Woes in a Hurricane

Everything negative is raining down on me at once, and I'm drowning in the flood.

I need to vent, so I'll do it in list format.

- The Filmmaker dumped me. (SIDE NOTE: I am now rehearsing a play called "The Filmmaker's Mystery". And God is giggling.)
- The Filmmaker called me, post-dumping me, to verbally abuse me. And, because I have a history of abuse and always fall back into the spot of being the victim despite how many times I reassure myself that I'm never going to let it happen again, I let him attack me. I let him. I thought it was me doing something nice for him. I LET IT HAPPEN. Which just makes it MY fault, and makes me feel even worse. - My brother had swine flu. (He's fine now, but it's just one more thing on the list of badness).
- I got bad casting for my season. Which I'm actually okay with... But I'm not okay with not knowing WHY. My auditions and callbacks went well. I've had nothing but positive feedback. Did they plan the season and forget about me? Did I do something to offend someone? What went wrong?
- The thing that my professors wanted me to work on above all else this year? Confidence. (Yeah, really easy to do that when you show so much faith in me).
- My 1st-year acting professor said that he hasn't seen "me" in any of the work he's seen me do this year, and implied that I'd forgotten everything I learned last year in his class, and that he's disappointed in me.
- A classmate of mine who got good casting (actually, unfairly good) insensitively said to me (TO ME!), "Not everyone deserves a lead." (And THIS is the kind of person who is getting REWARDED??? I wrote a very angry poem to her and was going to perform it at an open mic night, but then my roommates said that I shouldn't because it was too harsh and everyone from my school would know who I was talking about.)
- Same classmate tried to tell me today that she thinks ADHD is misdiagnosed in children, and that I should really just add more protein to my diet. WHY DO PEOPLE TRY TO INVALIDATE MY F***ING DISORDER??? I was NOT misdiagnosed! I wasn't even diagnosed as a CHILD! I wasn't medicated until I was 18 YEARS OLD. WHO THE F*** ARE YOU TO TELL ME HOW MY BRAIN WORKS???
- The only guy who has shown any interest in me since my break-up? A pothead who was in the army for 8 years (Why do I attract military men?) who has worse social anxiety than I do. No thank you.
- I overdrafted my checking account twice last week.
- My car insurance company took away one of my discounts because my paperwork didn't go through properly and now says I owe them an additional $60.
- My beloved laptop (and best friend -- and I mean that in a non-ironic way) Lady MacBook died yesterday. I got her on October 3rd, 2006, and I was told I had 3 years worth of AppleCare coverage... but for some reason, Apple says that it expired on September 27th. They think the hard drive is gone, and apparently I have a "warped battery". And if everything that they think is wrong ends up actually being wrong, then I don't have the money to fix her.
- I keep having blindingly bad pain in my stomach, and no one can tell me WHY. Today, it was so bad that I think I literally BLACKED OUT from pain in the middle of class. When it started to subside, I was shaking, light-headed, and tears were streaming down my face, and four of my classmates had their hands on me, trying to help or calm me down or something. I JUST WANT IT TO GO AWAY!!! Or, at the very least, I WANT TO KNOW WHY IT'S HAPPENING!!!

I think that's a pretty solid list of BAD STUFF ALL HAPPENING AT ONCE.

And there are more things. Some that seem lesser. Like the fact that the karaoke bar I used to go to now has new people running the karaoke, who arrange their (terrible) collection BY SONG TITLE instead of by artist.

Or that the classmate that I used to go out dancing/karaoke-ing with on Sunday nights has now picked up a Sunday night shift working as a bartender, so I haven't been able to do the things that make me forget a bad week (and I can't go alone because of my social anxiety).

Or that I had such great plans for my Golden 25th birthday next month (wear a gold dress and karaoke to "What's Up" by 4 Non-Blondes because of the line "25 years and my life is still/trying to get up that great big hill of hope/towards a destination", and also a Katy Perry song since she and I have the same birthday in the same year), but they all have to be cancelled because my birthday falls on tech weekend for the play I'm in... Which means both the day before my birthday and my birthday itself, I will be in rehearsals from noon to midnight. And I can't throw a party post-midnight, because my roommate has to sleep before her matinee at 10:30am the next morning.

It all just sucks.

I've started going to church regularly. I keep praying that things will suddenly get better. But I just feel so unsatisfied by life right now.

I like to think that everything happens for a reason, but right now, it's really hard to see the reasons.

Please, if you have any compliments for me, I'd like to fish for them right now. I could use some.

~A~

Even Keel

1. I've been placed on Vocal Rest again. No talking for me. It blows. So do my sore throat and cough.
2. The Engineer was a my date to the opening of Winter's Tale, and he was pretty charming. He's taking me out on Tuesday. We'll see what happens.
3. Moby is a dead end.
4. Remember Guy #4, the one who only flirts with me when no competition is around? I've been around him under those conditions a few times recently. I think he asked me out. Of course, I'm sick and voiceless at the moment, so I canceled... But one of these days, I'll probably have to give him some sort of blog-code-name.


Anyway. Aside from illness, I'm doing pretty well at the moment. Classes are challenging, but I enjoy them.

I'm terrified about my understudy stuff, but I'm sure I'll be able to fake it if I have to go on. Honestly, if I end up paraphrasing a little Shakespeare, how many people in the audience are ACTUALLY going to know? If I say "thou" where it's supposed to be "you", or "succeeds" instead of "persuades"... Yes, I'LL know (and will feel like an idiot in retrospect), but I don't think anyone will ask for their money back.

I've adjusted to my ADHD meds. I am, for the most part, back to normal. I'm definitely an improved version of myself. Of course, the person I am without the meds is so deeply ingrained in the minds of everyone around that I doubt they notice the changes (except for the people I've told, that is). But that's fine. It's not about them.

I'm pretty stable at the moment, which is not something that can be said about all of my classmates. I'm very fortunate in that.

Yes, I may have had a night last week when I freaked out, realized that I am a generic white girl who will struggle even booking auditions, and wondered if I should leave this profession.

Yes, I may have removed some already published blog posts in a paranoid fit that people down here might read them (even though I'd already been pretty careful about what I'd written).

Yes, I may have had to take a day recently where I cried hysterically, vented incoherently in the general direction of my roommate, ate inexcusable amounts of junk food, and watched about 5 reruns of The Office (which may or may not have been boy-problem-induced).

But you know what? At least I know how to handle my issues. I know what I need to do to make myself feel better. I know when I have to take time for me, in order to save my sanity. And thus far, I have not had any freak-out session last more than about 4 hours.


May you know how to stay balanced.

~A~

Refocusing

(Me and my roommate at the opening of her show, Inventing Van Gogh. It was Day #2 of the meds. 01/10/09)

I talked to CCM a couple of days ago. Things no longer feel strange between us. I'm grateful for that. It even seemed fine when I introduced him to The Engineer last week (man, it's been a long time since I blogged about what's going on with males in my life, hasn't it?). We're only fringe friends, but it's enough.

CCM has needed glasses for a long time. He tried them once, years ago, but was bothered by how sharp everything looked. He stopped wearing them because he thought the world was prettier when it was blurry. Last week, he finally got a new pair of glasses (probably because he REALLY needed them to drive in the dark... being a passenger in his car was a little scary). He's getting headaches because the muscles in his eyes haven't adjusted yet. And he as a person hasn't adjusted either. He's still getting used to the idea of everything being in focus. It's going to take him some time before his prescription is part of what he thinks of as "normal."

I, too, am adjusting to a prescription that I had been doing alright without. I, too, am adapting to a sharper focus. And I, too, am having a hard time feeling normal. But for me, there are no new lenses in front of my eyes; the changes are happening in my brain. I know it's good for me. I know it's better than where I was without this prescription. But that doesn't make the switch easy.

The hardest part about this particular transition into medication is feeling alone.

I told both of my roommates the day I went on the meds. They're incredibly supportive and great to talk to, but we have different schedules, so I never know when or if I'm going to see them to talk things out. I notified my Voice professor and Acting professor (and I'm sure they'll let my other professors know). But that's not exactly a huge support system.

Hiding it from my classmates is complicated. I truly believe that not telling them is the right decision (as I mentioned in Jagged Little Transition). But as a result, they all think I'm nuts.

We've been having a Ballroom Dance workshop instead of our normal Movement class for the first couple of weeks of classes, and it has been hard on me. We keep drilling the guys' parts of the dances by ourselves. Then when we're tossed into pairs, the girls are expected to figure out our own parts on the spot (everything is reversed or the order is different). And normally, that wouldn't be all that difficult for me. But right now? My brain has no idea how to process it. Especially because we keep changing direction. Practicing it one way and then doing it another results in me having no idea where I'm going.

You know, if you told me on a normal day, "You have to go clockwise now because four steps ago it was counter-clockwise", that would make sense. But right now? Sorry, but I have no idea what I did four steps ago. My memory is completely shot. If you told me on a normal day, "You step between his feet here," I might normally assume that in the next beat he steps between mine. But now? I take that to mean that I ALWAYS step between his feet, which results in knotted legs and bruised toes. I don't know if I'm going forward, backward, left, or right. And since the guys in my class aren't exactly pros, I can't blindly trust my partner's ability to lead.

When I didn't understand things, our instructor looked at me like I was an idiot. And when I became frustrated and was fighting back tears (I'm an emotional person in general, but it's been particularly tricky to keep under control this week), I saw my classmates judging it as, "There goes Angela, overreacting again."

I wanted to scream and cry and kick and stomp and go off into a tantrum like a 3-year-old. THIS ISN'T MY FAULT! I'M NOT CRAZY! I'M NOT STUPID! I'M NOT A BAD DANCER! AND I AM NOT PATHETIC FOR WANTING TO CRY RIGHT NOW!

But they don't know that I'm dealing with things that I'm not telling them about. And if I even alluded to that, they'd say, "Leave your emotions at home, Angela. Be a professional." And normally, they'd be right. But I cannot do that right now. Literally. Cannot. It's not a matter of will; it's a matter of physical ability.

I haven't really been eating, which I'm sure isn't helping my stress level. I had breakfast on Thursday, but that was all. I had breakfast on Friday, and then forced myself to eat a little at lunch because I knew it would be a long day. Saturday I skipped breakfast, so I decided I should eat a real meal at lunch. I looked at the food, but I just didn't want to eat it. I ended up eating it in three sittings over the course of about four hours. And then around 10pm I ate some Tostitos with Ranch Veggie Dip and called it dinner. Today I had a granola bar for breakfast and a 6-inch turkey sub for lunch, so I think things are improving.

My understudy rehearsals for The Imaginary Invalid have been this weekend, which is probably the worst time for them to happen. Brain power and memory are vital, and mine seem to be on vacation in the tropics. The Assistant Director is running rehearsals. She gave me a note on a step in the choreography that I normally get right, but did backwards for some reason (I blame Ballroom for getting me in the habit of reversing everything). When we re-ran the song, I did it wrong AGAIN, and was frustrated by my own inability to do such a simple thing. I was clearly upset, but then had the sense to take note of my own reaction and made a special attempt to not become exasperated for the rest of rehearsal.

I informed the Ballroom instructor and my Assistant Director about the meds after the fact. I wasn't planning to, but I needed them to know. Maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Maybe that's whiny or something. But I was upset. I needed them to know I wasn't crazy. And I wanted them to give me a little slack, as I'm not getting any from my peers (and for good reason).

I was feeling so alienated and upset yesterday that I actually called Moby to tell him about everything. I don't know him particularly well, but I just had this feeling that he was someone who would listen and wouldn't judge me. He was sweet and helpful, and did a decent job of calming me down. He told me that I have to cut MYSELF some slack. Yes, I'm going to be off for a few days. I need to acknowledge and accept that, and not freak out over it. I think he's right.

Let's see... Roommates. Voice Professor. Acting Professor. Assistant Director. Ballroom Instructor. Moby. We're up to seven people who know (eight, if that one 2nd-year is still reading this blog). The way things work around here, that means there's a good chance that every single person in my grad school world will know in about, oh, half an hour. Fan-freaking-tastic. Oh well. I stand by my decisions to tell the people I told, and I'm just going to hope that they're better secret-keepers than I give them credit for.

Today is Day #4. Things are getting better, but they're still not perfect. I did notice today when I was having a conversation with Two-Shots-Up just how much easier focusing is. I didn't have to continually remind myself that I was in a conversation. I didn't have to fight as hard to stop myself from zoning out, changing topics, or interrupting. And it was... nice. It reminded me why I'm doing this. There is a benefit. This is a good decision. I just need to give it time.


May you cut yourself a little slack.

~A~


P.S. Do you think my posts are "sincere", "encouraging" and "inspirational"? If you are a member of 20-Something Bloggers, don't forget to vote for me at the Bootleg Awards. VOTING HERE

Jagged Little Transition

(Me on New Year's Eve)

I'm writing this at 11:30pm. I haven't eaten anything since 8:00am. And I'm not hungry.

Let's call that a side effect.

You see, today I did something that I thought I would never have to do again: I went back on medication for my ADHD.

I haven't been on meds since around May of 2007. I stopped taking them for multiple reasons. And as I was no longer in school, I didn't think I needed them (having a job is way different than being a student, and I could handle my workload without being medicated). And if I have the option of whether or not to introduce foreign chemicals into my body on a daily basis, I'd rather not.

Being unmedicated has its pros and cons, like everything else in life. One of the big pluses is that it's cheaper, plain and simple. I feel more like me. I have an appetite. I can drink alcohol without thinking about it (not that I take advantage of that very often, but it's nice to have the option). And frankly, I think I'm a better actor, as it makes me more impulsive. It also gives me more access to my vulnerability, and I can easily tap into my emotions.

Probably the biggest argument on the "con" side is where I'm left socially by being off meds. In my natural state, I am an acquired taste. There are a lot of things that I do that other people have a difficult time handling. I fidget constantly. I accidentally zone out mid-conversation. I make statements that seemingly come out of no where (because my thought process is quick and erratic, so things that make perfect sequential sense in my brain don't have clear connections for others). And I have a nasty habit of interrupting people (which I do my best to control), because I see nothing wrong with both of us talking simultaneously (somehow I can process both conversations at the same time... it took me YEARS to realize that other people cannot).

The social issues I faced in the beginning of my school year here made going back on meds a major temptation. I wanted to fit in. I wanted to be liked. I wanted to stop feeling like a freak. But I also realized that I'm here to be an actor, not to make friends. And I knew that going on meds might have an adverse effect on my ability to do that.

In the middle of October, I realized that I'm not just an actor, but also a student. Yes, it hurts the actor a little to be on meds, but it helps the student tremendously.

I actually went off my meds for a semester of undergrad, just to see if I could. And I did. I was in three shows that semester, while taking a full course load, and I still made the Dean's List. I was incredibly proud of that. And I have NEVER worked so hard in my life as I did that semester.

It occurred to me that ADHD puts me at a significant disadvantage as a student. Taking medication for it isn't cheating, nor is it giving up. And it isn't lazy either. All medication does is put me on an equal playing ground to everybody else. And by not taking meds, I was doing myself a disservice. Because if I accomplished all that I did that semester without the benefits of medication, just imagine what I could do with them. So I went back on meds for my senior year, and those last two semesters I ended up with the highest grades of my college career.

After a long conversation with one of my roommates about the pros and cons in the first week of November, I decided to make an appointment. And due to my doctor having to cancel my appointment (death in the family), I didn't meet with her until this week.

My doctor put me on a prescription for the same drug I was on in undergrad, but half the amount. She referred to it as a "mild adult dosage", which she thought was a good idea considering how "tiny" I am (which is funny, because I weighed 20 pounds less when I had the last prescription).

I know from experience that it takes about three days for my system to acclimate itself to whatever new medication I'm giving it. And those three days are always a rollercoaster. One time I actually forgot my own birthday, was unable to read properly, and started making violent threats against people. I was yanked off of that drug after I had a four-hour emotional breakdown over absolutely nothing (NOTE: that drug is now one of the most commonly prescribed drugs for ADHD. It was given to me after it had just hit the market. Turns out, I'm in the .3% of people who has a bad reaction to it.) Usually, it's not that bad, but I don't know how it's going to change me. I might be moodier. I might be funnier. Flirtier. Sleepier. Dirtier. Sometimes I get headaches. Sometimes I laugh or cry without warning. Sometimes the sight of food makes me want to throw up.

So today was day #1, which happened to coincide with my first day back to classes (something that I had originally intended to avoid by scheduling my appointment mid-break). I snapped at one of my classmates when she was trying to joke with me. I cried hysterically when I was driving home from school (insane, vocalizing kind of crying, as though I'd just been told someone had died). And then I had a spastic laughing fit over NOTHING (luckily, I was home and there were no witnesses). So I guess we're in mood swing territory this time.

I had memory problems. I kept unlocking my locker, only to lock it again without taking anything out. I went on an errand, but left everything I needed at school, and had to go back. That was frustrating.

I've also been incredibly jittery. Not fidgety, but shaky. My teeth have been chattering and my body shaking even though I'm not cold.

And, as I mentioned, I've lost my appetite. I keep trying to convince myself to eat something (as the lack of food is probably part of the reason that I'm shaky), looking at food, and then feeling disgusted by the thought of it and walking away.

This is a symptom that I'm very familiar with. I remember once when I was going back on meds, I couldn't look at food for about 48 hours. At that point, I tried to eat a breadstick, and my body physically would not (could not?) swallow it. It wasn't until I was shaking quite badly and I knew I was about to pass out that I got some Doritos out of a vending machine and started breaking them up into small pieces and swallowing them with water as though they were antibiotics. Another time, I hadn't eaten in about a day and a half, and my mother convinced me to at least have a milkshake from McDonald's so that I'd have some calories in my system. But that load of sugar was such a shock to my system that my heart went into some really scary arrhythmia.

I just convinced myself to have a glass of light chocolate soy milk. It has 19 grams of sugar, so I'll probably have to force down some form of solid food before I go to bed in order to balance things out. No weird heart palpitations so far, though.

I know it probably sounds awful (it isn't a picnic), but I'm willing to go through a few days of unpleasantness. It's worth it. It's like so many other things in life. You have to go through the bad things to get to the good ones. In a couple of days, I'll be back to my old self again; a slightly more functional version of myself, but still me.

The hardest part of this transition is that it's a secret. I've decided not to tell my schoolmates (with the exception of my roommates) that I'm going on meds. Because I don't want there to be an expectation that I'm suddenly going to be easier to handle. Because I don't want my stranger moments to get responses of, "Are you SURE you took your meds today?" (one of the most hurtful comments that a person taking meds can hear). Because it's none of their business. And mostly because I'm not doing it for them; I'm doing it for me.



May you know what it takes to be who you need to be.
May you know whether the pros are outweighing the cons.
May you be willing to deal with the bad to get to the good.
And if you're going to change, may you do it for the right reasons.

~A~



P.S. I have been nominated for 2 (TWO!!!) Bootleg Awards at 20-Something Bloggers. My nominations were for "Most Sincere" and "Most Encouraging/Inspirational". If you are a member of 20-Something Bloggers, don't forget to vote. For me, that is. VOTING HERE

Compromised

This is no longer the safe space for me that it once was.

Actually, it hasn't been for awhile. I just didn't know that.

I don't know who's reading; I just know that they're in my city, and it seems from my StatCounter that my blog address is being passed around.

And I do know someone else who's reading. He admitted it freely. He showed up once, and it didn't even register as a threat. But RSS feeds are sneaky things, and in a blink, he became a regular reader without me knowing it.

Actually, I don't mind so much about him (although it's so strange to me that he knows more about me than anyone else down here, as I've barely talked with him). I'm more bothered by the possibility that he's not the only one.

I feel like my security has been compromised. But can you really have privacy when you put your life onto the internet?

I've been dealing with so many things, and so afraid to write them here for fear of who might read them. But they just keep piling up, and there are so few people here that I'm willing to discuss them with.


I'll give you the short versions:

- I got into an argument with a classmate during our group therapy (my whole class has therapy together once every two weeks to work out our problems... it is NOT frequently enough). I mentioned that I think he's racist against me, and he responded by saying that I'm a "stereotypical white girl who can't dance". (Ouch.) He also then spent a fair amount of time saying that I'm not "real" and he doesn't understand me. Some members of my class seemed to silently agree. I realized that I'm the resident alien of my class. I'm the freak. I'm the one that no one understands. And I felt so hurt and upset. And so very, very lonely.

- I met with my acting professor a week ago Friday. He thinks that my heart isn't in the work, that I'm not working hard enough outside of class, and that I don't trust myself enough. You have no idea how hard that was to hear. I put my heart into everything I do, especially theatre. And I have been working. The trust thing is true, but I'm working on it.

- My entire class got yelled at because of our lack of a sense of ensemble. We can't do anything together. And I resent some of my classmates. When I got here, being part of an ensemble was in my given circumstances. I just accepted that we were one. We were going to work with each other through thick and thin for the next three years. But not all my classmates felt that way. Some of them are still questioning whether they're going to stick it out for the three years. And I gave up.

- That night (after the bad meeting AND the ensemble speech), I was at a bar with a group of about 20 people, and I was being ignored by all of them. We crossed the mark of midnight, so it was technically my birthday. At one point they sang Happy Birthday to me, but CCM was flirting with a random girl and barely looked up. When I tried to join in on conversations, I apparently chose the wrong ones where people were discussing serious things, and people gave me dirty looks and brushed me off. (In my defense, I was intoxicated, lonely, had a painful day, and it was my f***ing birthday.) I ended up sitting by myself in the corner crying.

- On my birthday, I decided to have a gathering in my own honor. I bought a bunch of alcohol, mixers, and food, and told people to come at 9:00. So it was a little upsetting that no one was there at 9:00. Or by 9:30. Or by 10:00. Or by 10:15. I felt so lonely and unwanted. I knew that my roommates would be home around 11:00, so I took some comfort in that. My first guest showed up at 10:20, and then more came after that. It ended up being a fun night (you may have seen this video), but it was a rough start.

- I went to a Halloween party last Sunday. One of my (drunk and high) classmates spent HOURS attacking me, saying I was a weak link in the class, that I was bringing too many of my personal problems into the ensemble, and that I wasn't working hard enough for the good of the group. He said I cry too much, and it's pathetic and he thinks I'm a whiny attention-whore. He laid into me, shouting all the things he thinks I'm doing wrong, and I just sat there crying. I was too drunk to know how to get out of the situation. A few of our other classmates tried to break it up, but were unsuccessful. At one point, he got physically violent, and threw me into a sliding glass door. Somehow we ended up leaving the party and going to another classmate's apartment to finish the discussion. Which was so stupid and I should've just left, but in my intoxicated state, I didn't want to leave with things unresolved. It was unbearable.

- This entire week, I have sucked as an actor. It's been horrible. I completely lost all the courage I had because of that classmate. My acting professor called me out on it. I went up to him during our 10-minute break and told him that I had broken because a classmate had criticized my work. He told me that I have everything that I need to become a great actor, except the self-confidence to bounce back from things like that. I told him I'd work on it.

- A 2nd-year wrote a long, venting, angry blog post about how angry she is with my class not being supportive enough of them. She then specifically quoted something that I wrote in my Grad School Blog as an example, and turned it into a "How dare you" prompt. What I wrote was something that I wrote with good intentions, and I felt terribly about making her so upset. I thought I HAD been being supportive. I've loved the work that class has done. I bawled my eyes out during the show that she felt I criticized. And now I feel like a horrible person. I called her and apologized (somewhat emotionally), and we talked it out for awhile. I think it ended on a positive note, but I'm still carrying around a lot of guilt.

- I went to another Halloween party on Friday night. The short version of that? I stuck around for a long time to give CCM a ride home, but then he ended up hooking up with the host and staying over there. Let's just say that it didn't improve my insufficient self-esteem. Of course, that didn't stop him from flirting with me yesterday as though nothing had changed. Maybe he's the kind of guy who always keeps his eyes open, looking for better prospects. Whatever.

- I've been in tech rehearsals for the last several days for a show that the 2nd-years are doing. I'm typing this on my dinner break. I'm on stage crew, but I'm also helping costume crew with some fast changes. There's surprisingly little for me to do, which makes the tech process even more exhausting.

- I'm considering going back on my medication for ADHD. I've been off of it for a year and a half. Going on the drugs makes me a better student (I can write papers like nobody's business), but a worse actor (I get stuck in my head and can't tap into my vulnerability). In the past, they've also screwed up my sleeping habits and my appetite. I think it might help me socially, but I feel like I'm compromising who I am if I'm using them to make people like me (shouldn't they accept me for who I am, regardless?). I asked my voice professor for a recommendation of a doctor, but I haven't gotten brave enough to make an appointment.


So there you are. That's why I haven't been giving real posts. I'm so stressed, so emotional, and so... broken. I don't feel good enough as a romantic interest, as an actor, or as a person. I'm trying to keep my problems out of the classroom, but in order to do that I feel like I need to hide them from my classmates in general.

All-The-Way has been a really great friend and listener. She's probably my closest friend down here, but I'm in perpetual fear that she's only my friend because my freakishness amuses her. I don't trust her enough to tell her everything. Heck, I haven't even written everything here. There are some issues that I can't discuss here anymore. And there are details of some of the other issues that shouldn't be put on the internet. And there are some things that I don't want to discuss.

I was hesitant to tell anyone about considering medication (you have no idea how painful it becomes when people relate your good days and bad days to drugs, and make accusations of "did you forget your medication?". It gives them power over me that I don't want them to have.). I told Iceman last night, and he was so caring and loving in his responses.

It would be easier if I had friends down here who weren't in the program, but there's no good way to get them. These are the people I'm perpetually surrounded by, for better or for worse. I tried to become one of them, but it never seemed to really take hold in the way I wanted it to.

I have to stop. I have another rehearsal from 7pm to midnight.

But my life isn't all misery. I'll leave you with pictures of my sensational Halloween costumes.

(Me as a Freudian slip. The top ones say "Please pass the boobs... I mean mustard." The others include a drawing of Freud, several Freud quotes, and phrases like, "What are you suppressing?")


(Me with D-Train, who went as James Dean)


(Me as a Jackson Pollack Painting. I made the dress myself over a few weeks. The white tag said something like "Pollack, Jackson; #55, Tulip paint on cotton; Ringling Museum; Anonymous Donation". My hair and makeup became extensions of the art)


May you learn to compromise.

~A~

Disorientation

(Me, "Disco", with my classmate, "Two Shots Up", who was trying to hide her hair with my skirt for some reason.)

I just wrote about this on my new blog, but whatever. I'm writing about it here, too. Why? Because I'm just that geeked.

So much information was thrown at me today that my head is spinning a little. I think they should call it Disorientation. It'd be more appropriate.

Today was the All-Student portion of Orientation. The head of the program is a lovely man named Greg. He said that every year, they watch 1200-1500 auditions, and that we are an "incredibly select group of people". I'd like to remind you that my class is 12 people. TWELVE. And the two classes ahead of mine? TEN people, each. 32 people in my entire program, out of like 4000 who have auditioned in the last 3 years. That's NUTS. I can't even wrap my brain around it. Dude, we're AWESOME. You have no idea how fantastic that made me feel. So... VALIDATED.

He looked at us and said, "You guys are the future of the American Theatre -- it's all in this room."

And maybe it's crazy, but I believe him.

I've been elected as one of two representatives for my class (which was really just because I expressed interest in doing it, and most people looked to the floor). Feels just like student council (I was the secretary in middle school, FYI).

I also had a really tremendous revelation...

I know why things happened the way they did with Tony n' Tina's Wedding. I KNOW why I spent all that time learning a character and never went up. I know why I was in a show where I was basically crew.

It was to prepare me for this.

I'm going to be getting understudy assignments for the mainstage, which is a professional, Equity theatre (Equity = the union for actors). There are only three (3!) understudy rehearsals for each show. You have to learn your part by memorizing the script, watching a video of the blocking, and attending as many rehearsals as you can make it to (which isn't many, since you're spending so much time in classes). You might not get to go on at all. And if you do get to go on, you might only get 20 minutes notice. And some students don't take preparation as seriously as they should because they don't think they'll have to go on, and then THEY DO.

TnT worked in a similar fashion. I showed up my first day, and was in the show the same night. I learned the role of Sister Terry by reading a script and watching performances. I never got to rehearse. And I never knew if I was going to go on or not. That was just built in to the process. Even after I knew I wasn't going to be Sister Terry, I still dyed my hair, continued to go over her blocking in my head, and studied her backstory JUST IN CASE there was a chance that I could go on. And no, I never got to be Sister Terry, but I was ready. And you know what? I learned a lot just from preparing for the role.

The 1st year class is also responsible to help with the technical side of the 2nd years' productions (they basically get their own season in their own theatre). I might be Assistant Stage Managing, running crew, costume crew, light board operator... Who knows.

Apparently, a lot of first years are completely worn out by having to go from classes to crew work. And they're not used to the lack of weekends. And they're frustrated by not being able to perform.

But I won't be! I went from my day-job to TnT several days a week. I know I can handle that schedule. I know that I can deal with doing crew instead of performing. And I haven't had a real weekend since April!

Thanks to the experiences I've had in the last few months, I'm more than ready to handle this. Heck, I'm BUILT for this! I've TRAINED for this! I am the Olympic-freakin-CHAMPION of this!

At one point, we were getting some speeches about being serious in our classwork, and I started getting nervous.

And then I wrote this in my notebook: "Angela, calm down."

Why? Because I forget that I was a good student.

I wasn't always... High school was hard for me before I was diagnosed with ADHD. But as soon as I was diagnosed and medicated? I became a straight-A student for the first time in my life. My first couple of years of college weren't easy, but that probably has to do with the fact that I changed majors about 18 times. My last three semesters, I was a Theatre major (and ONLY a theatre major, having dropped my other majors and minors). And you know what happened? I made Dean's List all three semesters.

I love theatre. I'm good at theatre. And when I'm studying something I love? It doesn't really seem like studying at all. I know that I can rock it

I'm not afraid. Bring it on, baby.


May you know that you can handle whatever life throws at you.

~A~

NYC & NYE

ETA: Please go vote for my list on To-Do List blog's "craziest list" contest.

VOTE HERE

The poll is in the left-hand column, fairly far down the page now. My list is "Words and Phrases I Want to Use". The contest ends on the 31st, and I'm currently in second place. I'd really like to win. Please vote!


And now, on to the entry



Sometimes I hate standing still.

To be honest, I'm never very good at it (thank you, ADHD). I feel a constant need to fidget, move, dance... Staying in one place doesn't appeal to me.

I've loved having this break from work for awhile. It's nice to remember who you are when you're not scheduled to be anywhere. Schedule-less, other plans start to form in my nebular life. (I wanted to write "nebulaic", but according to spellcheck and a search on Google, "nebular" is the correct form. Go figure.)

My family decided to take a trip into New York City for the day on Saturday. I went along, somewhat begrudgingly. When I was younger, I had a love affair with Manhattan. I thought it was magical somehow. I thought I belonged there. That feeling has waned. Now when I walk through Times Square, I see a tourist attraction. Maybe it's just because I live in Chicago, but New York seems sort of fake to me now. I've become less enchanted with it. Not that there's anything wrong with New York; it just isn't want I wanted it to be.

We elected to see a Broadway show while we were in town. After a great deal of debate over what show we should see (and, it seemed, no one being 100% happy with the chosen show... the joys of compromise), we ended up getting tickets to The Farnsworth Invention. It's the first non-musical I've ever seen on Broadway (as my family generally gravitates toward spectacle), which means I can cross something else off of my list of things to do before I die ("see a play on Broadway": check!). And, I have to say, I really enjoyed it. I found it to be entertaining, educational, and thought-provoking. And I got a little emotional near the end of the play. I don't think the rest of my family got quite as much out of it as I did, but I don't think there's any way they could have. My brothers aren't ever going to appreciate theatre the way I do. My father was still disappointed that we hadn't gone to see Cyrano de Bergerac (which, actually, three of us voted for, but we didn't see due to a misunderstanding of who-wanted-what), so nothing was going to completely please him. And my mother... I think she just really wanted to go see something big and shiny like Mamma Mia! for the fourth time, which this play most definitely was not. Ah well. I loved it. And as the resident actor of the family, I like to think that my opinion matters most in this case. Or maybe not.

While in the city, we also went on a hunt for Pinkberry, which my brother and I had read about online and wanted to experience firsthand. Pinkberry is a sort of frozen dessert (I don't know if it's a frozen yogurt or ice cream or what... I'm not even sure it's dairy). It comes in two flavors: "Pinkberry" (Pinkberry-flavored Pinkberry ingredients list: "straw, rasp, blue, blackberries, & pinkberry"... what the heck a pinkberry is, I still don't know) and "Green Tea" ("green tea & pinkberry", which my dad preferred but the rest of us were repulsed by). It was a good experience. My mother described the icy mystery treat as "frozen yogurt crossed with lemon Italian ice". Frighteningly addictive. I got mine with blueberries. One of my brothers got his with diced mango and Cap'n Crunch, which I thought was an intriguing combination. My other brother referred to it as "Crackberry", saying that one of his classmates spent a good portion of her internship at an advertising agency retrieving Pinkberry for the models.

One other thrilling thing happened in the city. In November, I bought a lovely hat that I adored. I brought it to Connecticut for Thanksgiving, and then promptly lost it upon my return to Chicago (perhaps even in the airport... I don't remember it making it back to my apartment). Today, my brother spotted an identical hat on the table of a street vendor. I happily plunked down another $10 payment to replace my missing headpiece (I'm horrible at bartering... I probably should've tried to talk him down to $8). I'm thrilled. I hope the original hat is very happy, wherever it has ended up. And I hope that if I ever cross paths with it again, it won't be too resentful of its doppelgänger.

So that was New York.

And now, for the New Year.

After a great deal of debate over whether it could, should, or would happen, I found a way to get to Michigan for New Year's Eve, and I'm ecstatic about it. I'll only be in town for a brief whisper of a stay (so I won't be able to see most of the people I love there... sorry guys!), but that's enough for me. It's more than I thought I'd get.

There's a familiarity that I long for.
There are people that I crave.
There are things that need to be said.
And there are some things that can only be sorted out in person.

Sorry for being cryptic, but there's not much else I can say about it until it happens. Or doesn't.

To recycle an emotion from Sondheim that I find myself quoting repeatedly, I feel "excited; well, excited AND scared."

I think it'll be a good trip.


May you never stand still for too long.

~A~


P.S. Favorite "Apples-to-Apples" play of the night: I won "Feminine" with "Feminists". HA! Awesome. Also, my dad won "Insulting" with "Helen Keller", proving the versatility of the card.

Why We Want What We Want

At one point in my college career, I was a psychology major. It actually lasted for a couple of years (unlike most of my majors, which were crosswalks from one path to another... I funneled through them with great frequency). I often remember things I studied during that time and attempt to apply various theories to my life. To be honest, I do the same thing with what I learned in "Play Analysis for the Theatre" (I once came up with a very compelling and relatively accurate way of dissecting a friend's love life by comparing it to Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?... Yes, his relationship was, and is, that bizarre).

One theory (it had some form of study to support it, but I can't for the life of me remember what that study was) stated that when you do something to help someone else, YOU end up liking THEM more. They don't suddenly appreciate you more and want to be around you more. Oh, no. That would be far too obvious. Instead, you gain a greater appreciation for them. Perhaps it's because doing something for someone else gives you a sense of accomplishment or validity that you associate with happiness, and then there's some sort of quasi-Pavlovian response that makes you want to feel that again. Or, to be terse, maybe people just want to feel needed. Anyway, a tip for all you guys and gals out there: if you want someone to like you, get them to do things for you that you can't do yourself (a friend of mine recently suggested that I ask others to put letters into envelopes for me, as obviously that's something that I struggle with... don't judge me).

I fall into the trap of helping others too much, and subsequently caring more for them than they do for me. I like to say that I have a Savior Complex. To be honest, I'm not certain that's what it's called. I might have named it after the Something Corporate song, "I Want to Save You" (while I was in Rome, I listened to that song every night before I went to bed... and usually cried). I constantly feel the need to "save" people. I surround myself with people who are screwed up, because I somehow know that I can fix them. Can I? Sometimes, but not always. Some people cannot be cured, and others don't want to be cured. Some people actually like being abused and tormented by their inner-demons. And some people, no matter how much guidance or advice you send in their direction, will continue to make the masochistic choices that have been keeping them firmly rooted in a self-inflicted depression.

Why do I seek out these people? Because on some level, I think that once I fix them, they'll be able to fix me (the song I mentioned before contains the lyrics "I want to save you/I need you/Save me, too.") I know that I need saving. I need someone to come into my life, see everything that I'm doing wrong, and tell me how to change it. No, I need them to force me to change it. I'm too afraid to do it on my own. I've been trying to win a war against my fears for about 2.5 years now (before that, I was completely content with them ruling my life). Every once in awhile, I have a major breakthrough (usually around a time of metamorphosis, as I mentioned before) with one or more of my personal demons. While some are vanquished permanently (I'm pretty much done with my fear of singing in public, thanks to a production of Cinderella and many rounds of alcohol-assisted karaoke), others haunt me for years. My social anxiety pops its head back in every six months or so. I am in constant need of validation, or else I am at great risk of returning to a hermit-inspired existence (ah, here's a bit of proof that I'm a walking contradiction: I'm unable to accept compliments, but if I don't get reassurance I go into wild strains of depression. If I weren't so cheerful right now, I'd start to wonder if I'm a mess). This gets particularly bad in February of every year. No good reason for that... Perhaps I have Seasonal Affective Disorder?

By the way, I'm a bit of a hypochondriac. Not the sort that thinks pain means I'm dying. I've never been concerned about having cancer, a heart attack, ringworm, etc. No, instead of physical hypochondria, I have psychological hypochondria. A thinking man's hypochondria, I like to call it. I was convinced that when I got to college, my dormant schizophrenia would manifest itself. Didn't happen, for the record. When everyone at work started getting sick, I began washing my hands multiple times whenever I went to the ladies room. Obviously, I was terrified that this was "ritualizing": a sign of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I sporadically question whether I'm bipolar. The only thing wrong with my brain is a new-fashioned case of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. I also have the occasional bout with insomnia (I'm hyperactive, so of course I don't sleep... makes perfect sense), which I have determined makes me cathemeral (meaning that I have a completely unpredictable sleeping pattern. I like to think that it makes me special).

Anyway, back to the Savior thing. The current fellow in my life once said that he has the desire to be "that guy" for whatever gal he is currently pursuing. The guy who will step up to the plate. The guy who will understand her like no one else can. "That guy." As soon as he said that, I immediately equated it to my own need to heal others. Maybe my goal is to be "that girl", but I've just found a different way of saying it. Maybe this fellow and I will be able to save each other...

But logically, I know that isn't true.

If you've ever been on an airplane, you've heard the whole "in case of emergency" speech (if you haven't been on an airplane, go watch the pilot episode of Lost and it should help you to understand what I'm about to delve into). If there should be some problem with the air pressure in the cabin, oxygen masks will drop down from the ceiling. Your instruction is to put on your own mask. You are to make sure it is securely fashioned to your head before attempting to help those around you who may be in need of assistance. Trying to help someone else when you're not getting a proper amount of oxygen to your brain is just going to put both of you in more danger.

The major downfall of the Savior Complex: it's a sham. It cannot succeed. You will never win. How can you possibly help someone else when you don't know how to help yourself?

Besides, I'm not certain that a Savior Complex even exists. Maybe it's just human nature. A friend of mine once said that "women want to be wanted and men need to be needed." Or maybe it's the other way around. I can't remember. I always had difficulty trying to figure out what the difference was. Isn't being needed just a very strong form of being wanted? I understand the meaning a little more if it's rephrased as "women want to be objects of desire and men want their presence to be vital." Of course, that's not as catchy of a phrase.

Anyway, I don't believe this theory at all. Mostly because I don't enjoy sweeping generalizations. Or things divided by gender. I'm a major supporter of gender equality. I suppose I'm a huge hypocrite, as I attended a women's college instead of a co-educational institution. Men are not allowed to attend simply because they are male. And I chose to go there, so I suppose on some level I do believe that there are differences between men and women. But in general, I believe that any "women vs. men" theories are wrong.

There is one subject on which, I fear, I am terribly sexist. I'm not bisexual. Nothing is more sexist than that. Being bisexual is being willing to love anyone, regardless of gender. It's a very open-minded state of being. I've also heard it described as greedy, which I won't argue against (I've met a couple bisexuals who seemed as though they were just in it as a way of hedging their bets). I feel almost guilty about the fact that I prefer men to women, and I have tried to open myself up to the possibility of bisexual relationships in the past. I tried especially hard when one incredibly terrific girl started making passes at me in college. She was intelligent, talented, attractive, and funny. She was everything I'd look for in a man, but I just wasn't into it. I'm embarrassed by how sexist that is.

I find many women attractive. Gabrielle Union and Rachel McAdams, for example. Of course, it's more a situation of "I wish I could be her" than "I want her." I just enjoy men too much. Give me Matt Damon or Michael Bublé, and I'll rip myself apart in gleeful celebration (which would be rather stupid, as then I wouldn't get to enjoy the desirable specimen of man that had been bestowed upon me... I must rethink this). I think, on some level, everyone is a little bit bisexual. Just a little. Usually a small enough amount that people can live their entire lives only seeking one gender and be completely content with that. Most people never acknowledge it. Maybe some don't even realize it. I, personally, will never actually attempt to start anything with a woman, although I certainly understand the appeal. Perhaps that's why I wish my reflection looked more like Isla Fisher than me.

I look into mirrors a great deal. I have several in my new apartment, which is terribly exciting. Have you ever stared into a mirror for so long that your face stops making sense? You stop seeing your own mental image of yourself, and you begin to see your face for its components. It's interesting. I always wonder what people see when they look at me. Do they see me as I see myself? Is their mental image of me characterized more strongly by my eyes or my mouth? (I recently had a semi-stranger tell me that she thought my mouth was "captivating". I didn't know how to take that. I think I became a little self-conscious about my mouth as a result, which is probably the opposite of a logical reaction.)

Sometimes I dance in front of the mirror, to see if I'm as insane a dancer as I am in my mind's eye. Generally, what I do isn't nearly as hideous as I think it is. Of course, even if it were appallingly bad, that wouldn't stop me from dancing. I love to express myself through movement. Dancing is probably the only thing I can think of that makes me temporarily throw out my self-conscious nature. I spent the majority of last weekend dancing around my apartment in my underwear, singing into a lamp as though it were a colorful microphone. I rock out at levels you wouldn't believe when I'm alone. I'm lucky that none of my neighbors have complained. But then, I don't complain when they turn up the volume on their televisions at 10:30pm and I can hear incomprehensible Spanish murmuring. So I think we're even. Maybe they enjoy hearing me sing and dance. Who knows? I like to think that they do.

I always hope that I'm brightening up other people's days just a little. Knowing that I make other people smile makes me smile. It's a weird sort of tit-for-tat relationship that they don't even know exists. A friend of mine once said that there's no such thing as altruism, because anything you do to help someone else is really just a form of self-validation. Maybe he's right. Making people happy makes me happy. But I suppose that's the same sort of vaguely cyclical logic that leads me to believe that saving someone else will make me saved.

My aunt says that "part of wanting someone is knowing that they want you," which I suppose is in a similar vein. That idea always worries me when I'm interested in someone who shows signs of reciprocating interest. Is he only interested in me because he can sense that I'm interested in him? Or, conversely, am I only interested in him because I noticed on some level that he was interested in me? These are the sorts of questions that can make you go batty. It's best for me if I avoid thinking on them all together. But, as you should know after reading my writing, I can't stop thinking about anything for very long. I get stuck in long, winding waves of painful cognizance.

I'm terribly paranoid about everything (paranoia -- yet another mental disease that I don't actually suffer from but worry about constantly. I'm paranoid about being paranoid, if that's possible. Of course, I'm relatively confident that I'm misusing the word paranoid, but I don't care. This is my blog, and I'll use whatever words I think will get the point across). I worry about my relationships a great deal. I become concerned with whether people like me (and then I go through fits of joyous elation when it becomes apparent that they do. There's a little bit of Sally Field in me, I suppose). After the things I've written over the last two days, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm too complex of a person. How can anyone possibly deal with me? The best ways to handle me are counter-intuitive. I'm warped and quixotic. And somehow, I'm simultaneously concerned with being boring. I'm a puzzle that no one seems equipped to solve (and I include myself in that).

So for now, I'm going to return to my normal, non-typed form of soul-searching. Thank you for reading. Do come again.

~A~