Jesus Christ what a long week.

Each day stretches longer then the one before, like a series of yawns amongst a tight group of people who never realized until the mice squeaked that they were tired, road weary, and nearly beaten.

I would be me disappointed in myself for not doing my stats tonight, no matter how much I need to do it but I need these allergies to calm the fuck down and go away. I've had them coped with my stress shit for a bit too long and it's just making me more angry. Just what Max needs, right?

In brighter news, the Aud Squad is forming a dance crew. Randy, Arthur, Gavin, Carley, Sarah, Hank, and Randy don't know yet but it's happening. I'm sure they'll bring their best moves. Lord knows Randy can do the spinaroonie like a champ.

I could reflect on theatre en generale, Truman Theatre, or the encroaching year and goals for it but my eyes are too heavy. All I want in the world is to make a small difference. Though I'd really like the chance to brush up my shakespeare in whatever David does end up directing. So, I'd be cool if I was lucky enough to be cast in whatever he ends up picking. Lab show, not so much. The one show I want to direct in this world wouldn't work with our hypothetical season.

Plus I just ultimately want to blow this pop sickle stand called Kirksville. I think it makes me callous perhaps that I want to get out of this place so bad, even perhaps at the sake of the friendships and bonds I have made in college but I could use a little time away from my baggage that lives 5 blocks south of me.

Sigh. Rant over. Geography shouldn't bother one that bad but it gets to me sometimes. So it goes.

Monument Day

My knees ache with the joy of experience.

My sinuses are clouded by unfamiliar allergens only explained by the wonder that is someplace new.

I keep having odd dreams but the trip is great, in short.

Hey blog, long time no see. I hope you've been doing well.

Somethings have changed since I last put something of any substance on the blog. I buzzed all my hair off (I have a pretty nice month growth now), I had a panic attack, experienced a repressed memory, found out I'm going to Liverpool, wrote some poems, and have been given a chance to make some theatre. So you get the good, you get the bad.

The panic attack was well...I'd rather not get into it too much more then the idea that I'm realizing how much my mind is in control of my body. Under extreme duress I begin to feel chest pressure, the stress of this week made me believe I was sick. I had this research proposal that (intellectually) I was fully confident that with minimal work I could turn in my proposal and get my research internship this summer. This internship isn't exactly something I want but something I need to do for McNair. Or rather, something I felt I need to do for McNair. Regardless, I'd much rather be acting, traveling, or doing the world some good. However, my research is going to be really fascinating, engaging, and a chance for me to wear something akin to a "No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain" sort of hat, except with people at fringe festivals.

Anyway, stressing about this proposal. I was stressed about it without knowing it, and I was manifesting symptoms of a cold: run down, congested. As soon as I turned in that sick son of a bitch I was feeling five million times better. I went running, I had dinner with Brooke, I drank. My body just rebounded. I think I was probably stressed by a multitude of other things (this trip to DC I leave K-Ville for in about 6 hours), my dad getting remarried (though I love my future step mom), and just life in general. My dad tells me to relax and enjoy the ride but...I can't. That's unfortunately not me. I'm decent at pretending to be 'cool'. I can handle histrionics and chaos around: I grew up around it, you learn to tune out. However, when my boat starts rocking I'm quick to just freak out. It's fucking weird.

Anyway, I'm noticing the physical effect it is taking on me. And this suddenly dipped into personal really quickly.

Uhh...Lady GaGa is really fantastic. Like honestly fantastic. I'm in love with Bad Romance. I'm not afraid to admit it either.

I think I'll write more when I get to DC later today. My fountain pen is working, and it's calling me.

It's funny how things can turn around in the span of a few hours.

I found out at 4:28 PM that my blood work turned out normal.

I found out at 5:16 PM that this summer I'll be going to Liverpool.

Holyshit. :)

Oh The Places I'll Go?

In the nearby future...
1. Columbia, MO
2. St.Louis, MO
3. Washington, D.C.

and if my stars are in line...
Liverpool, UK.

I best be getting my map out.

Old Letters

I tend to keep old letters that have been written to me. I think sometimes I'm perhaps too wrapped up in my past, but I like to remember what others had to say to me and how those words have changed in meaning over the years. There's a particularly relevant letter I'll touch briefly on but I suppose some background on why it means more at the present.

Last night before I went to sleep I picked up the copy of Meisner's Acting Book I'm borrowing. I'm not much for acting books but it is formatted much like Plato's dialogues: it's essentially a pseudo narrative of his class room. Anyway, Meisner talks of those who have it, those who don't and it begins to arise this swarm of doubts about myself in my head about whether I could cut the mustard as an actor. I know I have a work ethic for anything I tend to care about but could I achieve that level of 'honesty' that is essentially the holy grail.

For a moment I doubted myself, but then I realized that its entirely achievable if I care so much. If the idea of not being an actor, or not being good enough to do this upsets me as much as it did last night, then it means this theatre thing is probably bound in my blood, burned out or not. As such, it gave me some resolve that my future isn't unfounded. I then went in to a slumber.

Anyway, a letter. At the end of my first acting class (JBA Acting), we had to write one other person in the class a letter. By proxy, you get one too. Crystal, my beautiful blonde preceptor, wrote mine. Just re-reading this gave me some sense of renewed hope. I never took it as a pep-talk when I first got it at age 15. Now that I look back on it, she reflects upon the fact that "life hasn't been easy for you thus far" (which it hadn't, though I didn't fully realize that until recently). She further predicts that I could accomplish more then I ever dreamed. Accomplish more then you've dreamed. That is sort of an odd thought. To accomplish more then you ever dreamed. I haven't the foggiest idea what that would be. I guess because I couldn't dream it. I mean I dream of making a decent living, doing stage work, maybe stuff on the radio. I dream of owning a house. I also occasionally dream of teaching or touring. I dream of kids who my nephew and niece can play and have amusing Christmas Adventures with.

Regardless, it put me in good spirits and I suppose that's why I keep old letters. I'm going to take a shower or go run or something. Maybe dig out the french press.


Later.

Well...Christmas songs by The Killers kind of put me in a good mood.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpXXpufFrP8



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1HuJJOhFvo