Is it Spring yet? How 'bout now?

So, I tried to read Phédre last night and somehow ended up writing a 3 page letter to a friend instead. Hmm.
The Neo-Futurist thing we're doing with Cabaret this week is good. I like it. I can see what I want from my disappearing into a book sketch way clearly, and things aren't too bad I guess, but... I don't know. Sometimes, I can't eat. It isn't even always a matter of being hungry, it's... fear I guess. I think it's just the food here. I really don't feel like I can trust it.
I had a zombie dream recently. What the hell?
Last night was drifty though. I do that more than I used to. Sleep used to come so easily. I probably don't exercise enough. There are a lot of things that I don't do enough. There simply isn't time enough.
My new Venetian key chain makes me happy, it chinks well in my pocket, and it is good to have a mask around, even a tiny one, as they are about as close to literal magic as we find in this world.
My life has started doing that thing again, where it starts taking patterns and symbols and formatting itself like a film or novel. To some extent it always does it, but it was very intense for a lot of high school in a way that had faded a little until recently. Well, maybe not. Actually, I think I'm just aware of it again. I don't know.
I was gloomy this morning because the weather was and I've been having trouble dealing with the lack of sunlight when everything in me says it should be spring NOW, but I felt better later because it was warm at least and still beautiful. I think we get what we want once we are satisfied with what we have, a lot of the time, because, low and behold, the sky cleared up a bit before sunset to over me a shining, moving, masterpiece of a cloudscape for a couple hours.


I miss my family. I ran up to Sam Monaco today and thanked him for making someone I love happy and he seemed pleasantly surprised. I like him. He's much better than anyone else she's dated, and cuter and a better musician to boot. He reacts well to my weird. This speaks well of his open-mindedness. Also, in spite of being Ben's friend and roommate he agrees that he is an asshole especially in regards to me, and this is endearing. It was funny when Danielle was pretending not to like him. I mean, honestly, he wrote her a GOOD song, clearly there was nothing left but for her to be putty in his hands. That's just life.

Stories

I would like to curl away into a book and never come back.
This place would be mad, musical, magical, and mine.
I want to dream forever.

Late night in Park City

Fuck, Dad is gonna kill me for being up this late. Talked to Gowri and Nick. It was good. Had troubles with melancholy today, but am feeling better. Really miss said people, Matt, Emily, Ilian, Danielle, and Kailyn and feel that anyone of them will fill the companionship void in my Utah trip in a way that would make life a lot happier and bearable than it has been. I need one of my own, someone I can level with.
Well, right now what I really need is sleep.
Oh, and life is shifting into patterns again. Fancy that.
And I finished The Great Gatsby today, which left me a bit unsatisfied, but which I think was kind of the point. I'm glad I read it.
Dream time.

Alone in the Hotel Room, and Meant to be Working on French

Was having a dialogue with myself today, pacing, thinking furiously, and ended up composing a poem out loud. I workshopped the end when I put the whole thing to paper, but it was still a process heavily dependent on playing with the life the words took when spoken out loud. Hm.

Shine

There are places where the wild time flows, moments scattered like shards of a crying sky that wraps itself around your heartbeat while you sleep. The soul of the soil sang to the Sandman who whispered in my ear of all there is to love and fear here in this tiny little infinite place.
As I pace I try to trace all that I am right now into this immortal moment. I don't have enough skin to live with, enough to feel and touch the world's width. I told him, "I don't want to die young." He replied, "I don't want to die old."

Doesn't want to leave with his memory faded and cold,
would rather burn out bright in a single spasm of light. He forgets that stars shine for eons before sighing away in their final phoenix song.

I would rather live long, like the sun,
spreading light over everything I look upon.

Bushels of Books and Ballet

I am realizing more and more how amazing opera is. Saw a ballet with Sara today, and it wasn't just beautiful, it was entertaining. As in, it cracked me up, and yes, it was supposed too. I think it's better that way. It meant that the more sober, beautiful parts were more powerful than they would have been otherwise. Anyway, I mention opera, because that's what they were dancing to. Maybe you have to have an ear for it, I don't know, but the music was filled with story and feeling to me, and it improved the dancing.
I also bought about $40 worth of books from Bonanza, which is closing. This is highly upsetting, as Bonanza Books is one of my favorite book stores

...and I never did finish that post.

Pride

This post has been deleted for my own sanity and, haha, pride. (that actually was the original tital)
You didn't want to see it. Either you had your heart broken or you will at some point later and then you have enough of that nonsense on your own time. I'd like to throw mine out with the trash, given the option.

Apparently...

ENFP - "Journalist". Uncanny sense of the motivations of others. Life is an exciting drama. 8.1% of total population.

Free Jung Personality Test (similar to Myers-Briggs/MBTI)

It said:
Extroverted (E) 69.23% Introverted (I) 30.77%
Intuitive (N) 70.27% Sensing (S) 29.73%
Feeling (F) 52.78% Thinking (T) 47.22%
Perceiving (P) 84.38% Judging (J) 15.63%
So apparently I'm pretty even on the feeling/thinking front.
Also, this proves that Kelly was right, which makes sense, seeing as she's been trained in this since, um, birth. (which makes it really awkward when you think about the fact that her parent's mis-typed her for a long time, what with it being their profession and all. Sort of a tragic misunderstanding of there daughter. I think she figured out her actual type when she was, like, ten.)
Anyway: The ratios on the feeling thinking make it make more sense to me now.

Yarg. I slept through most of the day, to compensate I suppose for not sleeping at night. That was one of the most debaucherous nights I've had here, I think. Also, debaucherous should be a real word.
You know, I thought that making out with somebody was one of those things I wanted that wouldn't actually help me at all, but I actually feel a lot better now. Huh.
It's interesting knowing that you're reading this, Kailyn. I kind of enjoyed the total anonymity I felt before, but there is something about knowing that somebody does read and care about all these words that makes them a bit more satisfying too. Also, I have the sort of brain that is good at la-la-la-ing it's way along in the face of unexpected attention. Which is to say, I suppose, that I am good at ignoring it.
Still. Last night was interesting. It went through such different sequences. First the melancholy sort of aimless drifting after house managing, then the fun of the one-acts, and then Yoshi had his talk with me. It wasn't anything I hadn't already figured out for myself, but something about hearing him say that he was no longer in love with me made it real in a way that it hadn't been before. "In terms of the emotional distance between us, I find it annoying to be around you right now because you're my ex-girlfriend, and that's just going to take time. I'm usually fine, but it's when you latch onto my flaws that I have to leave the room. I do think you're a wonderful person though, and would like to close friends with you again eventually."
You think I'm a wonderful person. How nice. Ass. I don't know. Something about that particular phrase is just... ugh. Like when people ask if a girl is pretty and someone says "Well, she got a great personality."
It was hard I guess, because it made real for me the fact that I don't really matter. I don't think that he's not in love with me anymore, so much as he never was. It makes me feel a bit used and discarded, though I know it wasn't really like that or that it was never his intention at least.
What was interesting was how I dealt with it. I mean, Matt was with me for a bit, but I pretty much had to deal with this one on my own. I found myself in this tiny nowhere-room in Titsworth with some mats, a broken piano, and a mirror. I'd never been there before, I didn't even know it existed. I doubt that most people do.
It was such an awful feeling. I was alone, so I got to release myself to those all-consuming, body-shaking sort of tears. I used to do that in front of other people more, but I don't like to as much now. Maybe it's part of the whole "growing up" thing. I don't know. As much as I wear my heart on my sleeve, I rarely have allowed people here to see COMPLETE breakdown.
That's what I did though. I broke down every bit of myself and what had happened to me, examined all the parts, cleaned some, threw some out, and put it all back together. I got into this funny space where I was able to see the girl in the mirror as someone standing in front of me rather than a reflection of myself. I looked at her, saw her in the midst of my own overwhelming tumult of emotion, and saw potential. This would make me a better actor, artist, writer, storyteller. So I took my tears and started doing lines from the end of Lear. I was suddenly in control of a great storm, the words flowed out of me like power, like that certain breed of truth the feels like magic. It was probably one of the best performances of my life. By the end, I had finally stopped crying. The storm had subsided, and I felt strong, centered. I sat there with myself a while longer, singing until I felt fully transformed, and then I left the little room and sought the rest of my evening.