RESOLUTIONS.

one. drink more water.
two. read more plays and novels.
three. make the wall come crashing down.
four. get into shape.
five. vegetarian.
six.get a full first draft written of my play.
seven. less toying, more absolutes.
eight. get an agent.
nine. book something. something big.
ten. commit to growing my hair out.
eleven. eat an entire apple.
twelve. drink lots of wine.
thirteen. be productive.
fourteen. get a part at SOU.
fifteen. sleep less/enjoy mornings.
sixteen. obtain more adult shoes.
seventeen. on a similar vain note, dress better.
eighteen. sing more.
nineteen. learn how to play guitar again.
twenty. enjoy my twentieth birthday.
twenty-one. take pictures.
twenty-two. appreciate small success.
twenty-three. healthy relationship.[no rush]
twenty-four. spend far more time studying.
twenty-five. get straight A's
twenty-six. follow through.
twenty-seven. last year's resolution....

this is me, being vulnerable.

“The average person tells 4 lies a day, and 1460 a year. A total of 88,000 by the age of 6. And the most common lie is I’m fine.”

The reality of it is that I can't do anything about it. I've been in denial for so long, that when I finally said it out loud, it didn't sound like the truth. It sounded like a fabrication, like a lie.
The funny thing is, I highly doubt he knows the power he holds when it comes to me. The only person who can get to me...

It really is one of the best jokes ever.

I'm ready to go back to school.

living in sin.

I thought about devotion as I sat across the table from my great uncle's mistress.
I never met my great uncle. He was an artist and was the person who inspired my father to be an animator.

He has been dead for over thirty years.

And yet,
up until a few months ago she had a house full of his stuff. Paintings, vintage tin toys, furniture, all belongings of my late great uncle.

When she was introduced into the shrinking violet dynamic of my father's side of the family the result was odd. My grandparents don't exactly know how to respond to her. As Irish Catholics my grandparents passively believe that what my uncle and his mistress did could only be categorized as "living in sin"
Though my uncle was an alcoholic, a true tortured artist, she devoted her life to him. Or at least, the half of his life she was permitted to have.
This is the thing I appreciate the most about my father's modest family: This seventy-something year old elephant in the room, eating Christmas dinner with us. Conversation made with her by the rest of the awkward family was shy and unsure, not knowing if it is appropriate to befriend this black sheep.
I of course, always feeling similar, reached out a hand.
I looked at her and smiled. I asked her to tell me about Robbie, [I had only ever heard sad drunken tales]
She looked at me, and a smile flickered in her eyes.

"He was the best friend I'll ever have"

I raised my glass to her, and finished my wine in one gulp.

11:11

"the greatest tragedy is to have the experience and miss the meaning"

I often wonder if I am missing the meaning.
because clearly, I have the experience

two-thousand and ten: a summary

Song of the year "This Year" by The Mountain Goats
[played this song nearly everyday on the car ride home from school. if you're not familiar with the song, [and I hope so because the mountain goats rule] the chorus to the song is:

"i am going to make it through this year if it kills me"


THIS YEAR:

January:
The morning of January first, I woke up having already broken my new years resolution. I continued to break that resolution for the next few months. After four years of waiting to take that last bow on stage, everything I had been working for simply just didn't happen, a theme I needed to get use to. I spent that day in mid-January after the cast list had been posted in the fetal position on my couch, my head nestled in the lap of my best friend. I was numb. I was a hollowed-out version of myself. I resembled a hollow tree.

February:
I fell deeper into feeling that thing I still deny knowing. I pretended it meant nothing to me. it was easier that way. But, as always, you didn't want 'us'. so....I developed feelings for someone else that I shouldn't have. Didn't want to "fulfill the prophecy" so to speak. It was also the armchair thing. [I think about the armchair thing all the time.] but then I realized that one was merely a substitution for the other. and I was in love. a pathetic, unrequited love. A love I had held for an embarrassing long amount of time. so of course, I buried it again. Hated the rehearsal process. Hated my part. Hated Mira Costa Drama. but i had to pretend it was all okay....I hated being president. But then....I got into college.

March:
I began a countdown. Got into two more schools. Mentally, I was done with senior year. I stopped feeling close to people. Everything seemed meaningless. and then....at the last minute....we pulled it together. Adam and Eve, back in action. I fell in love with Eve all over again. the ten minutes Adam and I spent on the finals stage at Fullerton Theatre Festival were the best ten minutes of my high school career. As I walked off stage, and he said those last lines "Wheresoever she was, there was Eden..." I began shaking with Eve's tears...with my tears. When the whole room stood, I didn't care about anything else. I was exactly where I needed to be. We won.
Also, I decided that Jay Gatsby was not the man for me. It was Nick Carraway I longed for.

April:
Opening night of the worst musical ever came and went and I barely cared. The only thing I cared about was the fact I didn't care. It was alarming how little I cared. Rejected from my top school. Started having pity parties, a party of one, backstage. I slept on the greenroom couches during the run of the show and had a cast member shake me awake two minutes before my cues. Good thing being half asleep really worked for my drugged out, drunk character. I hated how apathetic I was. I liked hanging out with the crew and the dog. Closing night, as I got my mic and wandered toward the stage to do my final mic check, it occurred to me that this was it. I got emotional because everyone else was emotional. I was brutally honest in my senior speech. "Expectation is a sick joke on anyone who is gullible enough to have it" I couldn't tell if it was helpful to anyone. hopefully.

May:
Began to develop a real genuine crush on a bro. I looked forward to that class everyday for the great conversation. It had been awhile since someone had challenged me. I wasn't "the type". It was too out of the comfort zone for both of us. The friend, the therapist. I was "the best listener ever". he did everything but pat me on the head. I picked Southern Oregon and it felt right. It also scared the shit out of me. No one knew anything about it. It wasn't nearly as impressive as the schools my friends were going to but I didn't care. The mystery of it intrigued me. It was finally something that was just mine. Hung out with my grandma more, soaking up everything she has to offer. Began writing what I hoped would eventually be my masterpiece, a love letter to every man or boy that has ever had an impact on my life.

June:
Prom was stupid and boring. Big shock. I looked around at the dance and resented the girls in the dresses that were as short as t-shirts. I mean, come on. What did they expect? someone to come up and compliment their vagina? I questioned why they could be stupid and happy and why I was cynical and angry at the age of eighteen. I just wanted to sleep. I also began to hate when people spoke in terms of "WE". just, be yourself. but was I jealous? I came to the conclusion I would not peak in high school. Had mixed feelings about it. Wanted instant gratification. My romantic life was far from romantic. the words "meaningless" and "monotonous" come to mind. I got an A in Government, the first class in high school I actually tried in. It felt better than anything had in a long time. I also won "Best Actress" for the forth time in a row, the only person to ever win it consecutively....small victories in that department...I had to appreciate them... I slept for two days straight once the seniors were done with school. You were there again. You wanted it this time. I remember complimenting you on your kissing ability and you thought I was mocking you. I wasn't.[you had improved]. Directed The Other Shoe and wondered if I was similar to the flighty girl in the scene. She did things because they made her happy momentarily. The final comedy sportz match of the school year was more emotional than closing night of that awful show. Comedy Sportz taught me everything I really know about acting. I owe it everything. I had gone from being the "token girl" to a vital member of the team. I had barely any emotional attachment to the school I was graduating from. Other than them, the people that were my real teachers for four years.

July:
I stayed in bed all day, and would stay up talking to the ones that mattered most all night. You left. if you hadn't have gone....who knows what may have happened. But living in the land of who knows is a dangerous place to live. We had that moment in your car before you left...and when we held hands...that was weird. I got paid a lot of money to teach brats to improv. I was as spoiled as them. So lucky to spill out all the information I learned from comedy sportz. It made me appreciate everything I learned. At night I attended a acting class with a teacher I really respected. Meisner technique taught me things I always knew, but was too scared to admit. It clicked with me. Family in shambles. I had an emotional breakthrough in class that got me thinking. When you came home for the weekend my expectations were shattered. I began to fill the hole with more meaningless ventures.

August:
People began to leave. I fought with my most logical friend in a bowling alley for the first time in our eight years of friendship. It was about relationships. Me, doubting high school infatuation. In essence, doubting him. But it was okay. Eventually. My partner in crime of seventeen years was the first to leave. We had never had a first day of school without the other. But I knew the only thing that would change between us was distance. One by one they all left. Our big full group morphed into a feeble clan.

September:
I spent a lot of time making forts made of boxes. Boxes I should have been filling my life here with. I worried for the state of my parents marriage. Could not comprehend why anyone would want to stay in that. Went to Boston. It finally happened. Being barefoot in the park was far too poetic. The words that stranger said flew through my head everyday, "its a funny thing: when its finally your turn it doesn't feel like your turn anymore." I moved to school. I was scared shitless but refused to show it.

October:
New people over-load. I began to reflect on the year. thought about all the "mistakes" I made. I wondered if I grew up. I wondered if perhaps I grew down. I dropped a pumpkin pie on my hand. Fishbowl kids distracted me from my homework in the best way possible.

November:
Turned nineteen. Had my one year anniversary with myself. well. sorta. He was my boyfriend. Then that weekend happened...bad soup in a hallway. bad everything in a hallway. Didn't get into acting one. didn't get into the winter term shows. HEDDA. spent everyday at rehearsal listening. Mentally taking notes. Learning. We walked by the train tracks. I was in my slippers. Staying up all night. Coming home was odd. not in a bad way just in a different way. Thanksgiving. Plane barf. freak out.

December:
Long drunken talks. the best. Mainly because I finally found someone I can look up to. Which I didn't think I needed, but maybe I do. Started reading more. Escaping to the lives of fictional characters even though I didn't need to escape. Officially a member of SAG. Overwhelmingly in love with my new life. Everything hasn't come as easily as I imagined but its better that way. I learn more. Hopefully sometime soon, I'll have something that is all mine again. I'll have a chance. I'll be able to prove myself to the people around me.
But mainly, I want to prove it to myself.




I just always need to make sure I'm her at the core of it.

well. shit.

Today, I had a mortifying moment.
I love when I alliterate and don't even know it.
I love that I'm rhyming without even trying.
OKAY ENOUGH.
I did have a point.
this week I've returned to my old middle school to help out with a show my old teacher is directing. its split into two casts, so he worked with one while I worked with the other.
[it went fairly well, I'm beginning to get my sea legs with the whole director thing.]
thankfully, my embarrassing moment did not happen in front of the eighteen kids I was directing.
As my teacher and I parted ways in the parking lot he simply said 'thank you.' and I replied with 'of course.'
[yet again not the moment I speak of]
I got into my car and drove away. it was at that moment that one thousand thoughts began flooding through my head.
to name the important ones:
one: Wow, I loved that. I love directing.
two: I miss acting.
three: wait, I really LOVE directing.
four: oh....I'm not going to be in acting one this term. oh...I'm not going to be in acting one next term either....
five: wait, I totally love directing.
six: HOLY SHIT. I NEED TO ACT. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.
seven: I am really good at directing.
eight: WAIT. OH MY GOD. I DIDN'T FUCKING GET INTO ACTING ONE. WAIT. SERIOUSLY? I DIDN'T??? REALLY? REALLLLLYY UNIVERSE? YOU CAN'T THROW ME A FUCKING BONE?
nine: my two best friends at school got in...next term. I'm so happy for them
ten: but FUCK I'M GOING TO BE SO JEALOUS.
eleven: the way that one kid looked at me....he was really listening and taking in what I had to say......I could be great director.....
twelve: BUT I'M A FUCKING GOOD ACTOR AND NO ONE IS GOING TO GET TO SEE THAT.

and then....the moment occurred.
I don't cry. I'm not a "cryer".
and yet....there I sat. at a stop light.
silently shaking with tears in my Honda.
someone honked their horn at me because the light changed. I jumped in my seat and glanced at the huge gas-guzzler next to me. the passengers were looking at me. A pitying look mixed with amusement. I sped off knowing thankfully I would never see them again.
I finally faced the reality I didn't get in. I mean, its been two months. theres always next year...when I WILL get in but.... Maybe I'm like one of those soldiers with posttraumatic stress disorder. Wait. I shouldn't make war jokes....yet...
I guess I put it in the back of my mind because I was lucky enough to get to be a sponge in Hedda. But....starting next term I am going to have to squeeze my way into the department. for the rest of the year.
fuck.

The blisters were worth it.

[another addition to men on leashes. its a rough cut.]

Night, colder than it should have been but it didn’t feel cold.

The place, a stretch of city blocks between two apartments.

The time, somewhere close to three am.

The girl drunkenly holds the arm of the boy for support.

Girl: Sorry if I’m weighing you down. Standing on my own seems nearly impossible at the moment.

Boy: I don’t mind it much. In fact its encouraged.

Girl: Oh really? You encourage strangers to cling to you and depend on the fact that you know where you’re going.

Boy: Well, first of all of course I know where I’m going. And second of all you’re not a stranger.

Girl: I suppose it depends on your definition of a stranger. Our definitions could be very different.

Boy: My personal definition? Hmm lets see, I would say a stranger is someone that I don’t know the name of.

Girl: Really? That’s the best you can do? So anyone you know the name of you know.

Boy: I guess I don’t see where you’re going with this….

Girl: How can that be the determining factor of knowing someone? It’s a name, a label, that by no means tells you who the person is.

Boy: It would be so easy for me to call you a pretentious asshole right now, but I won’t. Continue with your point.

Girl: All I’m trying to say is you know nothing about me. I mean what my best friend is your roommate. Okay. Fine. You know that I got off a plane, what five? Maybe six hours ago. But what was I was doing before I got on the plane? Maybe I was at the brothel I work at. [she says lamely]

Boy: Did you really just use the word “brothel”? [laughs] Wow.

Girl: I guess no one really uses that word huh? It was just the first thing that came to mind. My point is…. Is this how this works? I mean I’m new to the whole college thing here. I’m the girl for the weekend or something and we just don’t know anything about each other and that’s that?

Boy: You know, if you hadn’t been so caught up in us getting to know each other we maybe could actually get to know each other.

Girl: Oh. I guess that would be okay. I mean, if that’s something you want.

Boy: Yeah. I do.

Girl: So….how ‘bout them Dodgers?

Boy: [stops dead in his tracks] The Dodgers? It’s all about the Sox.

Girl: Well, I know they’ve been disappointing lately but they’re a solid team, besides watching baseball is the only way I bond with my dad. Well, that and fine art. [the boy laughs] Oh shit. There I go being pretentious again. I need to stop talking.

Boy: No please! I haven’t been exposed to art very much. I like it I just don’t really see it. Why do you like it? Not saying you shouldn’t I’m just curious how you feel about it. I’ve been to museums but I’ve never been to Europe or anything like that. I’ve never left the states.

Girl: Never? Man I would just----

Boy: [The boy pauses and looks at her carefully] Do you want to stop? Do your feet hurt?

Girl: Would you be grossed out if I took my shoes off? I mean, it’s kinda at the point that I don’t really care, but I figured I should ask.

Boy: If I’m at all grossed out I promise not to show it.

Girl: Deal. [she takes off her shoes] So tell me about you [she says as she struggles with her shoes]

Boy: Well, I mean, I’m a pitcher, I have a big catholic family, personally not too religious but just enough…I live here, I don’t know what’s there to know?

Girl: I always find it interesting what people say as the first thing about them. I mean, what it is to them that’s the defining thing.

Boy: Yeah, I guess baseball.

Girl: Are you… any good?

Boy: I guess….

Girl: That’s not an answer. You know when you’re good at something, especially if it’s the thing that defines you.

Boy: [laughs.] Okay! Okay, I’m good. I could be great. I’m not yet but I could be.

Girl: Now that is a solid answer, humble, yet sure of yourself.

Boy: Do you always analyze the things people say or am I just----

Girl: Usually, yes.

[they stop and face each other.]

Girl: I’m not religious. At all.

Boy: That’s….fine?

Girl: No I mean, I’m not religious at all, but we were in Italy, at the Vatican and I saw the Sistine Chapel. I was standing there looking up at the ceiling and I felt this strange connection, this religious connection to it that I’d ever felt before. That’s the closest I’ve ever been to finding it. I mean, right then and there I could have walked up to my mother and said “Fine Mom, I’ll be Catholic because I believed in God for a split second.” Then where would I be the next day? If I wasn’t looking up at this divine piece of like insanity would I still believe in it? Why would I pin point one belief now? Why stop looking now am I right----

[he grabs her face and kisses her.]

Girl: I’ve been waiting for you to do that.

Boy: Why didn’t you?

Girl: If I had it would have put me in an odd position of power. A position I find myself in far too often. When it matters most, I prefer to be the one taken off guard.

[he looks at her, smiles, grabs her hand and pulls her to sit on a bench]

Boy: So what is your “defining thing” exactly? What is the first thing you would use to describe yourself?

Girl: I tell people it’s acting.

Boy: Acting?

Girl: Yeah, is that surprising or something?
Boy: Well no, I mean, now that you say it, it makes sense.

Girl: How?

Boy: All I mean is I could see you doing that. The way you talk. Actors talk with their hands.

Girl: [laughs] Wow, how astute of you to notice. Now, for the rest of the night I am going to be self conscious of my gestures. [she sits on her hands]

Boy: No don’t. That’s dumb. [he grabs her hands and holds them] I just mean, the way you talk is more expressive than a lot of girls, a lot of people for that matter. What did you mean by you tell people acting? Is it something else?

Girl: Well, I tell people acting because it’s easy to have a conversation about that. “Oh, you act? Wow. Tough business, what’s your back up?”

Boy: But if you love it enough…

Girl: [makes a gagging sound] Yeah. I mean that’s the sentimental way to look at it. I’ve attempted to be more logical in my old age. [sarcastically]

Boy: So then what does define you?

Girl: I feel like, well at least I would like it to be my observations about people. I mean, that’s my foundation for everything. I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t the way I am. [she looks off trying to figure out if that combination of words made sense.]

Boy: [ studies her face and laughs] You’re drunk.

Girl: Perhaps a little.

[they awkwardly look at each other for a beat and then slowly she moves her legs and puts them on his lap. They kiss]

scene.

11D

there I was, 11D, about to dive into my newest venture:
Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers By Mary Roach.
its a book about....wait for it....CADAVERS. my favorite.
it discusses death and dying in great scientific detail while still maintaining a refreshing narrative. [Loving it so far by the way, Mary Roach.]
as I began to read the first page I hear a rather distracting, rather disgusting sound behind me. The same couple who were entangled while waiting for our seven am flight to board were now the occupants of 12C and 12D. and they were making out.
this wasn't a quick, 'yay we're taking off kiss'. it wasn't even a more passionate 'there is always a chance the plane will crash, I love you kiss'. this was a 'lets get naked right here on this plane kiss'.
I understand, we get it.
My initial guess was that this was a new couple, one of them bringing the other home to meet the parents. It seemed like a good hypothesis until I realized these two were my age.
which led me to the even more disgusted assumption that these two kids, were in fact my least favorite kind of couple of all time. they were the 'we've been together since freshman year of high school couple'. the idea that I even had to be near them made me taste a tiny bit of vomit in my mouth.
As I continued to read about the size and weight of the average human head, the revolting duo began to smack lips again. I cautiously got up from my seat and observed them on my way to the bathroom. [He was using too much mouth and tongue, she was using too little lip] together, their kissing combination was a nightmare. That was what confirmed my suspicion that they had in fact been dating since middle school. [in my humble opinion the way you become a good kisser is by kissing a lot of people, if they were each others first kiss, [which I am assuming they were] then one could deduce that they weren't even aware about how horrible their kissing chemistry really was.
I thought about all of this while I stood awkwardly in the bathroom for the pee appropriate amount of time. It was as I walked back that I decided to make the last hour of the flight far more interesting. I bumped into the boy on the way back after the tiny plane took a lucky dip of unexpected turbulence. I apologized to the boy profusely as I took my seat. the girl complimented me on my hair and asked why I was going to LA [she may be part of a revolting couple but at least she was polite.] I explained that my name was Chloe, I was a biology major at SOU and I was traveling to UCLA for my interview for the medical program and that I hoped to become a surgeon.
[they were impressed and so was I]
I then asked them about their travel plans.
they explained for their....wait for it..... SEVEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY they splurged and bought tickets to LA to go to disneyland for a couple days. I opened my mouth to reply slightly worried vomit would truly spew out this time but luckily it didn't. They asked how old I was and I said [to be believably finishing college] 22. I asked them the same question and they replied with 18 and 19.
this was all too mind boggling for me to handle. they had been together for seven years meaning they got together when they were 11 and 12. You are hardly a real person when you're that age.
and as if the situation couldn't get any worse she then flashed an engagement ring in my direction.
I didn't know why this was getting me so worked up.
I didn't know why it was causing even more tension in my back.
The seat belt sign was turned on and I returned to cadavers. it was safe with them.
As we deplaned I wished them a happy anniversary and sped off.

I appreciated my life today.

right people, wrong time.

But- I don't even believe in the word 'right'
it isn't true.
it is.

I need to throw myself into something. I need to be emotionally invested again. mainly, to prove to myself that I am capable of being emotionally invested.

because at this point, I don't think I believe it.

I need a "ten points for sarah" moment.
or, I just need to drink a lot of Jameson. either way, I need a result.
I am sick of limbo.
i hate limbo.
limbo isn't even a good party game.
at all.

albeit not well.

my morals are becoming gray. and yet, I'm okay with that.
I'm also being held captive in my own head which I'm enjoying. Perhaps my judgment was incorrect though. Perhaps it was too soon. Actually I know for a fact it was. is. these past couple of days I have just felt so full...so uninhibited.
I can't get over how odd it will be to be home for nearly a month. so I won't.
I may hibernate for the entire month of December.
I just have been enjoying my observations a bit too much lately. Especially last night. Its interesting being an outsider glancing in on something I am so familiar with and yet, perhaps don't have the authority to feel as though I know well.
but screw authority.
in any case, these past weeks reminded me that opportunities have been falling into my lap. perhaps my issue is, the amount of those opportunities I have allowed to fall straight through my lap and accumulate in a pile on the floor.
every time I think of things that didn't even fall into my my lap at all, all I can think of is that if they are meant to, they will. and I'm not even a person who believes in that kind of thing.
maybe it will start with letting someone in.
but also, maybe that is the place it could end.

I FEEL GOOD.

my perception of time here is insane. Insanely incorrect. I feel like I've been here for years. I feel like all the stuff before was a figment of my imagination. I'm so....invested here. These people here my friends... I guess I was expecting that nothing would ever come close to the relationships I have at home. but its been eight weeks. Just eight weeks and I already feel grounded here, with them. Feet firmly planted in fallen yellow leaves.
I don't know if I can be more blatant than the title of this.
I like that I met someone that agrees with the way I do things. I like agreeing. I use to like disagreeing more. but that has changed.

There is only one thing that is stopping me from completely and thoroughly enjoying this...there is no use coding it. I need to act. I need to memorize lines and create human connections on stage. Finally one part of me is feels right. I have found a connection. now i just need one for the other me. I'm greedy now. I want. I want. I want to be someone else, not because I'm unhappy, by any means. because I want to feel that again....
Just re-read 'the shape of things'.... i forgot how much I loved that play...
AH. especially after the year I had. As awful as it is....I was very similar to Evelyn...minus being a graduate student and all. and minus just picking one person to do that to....

bowl of hallway soup.

this one time, I did something stupid.



you know whats great?
not doing stupid things.

exoskeleton.

I've had a short string of eye-opening conversations in the past couple of days.
the first was less about the conversation and more about the feeling I had while having it. just laughing again mostly that made me feel this way. [does anyone remember laughter? because I kinda didn't] Meeting someone that seems like they were in your life all along. The possibility of feeling again. Shocking right? I'm floored.
the second was the more eye-opening.
Despite my confidence I did not get what I wanted this week. I'm not destroyed. I'm actually okay. but really. If I were destroyed, I wouldn't be able to do this for the rest of my life.
My conversation made me realize how much I care about acting. I mean, I knew I did, but to this degree? My revelation came as I was recounting this to a friend. Remember the whole "dangerously human" thing? and how I said I wasn't? I realized that I feel more danerously human when I act than I do on a regular basis.
that thought is frightening, but true nonetheless.
Most likely the roots of this feeling came from the past year when I made the decision to feel nothing at all. Getting those feelings back is harder than I thought it would be.
this brings me back to conversation number one. and the series of conversation since...

human?
...human.

nineteeeeen

oh hey nineteen.
whats good?

out of my hands.

I just really want this.

okay?

guts.

[this has nothing to do with this post. I just miss Florence.]

there was something about the phrase "dangerously human" that caught my attention the other day in rehearsal.

definitions are concrete. and they allow room for vulnerability.
this is why I find myself straddling a thin line for feeling something and feeling nothing at all. all the time.
this does not make me dangerously human.
As I walked quickly beside someone who thinks almost entirely with his head I paused to wonder how I make decisions. I said,
"so. You think with your head"
"yes. And you think....you do too?"
"does it seem like I do?"
"not exactly....I feel like you make decisions with something even more logical."
"My gut."
"I guess that makes the most sense. its exactly somewhere between your head and your heart."
"I think people think less with their heart and more with a sort of lust. but maybe I'm completely wrong. Its just my gut feeling"

the more you kiss on the lips the more human you are.

I'm turning nineteen on November 7th. Nineteen appears to be a pointless age. That's what I've been told anyway.
The more significant date approaching is November 12th which marks my one year anniversary with myself. This year was that first year in many years that I didn't have strings on me.
I won't bullshit, some of it was lonely.
But in all honesty, I feel like I finally learned to enjoy myself.
OKAY,
maybe that was a gross thing to say. "I feel like I finally learned to enjoy myself" But its the only way I could say it.

I feel as though I can cope now if I'm thrust into that situation. Because I guess I can recognize it now.
I know what I don't like which is far more important than knowing what you do like in my humble opinion.
I've developed this feeling in my stomach every time I run into something I know is not for me.
Its very handy.

and also, I have at least three more ideas for scenes for "Men on Leashes"
SCORE.
I want to paint fighter jets all day, just as long as they don't fight away what I actually want.

pumpkin floor pie.

this is what happens when I try to be domestic.....

okay universe. I hear you.

I don't even mind who you'll be waking with tomorrow

denial.
perhaps this is the curse of hanging out with guys for so long. its just these flashbacks I seem to be having. I don't even know if "flashbacks" is the correct way to put it.
because with these, when I remember I remember everything. every little detail.

in need of a distraction.

Li2O

I haven't even thought about writing yet.
until now I suppose.
first day of class today, stupid BIO. I am so incredibly not down.
Yesterday I went for a run in Lithia Park early in the morning. It was so uncharacteristic because first of all, I've always strictly been a night runner and second of all, I finally did something I said I was going to do.
I say a lot of things. my follow through average is not the best.
But maybe it will be now.
I find myself half missing some people and actually missing others.
I'm just so focused on whats going on here that its hard to split my attention.NOW I get why August was so lonely. I get now needing to be present with new friends rather than focusing on the ones you left behind.

[Lithia Park]

I don't think anyone can begin to understand how excited I am for the leaves to change. They're already starting. I'm going to have a REAL fall.

"the time has come", the walrus said.

REPEAT.

"you can try to take a picture, but its already gone."

finally a Morrocco.

I would be willing to bet an enormous chunk of my life savings [if not all of it] that the person who said the following words to me doesn't

1.remember me
2. remember saying these words.

"its a funny thing: when its finally your turn it doesn't feel like your turn anymore."


Tomorrow is my last day here.
Last night after I got back from my run, I walked into my room and stared at the large wooden cabinet. Over the years I've hidden artifacts from my childhood in there, covering it with a decorative sheet for good measure so I didn't have to look at the mess it held.
I figured for a laugh I would look at some of the things I stuffed in there, old journals mainly.
As I read the pages of my fourteen year old self wishing I could be eighteen and be leaving the house and my idealized versions about what college would be like, I sat and marveled at the fact that while there had been so many distractions and choices that I made that perhaps weren't the best, I really stuck to what I wanted to do.
The thing I found most interesting was a notebook I began when I was about seven. it was, for lack of a better definition, a bucket list. Not just a little list either, this was a notebook with pages and pages of things that I had been checking off since I was seven and by the looks of the boxes I had left unchecked, I had abandoned somewhere around the age of fifteen. So, I picked up a pen and began to check. It was satisfying looking at everything I had accomplished,[especially more recent developments].
As I stuffed the old book back in my cabinet and looked around my room full of boxes those words spoken by that person rung loudly in my head. To be quite honest, I couldn't tell you what the person who said those words looked like if you paid me the same chunk of cash I wagered earlier but I think that's what I like most about the whole thing.
Certain people have moments of poignancy that are meant to just enjoy while you remember them. I feel like I need to remind myself that sometimes you meet people and they only stick around for what feels like a split second, but maybe that's all you needed them for. Maybe its better that way.

I may have said that I was ready to leave for years, but now that its finally my turn, it doesn't feel like my "turn" anymore. it just feels like its time.

I should be unemployed.

Pinpointing a place to start is nearly impossible.
this is reminiscent of the anxiety I use to feel when I couldn't figure out what to write on the first page of a notebook. I mean, no matter what, every time I opened my notebook I would have to see the ugly chicken scratch of that particular days musings. then I would mock myself weeks later for the words I used and the things that I felt.
Perhaps I can begin there:


Right before we jumped off the dock I regretted the flippers I got. they didn't feel right. the water was freezing and felt like pins all over my face. We all searched for strange looking fish that we had never seen before with our flashlights and clung to each other to keep warm. then they told us to turn of the flashlights. the bioluminescence floated aimlessly around in front of my face and I kept reaching out. It was as though we were swimming through stars. finding something like this, seeing it felt impossible.

I work against being the sentimental type.
I work against it like its my job.
maybe it is.
maybe it shouldn't be.

its called insomnia folks.....

my mind is running nearly seven marathons.

fifteen day adhesive. buy while supplies last.

I feel this sense of control that I probably shouldn't feel right now.
In any normal circumstance everything should feel unstable.
fifteen more days and I'm out of here.
I've been waiting to be out of here since I started high school. I believe it was the third day of freshman year when I thought to myself as I sat in my algebra for dummies class, "can I go now?"
It would make perfect sense for me to feel like I was unraveling. but I don't. I'm ready.
The only minor thing that concerns me is what will happen to my foundation. what will happen here with the fundamental things that I'm leaving behind?
in regards to my friends, they'll be fine. Most of them already have a handful of people they are already comfortable with. They are already gone. The ones who remain here will have a lot to think about and probably won't waste a beat missing me.
But what will become of the two pillars that hold the roof up. They're already cracked and damaged enough. I have been a sort of adhesive for the past couple years.
what will become of the pillars.

I would categorize myself as the red door and the roof between the pillars. except,I'll be able to hold myself up. and without the pillars being able to hold something up they will most likely crumble.

I can watch a sunset on my own

"I guess I usually go for guys that are shy. Or not as socially equip as me...or something...That are lost...is that even right?"

"Well. That's going to stop working for you. You're going to need someone that challenges you."

"Yeah. I guess I need to find that to believe it exists."

that one is 'everest'.

Yesterday I bought myself a massage.
I've always felt odd undressing for a table. There was a moment of panic when my eyes darted around the dimly-lit room in search of a surface to put my clothes. One would think there would be a little stool or a chair. There always is a little chair that in any normal circumstance would be far too small for a human to sit on but in the spa world was made to put ones clothes.
I decided to crumple my clothes into a ball and awkwardly shove them in a closet with no hangers.
nothing was logical.

The first thing the masseuse said to me after feeling my back was, "You have wounds that are like mountains all over your back. It would take hours to repair all of your wounds."
As I'm laying there on the table, face in that little hole all I could think of is, "what is your definition of a wound my friend?"
She made it sound as though she would be taking a shovel and digging it into my back to create a more even landscape.
My mind was racing the entire time. All I could think about was how much my jaw hurt, how hungry I was, why my masseuse was wearing flip flops and socks, that I could still feel the effects of my pain medication, that I needed new jeans, that my hair was going to look gross after this, and that my stupid clothes were in a heap in the closet.
that was when I turned everything off.
I had made so much progress just being with myself I couldn't take five steps back.
As important as it is for me to be in tune, its almost more important for me to be out of tune.

VICARIOUSLY.

I just vomited two weeks worth of work onto a page.
Pain meds are working for me. but its actually probably not the pain meds. its the fact that I have been able to sit in Sarah Stew [as graphic and awful as that sounds I do not mean it literally by any means]
I have allowed myself to analyze the roots of my relationships with several different people. honestly. for the millionth time but this particular time is going to stick. I can feel it. alright, we may as well be up front shall we? [we? am I referring to myself as we?] I have analyzed my relationship with the boys/men in my life.
Men on leashes.
remember?
probably not.
in any case I stopped for awhile. I just couldn't because i was in this state of too much self-awareness.


VICARIOUSLY.
VICARIOUSLY.
VICARIOUSLY.

VICARIOUSLY.
VICARIOUSLY.
VICARIOUSLY.
VICARIOUSLY.

lost wisdom. found wisdom?

I woke up as a chipmunk this morning.

on the plus side, my diet is butterscotch pudding and soup and vicodin.

I have never been a recreational drug user and this is far from recreational [if i don't take it my mouth feels as though someone punched it] but I will say I had one of the most interesting dreams I've ever had last night. It was as though I stepped into an impressionist painting. I was laying in a field, and looking up at a painted sky with such concentration. the field stained my clothes with multicolored paints or dye, or whatever it was. the paint on my clothes made me feel more satisfaction then I've felt in a long time. because the best part of it all was I felt. I haven't been able to clear my thoughts here but for some reason it was clear there. I could sort out particular feelings for recent developments. It was nice having a place that was just mine.
none of this makes sense I bet.
then again,
I'm still on vicodin and I've gained at least five pounds of weight in my face from the swelling.

always one foot on the ground.

today I stood in IKEA with a task: desk lamp, comforter, pillows, perhaps a trashcan.
As I walked through the displays I couldn't help but notice the type of people who were wandering around next to me. Newlyweds, pregnant woman, other college students. That was when I reached for the same trashcan as a boy about my age. complete meet cute. I didn't have anything clever to say, so I smiled and reached for another trashcan.
It was in that moment that I imagined an entire conversation we would share and allowed myself to drift off into our first date and all that nonsense. complete and utter nonsense. [I would be clever and he would laugh at my jokes. when he would say "you're unlike anyone I've ever met" I would have actually believed him. He's magically going to the same tiny school as me and magically lives next door. He doesn't suffocate me.]

but wait a minute. When does that ever actually happen? It doesn't.
The phrase "stay grounded in reality" has been ringing through my head lately. In fact that phrase was what snapped me out of my work of fiction. I had been standing there staring at desk lamps for over five minutes.
So I picked the one right in front of me.

perhaps these past nine months I've been too grounded. [not grounded enough?] its hard to say.
difficult to see when you're the one looking in at yourself.

517

At any rate, last night made me confident. even though lately I've been indulging.
They say people eat when they're sad. People eat when they're bored. I've found that I've been eating to fill the empty. its been a couple months in the works this extra weight on me. it has been a GOOD couple of months.
I indulge.
indulge
indulge

It never occurred to me how many different connotations the word indulge can have.
lets think about them quietly to ourselves....

I'm full now.

[mostly]


to be a total dick and quote myself months ago I said this:
"ya know how in old movies at the very end the orchestra swells and everything has managed to fall into place? I think I would appreciate a split second like that."

Here's what I want to see.
I want to see a couple months after. After the orchestra reaches the final note of its crescendo. after that all goes away.
this decrescendo is the state I have been living in for months. its the calm normalcy. People need to see that and realize that the decrescendo is okay to live in. we expect too much. we expect what we see and don't bother cultivating anything new. its all about comfort. stability.
comfort and stability use to be my middle names.
they aren't anymore.
I've realized that by being so stuck in my ways I had lost the feeling in my finger tips.
how nice it was being kissed on the neck by a stranger.

its just connections. little connections that allow me to have my little secret always in the back of my mind.

DRY.

droge werktijd

烘乾咒語

séchez le charme

trocknen Sie Bann

ξηρά περίοδος

asciughi il periodo

綴りを乾燥しなさい

высушите произношение по буквам

HOW MANY LANGUAGES DO I HAVE TO SAY IT IN BEFORE IT BECOMES UNTRUE?

oh, and PS. I have the feeling I'm going to drop off these next couple of days.

douchemunch.

so ready for things to change.
that sounds so stupid teenage angsty but that is the only sentence I actually know how to string together that describes now.

I mean, they are.

but I'm thinking a monumental gust of wind needs to rush through my room and make it more messy.
then I need to grab some boxes, throw all of it in the car and drive up to school.

It appears to be the last [last? really? um, never last} little joke my surroundings is playing on me.
I get to leave.
but not until they ALL leave.

for the record, the whole bad ass thing is boring. its not appealing. maybe to some people but at the moment I'm not some people.

okay, that should do.

and they all look just the same.

so I may not resent myself, but I sure am beginning to feel a wave of resentment from an unexpected place.

is it cool if I throw up in my mouth a little bit? or maybe if I barfed on you you would get the point.

aight, sweet. thanks.

perhaps we all should get the bigger half. we've....earned it.

this is the only superstition I buy into.





I made two wishes.
is that allowed?

the second one is that I want to be charmed.
genuinely charmed.

To be perfectly frank:

for the first time in a very very long time I actually and actively looking for it.
and even more shocking than that, I don't resent myself for wanting it. my experiment has lasted long enough.
I have enough data stored away in my mind through my case studies.
I could write a book.
[I should finish my play]


if i was penny lane i would be just as scared.
I would just be better at hiding it.

pear.
pear.
pear.
pear.
pair?

I'm feeling....

N O T H I N G .

feeling nothing has never felt so good.

don't get me wrong, I'm pleased your here. but its different and its awesome.

some say its my middle name....

the whole "you could do better" thing rubs me the wrong way.

its called experimentation.
I'm a self-proclaimed relationship anthropologist.

allow it.

I rule at it.

and I never had to make a sound.

I spent the time in between looking at the cracks of the window covers. a little sliver of light making an appearance as I attempted to tap into my guilt. that is what I was suppose to do. think of all the awful things I've done that consume that bottom of my soul kind of place.

man did I find it.

[I should stop searching. but at the same time...shouldn't i?]

whose going to be the first person to ever really hear me without ever having to make a sound?

sarah spelled with a 'h' was getting bored.

I got into a verbal fistfight tonight with my justgotoutofaVERYseriousrelationship* friend. we've been close for a long time. Debating has been a staple in our friendship for the past five years but this got real.

monogamy is a concept I understand. I've been in relationships. I get it.
Here's my issue: That line between high school infatuation and actual solid gold love for another person.
I'm beginning to doubt it.


I mean I get it in theory. It makes sense. But at this age how exactly is it possible to feel that for another person? I just don't see it. While maintaining simple logic and personal boundaries I believe its vital to act on impulses. if you want to kiss someone, by all means kiss them. its experimentation at its finest. and its important. the disruption in the balances of impulses and the little tug that holds us back from actually doing what we truly want to do creates this amazing rush. Its as though you are actually capable of controlling your own life because OH WAIT you ALWAYS should be.

but when you're in it its different.
then again, that's the infatuation speaking.

*you know what I realized is one of my least favorite phrases? "serious relationship" Relationships should NOT be business agreements. they should be silly.

I'm an inch taller. The games stop now.

the following are letters to some of the boys/lads/men that I was involved with in high school.
viewer discretion advised

Dear Orphan Shaggy,
The truth of the matter is that we got together because you played guitar and you were shy. you were wounded. You were my project. You were tall. On the surface our relationship was stupid. But deeper, probably the closer to one am it got we had something real. You were the first person I wanted to share my midnight pancakes with. You were fun to hang out with at five in the morning when you crashed on my couch because you didn't have anywhere else to go. You were my intro to high school relationships.
thanks bro,
your groupie

Dear Sincere and Earnest Kitten,
I should have stayed with you longer. You were the most sincere and the best one. [if that wasn't clear already]. You were suppose to fill a void. that was horrible for me to use you for that. in fact, knowing you now even better it may be in theory one of the worst things I have done.[and I've done a lot of bad things] But now we're friends. And you tell me that I lead you to what you want to do. That gives me too much credit. You were already headed there my darling. I want to act with you. I want to play characters that are in love so we can be in love for the first time.
fondly,
the cougar

Dear Wannabe,
You are stupid
from,
the girl with x-ray vision

Dear Man-Child,
Seeing you waste away, waste your potential use to make me hurt. I don't care anymore. Sorry. I thought you were genuine. I let you in. you didn't treat me with respect. You didn't realize that I'm worth it. That day on my picnic table was the first day of the rest of my romantic life. You taught me how to avoid the douchebags. How to avoid the re-bounders. How to be independent. How did I learn that you ask? [of course I'll answer, I was always the smarter one you just thought you were] I learned what not to do in a relationship from our time together.
peace out,
harder, better, faster,stronger...[than you]

Dearest CEO,
I have a strange feeling that the romance between us is evaporating. I could be completely wrong but I believe that it is happening as I type this. Realistically its for the best. Someone literally just reminded me that I always fall back on you. You deserve to not be my fall back anymore. If you only really knew all you deserved you would have mountains worth of confidence. The confidence you should have. I'm still halfway down for our agreement but we'll see. I'm probably not down. and I don't think you will be.
always,
your business partner

Dear Plastic Bag,
I liked the way we looked together. That's how it began. it turned into more. You were the first person that I didn't mind getting up early for. also, you were the person I liked driving around with most even though most of the time I didn't like your music. I am sorry for jerking you around. I'm also sorry for hating you secretly. Your awkwardness made my skin crawl but now I understand it. I wonder how things would have been if I had chosen differently at the end of last summer. Different. Very Different. I use to regret it. I don't anymore.
friendly,
formally suffocated


Dear William Miller,
You made me feel good about myself. Too good. It was easy. Too easy? perhaps. Our late night talks were always the best part of my day. there was always a feeling of completely and utter content when I would fall asleep. It felt like too much of a difference. I was filling out college applications when I realized it. Now you are the little brother that I always wanted and should have recognized from the beginning. It would have been incest.
There will be a Morocco [someday],
yours,
Penny Lane.

Dear Forgiving,
Our relationship consists of me doing really stupid things and you somehow always forgiving me. I don't get it. And then you fall for me again. I still haven't figured us out. I'm just sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know I'm sorry starts meaning less the more someone says it. We're almosts. True almosts. not just in our relationship but with everything. You are capable of so much. Hope I'm there to witness those things. Maybe just not from the seat you wish I was watching from. you always say it'll never be the same again but then its always better than before.
love always,
Ms. Fixit

Bro,
Bro ya later...
-Bro

maybe it was that fucking old fiddle of yours.

the fact that in certain aspects of the work I've done this summer is gold and some of it is chicken shit just goes to show how inconsistent I am. I hate the fact that the one emotion I cannot tap into is one of love and comfort. It just doesn't happen. If I truly follow the technique that my acting teacher as taught us, I am suppose to go with immediate gut reactions.
My gut reaction when someone tells me he loves me in a scene is to laugh at him. its awkward and not true. and even if hes trying to make it true, trying to convey actually love, I'm not buying what hes selling. I can tell it frustrates my acting teacher and the amount it frustrates me is insurmountable.

I need some seasoning or something because I am bitter.

that much is clear.
*and the truth of the matter is before this all happened you were different.

even articokes make mistakes.

lets just call it as it is. I get a little overzealous. when something new happens more often than not I am so surprised that it did that I have to say it out loud to another person to actually believe it. here's where I get in trouble. the saying out loud part. the funny thing is while I am very honest and tell things as they are, how I see them, there is still a lot of things I don't say. I'm still polite right? mostly.I continue to sabotage certain relationships because they are gasping for air, hoping something will change without any actual belief that it will.
in that sense, it isn't my fault. somethings don't change. I can't force myself to want something I don't. I can't just not tell people whats up. I can't be the one that has to compromise how I am.

[I thought we had been over this]

can't hang and a ton of bricks.

I may as well say this now:
I don't know how to wrap my head around tonight.

but certain things are so clear in my mind.

IF ONLY I COULD SAY THEM.
AH.
FUCK BEING INCONSPICUOUS.

isn't it broronic?

most human I have felt in awhile.
and natural.

well isn't that interesting.
this could be bad in so many different ways.

back to business.

last night, it all came crashing down, in the best way possible.
to begin, I was faced with my uncoordinated self on display. physically and emotionally I went back to those days in that studio with a fake smile on my face and tears in my eyes. brutal. made me how I am today.
then I remained sitting in that mindset as we began my favorite part of the night. as soon as I opened my mouth some of the most honest things I've said in a long time came out. except, they weren't my words. I was Lorna [who ever the fuck that is] and I was making a connection. My scene partner had no clue what to do with it. But because of that it all became more desperate. it became more frustrating. it became even more honest.
it took this to realize how I actually felt about things.
the person who opens the doors is usually the one that shuts them.
I always shut them.
wide open yeah? yeah.

ps. found a new wish for my wishbone.
and its awesome.

heres to sincerity. cheers.

apparently I'm insincere.
ya know, this was the thing that made me realize that perhaps you were the one that didn't get it.
the truth of the matter is that for the past year I have said the things I actually meant. I look at people the way I want to look at them. its hilarious to me that this behavior can be considered destructive. since when is honesty destructive?
maybe its destructive when I only feel it for a fraction of a second and the other person is running a marathon.
I am capable of running a marathon alright? I just haven't in awhile.
My apology is simple: I'm sorry for the emotional heartstrings I tugged on. I'm figuring it out too. I'm excited for the day you realize I wasn't it.

but then in moments like these its just so clear to me the difference between someone who makes eye contact and someone who picks a spot on my face and stares at it.
and by the way, things never have to be this 'hard'. it just should be easy. isn't that more logical?