"One day I will make something I can be proud of."

That's what I say to myself as self-motivation. I intended to only post the one line, but then I realized I already did this. I published a yearbook.

Part of me feels really lost, but then part of me feels like I am finally on track again.

How do I go about this?

I just want to be thrown into a strange city with strange people and see if I can find a place there. Two years ago, I was sure I could do it. I want to see if I still can. I want to see if I still got it.

Maybe that's the problem--I am too comfortable here. It's like laying in bed for three weeks straight; eventually you really just want to get up and run around the house.

Lightning, please strike.

So, I amend my motivational statement.

One day, I will look back on these days and think: If only I had known what was waiting around the corner.

Presumption

Sometimes things just hit you in the face. They hit you hard. And afterwards, no matter what you do, no matter what needs to be done, you can't stop thinking about that feeling. That smack in the face makes you realize things you never wanted to realize. It's like hard lighting - sure, you can see everything, but nothing looks pretty, nothing looks as it should, and that is because it is as it is.

It's simple and far too complex to understand at the same time.

I have made many mistakes in this life. It might not look that way to some, but it is one truth among an ever-dwindling few. These mistakes have been thrown under hard lighting and I now see everything as it is. Just like I saw the full bottle of green sprinkles, sitting next to the nearly empty bottle of orange sprinkles as I got out the baking powder today. Just as I saw myself desperately try to ignore them. And that's when I knew, when I really knew, that I wasn't dealing with this.

I drew comparisons that should have never been made and I still do that every moment of every day. My life is a list of comparisons. Like mathematical equations, but without numbers. I am not okay with all of the things I will never be able to call my own. All the memories I will never be able to make. And I want all of that to amount to something. I want it to count for something in this life.

For months, I tried to force it into my work. I tried to make it fuel my passion. All of my dissatisfaction was supposed to lay the foundation to the rest of my life. That's how artists work, right? All of it was supposed to be justified in my work. Boy, did I try to justify it.

It is ridiculous to even verbalize it all. The magnitude of the event does not match the magnitude of my aftermath. But, I've never really been good with proportions. So this hard light is painful even here, in this ambiguous prose.

I continued to run from all of this for so long, even after I said, no, proclaimed, I was finished. I said I was done, but I was only trying to throw you off my trail.

To be clear, I was running from two things: The heart I broke and my failure to pour my own heart into something that would explain why I broke it. Other than, of course, simply being an idiot. Everything else (read: my lack of passion and my bitterness towards the fact that my life will never be normal) was all ready there. It just added to all of it. This was all very clear, I trust?

Oddly enough, while I was running and hiding from this and a many other things, I discovered something. A beautiful story. It said everything I wanted to say. At first, I made comparisons, naturally. I saw my own tale of love and heartbreak here. But this story was beautiful. Too beautiful to be mine. I realized I wasn't that lucky. That I would never be that lucky. And that is when the spotlight hit me and everything around me.

I have lived much longer than a single year, and yet I let a single year rule me. It is insanity, I know, but I cannot declare some new way of living quite yet. I know only a few things happened in this single year--not enough to make or break a lifetime. I know there is not enough in this single year, in particular, to make my story. I should stop trying to force it. That doesn't mean I am going to though. If I were really to pick a single year to draw from, it would probably behoove me to pick this current one. But that is presumptuous.

My life is not story-worthy yet. I have lived through more things than most, but I cannot bear the sight of them outside of my heart own heart yet. I am not ready for that.

Until then, I will take my place as a conduit. I want to show the world the beauty I have found. I did not make it. I have not made anything like it in the least. I could hardly say that I have thought something like it. And, as far as I am concerned, that's perfectly fine. I only hope that one day I will be lucky enough to share it. But that is also presumptuous.

While I was so busy running, I should have asked for directions.

Exhausting

Today was simply exhausting. I don't think it was every supposed to be, but it was.

My mother and I had every intention of going up to Lindenwood to do early check-in, but we had some bugs to work out first. America decided I no longer needed one of my loans this year, whatever reason. I also realized that I really was being charged for my overload courses and that sucks. Both of these financial changes ultimately doubled my out-of-pocket cost, which naturally alarmed my mother quite a bit. So we put the early check-in on pause and decided to figure some stuff out.

First, we tackled the merit of doing overload courses this semester. In order to do that, we had to figure out the earliest I could feasibly graduate. In order to do that, we had to figure out what my actual degree was going to be. Everything kind of built on itself.

From 10:30 to 4, we waded through course catalogues, transcripts, and class schedules, read major and minor requirements, and tried all different kinds of combinations of numbers, trying desperately to get them to add up to 128 at the soonest possible date. Finally, we got everything to fit reasonably well. I will graduate at the end of the Fall 2012 semester, a year and a half early. Yes, it's a semester later than I would like, and yes, I really only have one required class that semester. However, I do get to take more film classes, and I get to graduate with a BA in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing, a Minor in English Literature, and a writing certificate (a.k.a a "You write pretty good" certificate).

And that, how they say, is that.

In other news, my dog slept all day. He's sleeping now, in fact.

Trivial Encounters

Haha, it makes me laugh so much. This is perfect. It's the perfect story to tell years later when it's all inconsequential. It's further motivation to make it inconsequential. I want to make my life consequential. I want to tell people stories for the rest of my life. I want to make things for the rest of my life. I want to do this. I've always wanted to do this. So why am I having such a hard time believing that I can?

It's always been, "When I meet So-and-So," not "If I meet So-and-So".

I've always believed that. It's been inscribed in my very being. "I will be somebody," has been the driving force of my life since I could realize what it meant to be somebody.

So all of this uncertainty and failure and pessimism is just fear.

I am poised to really make something of myself. I could graduate this year. I could be in graduate school by the next. I could do it. I need to stop being so afraid. Everyone who was ever anyone had to stop playing it safe at some point. I am almost there. So close I can taste it. So why am I shrinking away?

I can't afford to do that anymore.

So, I am done limiting myself to the one graduate program in the Midwest. I'm sorry, but Kelsey is right, a plane ride is a plane ride, no matter where you're coming from. I'm going to be poor. I'm going to be far away from home. And I'm going to be okay with it. Because that's what it takes. And that's all there is.

Year From Then

I wouldn't take back anything I said then. I know everything I felt was real and right. I know we were right. I wonder if you'll feel anything at all today. To be honest, I thought I would feel more.

I guess, contrary to what I believed, I haven't been disconnected this whole time. I've been fortifying all of it - learning the extent of the commitment I made. I feel strong today. Maybe not as bold as I was then, but I am just as solid.

I met you in the dark

With only a few matches.

You took my hand

And showed me the stars

You left when I wasn't looking

Taking all my matches too.

Then I had no choice

But to see the stars.

So I take this strength, this gift, you have given me. I accept it. Now I will use it to do what I have always been meant to do. You were part of the plan - just not as big of a part as I wanted you to be. No one is. It's only me now. Somehow I always knew it would be. I have a big heart, and I can't afford to give too much of it away - I was made to do so much more than care for you.

I used to see you from afar. Now, I can no longer afford to look. Soon, that's all you will be able to do.

A year already? I shall waste no more time.

Timing

I can't get enough of it. It's my favorite aspect of any performance. A well timed one-liner can make me laugh until I can't breathe. A well timed comeback can bring me to tears. I love timing. So much. Oh so much.

Time, Time, Time

It's time for me to stop kidding myself. It's time for me stop getting myself down. And I have to do both of those things at the simultaneously because it's time for me.

---

I think with a song in my head. Moments have music. But those moments also have a script and I follow it because I'm an actress, because I'm a fraud, because I'm a liar. A good liar.

It's time to use this script and my lying for something good. Time to make a lesson plan for someone else to learn from.

It's time for me to finally gain control over this voice coursing through me, these scenes behind my eyelids. It's time for me to stop talking to myself and start making others say the words.

This is it, my time. It's do or die. I'm not going to die, so look at the only choice.

---

And when you all return, you will not recognize the woman you left.

Daily Posting

I blog every day. It's pretty ridiculous. I am actually partly ashamed of it. But I think it helps with the whole overthinking problem I have.

---

I need to defrag my computer. The start-up time is dismal.

---

Either this is going to happen, or it isn't. And either way, I am going to be fine. I write two-page drabbles that are like magic, but once I go beyond that...everything is forced. I wonder if I will every be focused enough to complete anything. Probably not.

I'm trying to scale down, which is why I've gotten really interested in short films. I guess I should work to out-grow that medium before anything else. So hard. I need to do this. I need to do something. But what do I want to say?

Trying

So hard not to feel this way. This is over and done with and there is nothing left to talk about because it's been almost a week. But it just hit me really that they were brought together and it was entertaining for you all. It was all laughs and smiles (albeit awkward ones). That was allowed.

Like I said, I'm trying really hard not to feel this because I know all it will do is set me back. I know it is the only thing holding me back. But it's not even about the event anymore, guys. Not at all. That ship has sailed. It's about the aftermath. Now I know all of this stems from the aftermath.

---

Very, very tired.

Destroyed my Chemistry test, fyi.

Went out to dinner with Mom. We need to get out more....hahaha....

I suppose I will storyboard tomorrow, whilst watching XENA!!!! I'm on the final season now and it's kind of bittersweet. Not unlike The Bitter Suite. (Inside joke with the Xena Fandom.....I suck.)

I want to have people over.

People, come over.

---

He looks to me to be in heaven,

that man who sit across from you

and listens near you to your soft speaking,

your laughing lovely: that I vow,

makes the heart leap in my breast;

for watching you a moment, speech fails me,

my tongue is paralysed, at once

a light fire runs beneath my skin,

my eyes are blinded, and my ears drumming,

the sweat pours down me, and I shake

all over, sallower than grass:

I feel as if I'm not far off from dying.

But no thing is too hard to bear;

for [God can make] the poor man [rich,

or bring to nothing heaven-high fortune.]

--Sappho