living apparently in a dream vacuum

I didn’t even realize we had another blog post due. I will be eternally scattered. Anyway, while I’m deciding if I really feel like talking about the most interesting person I’ve talked to within the last 24 hours, let me just give you a recap of my week so far. I’ve been trying to make sense of it inside my head but I think maybe it’s time to bring it out.

Last Saturday, I spent approximately two hours walking around the mall handcuffed to my friend after we bought some kinky handcuffs from Spencer’s. I personally purchased them. While making eye contact with the salesperson. With my friend standing next to me. He probably thought we were lovers. Anyway, we have this tradition we started last year to use at least one sex toy as a prop in every single one-act we do (last year it was a nipple chain), so this just had to happen. God, please don’t tell my advisers about this. We’ll tell them when they retire.

The only person to comment on our handcuffed escapade was a Teavana employee who asked us if we were okay and I told her we were just doing a team bondage activity. That same day my friend lost his car keys while he was getting out of our other friend’s car into his car, which was parked about two meters away, and he later texted me that he used a Swiss army knife he found in his car to cut a hole in his pocket so that he would have an excuse for why he lost them to his parents.

On Sunday I had a going-away party for my friend who is currently in South Carolina for her internship. Everything happens so fast. We drove around in the dark a lot screaming. We had just seen a horror movie. But that’s not why we were screaming. We went to Noodles and Co. where I had never been before but OH MY GOD, THEY HAVE SO MANY NOODLES, THE NAME DOESN’T LIE. I’ve been going out so much that I’m going to run out of money at one point, but this play I’m directing is kind of making me disappear off the face of the earth. Then before we went to the movies, we went to the dollar store, and I was wicked shocked that each of my purchases came out to be one dollar. I got home really late and I put all my leftover candy in my backpack and it’s steadily dwindled down over the past week especially since I’ve been rehearsing every night and too tired and busy to remember I need real food to keep going. I am terrible at taking care of myself and great at being distracted by “more important things.”

Then the new semester started which is always a little weird. Surreal. On Monday my actors and I carried a guillotine that I had someone build for me into school. I’ve been showing people pictures of me with my guillotine all week. On Thursday I came into school and Ms. P.D. told me I apparently got a gold key and six silver keys and an honorable mention for a bunch of my poetry in the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. That threw me off my game a little. I love being thrown off my game. Now Mr. O’Connor wants me to send him my stuff so he can put it online for people to see or something and I don’t know how to tell him I can’t do that. I’m fine with showing select people these particular things but I want to know my audience. I also kind of regret telling my parents that I won anything, because I really can’t show them some of those things either. It’s just this purge of me trying to come to terms with my life (I may never).

I’m kind of mad that this painting my friend painted of me in outer space didn’t win anything because it was fucking good. I barely remember anything else that happened except that I’ve barely even been home and I kept trying to change my schedule and I finally got out of P.E. This morning I woke up and finished painting my foam head and then I drove into Boston with Kelly and some more people for this slam poetry workshop thing. Then I came home and my parents were like “congrats on wasting your whole day” and I don’t know, it’s never that pleasant for me to be home/ around them so I’m glad I’m going to be spending another whole week mostly at school unless I’m unconscious.

I’m really nervous about what’s going to happen to me when this whole play is over– it’s completely my life right now and it’s all I talk about and I’m just afraid of this giant hole appearing where that used to be. It’s holding me right now and I need to be suspended so badly. (But I also complain about it a lot.) But I really don’t want to think about the real things.

I think the most interesting person I’ve talked to in the last 24 hours is my friend who I won’t name. I am going to refer to him as Prisoner 8612 instead of his real name, because it’s kind of a running inside joke we have. We haven’t even been friends for two weeks yet. We were in film studies together all last semester but we barely even talked until finals week. He’s also never explicitly called me his friend, which is kind of a weird thing to realize even though we talk 24/7. He’s in a band and he told me he’s planning to take a gap year after high school and that it might just turn into his whole life. I think that is what living out your soul means. Prisoner 8612 collects versions of the song St. James Infirmary like normal people collect snow globes. I completely stole that analogy from him. The interesting thing about that song is that even though Louis Armstrong is known for performing it, the original composer has completely been lost; it was just sort of passed down among jazz musicians until he recorded it and that version became famous. We have some really weird conversations about the most abstract things, which are my favorite conversations. We also bonded over this weird and amazing genre of music called dark cabaret because I showed him this band I love called the Dresden Dolls and then he showed me some more dark cabaret groups like the World/Inferno Friendship Society and Circus Contraption. Then he made me start listening to a genre called ska and we were going to see this ska band in a few weeks until we found out  it’s a 21+ show and that’s just infuriating. Also, I found out yesterday that fake IDs cost a lot more than the tickets even would have. (I was kind of kidding about that, but then my friend Karen offered to actually get me a fake ID so I ended up asking her about the prices. In case you’re wondering, it costs like $100 per person, but you get a discount if you’re buying in a group. Okay, I hope this comment doesn’t get me arrested, but if this is how I go, it’s how I go.) Prisoner 8612 plays the guitar and the drums and apparently piano because he offered to give me piano lessons in exchange for acting lessons. I hope I never show him my blog because if he saw this post, I don’t think I could live it down. But I think it’s a rarity for me to find someone I can really connect with.  We just talk forever about everything ever and I’m so excited that he’s coming to my show on Friday– I’ve told a lot of people to come to my show– but I’m also really nervous because I have exactly four rehearsals left to get everything right and I’m not even done decorating my severed head.

I also have to talk about my other friend who I’ve really missed not seeing every day (however, I don’t miss Spanish itself). We used to complain to each other about everything every single day and I miss that. Even though we still text each other our complaints. She gives great advice and I honestly would not have survived last semester without her because I was a complete wreck when senior year started and she’s just seen me through all of that. She helped me so much with applying to college and getting over my trash ex-boyfriend who broke my heart and I love the way that we understand each other. She’s always had such a positive outlook for me about my life, and I think that sometimes, you just have to hear someone else believe in that for you when you can’t, and when I heard her say all that, I couldn’t not believe her.

Another interesting person I’ve talked to in approximately the last four hours is a slam poet from Chicago named Regie, who was running my slam poetry workshop– he is magnetic. He read us this poem he wrote about the Transcendentalists and being a Transcendentalist in the modern age, and I quite literally couldn’t draw my eyes away. Just being around him is enough to feel spiritually reawakened.

At some point I need to write about Karen, but that’ll take up a lot more words so I’ll save her for later. She is like my Christine Daaé. Not in a creepy way, but in a way like Christine and Karen are both soccer mom names but they cease being that for both of these individuals because of how freaking radiant and un-soccer-mom-ish they are.

Okay, thinking about my friends/idols always makes me feel better. Giddy, even. Being around my family is like trying to navigate an entire junkyard of eggshells or playing Russian roulette. I can’t ever keep track of anyone’s intentions or mood swings or WHATEVER is going on but I think I’ve realized over the past year that there’s no pleasing everyone anyway so I might as well just stop trying. Okay, it’s late-ish and I’m tired so I think I’ll finish my severed head tomorrow. I need to go fall asleep. In the bathtub. And keep listening to The Ramones. I’m happy with how far I’ve gotten. And I’ve honestly been happy lately. It’s a strange thing, to realize you’ve finally made it to the Other Side, but if I denied it, I’d be out of my mind.

I was going to make a passive-aggressive comment about how this is about 1,000 words longer than it needed to be, but this is my blog and I am not trying to please you. But if you’re pleased anyway, then I’ll be pretty happy.

~Kasia

You Slow Down You Die

I was debating whether or not I should do this individuality prompt– I’m pretty against the idea of going with the grain or whatever (whatever that means, I don’t really understand what the grain is or where it’s going. This is kind of a weird analogy). But here we are. I am adhering to the norm. I am anti-revolutionary. Boring boring boring. I’ll forgive myself for it later.

While we’re on the topic of analogies, I have to say that using analogies is another horrible way of adhering to the norm– like, God, why can’t you come up with anything original?

I feel that I’ve always had a strong sense of self from a young age, though obviously this has evolved dramatically over the years. When I was really young, this meant that I had some weirdly conceived notion that I had superpowers or something. I am not really sure what possessed me to think that. I guess I made it up, but it meant that I spent a good deal of my childhood years unlearning this notion and realizing that I do not, in fact, have supersonic powers. It was a little hard for me to wrap my head around that at first, since changing your mindset is one of the hardest things to do ever, but Lord knows where that whole idea came from anyway. It just bubbled up to the surface from somewhere inside the nebulous cauldron of childhood fog. I swear I’ll never understand it and I have no desire to.

I am pretty introspective; sometimes, I’ll spend hours saying my thoughts out loud to myself just so I can sort them out when they start to get too scattered, which to be fair, is pretty often. I guess that’s where my general disorganization comes from; it starts in my head. I think that everything that physically manifests must come from inside your head. Anyway, really all that whole thing does is make it hard for me to sleep.

I’m going to take this time to list some flaws that I have. Self-deprecation is such a blast. Okay, here we go. I am really indecisive about the most trivial things, like what I want to eat. Honestly, I think it comes from stressing out a little too much about everything, which again, comes from the disorganization. I’m the type of person to never be satisfied with anything. I mean, happiness is this fleeting thing for me. I just can’t be content. I always want to move onto the next thing and the next and the next. I’m restless. I tire myself out. I don’t do things like this aimlessly. I guess it comes from always needing to be doing everything at once, as much as I can, as fully as I can. If I stand still for too long or really at all, I’ll get really depressed. I want to always have as much going on as possible. You’d think that would kill me, and yet, I think it’s really the other way around. I have to be busy all the time, eternally absorbed and distracted. Keeping going is how I keep going. I think it’s like that thing like, if you say a word too many times, it stops sounding like a real word. If I overthink things too much, if I question why I’m doing anything and stop long enough to think about that, I’ll hurtle myself into this one-way existential crisis that I am not going to get out of until– not even until something really important and life-shattering happens to me– but until I painfully crawl out of that mindset myself. I’ve already been through that a few too many times, but I’ve been pretty absorbed lately, and I’d like to keep it that way. In this state of floating above the invisible line, on the edge of the cliff but not over it in any way, shape, or form. And so I have all these things that hold me. Right now, I’m directing a play and it’s all I think about. As long as I have a million things to obsess over at once, I’ll be fine, but it’s a thin line and I’m trying not to fall into a hole.

So I guess that’s why I write (even though that requires so much introspection) and why I spend 12 hours at school every day just so I can rehearse every night. There’s nothing for me to complain about. I bring it upon myself because I like it.

So I guess not being able to get out of my head is maybe my biggest flaw, even though it’s also that fact that keeps me afloat. I think this is maybe the first time I’ve used the word “flaw.”  I’ve always rejected using that word, because to me, people aren’t “perfect” or “imperfect” or anything like that. They’re just complex, dynamic, because that is what people are, and it doesn’t have a thing to do with “strengths” or “flaws” or anything. Anything that is a strength can be a flaw, and anything that’s a flaw can be a strength. That’s because it isn’t strictly either; it’s just a dynamic. A dynamic and ambiguous fact that can prove salvageable or turn rotten. It happens really fast both ways and I think it’s impossible to pinpoint.

God, this was so easy to crank out. I haven’t seriously written in a while.

~Kasia

10 Reasons Why Taking Ms. Gounis’s Class Again Could Be The Worst Decision I’ve Ever Made

  1. Isn’t art class supposed to ruin your relationship with art-making or something along the lines of that? I have no idea what this is gonna do to me and I don’t know if I want to stay here long enough to find out.
  2. I’ve literally already taken this. Maybe I should, as they say, expand my horizons or something? Until I can’t see them anymore?
  3. I have gotten pretty good at writing on my own, I don’t even need this. I don’t know what I’m trying to prove.
  4. I’m almost done with high school and I really don’t feel like putting effort into anything anymore, not even this. Actually, it’s kind of scary. You’d think I was nearing the end of my life or something for the amount of things I DON’T WANT TO DO.
  5. I have to write in all these poetic forms and we all know I’m a freestyle person. What am I doing. I hope to God this doesn’t make me sick.
  6. I could take sociology instead and actually see my friend who I don’t have a class with anymore. Then again, he could also switch in here. Why do I have to be the one who cares.
  7. I WRITE ENOUGH POETRY ANYWAY SO I TOOK A CLASS WHERE I’M JUST GOING TO WRITE MORE POETRY INSTEAD OF EXPANDING MY HORIZONS AGGHHHHH
  8. To be honest, this class is kind of meant to function as a free block for me so I can not die.
  9. I feel like I’ve already exhausted every possibility. God, I need to get out of here. Just, the larger “here.”
  10. Honestly I should take another AP class or something, what if I don’t get into any of the 17 schools I applied to (are you out of your mind?? ((yes honey))).

I honestly don’t even know what’s going to happen to my schedule at this point. I’ve been ranting to everyone about how I’m trying really hard to get out of taking P.E. I with my brother who’s a freshman and how I would rather take another AP class than that class. What a lunatic. Anyway, I hope that works out. This was fun, I didn’t think I’d be able to come up with any reason not to take this class, but it’s incredible how much you can complain once you really get into it. God, I wish that could work the other way around. Wait, maybe it does. I’ll try it sometime.

Can’t believe I wrote an entire blog post in ten minutes.

~Kasia