Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Slipping you on again tonight...

"I think good art happens on that edge between comfortable and in a lot of pain, you know what I mean?"
~ Liz Phair

I was looking through my old CDs and stumbled across Liz Phair's 2003 self-titled album. I've been listening to it like crazy. I forgot how amazing that CD is (yes, I know its the CD she sold out on, I don't care, I love pop music especially sexually explicit/borderline angry/power pop/rock 'n' roll/female rocker chicks). 

One song, in its hilarity, quirky, awesomeness just really hit home. I don't know. I just relate to it. I have a pair of favorite underwear... who doesn't?

Last time I posted lyrics I felt really ashamed, but I've come to realize, sometimes the best way to get to know a person is by checking out the lyrics they relate most to... it tells a story.

"Favorite" by Liz Phair

Don't look sexy but it just feels right
Not too dirty and it's not too tight
Why I never threw it out, I'll never know exactly why

Keep it in the drawer beside my bed
It's faded pink now, but it used to be red
Starting to fray at the seams, but I know that you'll still love me
Like you did, like you did
Like before, like before
Like we will, like we will
Be doin' it once more

Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
Oh baby know how you feel?
You feel like my favorite underwear
And I'm slipping you on again tonight

Leave you lyin' on the bedroom floor
I leave you hangin' on the bathroom door
Take you for granted, but I'll always know exactly where you are

Lost you once you were hard to find
Got you back you didn't live like mine
Thought we were falling apart but you make me feel so pretty
Like you did, like you did
Like before, like before
Like we will, like we will
Be doin' it once more

Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
Oh baby know how you feel?
You feel like my favorite underwear
And I'm slipping you on again tonight
Slipping you on again tonight

Wrap me and roll me, hold me tight
Tear me apart and make me new
Like you always do

Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it

You feel you're like this is what I want
You feel, you feel

Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it

You feel you're like this is what I want
You feel, you feel

Slipping you on again tonight 

Monday, May 25, 2009

High School Self Vs. College Self

“So maybe it won’t look the way you thought it would in high school, but it’s good to remember love is possible, anything is possible…”
            ~ Carrie, SATC Season 6, “Boy, Interrupted”

Going home is interesting. Very interesting. 

When you go away to college, you leave a part of you behind, your High School Self. It's the part of you that all throughout high school made stupid choices, got too emotional, was embarrassing, took things way too seriously. At least some people leave it behind. One must in order to develop a new part of who you are, your College Self. It's an upgraded version that still makes stupid choices, gets too emotional, is completely embarrassing, and takes things too seriously except now you have a little thing that's growing inside of you called maturity to rationalize and pull from the experiences. College Self eventually becomes Adult Self, which if lucky becomes Married Self, which could lead to Parent Self , or Single Self should Married Self not be an option, or any mix of the previous selves... until you reach Old Decrepit Self and finally Dead Self. 

The ultimate problem with these 'selves' is that they never die. It's impossible to make them disappear. They're everywhere... in that photo album, in your best friend from 10th grades' memories, in all the people who haven't experienced you in your new world as College Self. It's in every corner of your hometown that you went to high school in and made so many memories. And sometimes, when College Self comes face to face with the remnants of High School Self... disaster strikes, the dam breaks, and everything you left behind starts flooding back.

I've been home for a little over a week. After my Oklahoma expedition, Diane and I took a day trip driving back to the little bubble called The Woodlands. Once there, I was immediately thrust back into Woodlands life. That evening I attended my old high school theatre's production of several original ten minute plays. As one of the Woodlands Theatre alums who really pushed the play-writing portion of theatre and (call me conceited, I don't care... I'm just being honest... hehe) re-ignite within the department the spark that was play-writing... I felt a responsibility to at least make an appearance at their shows. 

The shows were cute. There was a talkback following the performance, in which audience members could ask the playwrights questions about their shows. I asked the playwrights the ultimate question, Why? Why do you playwright? As a playwright myself, I love hearing about how people were so moved by something that they had to write about it, how writing is a way for the person to express something so deep within them, because they have to write because there's nothing left to do, because when they write they create worlds, figure out problems, escape. 

At least that's what I expected to hear as a response. I got mostly things along the lines of 'It's something to do' and 'I dunno...'

I was appalled. As I leapt forth onto my soap box and got ready my tirade in defense of play-writing as an art and not simply something to do... I paused for a moment and a thought struck me. They're high schoolers. Their High School Self is all they know. They haven't been immersed in theatre like I had been. They haven't gone to college and experienced theatre as an art... how could they possibly see it that when now? You can't expect flight from a caterpillar, you can't expect college thoughts from a pure High School Self.

I couldn't help but think, what separates these two selves? What is the thing that causes the metamorphosis from the high school caterpillar to the college butterfly? Or possibly could it be that the difference isn't quite so drastic... 

This weekend was prom weekend for my sister. Stress levels were high, there was a lot going on, but more importantly... my parents had rented a lakehouse for the weekend and my friends and I were going to take full advantage of it.

New Yorkers go to the Hamptons. Woodlanders? We go to Lake Conroe... or at least now we do after Galveston was submerged by some pretty bitchy hurricanes...

Since the high schoolers weren't going to be using the lakehouse until late Saturday night, I got together a group of my closest buds and we booked it down to Lake Conroe. I mean, there was an empty lakehouse, what did you expect from a bunch of college kids itching to have a little fun? I even got Matt and Dani to come for the weekend to hang out with us. So Friday morning, Diane, me, and the rest of the gang took the drive to the lake and took a little vacation.

The day was spent with lounging, tanning, walks around the neighborhood, eating, and all those vacation-y sort of things that people do. And then we got drunk.

Now this would normally be fine. A group of friends, getting drunk in a random house... except I had the bright idea to invite my ex boyfriend, Aiden.

Aiden and I dated pretty seriously three years ago. Before that we had been best friends and eventually we took that best friendship and took it to LoverVille. I broke up with him because of his... how should I say this... lack of balls. Aiden, a year younger than me, would constantly agree with everything I had to say. I started saying things that were completely wrong and outlandish to see if he would actually say, "No, I think that's wrong" or would just keep agreeing with me... I'll let you guess what how he responded every time...

I need a man who will tell me I'm wrong, who will call me out on my shit. I don't want a baby, I want a strong, opinionated kind of guy... and Aiden wasn't that. He also told me he was falling in love with me. I was still my messy High School Self, didn't know how to handle it, and I helped him pack his bags and sent him on the one way road out of LoverVille.

Since our break up, Aiden and I had remained casual friends. We would talk every once in awhile, hang out every now and again... nothing too serious. It may have been my raging ego, but sometimes when we hung out I got the feeling Aiden still wanted to be with me... So we never got back to the best friendship that we once had. I was fine with this.

This summer, something had changed.

 Since I've been back this past week, Aiden has become a staple in my group of friends. He's been spending a lot more time with Diane and I as well as being a cast member in the Cabaret. I don't know what happened, but suddenly the awkwardness was gone, and we all could be friends and hang out together again. And I couldn't help but think about the possibility of being with Aiden again. Nothing too serious, I just started thinking about it... maybe since we had both been in more relationships and experienced more life, if we tried again it would be different.

So, newly minted into the gang, Aiden came with us for our romp around the lakehouse. And I couldn't help but make plans to hook up with him that night. I know that's terrible, manipulative, and using him (especially since I really had not intention of getting together with him... it's just a passing thought), but I wanted some action. Sue me. 

As we drank, we started kissing, flirting, and holding hands... it seemed like we were good to go and then... I shouldn't have counted my chickens before they hatched... Once we got to the bedroom, Aiden just laid there like a jellyfish. He whined about being too drunk, being insecure about his body, and just flopped there. At one point he asked if I was okay after I had scurried to the other side of the bed to pout... There I was throwing myself at this boy... and nothing.  It was probably the most upsetting thing I have ever been a part of. We didn't even cuddle. 

The next morning I couldn't help but feel completely humiliated... and angry. Very angry. I felt like I had been lead on, I felt that I had been that disgusting desperate guy who throws himself at people, I felt that once again Aiden didn't have enough balls to make a move and actually do something.... but worst of all, I felt like the stupid High School Self... the one who didn't know how to attract boys, who got used by them, who was constantly disappointed, who was desperate for attention. It was like all my previous knowledge and integrity when it came to getting with a guy flew out the window. I was trying to hook up with a boy, use him, and then think nothing bad about it... where did my maturity go? It was being home, it was hanging around with Aiden, it was thinking about all those memories from high school... 

At least the thought of ever dating Aiden was out of my head. Glad that's over with...

And I couldn't help but think... I was the caterpillar. The caterpillar who had spun his college cocoon and was about to emerge a beautiful, independent, mature butterfly. But instead, something had gone terribly wrong with the evolution and suddenly, when I emerged from my St. Louis cocoon and returned to the Woodlands world... I was still the same fuzzy, awkward caterpillar I had always been... 

Saturday was prom. My mom had yelled at me earlier for treating my sister like a 'stupid high schooler' on her big day. Big day? Was she getting married? I thought it was just prom. Anyway, I went and played paparazzi for my sister, and took pictures of her before the dance. As I snapped pictures, I kept thinking about what separated me from these high schoolers. I still made stupid choices concerning boys, got in dumb fights with my parents, and didn't quite know how to handle life. The only difference I could really pick out was that these kids thought prom was their 'big day', I was under the impression that your wedding or having your first child was your 'big day'.  Apparently, I was wrong.

The following day, instead of bumming around my house alone, I decided to join my family and the high school kids at the lakehouse. My parents were chaperoning for the weekend so I was left all alone at the house... They also kind of guilt tripped me into going. I think they wanted to make sure they were taking full advantage of all the money they had spent on renting the house by packing as many people in there as possible.

That afternoon I went out on one of the boats that were there and had a nice long conversation with a good friend of mine, Jennyfer. Jen and I have been in several shows before, she has worked with my theatre company, and is a cast member of the Cabaret. She also is a close family friend who went to Disney World with the fam two Spring Breaks ago. We hadn't talked in awhile and caught up about our love lives, school, our futures, and all those sort of things. 

As we talked about what we wanted in our lives, I made a huge realization. I realized what separated me from these kids. In high school, you are looking forward to college, you stress about application, you want your prom to be the best, the next step in your life is graduation. 

What's my next step? Graduating college, finding a job that can I can sustain myself on, getting married...

Holy crap. I've only been out of high school two years yet... Gone are the days of thinking prom was the top, that high school theatre was the shit... and now I'm realizing how important finding a significant other is, starting a family, finding a successful job... And not even a joking sense, those really are the next steps in my life.

Thinking about this made me want to go back to College world, back to St. Louis, and indulge in my College Self even more. The more I thought about it, the more I hated how I was slipping back into High School Self...

I kept wishing that instead of trying to hook up with my ex high school boyfriend that I had no interest in, I was in St. Louis with my future love interest learning more about each other and moving forward in our relationship and the next step of life. 

I wanted to crawl back into my cocoon and give the metamorphosis another try.

I talked to my mom about it. She said there's something about turning 20 that everything just changes, your priorities are different, you become an adult. It's true. 

And because of this there is a reassurance. No matter how much I retreat into some of my High School Self ways, I know that because of my views of life, I can never completely devolve into my previous state. What I want in life has changed, I've grown up. Prom will never be important to me again, I can never just write a play because its something to do, those things that mattered will never matter ever again. Yes, every once in awhile I will slip up and throw myself at a boy and make a fool of myself, but now I take that experience and learn from it and put it towards achieving my future goals. I want a career. I want a husband. I want a family. I want to immerse myself in my art. 

Maybe I was a little too hard on this evolution of selves. Maybe we can't expect to build our cocoon and emerge a beautiful butterfly, but instead expect to emerge as a person. As person who looks exactly the same as the person who went into the cocoon. They have the same faults, the same problems, they can make the same mistakes but suddenly this new self is completely different... for with every metamorphosis, with every transformation to your next state of self, you take a step closer to becoming a fully realized human. And you know what...

It may not be a butterfly, but it sure is beautiful

P.S. Apparently, Aiden tried to get with another boy the night after we played at the lakehouse and the boy he tried to shot him down hardcore just like he did to me... Woops. Karma's a bitch... I guess that vindictive High School Self part of me will never go away...


Thursday, May 14, 2009

Sex and Another City

"You can turn painful situations around through laughter. If you can find humor in anything... you can survive it."
~ Billy Cosby

I'm halfway done with college. Isn't that ridiculous? I've finished my sophomore year and just think back on this year... on how many more songs I can relate to now. It's getting easier and easier to appreciate those songs about stupid boys, heartbreak, falling in love... It's getting easier to appreciate those songs about friendship... It's easier to appreciate how beautiful and powerful it is to be alone, and how sad and distressing it is...

I finished my last final on Tuesday, shortly after I tossed all my stuff into by suitcase and escaped. I'm currently typing at Diane's computer in Oklahoma. I feel like a foreign exchange student of sorts. I've left my college family in St. Louis to come live with and experience Diane's college family in Oklahoma.

As much as I love meeting new people, its made me miss everyone back in St. Louis right now. I see how Diane and her friends act with each other and miss how my friends and I act in St. Louis world. I was so desperate to get out of town, be done with this stupid year, I got out of there as soon as possible.

I've been desperate for this year to end. I just want everything that happened to me this year to go away so I can get back to normal. I want to have what I've learned and move on. It's not that simple, though. Just because a year ends, just because you escape town... doesn't mean everything else ends.

It's like when Carrie and Aiden broke up the first time and she got out of New York and went to Los Angeles. Or something like that...

You still think about him. You still wish things worked out. You still wish you were kissing him. You wish he would come home. You still wish the world would move a little faster so you don't have to wait. You're still trying to get over him and be ready for what's next. You're still putting together the pieces of your heart. You still think about him at 2 AM. You still think of him every time you here those damn songs...

You just have a different group of friends to talk about it to.

And sometimes in the midst of all this moping, you realize you're not talking about just your unboyfriend... in fact, you are talking about him a lot less than you ever have... and more and more about a new boy on the horizon. You're next love interest, the featured star of the next season of the TV show that is your life.

Too bad that TV show is on indefinate hiatus. It's interesting being on the side of the escape. The side that's left behind, while the other person escapes to a foreign world. It's hard being the one who has to wait while your new love interest goes on fantastic adventures in foreign places and all you can do is sit in your best friend's apartment and fantasize about your future together.

Look at me, calling this upcoming boy my love interest... We haven't even gone on a date together, I'm definately jumping the gun here... all we have is just endless hours of conversations and intimate messages... and butterflies. There are definate butterflies.

Next time I'm back in St. Louis I get to see him. He'll be back from his international adventures (which he is currently internet less... so really, all I really have is my fantasies, I don't even AIM...), I'll be back from my great escape...

I just took a break from typing this. Went into Diane's living room, sat in this papazan chair...
and then fell over.
It was like slow motion, the chair started leaning over and as I was halfway down, I realized...
There was nothing I could do.
And as I laid sprawled there on the ground, the chair on its side, and Diane, her friends, and my self cackling out of control.
I realized I couldn't be happier
and so thankful that there isn't an ounce of shame in my body.

Cuz for that moment
I forgot that I was waiting for this boy to come home
I forgot that I hated this past school year with a passion
I forgot that I feel really lonely when it's late at night
I forgot that I missed everyone in St. Louis

And I just laughed.
Fuck it. I'm having fun with my awesome foreign exchange family
in Oklahoma.

What. Up. :)

Friday, May 8, 2009

Let's get some shoes...

“Sometimes it’s hard to walk in a single person’s shoes, that’s why we need really special ones now and then to make the walk a little more fun.”            
~ Carrie, SATC Season 6, “A Woman’s Right To Shoes”

Today was fantastic.

It's about time for a fantastic day. This week was another one of those heinous, terrible weeks where everything is just incredibly stressful (I pulled another all nighter on Wednesday night... that's two Wednesdays in a row...). I've had finals, and papers, and journals, and theatre, and scene work, and dance rehearsal. It was overwhelming. A heinous weekend, and two treacherous weeks in a row? How does this happen?

Today made it all worth it.

I woke up late. It was so nice to actually sleep. Well, sleep for more than an hour at a time, because that's all your allowed to sleep, because you can't waste anymore time.. there are assignments that have to be done. 

It was pouring outside. Absolutely raining cats and dogs. So I spent what was little left of the morning in my apartment, watching Sex and the City, and turning up some music loud and dancing around. I took a nice long shower, and when lunch time finally came around I headed out to meet up with Dani, Matt, and K.T.

On campus, I'm the only male member of this dance troupe, Phases of Motion. We perform all different styles of dancing from lyrical to ballet to tap to hip-hop to musical theatre. The whole semester we had been preparing for tonight's showcase. At the dress rehearsal last night, I got to watch the entire show and all of the dances that I wasn't a part of. There was one dance (we've done it before, but for some reason that song really struck me), one of the tap dances that just got me so jazzed. It's to the song, "New Shoes" by Paolo Nutini. Apparently this song was a big hit once upon a time a few years ago, I somehow missed this bandwagon and didn't discover it until I saw the girls in Phases perform it during our lat showcase. Watching the chicas tap last night, I just fell in love with the song. I spent all of this morning tap dancing around my apartment.

Anyway, when I was walking to meet up with the gang for lunch, I put that song on repeat and as I walked across campus in the rain, something just sparked within me. I felt like I was glowing, even though the rain was pouring down around me, the sky was dark, it was a bit chilly, even though the whole week had be crappy, I felt to empowered, excited, ready to take on the entire world. 

At I strutted down the street I couldn't help but sing along to the song:

Hey, I put some new shoes on,
And suddenly everything is right,
I said, hey, I put some new shoes on and everybody's smiling,
It's so inviting,
Oh, short on money,
But long on time,
Slowly strolling in the sweet sunshine,
And I'm running late,
And I don't need an excuse,
'cause I'm wearing my brand new shoes.

Woke up late one Thursday,
And I'm seeing stars as I'm rubbing my eyes,
And I felt like there were two days missing,
As I focused on the time,
And I made my way to the kitchen,
But I had to stop from the shock of what I found,
A room full of all off my friends dancing round and round,
And I thought hello new shoes,
Bye bye them blues.

We went to Chipotle for lunch. Delicious. And then following Chipotle fun, K.T. and I decided we were going to dye my hair. I dyed my hair pre-Setzuan to look more Asian and also because I needed to new look post-break-up (There's something about changing hair color that helps to you move on. New color, new you? Who knows!). I'm naturally very, very blond. For the show I dyed my hair jet black. For awhile, with the black hair I felt somehow more mature, more put together. I felt sophisticated... but about a week ago I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize myself. I didn't feel like myself anymore. Madonna has a quote that I love concerning hair color:

Being blonde is definitely a different state of mind. I can't really put my finger on it, but the artifice of being blonde has some incredible sort of sexual connotation. Men really respond to it. I love blonde hair but it really does something different to you. I feel more grounded when I have dark hair, and I feel more ethereal when I have light hair. It's unexplainable.

I wanted that ethereal feeling back. I wanted the sexual connotation that came with sexy, sexy blond hair back. The other day a boy gave me his phone number and I didn't even text him or call him or anything. I want my blond hair back, I want my sex drive back, and I want this stupid vow of abstinence from boys to be over. I'm ready to flirt, I'm ready to be sexy, I'm ready to get boy crazy again.

I wanted to put my new shoes (or in my case, my new hair on) and walk outside and see that everything was all right.

As we were purchasing dye, K.T. and I started joking to each other about the boys that we had dated in the past, and what boys we tended to date and be attracted to. We created personal adds of sorts for ourselves. My personal ad went something like this:

If you have a substance abuse problem
and an inability to fully communicate your emotions or commit
If you are incredibly insecure about yourself
If you look awkward, like a smurf, or a complete dork
If you plan on breaking my heart, ignoring me, or not responding to text messages
than I AM THE GUY FOR YOU. I will fall for you, because that's what I do.

Please, if you plan on treating my nicely, taking me out to dinner, treating my like a prince...
I'm not interested. You should keep looking...

This sums up pretty much all of of my previous relationships. Why do I fall for the same guys? Why do I continue to put on the same old tattered shoes, even though the don't give me nearly enough support and make my feet sore? Why do I continue to purchase the same style of shoes that I know will fall apart in less than three months instead of the ones that are durable and will last me a lifetime?

Since I couldn't do anything about boys at the moment, hair was where it was at. Because my hair was so dark to begin with, the bleach blond dye turned it a sort of red color. Although not what I expected... I liked it. It was a different color than I had ever had before. It was something new and fresh. At first I wasn't sure about it... I was weary because it was something I had never tried before... but the more people complimented it the more I became extremely fond of it. Several of my friends mentioned how it really worked with my skin tone and looked incredibly natural... and maybe, just maybe, this new hair was reflective of me. It wasn't the blond of my past, and it wasn't the black of break-up/Setzuan mourning, but instead a reflection of a brand new me, a new person who was ready to return to the world, confidant and secure. I put my new hair on... and suddenly I was smiling.

After my dye job was done, I ran over to get ready for the Phases of Motion showcase. I was so excited for it. After spending the entire semester working on all the dances, it was about time to show them off and we were ready. I performed in three dances and emceed the evening and was INCREDIBLY happy with how everything turned out. For the finale of the showcase, Elisabeth and I choreographed a musical theatre style dance for a medley of songs from the musical, Hairspray. When we performed it, I was floored when, during the dance, people screamed, laughed, clapped, and were just excited about the whole thing. And as we struck the final pose at the end of the song, people in the audience (a pretty decent amount too), actually gave us a standing ovation. I could have exploded. I was so proud of Elisabeth and I putting together this dance, so proud of the girls for learning the dance and working so hard, so proud of the boys we invited to appear in the dance (we needed some men to help perform all the lifts and tricks)... and I realized... it was the first time this entire semester that I actually felt proud of something I had done... And it felt good.

I had missed being proud of my work in the fine arts part of my life. I had put my 'proud of myself' shoes deep in my closet and allowed them to be buried beneath dirty laundry and random crap. And suddenly, they just appeared, I tried them on, and they felt good. Although old, they felt and looked like a pair of brand new, fabulous shoes. I was just bummed out I found them now and not earlier... they would have looked good with a lot of outfits. I wasn't going to let them get buried in my closet and be forgotten again. It feels good to feel good about yourself. It feels wonderful to work so hard and have such an excellent pay off for your work. It feels good to be proud.

Post awesome dance showcase, though, I couldn't help but feel a little bittersweet. I felt so proud of myself, I was loving myself hardcore, but... part of me wished I had someone there after to come up, kiss me, and be so proud of me. I wish I had a boy there to support me, to love me, and to proud the most proud person in that entire theatre. It wasn't a boy in general, though, it was one boy... and I just kept thinking...

I wish you were in the audience, because I know you would have been the first person 
to stand up and cheer at the end of  Hairspray
I wish you were here to run up to the stage afterwards and give me one of those fabled hugs 
where the two people become one for a moment
I wish you were here to see me beaming, and be so proud of me, and see how happy/ecstatic/amazing
 it makes me feel to know that you are proud that I'm proud
I wish you were here so we could go back to my apartment and throw a dance party to celebrate, 
just the two of us
I wish you were here, because if I feel this much empowerment from you from millions of miles away,
just imagine what it would be like to have you here
I wish you were here, because I'm ready to start making memories with you

And then, instead of continuing to mope about distance, I made a powerful realization. Relationship-wise, I was finally ready for some new shoes. I was ready to set the old shoes under my bed (not throw them away, just put them out of sight for awhile, I would never completely give up on a pair of shoes especially if they're still wearable), and try on some spankin' new shoes. These shoes just had to be shipped from overseas and while take about a month and a half to arrive. Until then, I'll just have to stare at the catalog and imagine what these hot new shoes feel like.

After the show, Dani, Matt, and Erin decided to go out to Uncle Bill's for our final late night Uncle Bill's trip in St. Louis for a long while (especially for Dani and Matt, they're studying in Spain in the fall). While eating my pancakes, something came out of my mouth that really shocked me. We were talking about a terrible experience Erin had had at International Thespian Festival (a boy asked for a kiss on the cheek, when Erin politely leaned into cheek kiss, he swiftly moved his head and laid on on her... little 16 year old Erin was in SHOCK and APPALLED) when she was a junior in high school and we started picturing younger versions of ourselves. And that's when I said it, "I like 20 year old me better than any other previous version of me." To which Erin responded, "It's so good to like yourself."

In that moment, I realized I liked myself. I was actually proud of who I was. I felt confidant, secure, funny, sexy, amazing, supported... I felt stronger than I had felt in a long time. 

And suddenly my vow of Abstinence from Boys was no longer necessary. I was ready to get back into the Game instead of hiding away and failing to put a real, strong, intentional effort forward. I had new hair, a new song to dance to, a new thing to be proud of, a group of friends to love me unconditionally, a prospective boy in the midst who is nothing like any previous boy before...

I found a whole bunch of new shoes... 
and  they felt and looked damn good. 

And that's why...

today was fantastic.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

A little mood music...

“I think all the boys that write the screaming stuff would write the best love songs.... because they have the most to hide. The guys that are in the most pain are usually the ones with the biggest hearts.”
~ Tori Amos

I've been pondering the past couple of days what my next blog entry should be and every pondering-session I come up dry. I could talk about how my bad weekend evolved into a week of so many ups and and downs, I couldn't even handle myself. I could talk about a couple issues that have been bugging me... but for some reason I can't wrap myself around the idea of writing about any of those things. Maybe it's because in this moment, all I care about it a song.

So forgive me. I'm having one of those moments. I'm giving into my 12 year old middle schooler and feeling the need to post angsty, emotion-filled lyrics to my angsty, emotion filled song that has got me through this week. 

There are times when a song strikes so close to home that you can't help but put it on repeat. And listen to it over and over again. I downloaded this song late Wednesday night (I was pulling an all nighter to get an assignment done... let's just say I stayed up for 30 hours straight... and I don't do the 'all nighter' thing... or the 'no sleep' thing... or the 'fully function after pulling an all nighter' thing...) and it is already #4 on my "Top 25 Most Played" playlist on iTunes. It's been four days of non-stop listening. 

I owe my latest song obsession to K.T. While on one of our many driving around adventures the song came on her iPod shuffle and by the second chorus I was passionately singing along. It struck.

The song is by Robyn. You remember Robyn? The chick that sang "Show Me Love" in the 90s? Please flashback for a second, hum of few lines of one of the most upbeat catchy songs of the decade, and reminisce about the fun you had blasting that song when it came on the radio and belting it out. 

The song is called, "Be Mine!" The song speaks for itself.  The song speaks for me.

Lyrics... go:

It's a good thing, tears never show in the pouring rain
As if a good thing ever could make up for all the pain
There'll be no
last chance to promise to never mess it up again
Just a sweet pain of
watching your back as you walk
As I'm watching you walk away
And now you're gone it's like an
echo in my head
And I remember every word you said

It's a cold thing
you never know all the ways I tried
It's a hard thing
faking a smile when I feel like I'm falling apart inside
And now you're gone it's like an echo in my head
I remember every word you said

And you
never were, and you never will be mine
No, you never were, and you never will be mine

For the first time, there's
no mercy in your eyes
And the cold wind is hitting my face and you're gone
And you're walking away 
I'm helpless sometimes
Wishing's just no good
you don't see me like I wish you would

Cause you
never were, and you never will be mine
No, you never were, and you never will be mine

There's a moment to seize everytime that we meet
But you have always
keep passing me by

But you never were, and you never will be mine

(I saw you at the station, you had your arm around
What's-her-name? She had on that scarf I gave you
you got down to tie her laces)

Cause you never were, and you never will be mine
(You looked happy and that's great)
No, you never were, and you never will be mine
(I just miss you, that's all)

Cause you never were, and you never will be mine
No, you never were, and you never will be mine

There's a moment to seize everytime that we meet
But you have always
keep passing me by

No, you never were, and you never will be mine
Cause you never were, and you never will be mine
No, you never were, and you never will be mine

There's a moment to seize everytime that we meet
But you have always keep passing me by
No, you
never were, and you never will be mine


Sometimes it embarrasses me how dramatic I am. Posting lyrics to a song about heartbreak and proclaiming how in the past four days I've listened it to almost a hundred times? I sound like I'm completely devastated... I'm not. I'm not devastated, I actually think things are actually putting themselves together... I'm finally figuring things out... I just need to calm down on the dramatics... 

So. I'm done with my angsty lyrics and my angsty song and my angsty 12 year old self. I just felt like sharing. Although I don't necessarily feel this way towards anyone (ha, like I would actually believe that I couldn't make someone fall for me? Yeah right... I'm going to be single the rest of my life for this parenthesis... piss...) there's something so raw and honest about the song. It's simple, it's true. It's bittersweet. There's this idea of reaching out for someone and just missing them. And maybe if you reach a little farther... just maybe if you stretch, reach a little more... you can grab a hold...

And I'm just in love with the opening line: "It's a good thing tears never show in the pouring rain"

So. true.

And now for some good news...

We closed The Good Person of Setzuan today! Next up, theatre wise: I'm co-directing a cabaret with Diane this summer in Houston.


There's this application on facebook called Honesty Box. It's where you can tell you honest feelings about people. I think its stupid and I thought I discontinued it... alas I didn't... and maybe it was a good thing. This evening as I logged on to facebook I got a notification from 'Honesty Box' about how someone left something in the box about me. Curious, I checked. There was a message form an anonymous male... It said:

"I think that if I don't marry you the lucky S.O.B. will have to get shot"

Thank you whoever you are. You've made my life. 
From a treacherous weekend, to a treacherous week, to listen to bittersweet songs of heartbreak...
It's nice to have a reminder that there is someone who actually wants to be with me
And would possibly kill to do so :)

Of course there's someone I wish wrote this, and someone I think probably wrote this, and someone that might really disappoint me if he wrote this... but none-the-less, authorship aside, the fact that its just a stupid FB application and possibly just a joke aside...

It's nice to know (or at least pretend for a second)
There is someone who maybe actually wants to be mine.