I've been trying to get a job all this time. Yes, ALL SUMMER. all this time you haven't heard from me. I've been in my house, trying to not be in my house.
Some quick life updates before I go into what I want to talk about today:
1- my wrist is all better now. No more therapy, no more doctor visits. yay!
2- my birthday came and went, nothing special. I'm 22 now. woah.
Okay then. First, silence. I know I've been silent, no blogging etc. I haven't had much to say, really. And that's very sad. I'm usually a relatively talkative person, it's weird for me not to really have much to talk about. And it's because nothing is going on. The exciting part of my life feels like it's over. College is over. Now I'm just here. Existing. Trying to give myself something to do besides beg for jobs and wait to be called for interviews, I started cleaning out my basement. That was kinda fun, in a weird way. I like organizing, it makes me feel better to take a mess and make it better. Of course, my mother will be flabbergasted to hear that, considering what my room looks like. But my room is organized chaos. The basement was just chaos. It still is, I wasn't able to do much. I just got rid of (or tried to get rid of) some old toys and stuff that I honestly have no attachment too. But with every box I opened, I would sit there and dig through it, remembering when I played with this, or built that, or painted this, or sculpted that... It is nostalgic and a little sad. I miss those days. Childhood was before my depression hit. Childhood is when you can dream anything, be anything and have no responsibilities beyond being a child. I spent a long time just digging through boxes and silently thinking. Don't get me wrong, it felt great to sort though my stuff and get rid of the old junk. We need more room in the basement now that I'm home and have all my college crap.
Solitude. I miss my friends. I don't really have people here. I never had many friends in high school. I've lost touch with anyone I was friendly with through the intervening years. We've all gone our separate ways. Well, now I'm back. And I spend a majority of my time alone. Or with my parents. A large amount of just... me. I'm a great person and all, but I get sick of myself. I'm lonely. Yet I can't even think of what I'd do if I had someone here with me. What would we do? There's not much here. I can't keep going out to the bar or what have you, I don't have that kind of money. I miss college days. I lived with my best friends. We could just watch tv, or chat while I make myself a snack. I realize now that what I miss is the constant, little things. Seeing a friend and stopping to chat on my way to class. Going to a silly event at the student union, and standing in line together. Playing apples to apples with my roommates on a rainy night. I don't want big outings with tons of friends. I miss little interactions with the people I like.
I miss my best friend most of all. This past year, he was able to spend entire weekends with us, hanging in our dorm, going to meals with us, nagging me for falling asleep on him. I spent so much time with him, and now I rarely get to see him at all. He was my stress relief. Now I don't have that. Sure, I can talk to people online and the like, but that isn't the same. I am very alone. I like my solitude, but I need a break once in a while.
I finally got a job. I just started, and I'm really not sure what to think. It's with Vector Marketing, selling Cutco knives.
Just by saying that, so many people get judgmental and make assumptions. My mother even gave me the weirdest look when I said I took the job. I'm trying to remain positive and open minded. Yes, it's marketing. Yes, it's sales. Yes, I go to people's houses and try and sell them knives. It's like being an avon lady. A lot of people say that it's a joke or a scam, that they make promises etc they cant fill, etc etc. But I've been through training, and they make all kinds of claims and assurances. I sit there and they make me feel great, like this is a great opportunity to make money and gather skills. I get in the car to drive home, and the farther I get away, the more I question how true it is. Can I do this? Am I being swindled? Bamboozled? Is the wool being pulled over my eyes with the 10% success rate, while 90% of people try this and fail?
Is it really worth it? I want to say yes. I really really want to think that if I work hard, I can be part of the 10% big success. I made those numbers up, by the way. I really don't know what to think, expect, want. I don't know. I don't know what sorts of goals to set. What expectations to have of myself. I am trying to stay positive. I'm going to give it a try. I am keeping in mind that I am in charge of myself. They aren't in charge of me. If this isn't for me, I can hand in my presentation kit and never go back.
I'm afraid to fail. I think that's what is holding me back from being sure about this job. I really need the money. I really need something to work out for me. And I'm afraid it won't. The lack of confidence from the outside isn't helping that at all. When people say to me that they've heard bad things, or they scoff when I say 'Vector', that doesn't help my mojo. I'm putting a lot of faith in when I can stop bugging people I know, and get into the referrals. People who the friends i've bugged say "You know who might like this?" those people actually might want to hear what I have to say. And might not feel as guilt-tripped into buying from me. I get paid just to show the knives.
Overall, it has been an up and down summer, mostly a gradual slope down with some ups. I know you shouldn't sit and wait for something good to come to you, but I really need something good right now. Some unexpected, surprise upswing. Preferably something romantic. Hahaha. I admit that for my birthday, I daydreamed of receiving a rose in the mail, with a note attached saying "Happy Birthday Emily" and no signature. I know, I know, that's silly. But a girl can dream, right? I have no qualms being single. But I also have no problems being in solitude. Until several weeks of the same pass. That's enough alliterative "s"es today.
Thanks for reading, stay in touch. I'll keep you posted with my musings here on my blog. It's a crazy time. It's a crazy life. The Ramen Noodle Life.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Ask Me No Questions....
.... and I'll tell you no lies.
My silence of late has been due to the lead up and clean up of a visit from my brother and his wife. We so rarely throw parties or have house guests, and it has been so long since we've seen them, this was a big to-do. I spent day after day scrubbing, cleaning, organizing, sorting, folding, washing, shopping, cooking etc etc. for this party. Well, TWO parties. One at my grandfather's house, one at our own. For a family to go from never have before to throwing two within a few days of each other, it was quite a flurry of activity.
Both parties were for people to visit with my brother and get to know his wife- many of them have never met her. But I was there too, being the new graduate. I kept being asked the same question over and over again, with eager grins and expecting looks, anticipating a grandiose answer.
"What are you doing now? Any big plans?"
While this is a completely natural question to ask, I wished people wouldn't. Because my plans aren't exciting. I don't even really have anything worth talking about. It's not like graduates these days can walk off the stage, diploma in hand, and walk right into their career. The economy is bad for everyone, people, not just established middle-class families. Not to mention my degree is in theatre. I know that someday I'll have plans worth talking about, like my brother and his super bowl commercial. But for now, who the hell wants a kid with a B.A. in theatre? It's like what Princeton in Avenue Q says "Four years of college and plenty of knowledge/ have earned me this useless degree. I cant pay the bills yet/ 'cuz I have no skills yet./ The world is a big scary place."
I know my degree isn't useless, but you know what I mean. The age-old-adage "you gotta spend money to make money" is very true. I cant afford an apartment in NYC yet. I don't have the money to spend in order to pursue my dreams. I already spent all my money on my degree in order to get a better job to make more money. For now, I'm on the hunt for a better-than-minimum-wage entry level job. Hard to convince a business I'll be an asset to the company when my resume shows my true bohemian/hipster colors. Besides, I don't want the kind of job I'll be stuck in for a century either. Not that I tell the potential employers that. No way I'm telling them the truth. That I only want to work for a year, then move away to NYC and never speak to you again. Why do I want to work with your company? Honestly? Cuz it's easy work that any high-school graduate can do, you pay better than going back to Sonic, I'll sit in an air-conditioned office all day rather than serving food/drinks in the heat of august, I get benefits, and it's the kind of job I won't give a hoot about giving you my two weeks notice in a year's time because you can hire some other graduate like me and I'm completely replaceable.
Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies. I prefer your version of the story anyway- the young graduate, fresh from college with lots of potential, the whole world is her oyster. Yeah, you go with that. I'll be here in my parent's house, continuing to search the internet and newspaper for a way to make money. Let's face it. Oysters are expensive.
My silence of late has been due to the lead up and clean up of a visit from my brother and his wife. We so rarely throw parties or have house guests, and it has been so long since we've seen them, this was a big to-do. I spent day after day scrubbing, cleaning, organizing, sorting, folding, washing, shopping, cooking etc etc. for this party. Well, TWO parties. One at my grandfather's house, one at our own. For a family to go from never have before to throwing two within a few days of each other, it was quite a flurry of activity.
Both parties were for people to visit with my brother and get to know his wife- many of them have never met her. But I was there too, being the new graduate. I kept being asked the same question over and over again, with eager grins and expecting looks, anticipating a grandiose answer.
"What are you doing now? Any big plans?"
While this is a completely natural question to ask, I wished people wouldn't. Because my plans aren't exciting. I don't even really have anything worth talking about. It's not like graduates these days can walk off the stage, diploma in hand, and walk right into their career. The economy is bad for everyone, people, not just established middle-class families. Not to mention my degree is in theatre. I know that someday I'll have plans worth talking about, like my brother and his super bowl commercial. But for now, who the hell wants a kid with a B.A. in theatre? It's like what Princeton in Avenue Q says "Four years of college and plenty of knowledge/ have earned me this useless degree. I cant pay the bills yet/ 'cuz I have no skills yet./ The world is a big scary place."
I know my degree isn't useless, but you know what I mean. The age-old-adage "you gotta spend money to make money" is very true. I cant afford an apartment in NYC yet. I don't have the money to spend in order to pursue my dreams. I already spent all my money on my degree in order to get a better job to make more money. For now, I'm on the hunt for a better-than-minimum-wage entry level job. Hard to convince a business I'll be an asset to the company when my resume shows my true bohemian/hipster colors. Besides, I don't want the kind of job I'll be stuck in for a century either. Not that I tell the potential employers that. No way I'm telling them the truth. That I only want to work for a year, then move away to NYC and never speak to you again. Why do I want to work with your company? Honestly? Cuz it's easy work that any high-school graduate can do, you pay better than going back to Sonic, I'll sit in an air-conditioned office all day rather than serving food/drinks in the heat of august, I get benefits, and it's the kind of job I won't give a hoot about giving you my two weeks notice in a year's time because you can hire some other graduate like me and I'm completely replaceable.
Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies. I prefer your version of the story anyway- the young graduate, fresh from college with lots of potential, the whole world is her oyster. Yeah, you go with that. I'll be here in my parent's house, continuing to search the internet and newspaper for a way to make money. Let's face it. Oysters are expensive.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Have a nice trip...
I've realized that the REAL ramen noodle life doesn't start until graduation ends.
Well, it has. Yup, I graduated from Muhlenberg College on May 20. I went on a mini vacation with my parents to see the pandas at the national zoo, and am now home, ready to start my journey on this thing called adulthood.
I'm not sure how to begin. See, my real beginning of this whole adult life thing is hindered by a certain injury. I'm currently recovering from a broken wrist. About four weeks ago, I was rehearsing my broadsword final, when I fell on my clumsy butt. Right in front of our master, too. Not wanting to smack myself or my partner with my 10lb steel sword, I held it out and threw my left arm out to catch my fall. Ker-snap! I fractured both the radius and the ulna. Two weeks ago I had surgery to pin the broken pieces together in proper alignment. So aside from having a hard time typing this post, I've had to deal with the pain and hindrance of this injury more than anything else. Looking back, I realize that the whole senior week and graduation thing happened underneath while I was focusing on my arm being in a sling and having trouble hooking my bra and showering every day.
I could go on about finals and such. I could go on about the break and the x-rays and the cast. I could talk about all the senior week events. I could talk about how much alcohol I consumed before I had to go to surgery and not drink anymore because of prescription painkillers. I could talk about snogging a certain boy at the frat party, having him write his number down with the note "you MUST call me tomorrow" only to have him never respond to me again (Srsly, y u no even say hi? You were standing right next to me when we lined up for graduation!). I could. But I wont. This blog isn't about college happenings. That's sort of why I stopped. That stuff is cliche and abundantly portrayed in the media. Nope, this blog was meant to be about the in-between time. The post-graduation "wtf am I doing" life.
So far, I don't really know. I meet with a physical therapist tomorrow for my wrist. Hopefully after that I'll have an idea of what I'm dealing with, as far as how/when I'll get my movement back. I can't really beg for a job if I don't know if or when I'll be able to carry a tray, lift a box, or even type very well. But once I know, I'll be trying very hard to get a job that doesn't involve the phrase "would you like fries with that?".
My parents had a talk with me last night about being "an adult member of the house". At first I panicked, what the HELL does that mean? But in the end, it's pretty basic. I'm not a child anymore, don't expect mommy to do everything for you. Help clean the house, you're responsible for your own food if mom's not cooking or you don't like what she makes, pay for your own gas in the car since it's not your car, and don't vanish from the house without telling us where you are. Pretty simple stuff, really. Stuff I wanted to be responsible for, because they're right, I'm not a child anymore. Eventually I'll move out and be responsible for a hell of a lot more. So for now, this is easy.
These are the first steps into the real world.
Let's hope I don't fall and break something else.
Well, it has. Yup, I graduated from Muhlenberg College on May 20. I went on a mini vacation with my parents to see the pandas at the national zoo, and am now home, ready to start my journey on this thing called adulthood.
I'm not sure how to begin. See, my real beginning of this whole adult life thing is hindered by a certain injury. I'm currently recovering from a broken wrist. About four weeks ago, I was rehearsing my broadsword final, when I fell on my clumsy butt. Right in front of our master, too. Not wanting to smack myself or my partner with my 10lb steel sword, I held it out and threw my left arm out to catch my fall. Ker-snap! I fractured both the radius and the ulna. Two weeks ago I had surgery to pin the broken pieces together in proper alignment. So aside from having a hard time typing this post, I've had to deal with the pain and hindrance of this injury more than anything else. Looking back, I realize that the whole senior week and graduation thing happened underneath while I was focusing on my arm being in a sling and having trouble hooking my bra and showering every day.
I could go on about finals and such. I could go on about the break and the x-rays and the cast. I could talk about all the senior week events. I could talk about how much alcohol I consumed before I had to go to surgery and not drink anymore because of prescription painkillers. I could talk about snogging a certain boy at the frat party, having him write his number down with the note "you MUST call me tomorrow" only to have him never respond to me again (Srsly, y u no even say hi? You were standing right next to me when we lined up for graduation!). I could. But I wont. This blog isn't about college happenings. That's sort of why I stopped. That stuff is cliche and abundantly portrayed in the media. Nope, this blog was meant to be about the in-between time. The post-graduation "wtf am I doing" life.
So far, I don't really know. I meet with a physical therapist tomorrow for my wrist. Hopefully after that I'll have an idea of what I'm dealing with, as far as how/when I'll get my movement back. I can't really beg for a job if I don't know if or when I'll be able to carry a tray, lift a box, or even type very well. But once I know, I'll be trying very hard to get a job that doesn't involve the phrase "would you like fries with that?".
My parents had a talk with me last night about being "an adult member of the house". At first I panicked, what the HELL does that mean? But in the end, it's pretty basic. I'm not a child anymore, don't expect mommy to do everything for you. Help clean the house, you're responsible for your own food if mom's not cooking or you don't like what she makes, pay for your own gas in the car since it's not your car, and don't vanish from the house without telling us where you are. Pretty simple stuff, really. Stuff I wanted to be responsible for, because they're right, I'm not a child anymore. Eventually I'll move out and be responsible for a hell of a lot more. So for now, this is easy.
These are the first steps into the real world.
Let's hope I don't fall and break something else.
Monday, February 13, 2012
100 Days
Panda's late again! Why? Because Panda is having a hard time putting her thoughts into blog-worthy articles. That, and panda has been juuust a little lazy lately. Panda is also apparently speaking in the third person today.
Enough of that.
So we recently celebrated our 100 Days night. It is a celebration of 100 days till graduation. It wasn't much, a night out at Allentown Brew Works. I hung around with my roomie the whole night, it was a decently alright time.
I'm still having trouble processing it. Graduation is getting closer. Life, the real world. Here it comes. I admit, it was a little bit of a shock to really have it marked like that, a celebration. I'm not sure I want to celebrate it. I really love college, I don't want to celebrate it being almost over. I'm not saying we should mourn it like a funeral, but I felt out of place celebrating it like that. So, I had my long island, chatted with my roommate, danced a little, then went home.
On the bus home, I sat next to some kid I've never seen before. Slightly intoxicated, I was able to forgo social awkwardness and talked to him. His name is Scott. He is a finance major. He even gave me his business card. Turns out he lives in the dorm next to me. At such a small school, I thought I new everyone in my year at least. Then I realized, I only know the theatre majors. What else have I been missing out on? Who else? Not that I'm unhappy with the people I know. I just always will wonder. Maybe we didn't cross paths because we're just too different. Classes on other sides of campus from each other. Don't read too much into this, I didn't actually think much of Scott, but it got my brain going about the other faces I had seen that night. All the faces I knew, and the ones I didn't.
What will life beyond college bring me? What new faces will I come to know? What old faces will I still see? What old faces will I not? What's going to happen 100 days from now?
I feel like there's a voice like in The Ring, whispering. "100 Days". I've been able to predict my future. What classes I'd like to take, where I'd live, etc. Now, in less than 100 days, I don't know. I can't see where I'll end up. It's a scary thought. Not overwhelmingly so, but it is a little eerie. Just a constant little voice in the back of my head.
"100 Days..."
"99 Days..."
"98 Days..."
Enough of that.
So we recently celebrated our 100 Days night. It is a celebration of 100 days till graduation. It wasn't much, a night out at Allentown Brew Works. I hung around with my roomie the whole night, it was a decently alright time.
I'm still having trouble processing it. Graduation is getting closer. Life, the real world. Here it comes. I admit, it was a little bit of a shock to really have it marked like that, a celebration. I'm not sure I want to celebrate it. I really love college, I don't want to celebrate it being almost over. I'm not saying we should mourn it like a funeral, but I felt out of place celebrating it like that. So, I had my long island, chatted with my roommate, danced a little, then went home.
On the bus home, I sat next to some kid I've never seen before. Slightly intoxicated, I was able to forgo social awkwardness and talked to him. His name is Scott. He is a finance major. He even gave me his business card. Turns out he lives in the dorm next to me. At such a small school, I thought I new everyone in my year at least. Then I realized, I only know the theatre majors. What else have I been missing out on? Who else? Not that I'm unhappy with the people I know. I just always will wonder. Maybe we didn't cross paths because we're just too different. Classes on other sides of campus from each other. Don't read too much into this, I didn't actually think much of Scott, but it got my brain going about the other faces I had seen that night. All the faces I knew, and the ones I didn't.
What will life beyond college bring me? What new faces will I come to know? What old faces will I still see? What old faces will I not? What's going to happen 100 days from now?
I feel like there's a voice like in The Ring, whispering. "100 Days". I've been able to predict my future. What classes I'd like to take, where I'd live, etc. Now, in less than 100 days, I don't know. I can't see where I'll end up. It's a scary thought. Not overwhelmingly so, but it is a little eerie. Just a constant little voice in the back of my head.
"100 Days..."
"99 Days..."
"98 Days..."
Monday, February 6, 2012
Level Up
There is a very addictive game I recently downloaded.... I mean, purchased legally...... The Sims 3. I'm addicted for various reasons- one, it's an addicting game plain and simple. It is the kind of game that never ends- your sims and the circle of life means you can continue playing for generations. Goals continue to change and develop. It's a little life. A life you can control. That's where I really get into it. In this hectic lifestyle of college and upheaval, having somewhere I can have that outlet. A little fantasy life where my sim is a famous actor, lives in a big house I designed and built, is married to a handsome fella (who I created with proper traits, of course), three dogs, a cat, and a son named Max. Oh, and my sim is a vampire, but that's just for fun. I'll say this again: I'm not stupid. I know it's just a game. But I'm a gamer girl through and through. I like fantasy games where I'm a hero, either the chosen one or with special powers, off to save the world. I like new worlds and new creatures and magic and all that jazz. But I also like reality. Reality is pretty okay. But how about an alternate reality? There is a difference between fantasy and alternate reality. I know fantasy is completely impossible. I'll never fly or summon magical deities to defeat evil. But maybe in some form of reality, I really can become a famous actress, be married to a perfect someone and have three dogs, a cat, and a son.
Everyone needs that outlet. That something they have control over in this crazy world. We need to feel we are in control of something. And it's best that thing isn't in this reality. Because you can't control this reality. At all. But that alternate reality where you can feels pretty damn good. It also gives me that confidence that I can have a little sanity in the real world as well. I can face reality because of my accomplishments in my alternate reality. In my games, there's immediate satisfaction: I work hard, I gain exp, I level up. I level up, I can beat monsters easier, then go fight harder monsters. Instant gratification. Then maybe I can face the not-so-instant gratification of the real world. Where you work, and work, and work, and all that blood, sweat, and tears seem to go unnoticed. It'll be noticed, somehow. So I gotta work harder in reality for that level up, but so be it.
And sometimes you're missing the level ups when you're so focused on being strong enough to beat the boss. So the boss may be level 50, but don't forget to be happy with level 41, 42, 43 and so on. In broadsword class on saturday, I touched my toes during the leg stretch. I've never been able to touch my toes before. I don't mean bending forward. I mean sitting on the ground, one leg outstretched, and leaning over and grabbing your flexed foot. When my hand grabbed my toe, I wanted to dance (but of course, I was stretching, so I couldn't just stop to do a jig). That little level up, from being unable to finally grabbing by foot, was a huge victory for me. If my goal for my athletic ability is level 50, that was I'd say a level up from 41 to 42. Still worth a celebration.
Every level up is worth a celebration.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Crazy Cleaning
I went cleaning crazy today. I mean I cleaned everything. At first I just wanted to do some laundry, wash my bedsheets to get them nice and fresh, and I was running low on socks and underwear to wear. Then I realized I didn't have much room to maneuver in order to remake my bed because of how messy my room was. Then I was eating pizza with my roommates and I was annoyed by the cup rings on the table. It just escalated to the point were I ache all over and I smell like Clorox, but everything is now shiny and clean.
A lot of things happen this way for me. I go on binges. I'll get involved in an activity and suddenly my entire day has gone and I'm still obsessing over it. I start a video game and I won't stop until I complete the storyline or beat the boss or what have you. A doodle becomes a full-page collage of my innermost feelings. Even last night, all I wanted to do was change my shirt to go to my friend's birthday party, and I ended up spending half an hour deciding on a full-on outfit including hair and make-up. This is all well and good until it comes to some less-than-wholesome activities. I don't just mean alcohol. No, I've felt first hand what happens when I go on an alcohol binge, and I hate it. I'm talking about things like food. Opening a box of cheez-its and suddenly I've eaten the whole box. Or sleep. A ten minute nap becomes two hours.
I guess I have that kind of obsessive personality. Is that a bad thing? I don't think so. I think this quirk about me is what makes me a passionate artist. I love what I do. I love doing it. I throw the whole of my being into things that I enjoy doing. I can't wait to find a job or company where I can do just that- throw myself into it. Work isn't work when you enjoy it like that. But trying to find something I can be passionate about... that's the hard part. I'm not passionate about the search. It can be disheartening to say the least. Sometimes, I just want to give up. To just lay down and say "I'll be a starving artist forever". But then I think about my life without this crazy binge obsession. What kind of life would it be if I couldn't find things that I can obsess over for hours and hours, days and days? Boring. No, I can't ever give up. I'm not a give up kind of person. I see things through 150%.
It's nice to have everything be clean. It's like a fresh start. It makes me feel better. It makes me want to work at my nicely organized desk, sleep my full 8 hours in my freshly laundered bed. And that will give me the drive to find something new to obsess over. Yes, I'd like to get a job. Yes, I'd like to lose some weight. Yes, I'd like to find somewhere to live.
But...
It'd be nice to find a person to be this passionate about.
I was in love once. Obsessively, passionately involved in another person. He was my world. I ate, slept, and breathed for him. I wanted to spend every minute shared with him. When he left me, I felt empty. I felt not myself, because I lost the thing I was binging on before I was ready. I had nothing to obsess over except the ache and the pain.
I want to fall in love again. I feel as if falling in love like that is part of who I am. I need to love, obsessively, passionately love. I love my craft. I love my art. I love theatre. But I want to love someone else, too. Sure, there are lots of people in my life I care about, care very deeply about enough to say I love them. But I want to fall in love that way again. I want to feel like that again.
Or maybe the other way around. I obsess over all kinds of things. I throw my heart at everything. Maybe what I really want is someone to binge on me for a change. To obsess over me, to think of me constantly, to want to share every moment with me. Someone who will see all the wonderful things about me that I sometimes forget. Someone who is happy when I'm happy, comforting when I am sad, strong when I am weak, and trustworthy when I am vulnerable.
This time of life is really difficult. My entire future changes every day. It's chaos and uncertainty. It can really throw you for a loop. If I had someone to share it with, maybe it wouldn't be so scary. Because no matter what happens with my career and life, I'd have them to throw my heart into. I'd have them to obsess over, because I need something to attach my floating heart to, or I'd just drift into the oblivion.
I'm feeling very housewife-y with all the cleaning. The burning smell of clean is making my mind go into a fog. Or maybe the clean is making me feel fresh and new. A new adult. Ready for change. Ready for stability in an unstable world.
A lot of things happen this way for me. I go on binges. I'll get involved in an activity and suddenly my entire day has gone and I'm still obsessing over it. I start a video game and I won't stop until I complete the storyline or beat the boss or what have you. A doodle becomes a full-page collage of my innermost feelings. Even last night, all I wanted to do was change my shirt to go to my friend's birthday party, and I ended up spending half an hour deciding on a full-on outfit including hair and make-up. This is all well and good until it comes to some less-than-wholesome activities. I don't just mean alcohol. No, I've felt first hand what happens when I go on an alcohol binge, and I hate it. I'm talking about things like food. Opening a box of cheez-its and suddenly I've eaten the whole box. Or sleep. A ten minute nap becomes two hours.
I guess I have that kind of obsessive personality. Is that a bad thing? I don't think so. I think this quirk about me is what makes me a passionate artist. I love what I do. I love doing it. I throw the whole of my being into things that I enjoy doing. I can't wait to find a job or company where I can do just that- throw myself into it. Work isn't work when you enjoy it like that. But trying to find something I can be passionate about... that's the hard part. I'm not passionate about the search. It can be disheartening to say the least. Sometimes, I just want to give up. To just lay down and say "I'll be a starving artist forever". But then I think about my life without this crazy binge obsession. What kind of life would it be if I couldn't find things that I can obsess over for hours and hours, days and days? Boring. No, I can't ever give up. I'm not a give up kind of person. I see things through 150%.
It's nice to have everything be clean. It's like a fresh start. It makes me feel better. It makes me want to work at my nicely organized desk, sleep my full 8 hours in my freshly laundered bed. And that will give me the drive to find something new to obsess over. Yes, I'd like to get a job. Yes, I'd like to lose some weight. Yes, I'd like to find somewhere to live.
But...
It'd be nice to find a person to be this passionate about.
I was in love once. Obsessively, passionately involved in another person. He was my world. I ate, slept, and breathed for him. I wanted to spend every minute shared with him. When he left me, I felt empty. I felt not myself, because I lost the thing I was binging on before I was ready. I had nothing to obsess over except the ache and the pain.
I want to fall in love again. I feel as if falling in love like that is part of who I am. I need to love, obsessively, passionately love. I love my craft. I love my art. I love theatre. But I want to love someone else, too. Sure, there are lots of people in my life I care about, care very deeply about enough to say I love them. But I want to fall in love that way again. I want to feel like that again.
Or maybe the other way around. I obsess over all kinds of things. I throw my heart at everything. Maybe what I really want is someone to binge on me for a change. To obsess over me, to think of me constantly, to want to share every moment with me. Someone who will see all the wonderful things about me that I sometimes forget. Someone who is happy when I'm happy, comforting when I am sad, strong when I am weak, and trustworthy when I am vulnerable.
This time of life is really difficult. My entire future changes every day. It's chaos and uncertainty. It can really throw you for a loop. If I had someone to share it with, maybe it wouldn't be so scary. Because no matter what happens with my career and life, I'd have them to throw my heart into. I'd have them to obsess over, because I need something to attach my floating heart to, or I'd just drift into the oblivion.
I'm feeling very housewife-y with all the cleaning. The burning smell of clean is making my mind go into a fog. Or maybe the clean is making me feel fresh and new. A new adult. Ready for change. Ready for stability in an unstable world.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Magic is Might
So I'm in a magic class this semester. We were talking about why magic works. Magic works because people want it to work, people want to believe it, want to be amazed. The pleasure of magic is the suspension of one's understanding of reality.
Life is staring me in the face. I've got a stack of envelopes and applications here, praying a job will accept me before I graduate. It is a weird process to go through. Some days, I'm writing an address on the envelope and wondering what the heck I'm doing, wanting to go back to the days of hanging around with friends, going to parties, the only stress being to get a paper done on time. Other days, I'm walking to class, listening/ watching people act immature and I can't wait to leave school and go be an adult.
Who am I? What am I going to be? What do I want to be? What is actually achievable? Am I too old to believe in big dreams? Should I face the cold hard truth of reality? But, reality sucks. I don't want to grow up. I miss being a little girl, sitting in school and dreaming of the day I see my name in lights. I like the feeling in college, absorbing information in classes catered to my interests and filling me with ideas that this knowledge and this degree will lead me to achieving those dreams.
Then I realized where that feeling comes from. I want to believe that the impossible is achievable. I WANT to believe. I want it to work. I want reality to have a little magic in it. I guess you could call that desire 'hope'. There's that little piece in all of us that wants, no, hopes, that reality isn't as mundane as our rational mind thinks it is. Why would we have such a thing as imagination, if there was no point to it? We have imagination in order to go beyond logic and understanding. We have hopes and dreams so we have a reason to live. We have a desire for magic. And magic is. Magic is our imagination. Imagination is our magic. Without it, life would have no meaning, no drive.
Believing in magic is what gives you strength in the hard times. Believing in magic is what suspends our reality even for just a little while. Believe that Magic is Might. Magic is our might. Our might to conquer the world.
Life is staring me in the face. I've got a stack of envelopes and applications here, praying a job will accept me before I graduate. It is a weird process to go through. Some days, I'm writing an address on the envelope and wondering what the heck I'm doing, wanting to go back to the days of hanging around with friends, going to parties, the only stress being to get a paper done on time. Other days, I'm walking to class, listening/ watching people act immature and I can't wait to leave school and go be an adult.
Who am I? What am I going to be? What do I want to be? What is actually achievable? Am I too old to believe in big dreams? Should I face the cold hard truth of reality? But, reality sucks. I don't want to grow up. I miss being a little girl, sitting in school and dreaming of the day I see my name in lights. I like the feeling in college, absorbing information in classes catered to my interests and filling me with ideas that this knowledge and this degree will lead me to achieving those dreams.
Then I realized where that feeling comes from. I want to believe that the impossible is achievable. I WANT to believe. I want it to work. I want reality to have a little magic in it. I guess you could call that desire 'hope'. There's that little piece in all of us that wants, no, hopes, that reality isn't as mundane as our rational mind thinks it is. Why would we have such a thing as imagination, if there was no point to it? We have imagination in order to go beyond logic and understanding. We have hopes and dreams so we have a reason to live. We have a desire for magic. And magic is. Magic is our imagination. Imagination is our magic. Without it, life would have no meaning, no drive.
Believing in magic is what gives you strength in the hard times. Believing in magic is what suspends our reality even for just a little while. Believe that Magic is Might. Magic is our might. Our might to conquer the world.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Perspective for Panda
This past week, I was away at KCACTF. (You can read more about it here.) I had a good time, it was fun to hang out with other Muhlenberg friends and attend the festival.
What I wanted to talk about was perspective. It is very easy to fall into what we call the "Muhlenberg Bubble". Being a small school, all the theatre majors all know each other and are familiar with each others work. Seeing the hundreds and hundreds of other students, watching their work, seeing them perform, it was a very interesting experience. In a way, it made me very grateful for the training I have received. I don't want to sound pretentious, saying that Muhlenberg is better than anywhere else, but I am definitely proud of what I have learned, proud to be a Berg student. It was enlightening to be able to have discussions about other student's work, to dissect and analyze performances in an intellectual way. In a way, it was like my training was put to the test in a semi-real-world setting. At least, an outside the Muhlenberg bubble setting. To be able to recognize the techniques I have been learning in people other than those I've been watching for these past four years solidified my training.
Sometimes our discussions did get a little pretentious. I try very hard not to say negative things about others, for I am very frightened of what others may be saying about me, and karma is a bitch. So I did a great deal of listening. I go through the world like a sponge- I absorb everything that happens around me, and file it away in my mental filing cabinet for later use. Meal times were an interesting affair, as people raved about one actor or another, complained about this choice or that, and munched on their food.
Usually these pretentious ramblings would turn to fun and frivolity before long. Berg Bubble Syndrome doesn't last long outside of campus. Conversation about an actor would suddenly turn to a comparison of actors, to students, to some other topic far from the original. The mind is an amazing thing when paired with several others- the line of thought can be hard to follow as each person struggles to be heard. This is why I listen more than participate. I follow these lines in their twists and turns. I see new connections I would not otherwise make on my own. I see things from the outside. A new perspective.
I'd like to think I'm ready for this scary real-world. I can see now that I have received very top-notch training, I am good at what I do, and I am beginning to grow beyond what I see around me. Sometimes getting away from your surroundings can really make you see how you fit in the rest of the world.
The new semester starts on tuesday. I'm looking forward to it. Bring on second semester senior year, I'm ready to get ready for the world.
What I wanted to talk about was perspective. It is very easy to fall into what we call the "Muhlenberg Bubble". Being a small school, all the theatre majors all know each other and are familiar with each others work. Seeing the hundreds and hundreds of other students, watching their work, seeing them perform, it was a very interesting experience. In a way, it made me very grateful for the training I have received. I don't want to sound pretentious, saying that Muhlenberg is better than anywhere else, but I am definitely proud of what I have learned, proud to be a Berg student. It was enlightening to be able to have discussions about other student's work, to dissect and analyze performances in an intellectual way. In a way, it was like my training was put to the test in a semi-real-world setting. At least, an outside the Muhlenberg bubble setting. To be able to recognize the techniques I have been learning in people other than those I've been watching for these past four years solidified my training.
Sometimes our discussions did get a little pretentious. I try very hard not to say negative things about others, for I am very frightened of what others may be saying about me, and karma is a bitch. So I did a great deal of listening. I go through the world like a sponge- I absorb everything that happens around me, and file it away in my mental filing cabinet for later use. Meal times were an interesting affair, as people raved about one actor or another, complained about this choice or that, and munched on their food.
Usually these pretentious ramblings would turn to fun and frivolity before long. Berg Bubble Syndrome doesn't last long outside of campus. Conversation about an actor would suddenly turn to a comparison of actors, to students, to some other topic far from the original. The mind is an amazing thing when paired with several others- the line of thought can be hard to follow as each person struggles to be heard. This is why I listen more than participate. I follow these lines in their twists and turns. I see new connections I would not otherwise make on my own. I see things from the outside. A new perspective.
I'd like to think I'm ready for this scary real-world. I can see now that I have received very top-notch training, I am good at what I do, and I am beginning to grow beyond what I see around me. Sometimes getting away from your surroundings can really make you see how you fit in the rest of the world.
The new semester starts on tuesday. I'm looking forward to it. Bring on second semester senior year, I'm ready to get ready for the world.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
It Started with Soup
Yesterday, I went out to a light dinner with a friend of mine. Her back-and-forth lifestyle from London to here meant I rarely got to have this sort of face-to-face conversation, and it was nice to actually sit at the same table with her in the same time zone in the same country.
We decided to meet at Panera. I don't know why, maybe I'm just too much of a chicken, but I always get the same exact thing every time. The tomato soup in a bread bowl. It's tasty as all get out, warms you right up on a chilly day, and you can eat the bowl! Okay, no one else ever does, but I do. I don't care what kind of funny looks I get, that sourdough soaked in soup is damn tasty. As I munched and she sipped her green tea, we caught up with this and that. I felt a little awkward, tiny little me tearing chunks out of a bread bowl like a wolf tearing from its kill while tall and gorgeous her sat there sipping gently, ruby lips pursed over her straw. Whatever. Who cares really what other Panera people think of me anyway?
She told me she wanted to dine with me as an escape from her research and paper writing. I admit to being fascinated by her work, but didn't want to press the issue when she was seeking an escape from it. So I told her about my life: my senior year, my brother's wedding, what my family has been up to. The usual stuff. While her life is brimming with interesting insights and posh London lifestyle, I'm in that bleak period of life no one ever really talks about.
The Ramen Noodle Life.
I'm about to enter my last semester of senior year. What the bloody hell am I doing with my life? Where am I going to go? How in blazes can I find a job? An apartment? My skimpy bank account plus tons of student loans makes me feel as if I'm drowning in a sea of unknown futures. In college, they fill your head with dreams of success, of working hard for the big payoff later on, of opportunities and possibilities waiting for you. You hear success stories about alumni, where they are now and the glamorous and happy lives they are living. No one ever talks about this part of life. The living with mom and dad for a year flipping burgers life. The I spent $40k a year for this piece of sheepskin life. The what the hell am I doing life. The ramen noodles for every meal because my minimum wage job barely pays for rent life.
So damnit, here it is. From the horse's mouth, a blog about this dark period of life no one wants to talk about. Well I want to talk about it. No one wants to remember this part of life. Just because you don't like it that doesn't mean it isn't there. I'll rant and rave about every step of this journey until I reach that vague understanding of success. Whatever that means. A job? A nice house? A family? Who knows.
That's just it. Who knows? No one does. So here shall be my journey of trying to figure that out.
We decided to meet at Panera. I don't know why, maybe I'm just too much of a chicken, but I always get the same exact thing every time. The tomato soup in a bread bowl. It's tasty as all get out, warms you right up on a chilly day, and you can eat the bowl! Okay, no one else ever does, but I do. I don't care what kind of funny looks I get, that sourdough soaked in soup is damn tasty. As I munched and she sipped her green tea, we caught up with this and that. I felt a little awkward, tiny little me tearing chunks out of a bread bowl like a wolf tearing from its kill while tall and gorgeous her sat there sipping gently, ruby lips pursed over her straw. Whatever. Who cares really what other Panera people think of me anyway?
She told me she wanted to dine with me as an escape from her research and paper writing. I admit to being fascinated by her work, but didn't want to press the issue when she was seeking an escape from it. So I told her about my life: my senior year, my brother's wedding, what my family has been up to. The usual stuff. While her life is brimming with interesting insights and posh London lifestyle, I'm in that bleak period of life no one ever really talks about.
The Ramen Noodle Life.
I'm about to enter my last semester of senior year. What the bloody hell am I doing with my life? Where am I going to go? How in blazes can I find a job? An apartment? My skimpy bank account plus tons of student loans makes me feel as if I'm drowning in a sea of unknown futures. In college, they fill your head with dreams of success, of working hard for the big payoff later on, of opportunities and possibilities waiting for you. You hear success stories about alumni, where they are now and the glamorous and happy lives they are living. No one ever talks about this part of life. The living with mom and dad for a year flipping burgers life. The I spent $40k a year for this piece of sheepskin life. The what the hell am I doing life. The ramen noodles for every meal because my minimum wage job barely pays for rent life.
So damnit, here it is. From the horse's mouth, a blog about this dark period of life no one wants to talk about. Well I want to talk about it. No one wants to remember this part of life. Just because you don't like it that doesn't mean it isn't there. I'll rant and rave about every step of this journey until I reach that vague understanding of success. Whatever that means. A job? A nice house? A family? Who knows.
That's just it. Who knows? No one does. So here shall be my journey of trying to figure that out.
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