i'm emoting!

If you walked through the courtyard of the 200s right now, you'd see my foot in the window, bouncing about to the rhythm of "Music of the Night."

I kept talking about "the point of no return" this morning, causing people to sing, and eventually, it turned out, Caitlin and I were watching "Phantom of the Opera" which I've surprisingly never seen, though I've seen the show both on Broadway and in West End London.

Anyway, my morning has been spent gigglin the shit out of my sticky post-party apartment with my hungover friends, making vital phonecalls of frantic stage managery, moistening my eyeballs to emotional songs with plenty of strings and organ-sounding keyboards, fawning over Gerard and other sexy long-haired men on my TV screen, and burning my mouth on black pepper covered crisps.  Now, working on choosing my audition selections as - Yes- The auditions for my play are in two days.

My crazy has been unleashed on other people as of late and, needless to say, I feel bad about that.  No time to pity - I must return to my solitude.  

Oh, one final note, I love how The Phantom of the Opera captures life in the theatre so well.  Actors bitching about stuff, techies chillin backstage drinking together and being overall brash and ridiculous. YES. I miss my techie friends more than I could say - I need my ACTF boys to visit me ASAP to have a good laugh like I haven't had in a long while. I've laughed a lot, but it's different with them. Anyway.

I have another plan for my life. I am going to live in a theatre. YES. We shall have a community all living in the theatre we produce shows in and struggling artists can come and go and occasionally get fed in return for some help with the shows.  We'll have a magical roof, under that, floors upon floors of storage and rigging and dangerous high places for techies to climb on things like the monkeys we are, a huge beautiful theatre like the old London ones below that, our living community below that, and below that, a stable because apparently horses lived in theatres in France in the nineteenth century, and below that, a bunch of mazes and trap doors leading to an underground RIVER.

I love my ideas. I wish that one day, one would work out.

Scooters.

Apparently, that's an example of something I can label this entry, so I did. I like scooters. But not scooter pies. Definitely not scooter pies.

So I keep finding kethcup packets in my purse. No matter how many times I clean it out. They are definitely regenerating in there.

It bothers me that something somebody said to me last night didn't bother me, and yet I have been acting a little bit like it did. Maybe I was bothered by it and didn't know it? I really do think that I just found it pretty hilarious, slash appalling on their accounts. People, in general, are very oversensitive. I think maybe everybody is, but we are in tune with it on different levels. Some people, like the ones approaching me last night, are very in tune with their oversensitivity and act on it - Whether it's approaching somebody and causing an awkward scene, or just crying a hell of a lot.  Then there's people like me who aren't in tune with their sensitivity - Often come off as brash in some situations, I guess - And take their oversensitivity as something else and so, just, yell about stuff a lot. I don't know - I had a bold idea, but I don't know where it went.

I'm a mess. Somewhat. Quite a bit. I really don't know why I can't pull the guitar out of my hands. It's beginning to creep me out. 

And this is bad: I want to write. I really want to write, and I'm in that writing mode where if I did write, it would be fucking brilliant. But I have the emotion I need to emote, but none of the other necesary elements like, well, you know, a story or characters or words of any sort. The only words I can come up with are random words, often foods. You can't very well make a play where people just speak random words. No, I'm sorry, that's not brilliant, that's just daft. 

Ah, I wish it was Spring. My entire life is feeling inbetweenish again. It's time to be somewhere - On a level. Levelevelevel.

It's 111 and I'm Still Hongreee.

It's officially Thursday. We officially open Midsummer tomorrow.

I need to get back on the energy drinks.  Colour me addicted [blue, I think it would be], but it made me so gleeful and bustling with energy and all of a sudden, I was busting with creativity and I just wanted to write five billion things at once. I want to always be that way, sort of. It would be exhausting.  But I just want to be writing.

I need to break my habit of writing vital things on my hand.  I wash my hands a lot.

Things are okay. Enough.

I'm pretty sure I'm awesome and really polite, not very harsh, but definitely blunt and straightforward, and that's enough for me.

Oh, and by the way, I got approved to do a Senior Directing Project. Commend me, World, that's freaking awesome. I'm beyond excited. But also terrified at the whole SENIOR thing.

i am confused.

I AM CONFUSED.

Repetition is key.

[Faire de la répétition! As my French teacher used to say.]

I am confused and I am frustrated because I am impatient and confused.

On another topic, there is also not enough time in one day.

And I agree with Molly.  The young people these days cannot spell or use correct grammar ever and it infuriates me. Enough of the shenanigans.

One of my best friends turned twenty-one today. I really want to be twenty-one, to maybe get back just a tiny bit of that freedom I had a few months ago in England. Alas.

Midsummer opens in three days.

Complaining.

Complaining about how my GUITAR owns my LIFE.  Yeah, I've become that guy.  I'll be in the middle of a party and think "Oh man, I need to play guitar right now" or hanging out with my roommates and think "Oh man, I need to play guitar right now" or sitting in class and think "Oh man, I need to play guitar right now" or at work and think "Oh man, I need to play guitar right now" or like right now, I'll be sitting here trying to write a paper that's due in a couple hours and think "Oh man, I need to play guitar right now."  I think I might actually be addicted? Thing is, I'm not really all that good in the sense I can't write songs [just lyrics, but how far does that get you?] and I can only play a handful of songs off the top of my head. A small handful. But I just love the action of playing it and making sounds. If I didn't live with people, I do think I would just play all the time - The same songs over and over again - And no one would care.

Okay, so, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Roight.

By the way, we start Tech tonight. HOORAH.

dees eees uhhhhh BLUGGGG.

It is currently post 5:30am.  I am currently about to go to sleep for a wee bit, just in time to get out the door for my 10am rehearsal.

'Bout now? Feel like just lettin loose this humongo screaming yelping sound - Not in anger or any other emotion really - Just kind of to let loose that last smidge of energy I've got left before crashing out. Not gonna happen. I've already probably woken up those two lovely ladies who live above me approx six times tonight. No need for more, am I right?

But, y'know, Content, is how I'd put it. And wishing it wasn't officially tech week.

Long Weekend.

Senior project proposals are due Wednesday. This is basically our Thesis for our Theatre program, except it's not required. You have to be accepted. I'm currently making a short list of pieces I'm considering, but here's the thing: It is really quite awful to select a play a year before you get to start working on it. I am getting so pumped just thinking about them, getting ideas for concepts, and there's nothing to get excited about right now! Miserable.

Caitlin and I made brownies tonight. We burned them. Tragic.

I did juggle for a second tonight. A second meaning I threw up one terribly bruised orange, threw the other one up while that one was in the air, caught the first one, caught the second one. So like - One round of juggling. One juggle. A jugg.

I've felt so out of touch with reality. That sounds cliché. In other words, I'm wicked out of it. Bummer.

I need to start writing regularly again. I had to write a poem for my Contemporary Poetry class last week and, honestly, it is shit. I'm completely out of practice. I have a ton of ideas jumbled up for what to write and none of them are coming out. My creativity is constipated.

I can't believe how fast the semester is going by already. I really feel like we just started.

I remember days where nothing mattered - Where everything was Fun from sunrise to sunset and beyond. I miss ACTF more than words can say. I miss summertime from Proof to Les Mis. But most of all...

I'm missing England big-time. 

[And somehow, I'm supposed to concentrate on analysing Annie Oakley and adapting One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest for the screen.]

muck.

Warning, there's, uhh, cuss woids strewn about in here. I just. Feel. Like It. T'day.

Life - It's muck. Or it has been. Lately. Lately as in - Well - About the past month.

But it has always been absolutely wonderful! But mostly muck. Or muck I've made the best of so everything doesn't seem so bad, even though it probably is.

I mean.

The ground doesn't even want me to stand on it. My bag doesn't want me to hold it. My drink doesn't want me to drink it. My iPod doesn't want to play me music. My vision doesn't want to see clearly. My hands don't want to grasp things. And, kids, that's just all todayness.

First, there's the fact I still have an Incomplete from LAST semester. When's that gonna get done? Ask those twenty-four hours that aren't enough, and my regret for letting time slip.

Then there was two weeks ago, facing legitimate harassment for the first time in my life - What was that all about? It seems like it's over, I'm hoping it's over. I'm at that Laughing At It point now, though. I got the better of the situation in the end, so who cares. It was enough to snap a Romantic like me back into Reality at least.

My grandmother - my only one that's still in my life, at least - Passed away exactly two weeks ago [the day after all that not fun legal stuff] and that just built up tension in every way possible. I had to leave for my internship at KCACTF the next morning and constantly had it in the back of my mind despite the non-stop fun. There's really no one else in the world like her. It was an intense experience - I don't know why my head was a blur through the whole thing.

Then I got one of the shittiest phone calls ever this morning. A friend. Facing something I had to face early on in high school that I would never, never, never wish on anyone no matter how I felt about them. Bringing back awful memories. Memories that have been riding my brain all day. My TD and a Full Throttle Blue Demon have thus far been the only things to have succeeded at cheering me up since, per usual.

I haven't received a paycheck since August and the fact my mum's been feeding my checking account non-stop just to keep me surviving in this here world has been creating some sort of spinning black hole in my insides. I hate it - I really hate it. 

Things just aren't really falling together so much - It's more like me piecing them together the second they fall apart - It's a good thing I always carry a wrench on me [HA!]. Ah, and this winter, I'd come to the decision that I don't have time for emotions, or the ones for men that is. It's a known fact - I'm obsessed with men and falling for them. It has proved itself to be my fatal flaw in the past. But I've become a much stronger and cynical person recently and figured - Hell, I don't need to be in a relationship or even date! It's bullshit I don't have time for when I'm trying to get that GPA up, build my Theatre skills and career, and concentrate on moving to the UK.  So what happens? Obviously, within the first two weeks back on campus, I find someone pretty neat who also seems to think I'm pretty neat. So sometimes, I think, Awesome and I hope he calls any second to make me hang out/make out with him. A lot of the time, I just hope he forgot that happened, somehow, and we just never see each other again for fear of more ridiculousness in my life! Haven't heard from him since, so who knows.

I honestly don't know how much more of this Ridiculousness I can face without completely losing my mind when I'm already well on the way there.

Things I'm glad about:  LFC has been winning again. My roommates are absolutely amazing and I really do love them and hope nothing ever ruins our friendship, as that has become quite a huge fear of mine. I find time in my day, somehow, to work out and to chill and play the guitar. Jason and i may be going to see The Mountain Goats in March. I love my home here - My room is humongous and cozy and feels like my space and my roommates aren't gross and our shared space is wonderful. I feel good, in general, much of the time, despite everything.

I'm thinking in drunkenness when I'm sober, sober as hell when I'm drunk, letting words drip out of my mouth like a bloody ee cummings poem, loving hate and hating love, I'm letting things get goddamn EPIC - Whatever, I live for it. Lets see where this shit goes.

Midsummer opens in eighteen days.