of losing total feeling

It’s been a pretty shitty week.  I watched Pi for the first time last Sunday and, like most weird art films about a crazy guy going especially crazy, it put me in a really weird mood.  Which would’ve been fine, except I’ve been in said weird mood ever since and nothing I do is managing to get me out of it.  In fact, it’s starting to feel as if the vast majority of the world is conspiring to keep me in said weird mood for the duration of the semester at least.  This idea is represented in the amount of school work my teachers are suddenly eager for me to complete, the extensive rehearsal periods where I sit and do nothing which are piled on extensive rehearsal periods for another show where I do pretty much everything, the surly weather, the absence of certain male companions, the presence of certain others, the insomnia, and my da suddenly deciding that the only option for my next year of life is returning to BTown and living in his basement.

Of course, at the heart of all of this falderal is the fact that I actually really enjoy weird art films about crazy guys going especially crazy.  I find them fascinating.  The vast majority of them are beautifully shot, have excellent soundtracks, and have Jewish protagonists.  What’s not to love?  In fact, I’m relatively certain that the causes of my love of weird crazy guy art films and my weird moods that result from them are directly linked: I feel very close to the main characters.  I feel as if that could be me someday.  This is both good and bad, I think.  While it’s wonderful to be drawn to art and characters, have a sense of belonging, feel as though you’re not alone in the world, etc., it would definitely be better for me to find a group of people to bond with who aren’t, in fact, crazy.  Just saying.

I don’t know how to articulate to my father the real reason why I don’t want to move back to BTown.  This is majorly complicated by the fact that he has no idea that the reason I don’t want to move back even occurred.  Because I haven’t told him.  And I don’t intend to any time soon.  Self-censorship is a terribly invasive thing.

It makes me nervous to think that the Gentleman Caller is still going to be on the interstate at two a.m.  I don’t know if this is because the weather’s been shitty and I’m afraid the roads are bad, or if it’s just that I’m terrified of being alone right now.

I’m beginning to see the benefits of taking Valium.


i hear that voice in my head…

I’m a month and a day out from graduating college.  So that’s terrifying.

School’s fine.  I’ve gotten to the point where everything that’s designed to be challenging is super easy and I just can’t bring myself to care enough.  I want to be done.  I want to move on.  I’ve been feeling crazy nostalgic recently, and I keep thinking about the summer after I graduated high school.  I think this is mostly due to the fact that I miss Paiga like NOBODY’S BUSINESS, but I can definitely see parallels to my life and relationships now and the ones back then.  Hopefully this time things work out better…

I’ve decided that, no matter what, I’m moving to Chicago.  I have yet to hear from Teach for America (where I applied to go work with intercity kids) and I’m not supposed to for about a week.  I really didn’t enjoy the in-person interview: all that was discussed was how I was going to get my kids to have flawless test scores so that the school administrators didn’t get fired.  I know that’s the whole deal with No Child Left Behind, but I also know I call bullshit when I smell it, and there’s definitely a rather pungent odour surrounding this.  So if they offer me Chicago, I’m going to take it just so I can move there.  And if they offer me somewhere else, I’ll say thanks-but-no-thanks.  I can find other things to do with my time.

I applied to a few different Borders stores and Argo Tea Company online a couple weeks ago, and actually got a call from one of the Borders locations today.  The woman offered me an interview for sometime next week.  …When I have school.  And rehearsal.  That I can’t get out of.  I just about screamed.  I need a job.  I need a job so badly, if only to get out of the Basement in Bloomington and get my mum off my back about paying for my taxes.  The Borders lady said she would call again when it got closer to May, but I’m not sure if she actually will.  Shit.  Shit shit shit I hate life sometimes.

This is a good thing though, right?  Someone’s interested in me.  Someone wants to potentially hire me.  I just have to remind myself that the world hasn’t ended yet.  I’m not a failure.  Everything will be fine.

Question up for debate: am I completely lame for not wanting to work in theatre for a while?  To just have a job and be a slave to the man for a little while before diving headfirst into hours of rehearsal and paperwork and stage managerial stress?  I love theatre; I really, really do.  But I just want a break: from school, from theatre, from fighting through German literature.  I just want my mind numbed for a little while.  Is this wrong?

Of course, we must also consider the fact that I know that the more I work, the more I get paid.  And the more I get paid, the more money I can save.  And the faster I save money, the sooner I can hop a train to come to Carbondale and visit the Gentleman Caller.  Skype is wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the same as one-on-one-and-potentially-naked snuggle time.

Are you there, G-d?  It’s me, Kiri.  If you could pull a few strings with the Borders lady, that would be really, really cool.