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 that I personally purchased while making eye contact with the salesperson with my friend standing next to me. He probably thought we were lovers of the rough variety. 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 nipple clamps), so this obviously had to happen. Just 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. (Bondage? Bonding?) That same day, my friend lost his car keys while he was getting out of our other friend’s car into his car literally not two meters away, and he allegedly 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. People do crazy things.
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 it had nothing to do with it. I’ve been going out so much that I’m going to run out of the means 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 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 poetry slam workshop. Then I came home and my parents congratulated me on wasting my 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 thing. We haven’t known each other for two weeks. We were in film studies together all last semester but we barely even talked until finals week. I am also super hyper-aware of the fact that he’s never called me his friend. 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 another one of my friends who I’ve really missed not seeing every day (but not the class we had together). We used to complain to each other about everything every single day and I miss it to death. Even though we still text each other our complaints. She gives great advice and I would never in hell 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 getting the fuck over things and I love the way that we understand each other. She’s always had such a positive outlook for me about my life, and she sees me in this light that I’ve started seeing myself in a little more.
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 couldn’t draw my eyes away, it was a fucking spiritual experience.
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 them.
I feel giddy after this. 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 WHAT-EVER 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 I’m not trying to please you.