whatever happened to saturday night?

Last night was opening night.

Wow is all I can say. The support and love myself and the other cast members have gotten is just overwhelming.

I'm just sad it's almost over. Two more shows and then never again.

But for tonight, I can only hope to do even better and hope people walk away from the show with a deep appreciation for what theatre is capable of doing.

it's hard to let the miles pass me by.

What a start to the week. My Monday consisted of severe sleeping in, bad high-fives, the exchange of "stuff," and my favorite movie cuddled up on the couch. A day that started in frowns and a dull, sleepy panic and ended in smiles. That's how Mondays, I think, should always be. I rarely have bad Mondays; this one was no exception, considering. Despite the stress of having to relive a painful moment of the past, it was good to see certain people, even if the feeling was not reciprocated.

I realize this subject has somewhat pervaded my posts of late, but I'm hoping you'll patiently bear with me. I always find it interesting to see how relationship dynamics change over time. How friendships fluctuate from tight-knit to distant to anywhere between those two extremes; how romantic relationships develop and drift apart. The culprit seems to be the very obvious: people change.

Well, that's true.

And yet here I find myself with these relationships that seem to have changed while I have not. It's strange. It makes things more difficult. Communication breaks down where once there was an open exchange of thoughts and feelings. Now is all assumptions and perception. And it starts me thinking that maybe people change as a result of the change of relationship. Maybe they begin to act differently for the simple fact that the definition of the relationship has been altered.

Maybe because of that, they feel obliged to apologize for awkwardness there which I was unaware existed.

But I have not changed. I am still the same person I was when I last saw you. I act no differently now than I did a month ago. My life outlook has not altered significantly. It is merely the definition of what we are that is different. So why must you keep me at arms length?

Which also begs the question of myself: Why exert so much effort into salvaging something that appears to be lost? I put myself out there and have made it clear I have no expectations beyond the reasonable and appropriate. So if nothing happens, it will not be because I haven't tried. I can at least be satisfied in that.

But moving on. No one really wants to read much of my passive agressive rants, which surprise even me.

There is much to look forward to: tomorrow, my weekend, February. After an evening off, Agnes of God rehearsals start again tomorrow night. I really look forward to them - it's just something about the very relaxed nature of the way they run. It's very collaborative, very open, very comfortable. And I'm working with two other incredibly talented actresses. I want February to come so this show can open and I can share it with all my friends. I'm sure I annoy them every time I come back from rehearsal and gush about how great it was.

I'm such an acting nerd.

But I'm in such a good mood. Everything right now feels like it should. There are some loose ends, but it's not my job to tie them up anymore. I'm happy. And while my happiness is never exclusively defined by having someone to cuddle with on the couch watching my favorite movie, it certainly doesn't hurt.

And with that, I should probably attempt to fight this insomnia and go to sleep. It would be bad to start my Tuesday oversleeping as well.

make your past your past.

I have been idle for so long that this sudden onset of activity has left me a bit tired and confused. In a satisfied way, most definitely. The past few days have been full of rehearsal, reading, work, and late nights with friends.

They've also been full of thought. So many things require consideration that I find it strange to fall asleep at night without any number of questions and answers fluttering around my head. They make for interesting dreams, let me tell you.

Agnes of God rehearsals have provided the most rewarding and thought-provoking of those hours in my day. There is so much heaviness in the script, I'm afraid that I won't be able to peel back the necessary layers of Agnes' character and my own emotions to get exactly what I want. I feel so awkward during readings, when I get to a line in the script that instructs me to cry. I don't want to fake it, but I haven't gotten to the point yet where I can feel those emotions acutely enough to create real tears. But my directors seem pleased with the progress, and I know I'm in good hands. And I have more than a month yet until the show goes up in front of an audience, so all I can hope is that in that time I can come up with a performance, a truth, that I can be personally satisfied with. There is so much soul-searching to be had, so much emotion and pain to be uncovered. I hope I'm ready.

The idleness of the past week has allowed me to live in the sheltered present. Oh, I've thought of the past and those people who inhabit it quite a bit. There's a comfortable distance there, between myself and them. I felt so safe. I thought I was ready to face anything.

But then the past came walking into class this afternoon and caused nervous knots to form in my stomach. Then the past hugged me after class ended and I felt so young and bumbling, unable to form coherent and unawkward conversation. Jarring. I forgot that sometimes the past comes back to meld with the present; it was a meeting I was preparing for, but found myself quite unready to face. Thank goodness I've moved from those initial moments of dread that I had felt in the aftermath of reconnection. Someone who knows me so well would not judge me for being so surprised.

And the thing is, my feelings about the past have remained unchanged since the past left me for faraway places. The past can stay at a friendly - if much closer - distance and the both of us will be better for it. Time has given me the gift of looking at the past with an objectivity and rational calm that I did not have before. The past can live in my present if it so wishes. But it can never be my present again.

Because I've moved on. I live in the present. And I look forward to the future without the past holding me back.

my own personal waterloo.

I can't sleep. What a surprise. I'm lingering in the early hours of the morning before my final exam of the semester. My alarm clock is blinking 10:40 at me, which is wrong, because I haven't bothered to reset it since the power went out last. I have (mostly clean) clothes strewn about the floor that I haven't picked up and sorted yet from Thanksgiving break. It seems almost pointless to do anything about them now; they'll just end up stuffed in a bag for home on Friday.

Weird. I don't want this semester to end. I don't want to go home. If I could just opt out of Winter Break and stay cuddled up in my bed in Atlanta for a month, I would. Even if no one else was around. I could read and write all day. I miss being able to do that regularly. I haven't written a word since November, and I haven't touched my journal since before then. It's so strange developing a personality away from an object that seems to have been one of my defining characteristics for so long. It brings up some interesting questions as to why that is, but I'm not sure that's a question I want to answer. Maybe it was a security thing, something to keep myself hidden away in at one point that I really have no need for anymore.

But having to go home for the break brings up all my old awkwardness and irritates those long-held insecurities that I don't really fit in. I don't really want to be reminded of high school; I left it behind for a reason. And it doesn't necessarily help that those who I once considered close friends seem to have all but forgotten me. While I say it doesn't really bother me, at some unconscious level it does.

But then again, maybe the break will be a good thing. It's a chance to alleviate tension, for one thing. There's been a lot of it building up for a while now that I think would be good to get away from. It's like a balloon ready to pop. If I leave it alone for long enough, perhaps it will deflate on its own. Plus, some people I'd lost touch with recently resurfaced for a get-together, so maybe that will be a good thing. We'll see; I remain wary.

I think I have grown into this dislike of breaks since coming to college. For me, Oglethorpe contains my second family; I don't like being away from them for so long, especially when I feel like the only thing waiting for me at home is loneliness and a long marathon of my favorite Disney movies. Thinking positively though, alone time is always a necessity, and who doesn't love Disney movies?

Perhaps this break could be spent productively, minimizing all the clutter (literally and figuratively) in my life and getting it organized. I could learn to be less over-analytical, a nasty habit that often sends me spiralling violently back into those somewhat comfortable high school girl insecurities. I could finally finish the books I've been reading in short spurts for the past few months. I could get back into the habit of writing regularly; I could actually finish something for once instead of starting something and leaving it. I could learn to sew - that skill always comes in handy.

But I guess I'm really just anxious for the break to be over, if I'm going to be honest. Next semester promises to be full of both Shakespeare and Jane Austen with my two favorite professors. Being employed as a Writing Center Tutor again is also exciting; it's so nice to get paid for a job I love. Also, next semester is when I commence my search for an internship - wish me luck in that respect, it's rather daunting. Theatre-wise, once the semester starts up, I jump right in to what I think will be a very challenging but very rewarding role in Agnes of God, and I'm collaborating on a production of The Vagina Monologues to go up in March.

Perhaps I should just focus on the present. My ambition and excitement for the future won't help the issues I'm facing at the moment. I should focus on getting through this last exam tomorrow afternoon and keeping all the conflicting philosophies of Aristotle and Hobbes and Locke and Rousseau and St. Augustine in order.

Oh well, this is what I get for going to a liberal arts school. Silly me.

please don’t drown me in holy water

It’s Friday. The week – and the month of February – is coming to an end. I must apologize for the lack of updates. Admittedly, this has been the most stressful of my months here at Oglethorpe, but I think I’ve managed to survive.

Least important of these is the break-up and subsequent make-up of my relationship with my boyfriend. I don’t want to go into it really, but I will just say that it takes a little time apart to realize what you really feel for someone. I hate talking about things like this – it makes me feel so awkward and sentimental.

So moving on.

I’m sick. I blame this on exhaustion and a compromised immune system. After House of Blue Leaves ended I took up work on Complete Works of William Shakespeare [Abridged] and have barely had any sleep. I’m definitely overworking myself and I need a break. Thankfully, Complete Works is finishing up this weekend and I can rest.

But I guess the most traumatic thing to happen this month was the death of my close friend Clinton. Dealing with that was incredibly difficult, especially being so far away from home. But I was at least able to go to the funeral, which was a very beautiful tribute to him. From it I took away a resolve to be more faithful and loyal to those that I care about. Hopefully I can stick to it, for him.

I think the best thing about all of it was how I truly experienced the community of Oglethorpe. Of course my friends helped me through it, but even people I didn’t really know that well would come up to me and offer their support. And the wonderful thing is, they truly meant it. That’s what I love about my school. The people here are truly thoughtful and genuine. And you never have to be alone.

…

But I look forward to March. I look forward to my weekend. I was a hermit this week, working studiously on papers and French work, and (ashamedly) abandoned my friends to spend time with the boyfriend. This weekend will make up for it. Already, it has involved a trip to Waffle House and finger painting (which predictably devolved into face painting). Tonight: the Complete Works cast party. Saturday night: Chi Phi’s belated Mardi Gras party.

Geez - looking at that, I sound like a regular party animal. Maybe I am. But I’m having responsible fun. You can’t blame me for that.