Check Point - Realization

I went swinging the other day and I realize now, I can't remember the last time I did this.  

It was liberating. 

I took a walk to the park, ended up swinging until dark, and then took a detour stroll home. It probably looked odd, an adult swinging all by myself on a park built for children, but I didn't really mind. People passed in their cars, on their bikes, on foot with their dogs and I was too distracted by my own thoughts to pay them any attention. 

This semester was hell for me. Transitions from music to business, music to acting, singing to studying, Annie to Secret Garden, three roommates to just two, voice workshop to performance workshop... I probably took on too much since my stress levels and emotional hysterics are at an all time high. I've had to miss class to be responsible: apartment search, take the cat to the vet, record music for work, and mice issues. And I've had to stay up late and exist on sleep deprivation so I can do all the human things like shower, do laundry and eat. I feel so guilty for taking minutes to myself to eat and to even write this blog! Or go to the gym. Or actually cook. I might be too giddy come summer for I believe I deserve it most. I cannot wait to read a book for fun and to paint. I have ideas, creative ones, and everything must be put on hold until summer. My goal for next fall is to not book myself so full that I feel as if I'm not living. Sometimes, school engulfs everything, and living, doing things for myself, are the first things that go out the window when time flies. I must continue to live.

But boy, have I grown. To think I am not having a nervous breakdown over grades because I won't be expecting all A's this semester. Big accomplishment. I also have made breakthroughs with my acting: being vulnerable with someone else, getting close to tears with my monologue, working on a British accent, and feeling emotions overwhelm me as a character. I am enjoying the craft of acting far more than I could have every imagined; I wish I would have discovered it sooner. Music was always my passion but the typical thought-process makeup of a vocalist is not how I function anymore. I value much more the approach of an actor's; open-understanding-we-are-all-in-this-together concept. I will stick with business but I will continue to seek out acting/theatre classes. And also dance; I enjoy ballet a lot and will continue to pursue those talents as well. 

As I was swinging, I came to my own life realization. Now thinking as an economist, I do believe life is just a succession of peaks and troughs. Originally, this thought would bug me because I like all things that are constant, things that are easy to control. But alas, life is not constant and it is uncontrollable. Almost all things in life occur in peaks and troughs. Relationships do as well. But peaks and troughs come and go, expansions and contractions commence, and we really can't fixate on any one things that caused the rises and falls in life. Just got to remember to live. Easier said than done, mind you, for it doesn't make the troughs hurt any less or the peaks any less desirable, but it's a comforting thought to reflect on. Also, there are such things as recessions but it is also comforting that the BLS doesn't acknowledge the existence of depressions! so one will always eventually return to a rising rate at one point or another. Sorry, nerd moment. 

Anyway, I currently find myself at a current peak, ready to fall. What began ALL of this stream of consciousness was me swinging. It is that moment, when you have finally pumped your legs to get the swing high in the air, your body in a constant rhythm, and your hands fastened tight around the chains. I find myself at that moment of suspension between each rise and fall. I've just risen to the top of the peak, and any day now, I shall begin to decline. Perhaps I am suspended due to my ignorance or the wonderful distraction of what was Secret Garden, but I can feel at any moment, no matter what, I am doomed to fall. And as a result, I'm trying to keep my mind, and heart, fixated on the swing rising back up to another peak, realizing that no matter how long it takes-- it will come. 

my happy jam

Invincible

For the first time since I've been retaining my dreams, I dreamt I was shot. I remember hearing in high school when peers had re-occurring dreams such as this and I couldn't fathom a dream, or nightmare, so dark. In my mind I classified them as really morbid individuals who found thrill in dreams such as those. But now, here I am...? I've never thought of myself as a goody-goody because I do have that pessimistic, cynical outlook at times but dying in a dream scared the crap out of me. I was walking down a path with my mom and a man in a dark trench coat who looked suspicious just up and pulled a gun on me for no reason. I stood in front of my mom in case he shot again... but my adrenaline was running but surprisingly accepting. I wasn't crying hysterically (which is perhaps unrealistic because neither was my mom and she definitely would have been haha) and I just kneeled over and died. 

And then yesterday I got news of a classmate dying from lung disease. Its crazy how fragile life is no matter how invincible we feel and act in our lives and in our dreams.

In honor of celebrating life, I posted my reenactment of my car crash wound... when I was lucky to have even survived. 

Choke

Be my locket.

Around my throat.

Weigh me down.

Watch me choke.

Cease my breath.

I look good in blue.

My body decays.

Gone with morning dew.

My hearts still pounds.

Within my chest.

But lost is love.

Once possessed.

Be my locket.

Watch love die.

Watch me drown.

I found good,

in cold goodbyes.

I'm hilarious... look at the gem I found!

hrm.

i guess i just get these overwhelming i miss boyfriend moments. what you suppose i shall do about them?

let's see.

i could write them all down.

flush them down the toilet.

throw them in the fire.

but since it's freakin hot out and theres no need for me to burn my family alive yet i guess i could heat them up in the microwave.

i could eat them. them meaning the moments not my family.

or put peanut butter on them and have ernie eat them and watch. meaning my family.

i could type them.

and then have the pleasure of deleting it. the moments i mean.

i could write them down on paper

and turn them into paper planes

but then genia will bitch about trees or something...

then again i could go carve them on a tree.

and laugh at genia's bitching.

i could talk to the kitty.

pet her and tell her the stories.

i could paint on the canvas

and then paint it black

but then i'd be emo

and i guess i don't really have that much black paint.

uh or a canvas.

i could uh sing.

but that would be uh gay

and i'm pretty sure you don't like recitatives.

hmm talk about awkward.

i could shout out my missing moments... but then again that's just as bad as eating right before you go to bed. Both to horrid things to the vocal chords. Go figure.

i could go smoke.

hah.

like you didn't see that one coming.

like i have any anyway.

i could go run and with each step think of each word so i will run the moments out of my head...

but who the fuck likes exercising?

well i mean i like the feeling i have afterward but not the actual process of quitting being a mouse potatoe and putting on shoes... ick.

too much work.

i could go make another shirt.

but i wouldn't have enough letters.

i could go write poetry.

but no inspiration. def motivation. everything sounds the same. why bother if it's all the same.

i guess i could go sleep.

hehhhhh.

turn them into dreams.

damnation.

screw this.

no no no

better yet screw you.

of course just kidding. anyway i hope this made you laugh more than it being bothersome. talk to you later.

Peace

Lying in the streets of rage and protest sunflowers begin to grow underneath our bodies, beneath my dress, between our feet and around our necks, interlocking our fingers as we March down the street of hope and death, walking to bring home those we love and wish to keep, reunite the broken families homes of the free, who were torn apart as we Heal the wounded and mourn the dead, too many words were left unsaid as tears fall like bombs on top of our heads we only want peace not the war to be won, why is America holding the gun? Suck up our pride and take the defeat, human agony of dead bodies lying at our feet as the ground crumbles and cracks, turning black engulfing the living and the lies, how young do you plan to die? Age fifty? Age twenty? How about age four? Why can’t our nation make love and not war?