into bed next to me. Very comforting.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep in today ’cause I had to bring my poor broken car to the doctor early this morn. But I got a rental car to drive around — a nice green Ford Escort.
I audition tomorrow for the fall plays. Ugh. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this before, but it really takes me a while to get re-acclimated to the theatre people. Once I’ve been around them for a while, I’m fine, but it takes such an effort. I think I’m a pretty unenthusiastic theatre major.
Alright, some karma counteractance: it’s another beautiful day, the kind where the lake looks like someone threw a handful of diamonds in it. And the people at the Auto Shop this morning were so friendly and nice and were completely bending the rules for me ’cause you’re supposed to be 25 to drive a rental car. It was wonderful — jerk or not — to feel Erik next to me this morning. I’m sunburned from standing in line for a parking pass yesterday, but I love it ’cause at least I have a colour other than pasty pale. I got to talk to my Mom this morning and I’ve missed her so. The birds are going crazy outside and I love it.
Alright, must shower. I was almost thinking of forgoing the shower since I only have one class and I hate taking a shower if I’m not going to do anything worthwhile, but I figure I shouldn’t get lazy yet. It’s only the first day.
So, for the past few days, I’ve been wearing Matt’s shorts. I borrowed then when I went down to do laundry and discovered that I was wearing the jeans I wanted to wash, and since his room is in the basement, I conveniently took his shorts.
So, my drama of the day was my Dramatic Insect Bite. I was sitting at my computer, merrily typing away, when I felt a sting and lo and behold, a tiny black bug was munching on my elbow crook. I rarely get bitten by bugs, so I panicked a bit and being the hypochondriac that I am, I panicked even more when the bite swelled in two distinct places, a symptom of a black widow spider bite. Granted, the bug that had bitten me didn’t look like a spider, but you never know.
So, after Corina rubbed some bactine on it, I called the Nurse Online at the local hospital to get her opinion. She was very nice; though, when I mentioned it might be a spider, she chuckled heartily and replied, “Oh, spiders have a lot of legs.”
Well. Okay. WebMD wasn’t too helpful either. An exact quotation from the site, in regards to prevention of bug bites was: “Avoid confrontation with insects.” Confrontation? Like, I’m gonna go challenge a bee outside and be like, “Bitch, give me some honey”, and the bee is gonna be like, “Are you threatening me?”
Well. Anyway. I lived, though the area still stings a bit. I might die yet.
I caved and apologized for telling Erik what a jerk he was this morning, though I completely should not have because he was a jerk this summer, and is continuing to be a jerk. Ugh. It’s like, there’s this part of me that knows logically exactly what to do, and then another part of me that’s like, “Fuck it, I’m going to write him a mushy e-mail.”
Whatever. I’m still looking forward to see him, though we have a lot to talk about.
It’s not the same with Matt anymore, though, who last year was my best buddy. It’s weird that he has a girlfriend and I suppose I’ll have to get over that.
Tomorrow I have to stand in line for six hours to get a parking pass. Ugh!
Okay, off to read The Exorcist, which is surprisingly good.
I will not feel invalidated for finally telling Erik what a jerk he’s been this summer. Say it together with me now. I will not feel invalidated for acting like a strong non-doormat woman for once with him, instead of giving into his every whim. I will not. I will not. I will not be teary-eyed because he’s pissed at me now and thinks I’m “not supporting his dream.” I will not. I will not. Right?
So, everyone is finally back to school . . . and the house is completely empty. It’s the first time I’ve been home alone all summer. And tonight, that’s a rather lonely thing.
It was the first cold morning of the summer, and it was so nice to be bundled up in my covers this morning, and to be able to take an extremely hot shower, instead of the lukewarm ones I’ve been taking. Everyone’s back up in town now, with the exception of Erik who arrives Monday night. It was extra nice to drink coffee and talk with Matt in the morning, even though there’s slight awkwardness, the awkwardness that comes with one half of the friendship (him) suddenly acquiring a girlfriend. I think it’s also awkward because she wasn’t already in our little group — the rest of us have all inter group dated. But I think it’ll turn out alright.
Happy things:
- Corina and Jason bringing me a coffee mug from Disney World with words all over it that they said described me: true, pondering, loyal and some others I can’t remember right now. And also Corina remembering that I loved the weepy eyed horse in Toy Story 2, and bringing me a pin of it.
- Nick singing our high school alma mater into my answering machine, and then later telling me that he missed me. Some bonds just won’t ever break, and that comforts me.
- The way Erik smiled when he saw me waiting to pick him from his retreat — the type of smile that says: “I’m really glad you’re here.” And him giving me his cheeseballs.
- Beth telling me that I can come knock on her door anytime if I wanted to talk.
- Minh teaching me chords on the guitar.
- Abbey writing me a note that said she would miss living with me and sticking it on my computer.
- Luke and I going to Burger King late last night when I was being anti-social.
See, I get in these funks and all these goods things happen around me, and I can’t see past my negativity to see that happy things greatly outweigh the funkdified things.
But I still haven’t worked on my papers. Eep!
Alright, time to eat lunch.