The daily adventures and travails of one neurotic, klutzy, hungry, cynical college girl. Tune in for prizes! (offer void where prohibited. See office for details. Not responsible for lost articles.)
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Tuesday, March 11, 2003
"Some men look at things that are and say Why? I dream things that never were and say Why not?" - some old guy.
There are moments in a day that make you stop and double take. Good and bad.
I don't like to rehash (You guys can stop laughing.) I'm not gonna retell the story I was writing earlier. You can physically approach me and ask, if you're so inclined. Unless of course, you don't even know me and you're reading my blog. Hey, come up and talk anyway.
I was reading a friend of a friend's blog and the personal touches were so deep and emotional that I felt like I was intruding in her life. What was I doing there, reading about her boyfriend's pain that she caused? That's not my business. No more voyeurism.
I guess, since I often feel guarded, it surprises me others are so open to sharing. It's either admirable or foolish when other people are bold enough to ignore *judgers*
What was I saying? Oh right, moments... I ran into a grad actor the other day and I mentioned I was sick. An hour later, I ran into her again and she asked if I felt better and offered a cookie. Instantly I remembered that while working on the show, she had handwritten me a card thanking me for my help. Amy, there's no chance you'll read this, but there should be more people like you.
Natalie, a girl in my playwriting class, came up to me and asked me to read the lead part in her play. She added that, while writing it, she had thought about me. I was greatly taken aback by her compliment. More amazing, she didn't mean it as a compliment. It was matter of fact. I was astounded and pleased far too much than I should have been. Then, Ian asked me to read his principal part as well. Either it's become obvious that I crave attention, or these guys are my new best friends. Actually, that's synonymous. (Spell check, please?)
Don't you hate it when you sound stupid in class? Or anywhere else for that matter. In casual conversation, with your friends, ON THIS BLOG, maybe? I utterly loathe myself. I hate it when I speak, yet I can't stop myself. At the time, I think I'm being witty and profound. I only reflect later to find that I'm trite and childish. Or, as Courtney often tells me, I just can't stop beating myself to pieces. Eh. It's a living.
I continually have this dream/nightmare that I'm in this room. No doors, windows, or even walls. It's just white space. Pure white. No tone of yellow or gray or anything else. It's that whiteness that feels like cotton, soft, clean, and eternal. I'm surrounded and I can't tell if I'm standing or floating cause there's no floor. My emotions turn from elated to frightened to confused, etc, just over and over again. I don't know what it means, but I've always felt it had great importance, if I could only figure it out.
6:51 PM
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