A strange sensation is emanating from my blood. I have been able to come to terms with this sensation with every year that it passes…not exactly to the point where I can embrace it, but I understand it’s there and that it will never dissipate altogether. This longing to be with good company, this longing to grasp onto the last juicy moments, this longing to know that there is no other way I’d rather spend an evening. As opposed to sitting in a cave where loneliness manifests into a restless slumber. Constant tapping. Constant checking. Reevaluating what I could have done differently. How I could have used my time more efficiently and symbiotically. I’ll ask myself, ‘Why do I wear shades inside?’ Or ‘What drives me to hate a person?’ Or ‘When will I stop caring?’ That is, if I stop caring. Let’s hope it never gets to that point. I feel lodged between two worlds, both dripping with attractions and death sentences. Doing something for myself or for other people. Selfishness versus selflessness. Most things I say don’t exactly make sense. But that’s the beauty of it all; it only has to make sense to me for me to take anything from it. If I remember why I wrote it. If I don’t remember why I wrote it then I’ll never know why I’m reading it to remember why I wrote it. Does that make sense? I know what this summer is going to entail. It’s going to be sulking and working and making money (hopefully) and wishing I could be doing something better. Because that is what it is always like…endless droning. Buzzing and puffing and swimming in circles. Letting slices in my flesh act as gills under a running faucet. Oozing pus when it turns that time in the 24-hour day when it is not night, nor day. Just hoping the sunset brings a different attitude with it then the one your vacant head possesses and obsesses over. Where whatever projects your 4 o’clock mind has started loses all motivation and importance. Where there isn’t a drop of coffee that your bloodstream could benefit from. Where you apply heavy make-up in hopes that your bloodshot and baggy eyes can camouflage themselves under the layers of artificial color. Where you feel the need to turn on the television even though the sound is like mosquitoes to your ears—but you need that feeling that something is on and you’re watching it. It’s in the background but you feel no great satisfaction. It’s the way of the world—to suffer. The only difference between me and an optimist is that I’m a pessimist. P E S S I M I S T.

I need to turn this into a play somehow.

arcade fire - no cars go

dionne warwick - walk on by

henry mancini - big band montage

naked eyes - always something there (to remind me)

adulterous.

today we had an acting candidate teach our section. a total blob of mixed emotions. as usual, i was the silent observer absorbing everything she was saying and trying to filter out what i thought was kosher and what wasn't. it so strange, but i felt like i, alongside all my other colleagues, were cheating on leslie. not only were we taking time out of her limited class, we're treating these candidates like royalty. which i suppose is alright...but i can't imagine knowing you're going to be replaced and seeing those who are the ones doing it. over the semester, i've grown to pinpoint leslie's faults and loose ends. trust me, i don't agree with everything that woman says--in fact, i think she can be very haughty at times (but who am i kidding, i get that way too)--however, she is knowledgeable, tough, and i never feel like she'll let me fall. with all this hullabaloo over our guests, i am becoming considerably more grateful that my class got leslie's last year.

feeling unfaithful is not a feeling i'm accustomed to. perhaps it will wash away this time next week. you never know.

SHIT.

this is the second day i've missed movement IN A ROW.

I GOTTA WAKE UP!!!!!!

*superficial, petty post of the day

Are you prepared for the atom bomb?
Are you prepared for my aching arms?
Are you prepared?
Are you prepared?
Are you prepared for serenity?
Are you prepared to disagree?
Are you prepared?
Are you prepared for me?

i feel particularly dejected tonight.
i couldn't think of a better word to describe it.
according to the dictionary, dejected means to be affected or marked by low spirits.
yeah. that sums me up this evening.

i've really been putting all my effort into stage management. i only take breaks backstage when i know there isn't anything coming up because a) there are no props or b) i've already set them. i'm more than fairly confident that i make a damn good asm and would probably make an efficient stage manager (not that i ever, EVER want to do this again...), so i shouldn't be put down by silly little things called actors.

i know i'm sometimes a little harsh, but i by no means considered myself a cruel person. i'd like to think i was extremely fair and friendly to those who deserve it. i really do love the cast, but there is a certain sour someone that really throws me a little off my track. i'm not one to get my feelings hurt often, so when they do feel that certain pang, it's a tad bit shocking.

the grand thing is in the morning, i'll wake up completely free of these thoughts. that is...if i do well on this quiz in acting.

i've got to remember that my parents raised me on good morals and i need to learn to trust them.

fanfare.

some people need to remove the stick that is embedded into their rectum.

on a side note, it's a windy 51˚ today following the beautiful 72˚ yesterday and proceeded by the 35˚ tomorrow. i don't understand it. but, i guess one will never understand north texas weather.

my to-do list:
1) read The London Merchant
2) learn lyrics to Respect by Aretha Franklin (pretty easy)
3) rehearse with Derick and write a rehearsal report
4) memorize the last few lines of grip top sock
5) read The Great Depression
6) work on song with Adam
7) maintain friendliness with all people

body parts i treasure:

clavicles.

slender hands.

jawbones.

eyebrows.

cheekbones.

hip bones.

hi dallas.

back in good old dallas. i was welcomed by a fog so think you could barely see the street signs. now that, ladies and gentlemen, is a welcome that can't be beat. i adored it, i simply adored it! it's 12:43 am at the moment--my first class tomorrow is at 9:30. i doubt i'll get much sleep; i still need to put all my clothes away on hangers. oh how i wish i could just hang everything up. drawers can be a dreadful hassle. i'm currently listing to hauschka. what a beautiful artist; i strongly recommend to anyone who enjoys the occasional simple, modernist music. it fills me up with reassurance, listening to it does.

it's a wonderful thing to say that you're happy. i don't feel completely comfortable saying that statement as 100% genuine, but i am definitely making progress on the scale. for being the "glass half empty" human i am, i'm desperately holding on to the positive things in my life. perhaps this time i will not fool myself.

my tattoo is almost completely healed. it is still sensitive to the touch, but the for most part it stirs no trouble.

i feel like i'm truly making the adjustment into womanhood (as cheesy as that sounds.) i've always been an old soul even as a child, but recently i've noticed newly formed habits:

-taking my rings, watch, and earrings out every night

-wearing my silk robe

-keeping shoes in boxes

-maintaining perfect posture

-reapplying lipstick throughout the day

isn't it terribly silly? i should say so, but who cares!

family analysis.

i could care less how cliché this sounds, but i need to be more thankful for my life.

i'm getting an education, training, housing, food, and connections. i have a great relationship with james. i have little to no health issues. i am still so incredibly young.

whilst taking maxine for a walk outside, all the blood was leaving my hands and rushing to my head. the leash was cutting off circulation due to her pulling and leading the way. she obviously does not respect me--i'm never home, so why would she know to obey me? for all i know, i'm just another plaything in the house to her. anyway, i was thinking about my dad.

he's having a terribly hard time looking for a job. without a bachelors, so much isn't available to him. he has to take care of maxine, a 11 month old puppy (that my mother insisted on getting and doesn't take care of). she's chewing up the house. i know it's merely a phase for her, but my dad tries so hard at keeping the house in good shape. then he's got his mother. and 80-something nut who took over my room when i left for college in 2009. with her food, her pills, her pain, and her insanity, it ages my father to be her caretaker. he's the only son (out of 8 sons total) to make an effort. i commend him, i just wish my mother would feel the same way. having a rocky relationship with her own japanese mother, i detect a bit of jealousy thus leading to resentment in regards to my dad taking care of his mother. she can't stand her. she doesn't ever go into my grandmother's room to make small talk. it's as if she possesses a blind spot.

i just wish my mother was still in love with my dad. she clearly isn't, but she's too afraid to ever leave him. she never had a father, so this whole male dependence concept is too present in her conscience for her ever to leave him. i love her and i sympathize with her greatly about the hardships she's endured, but this cold, disgusted outlook on my father affects the way i perceive her. sure it's been going on for years, so i suppose this is just a broken record...but it saddens me to imagine that love isn't real for some people. she's a wonderful mother who is so precious to me.