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.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
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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