under pressure

Sometimes I amaze myself. Eighteen hours, effectively twenty-one, including the Freshman Seminar class I attend regularly as one of my jobs, rehearsals three to six times a week for the homecoming show, line memorization, weekly dance rehearsals, scene shop work, costume shop work, photos for the yearbook, darkroom/developing time, paperwork, scheduling, and meetings for the swing club, design projects that take about eight to ten hours per section, a book a week for English class, guitar practice, waiting tables in Clovis, writing a screenplay, learning film acting scenes, and trying to retain some semblence of free time for my zen. Welcome to sophomore year.

Even with all of this, I've been managing to stay on top of things. Except finances. I'm so tired of dealing with money. No, thats not right. Impossible to deal with something you have none of. I'm so tired of worrying about money. Can't afford to buy supplies for design, can't afford gas to get to work in Clovis, can't afford to pay my phone bill, can't afford to keep my bank account in any kind of decent shape, can't afford to pay my parents back for my car, not to mention all the stuff that needs upkeeping -- just for me. Guitar strings, computer upgrades, music equipment, etc. I can't keep doing this. Even this fucking keyboard that I'm typing on has seven years of dirt and shit built up between the keys. And it's not like I don't take care of shit, but things eventually need replacing. I'm going crazy, and I'm failing this experiment called independent living. And I don't even pay my own insurance.

And nobody wants to hear about this crap. And why should they have to? Its my problem. I just wish I could get my shit straight.

ache

I don't think I've ever wanted to kiss anyone so badly. I had to just hold her, and think to myself "Just hold her a little longer -- just until this ridiculous urge passes." It hasn't yet. And there is that lump in the back of my throat, that even though it has only recently developed, it doesn't seem to go away. I've never had to deal with something this strong before. I've never loved somebody so much that I not only have the ability to let her go, but a complete lack of bitterness in doing so. Instead, I can only see what we could be together, and that not so little piece of me that leaves, every time she walks away.

Its like the conversation never happened. But then again, its not like we said anything new.

"I love you."
"I'm scared."
"Me too."
"Only time can tell."

Even crying doesn't make the loneliness go away.

She was telling me last week, that recent developments may hake it impossible for her to have children. And suddenly I had this vision, of her all grown up, five, maybe ten years from now, happily married to some guy. They're getting started with their careers, they've had themselves to themselves for a few years, soon the subject of starting a family comes up. She wants to adopt, for the obvious reasons of course, but even before she found out she can't physically bear children, she has thought she wants to adopt anyway. Her heart is just that big. There are children in this world who need nothing more than the love of a wonderful mother, as I know she will be. Guy X does not want to adopt. He wants children of his own. He learns the truth, and marries his secretary, who can bear his children. A piece of her dies. This vision is so overpowering, that I literally have to fight for control of my own breathing. I would do anything to keep her from ever having to experience that pain.

And I realize, I've never loved anyone like this.

And it hurts so much that I can't be whatever it is that she thinks she wants.

This is America

We're sitting in McDonalds tonight (this is significant, because McDonalds just screams american) and this guy comes in and sits behind us. Younger guy, looks like hes probably in his twenties, with a cowboy hat, wrangelers, shit-encrusted boots, and a loose t-shirt. Typical getup for any one of the fifty ag-students I went to highschool with, and any of the thousand farmers, dairy-hands, or otherwise "country-folk" who live in New Mexico. Its obvious as soon as he starts talking that he's a very simple man. Crude language, he has to fight to form even basic sentences, and I can't be sure, but I think he's producing more saliva than he's swallowing, because it looks very much to me like the man is drooling. He's nursing a dogbite on his arm. What he told us was that a six month old red heeler puppy that had been abused by prior owners had bit this man very recently, and he had "gotten a boot up his ass," for the inconvenience. Like kicking a beaten dog is going to make it less likely to bite someone. After convincing him to retire to the bathroom to clean the wound, he returns and requests assistance in applying adhesive bandages to his right forearm. McDonalds brand bandages, with Grimace, and Ronald McDonald, and all of the other cheesey hamburger chain characters described in neon purples and yellows. He explains to us the reason he knows the gashes are not serious, is because in high school, he severed a major vein in his wrist. A couple of guys were teasing him, and he told them that the next person to do so would take a trip through a glass door. True to his word, he gashed a vein in his wrist and bled all over, but at least the second antagonizer backed off.

I'm struck by a very real, very disturbing realization. This man is America. This man is voting in November.

But I'm tired of politics. I'm tired of Democrat versus Republican, I'm tired of Bush Versus Kerry, I'm tired of the mudslinging and namecalling and controversy and scandals. I'm just...tired. Its emotionally and psychologically draining to hurt for America. The more I learn, the greater my own disillusionment.

What are you going to regret not having done today when you go to bed tonight?

What an interesting question. This is the kind of question it is dangerous to answer, especially when there are dangerous feelings involved, and dangerous boyfriends. Always before I'd thought of regrets as something having to do with your entire life, and all the actions and decisions that you have made to do or not do do something. But then I got to thinking that maybe instead of a matter of months or even years I have to do all of the things that I am meaning to do eventually, it comes down to a matter of hours and minutes. What then? Can I still say I honestly don't regret anything at the end of the day? I've always tried to live my life in such a way that when the shit hits the fan, I can honestly stand up and say "I don't regret anything." I suddenly understand what a dangerous philosophy this is. I don't know what would have happened if we had not been where we were, among so many people. The impulse may have been too strong to supress. But at least I could have honestly answered her question with "Nothing."

But would I have regretted it later? Would that "Nothing," have to be changed to "Kissing you," and how will I ever know? There is a safe way and there is a not so safe way. I was walking a dangerously thin line tonight. And maybe I'm not as clever as I think I am. And maybe she knows. But we can dance around the subject for weeks, probably months, I know. I've done it before. But it depends on how serious he is about this guy. I refuse to be a rebound, if and when it comes to that.

I'm having difficulty writing about this next bit. It's one thing to write my own innermost secrets in this thing, its entirely something else to write someone else's. Therefore, I am going to skip it.

When you're a poet, you can cry for everything.

I've cried for her.

And I've cried for humanity. What are we, what is it inside of us that makes us capable of inflicting so much pain upon ourselves and upon each other. Sometimes, I'm ashamed to call myself Human.

Open Mic

Strange how difficult it gets to play a guitar correctly when your hands are shaking that hard, isn't it? *Sigh* But hopefully I'll get over that with time. You'd think, being an actor and all, I'd be over this whole nervousness thing. You'd think. Stagefright, bah! It was all of Holly's talk before hand! Or something. Hopefully it will go away in time.

Its weird, its like the less people you have to make an ass out of yourself in front of, the less likely you are to do it, but the more people there to watch you do a faceplant, the more likely it is to happen. But I suppose it could have been worse. At least the singing was on key, unlike most of the others I saw/heard. :) Ain't nothin but love.

Nother Day

Cast in the Homecoming show. Yippee.

I guess this is what I get for actually setting my sights on a particular role this time around. I don't know why this is bugging me so much. Get over yourself, shithead. Maybe I am too cocky for my own good.

But what great timing to get a British English Professor, when I'm working on a dialect for a show. We're actually reading in that class. A lot. This is actually quite strange, believe it or not. Especially in a "research and composition" class. I wonder about the guy, really. I might just have to pick up some of his stuff, to see if I like it. Apparently he writes ghost stories. Weird, I know, a published author teaching a gen ed english class at Po-dunk University in the Dairy capital of the Southwest. Guess I shouldn't be a writer if I ever want to get out of here.

Standin in line to see the show tonight and there's a light on, heavy glow

I'm tired of trying to find places to put shit, and I'm tired of living in a room thats crammed with random shit and boxes. The den is cleared though, and I actually have shit on the walls now. I don't feel like I live in a sanitary white box anymore.

Allegra is a wonderful thing. I felt so much better today.

The guitar is improving. I never really noticed it happening, but when I think about where I was, even at the beginning of the summer, I'm amazed at how much I've improved. I guess sitting around with nothing to do but play with myself all summer--er, thats play guitar with myself--has paid off. Hehe, get it? Play with myself...hehe...paid off...hehe.