As of late, I am finding words are not adequate enough to express my thoughts and ideas. Maybe it is my lack of skill with words to artfully, and actually craft something worth while. Maybe I am expecting too much of myself. Who knows. I am slowly finding I am a visual learner, and I am a tactile and (all redundancies aside) visual person. Which is why film is better for me over, say writing. And even theater. Maybe it is because film is new and exciting. Something I know very little about. Maybe I too will easily become jaded with film as I have with theater, and to an extent writing. Although I do not consider myself an author, nor do I truly wish to aspire to be one.
I want to act in movies, I want to frame shots, I want to direct. I am interested and in love with all aspects of film: editing, sound editing, lighting, costuming. Everything.
And it may sound banal, and trite, but that does not make it any less true.
But I have such high hopes, well, moderately high hopes. But I don't think I am truly dedicated enough to pursue any artistic career.
Oh well.
I just needed to get that off my chest. For my mind is always abuzzin', yes I said "abuzzin'".
I feel a poem coming on...
nope. lost it.

An Egregious Allusion; Prufrock, I am Thee

So Blogger, I come to you in my time of need. Which is odd, because you're not going to help me. How can an assortment of weblines help me? I digress. I was in Cinderella (which is why I have been absent, big loss I know) and I thought everything in general would just become less stressful. I was wrong. Specific examples? Meh. I have some, but why brood, even thought that's all I do. Ever. Who am I? J. Alfred Prufrock? Sweet shit I need to do something about everything. Everything. I need to stop planning. I need to just do. But always be aware and thinking of my surroundings.
That sounds like a goal to me.
It's two months away, and yet, it bothers me already. Prom. What the fuck am I gunna do about that? Find a date? Go alone? Not go? I don't know. I am thinking about asking someone. I bet she would say yes. I just need to actually start talking to her again. =/ but she's always busy and I'm a flake. So there you are.
My throat hurts. Oh well. So it goes.
This song is amazing. I wonder how I ever got a solo. Ever. Not to mention one at the top of my range, that I have to belt. Which I think I figured out I can. Which is scary because I hate being loud (when not on stage) in public. The times they are a' changin'.
I am now kind of apart of Drumline. Which is odd. I am their Host for their performance which is pretty cool. Gets me doing stuff. Which is better than nothing I guess.
I am now rambling.
Homework should be done. Not done.
Solo should be known. Don't quite know it.
Piano solo should be worked on. Not worked on.
Blech.

Where's the Vodka When One Needs It?; Farewell to Thee JD

That has been my mantra this past week. It's been awful, but I can't remember it well enough to say why. Not because I was drunk (wish I was) just because I might have blocked most of it out.
Today I had an existential crisis brought on thoughts about a "crush" (shall we say) because I am a melodramatic over-thinker. I find I can't sleep well at night, my mind struggling to stay afloat against a tide of self doubt and worry. I actually have to sit down at night and relax, breathe deeply, meditate, that sort of stuff. Which is actually quite frightening. But probably more normal than I think. I am now starting to struggle creatively, which happens so often I am beginning to think I am not that creative. Or as a good a writer that I think I am. (Which isn't that high). The problem with me, right now, is that I am willing to learn but to learn I must self-teach, which really doesn't help anything, again refer to above for proof on that.

What really made today not that great was the untimely passing of one of my favorite authors: J.D. Salinger, of which I am reading (Franny and Zooey) I, even now, almost shed tears at this fact. I never knew an author I barely know about, never met, and hasn't written anything for fourty years could affect me so. It just seems like another dent in the already beaten, trashed American Culture. I grow weary of our popluar culture. Filled with clicheisms, and horrid stereotypes. Filled with the most inane garbage, I guess this truly is the "Information" Age. I really don't care about Robert Pattinson. Or most actors. I want to see them act, and see if they are good. Their life is THEIR life. Who are we to pry? I don't care what they do in their freetime. A libertarian view I find most people should adhere to.

I wish I had more evidence to back up what I am saying, but I think y'all generally know what I am talking about.

ee cummings rip off; elegy for words unspoken

It fe
e
l
s Like I am f
a
l
l
in(gettingintoa rut)Giving u
p.
Same, day in
Same, day out
Same, day in
Same, day out
Dull sunrises cue the rest of the day
to be still. Static.
Waning moons tell the night to fade
away slowly. Restless.
Same, night
Same, day
Same, night
Same, day


Hm, made me feel better, probably not that good. Also it was mostly an experiment with form, and repetition. Do I really care what you think? Not really, no.
Damn, not what I wanted it to look like, but the point of the format still remains, kind of.

Ni hao ma? Wo hen hao.

I spent about ten minutes of my night laughing until I couldn't breathe, it was quite fantastique. Why? An old SNL sketch from the Best of Jimmy Fallon. It probably wasn't that funny, but at that moment it was hysterical. What was it about? Italian wine makers who are great cork soakers. The joke being cork soaker sounds very similar to a... well I think you can manage to get the picture. That is basically what the whole five minute sketch is based around. A dirty, very teenagery/Gen X-y joke. It was great. I have had a long day today. A long, stupid day that just goes to show me: a good weekend begets a terrible week start. So it probably was the best thing for me to laugh until I couldn't breathe, and then laugh some more. I feel better now, much better. Now I am ready to do something, I was thinking of reading Lolita, or Grapes of Wrath, or Crime and Punishment or even... Ulysses. Why? Why at 9:31 PM would I start reading such dense, classic tomes? For I am me, and that's truly how I roll. I hit peak productivity around 9 PM until about 3 AM. Which is why my damn ass piece of shit high school gets in the way of my time, my good reading time, my good movie watchin' time, and my good writin' time. Bastards didn't learn me nuttin'.

Well, I'm off to try and do something, salvage this day. Salvage most days.

Don't Look Back; Turned To Salt.

The One Acts are finally over. I am relieved, and yet somewhat saddened. Why? It was great to direct. It's an experience any actor should undergo. But it's stressful, and I didn't think it would come together, but it did, and out of all of the One Acts in the show, mine was by far the most honed, practiced and amusing. I guess all that work did pay off. Now I got some business to attend to. But when I can attend to it is not really up to me, it's up to someone else. And that's all I have to say about that.

Reading my previous post made me realize how hard this past month has been. But I made it through, with most of my mentality and passion, onward now I go. And I'll try not to look back.

Lost. Truly.

This last week of break has been quite awful, to tell the truth. Why? I really don't care to say why because there really is no why. It just has been. It feels as though my whole damned world is shrinking. Like I've lost all of my friends. Like I've lost all of my passions, my dreams. My talents. I now feel like a living/breathing/talking nothing, and I am not sure how to fix it. I hope so much that this comes to pass, and I am more than sure it will, after the one acts are over, and once I get back into school- get the rhythm down again. But for I now I honestly don't know what I am doing. Senior year is supposed to be one of the easiest years of your academic career, why does mine seem so damn hard?

I don't even want to start thinking about college applications. To be quite aboveboard, I am fucked beyond all reason in that area. Because I should have done all of this months ago. And instead I'm doing it all last minute. Looking at what I've "done" it really hasn't been a lot. In fact, I am a pretty awful student. Not a very wide range of disciplines, nor any work outside the school to further my community. And doing 24 Hour One Acts and LTC does NOT count as community service. It just doesn't, how can it? How did it help feed the Longmont's hungry? How did it help shelter those who have none? Maybe I am asking questions in a context that doesn't make sense. Maybe I am.

It just feels like I will never amount to anything. I'll be another schmuck who never left Colorado, never experienced the world. Which is why it means so much to me to leave this state. I am afraid though, afraid that if I do go out of state for college I'll definitely end up a nobody. I have no family in Maine, and no family in New York. I have nothing out there except that dying hope of being something more than I am. I want to change a life, or an art, or do something that's recognized but therein lies the entire flaw to any plan I have. The goddamn fact that I want recognition for what I do. I want the prestige dammmit. Why is that so bad? I also love writing, and acting. I do both for the sake of both, and me. What's wrong with wanting an award? To be published in a prestigious magazine? Write an award winning novel? What is so wrong with that? Isn't that a psychological need to have the admiration, or at least some respect of your peers?

But for right now, I quit.