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.