thanks for playing my romantic lead
even if only in the version i colorized
i fantasized you and i
on a porch swing watching a sunset somewhere
and thanks for playing your part so well
i came out of it all with a briused heart
but, what the hell
i felt some things i must have needed to remember...
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
do you feel better?
Better...
So much Better...
but seriously.
This past week, even with the insane amounts of work and the constant pain from an overly tedious ballet class, has been so much better. It's great. Or at least getting greater than it was.
Long walks, Friends, Jamican, JRB, and Script Analysis.
Find a conversation you can have, and have it.
And then make a youtube of yourself singing and feel like an ass when people actually watch it.
And then get a scholarship for just doing what you do.
All together a good week.
But one thing could make it so much better...
And theres still one day left.
So much Better...
but seriously.
This past week, even with the insane amounts of work and the constant pain from an overly tedious ballet class, has been so much better. It's great. Or at least getting greater than it was.
Long walks, Friends, Jamican, JRB, and Script Analysis.
Find a conversation you can have, and have it.
And then make a youtube of yourself singing and feel like an ass when people actually watch it.
And then get a scholarship for just doing what you do.
All together a good week.
But one thing could make it so much better...
And theres still one day left.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
long winded and ranty and fueled by cheap, wonderful coffee.
I sat and I waited. I hoped that something would happen.
I sat and I watched. I watched couples and parents and children and pets.
There was what seemed to be a vast amount of happiness around me.
And I tried to let it rub off on me.
To feel this same happiness and possibly even the euphoria and freedom of the young boy reaching into the fountain and his mother held his feet so he wouldn’t fall in.
But rather than feel free or happy or careless or anything I felt confined.
I felt as though I was stuck.
I am stuck.
I’ve barely been here and I’ve already resigned myself to the role that I always play.
Quiet. Lonely.
I try to break out, but old habits die-hard.
It is a nice fit and an automatic place for m e to feel comfortable, and so it is where I end up being.
I don’t try. It just happens.
I sat on the fountain wall, reading and observing. Randomly letting my feet dip below the surface of the water.
And as I sat I saw what I want.
People in relationships and happy.
I want that.
And it is so not me.
I am the first person to say that I am not a relationship person.
They practically give me hives. The thought of the confinement, almost.
But now… I want that. I want to feel secure. I want to be able to call someone and just talk to him and have a conversation and be normal and regular and have a rhythm within our talking and a comfort level and an attraction and maybe something deeper. I know that there is much, much more to any relationship but I don’t care.
I want to be able to go out with a boy.
And just have something.
I want the happy, easygoing air that the people in the park had.
I want it now.
I don’t want to sit and watch anymore.
I want to be the person that someone like me could see walking through the park hand in hand with another person and they’ll go “Wow. I wish I had that.”
I want to be my own envy.
I want. I want. I want.
But I don’t know how to get it.
I don’t know what to do.
And I know what I don’t want.
Who I don’t want.
And I’m sorry to them. It is still a no.
It’s just to odd.
But I want with someone else what they want with me.
Want. Want. Want.
Maybe even need.
Who’s to say?
I don’t know hat I need. It may be a relationship.
It may just be a fling.
It may just be a kiss.
But it could also be everything.
Life would be so much easier if I could just figure out what it was that I wanted.
I could stop focusing on everything else and instead zero in on what I really want.
Focus on what really matters.
Think about who really matters.
Right now my mind is everywhere.
Focusing on everything.
Thinking about everyone.
Too many thoughts.
My phone is sitting to the right of my wrist.
I keep hoping it will ring.
I don’t know who it is I’m hoping to call but I’m keeping it there like I’m really expecting someone to call me.
But I know no one will. With the exception of maybe my sister.
But she’s working so not even her.
I am so socially awkward.
I wish I could change that. I need to become more comfortable.
But its too much of a challenge. I like being liked but I don’t like the effort I need to put forth in order to have people want to like me. It’s a complex issue. I have many of those.
I’m ranting. But that’s okay.
I’m sitting at The Last Drop.
I’m drinking my large to-go coffee and using their free internet, because here I know I’m not stealing and it won’t back out on me at any moment like it does at the apartment.
There is a girl sitting to my right, next to my cell phone. She’s drawing someone here, I don’t know who it is though. I randomly try to catch view, quick glimpses of what and who it is she’s drawing but I can’t see. Her left arm is obscuring it. Oh well.
I saw The Woolgatherer this afternoon. It was well done. “Beautiful…”
There was a speech in it that Cliff made to Rose (obviously as they are the only two characters in the entire play) but it was about why he was there, and about how even though he was halfway home he couldn’t get her out of his mind and he had to turn around to see her, if he could. If I can find Jessica’s copy of the script I will post it here. Its just that good It needs to be read. Trust me. At least as far as I can remember it does.
It’s so odd. I’m starting this “new life” but within this new place I am falling back onto the old me completely. And even when I try to break free of that old me I am put back there by someone else. No matter who I meet they end up knowing me as Jessica’s sister. I have been known as Jessica’s sister my entire life. I did have a brief respite when I was at Fairleigh. But now I’m here. And she’s got two years on me. And many friends compared to my very few. She as everything while it seems that I have so little. And so everyone I meet will know me as Jessica’s sister. Once more. I’m going back to the role I have played all my life, since second grade when I had my first teacher, Mrs. Price, who had also taught Jessica. In the years to follow I would have others who had taught Jessica or/and Nicholas. But that was the first time that I was referred to as Jessica’s sister by a teacher. I was not allowed to be just Caitlin. I had to be Jessica’s sister, Caitlin. I don’t resent that at all. I understand that it is just a part of my life, a part of who I am. But I cannot always be her. I can’t always be the other version of Jessica. The lesser version. I need ot get to a place where I can be a whole, complete version of myself I need to learn who I am. I need to find who Caitlin is. And then maybe I can step out of this shadow I’ve had cast over myself, that I have gladly stood in for the past twenty years. Maybe 21 will be my age. It could be my golden year. I could find myself, and someone else, and legal alcohol all at once.
I sat and I watched. I watched couples and parents and children and pets.
There was what seemed to be a vast amount of happiness around me.
And I tried to let it rub off on me.
To feel this same happiness and possibly even the euphoria and freedom of the young boy reaching into the fountain and his mother held his feet so he wouldn’t fall in.
But rather than feel free or happy or careless or anything I felt confined.
I felt as though I was stuck.
I am stuck.
I’ve barely been here and I’ve already resigned myself to the role that I always play.
Quiet. Lonely.
I try to break out, but old habits die-hard.
It is a nice fit and an automatic place for m e to feel comfortable, and so it is where I end up being.
I don’t try. It just happens.
I sat on the fountain wall, reading and observing. Randomly letting my feet dip below the surface of the water.
And as I sat I saw what I want.
People in relationships and happy.
I want that.
And it is so not me.
I am the first person to say that I am not a relationship person.
They practically give me hives. The thought of the confinement, almost.
But now… I want that. I want to feel secure. I want to be able to call someone and just talk to him and have a conversation and be normal and regular and have a rhythm within our talking and a comfort level and an attraction and maybe something deeper. I know that there is much, much more to any relationship but I don’t care.
I want to be able to go out with a boy.
And just have something.
I want the happy, easygoing air that the people in the park had.
I want it now.
I don’t want to sit and watch anymore.
I want to be the person that someone like me could see walking through the park hand in hand with another person and they’ll go “Wow. I wish I had that.”
I want to be my own envy.
I want. I want. I want.
But I don’t know how to get it.
I don’t know what to do.
And I know what I don’t want.
Who I don’t want.
And I’m sorry to them. It is still a no.
It’s just to odd.
But I want with someone else what they want with me.
Want. Want. Want.
Maybe even need.
Who’s to say?
I don’t know hat I need. It may be a relationship.
It may just be a fling.
It may just be a kiss.
But it could also be everything.
Life would be so much easier if I could just figure out what it was that I wanted.
I could stop focusing on everything else and instead zero in on what I really want.
Focus on what really matters.
Think about who really matters.
Right now my mind is everywhere.
Focusing on everything.
Thinking about everyone.
Too many thoughts.
My phone is sitting to the right of my wrist.
I keep hoping it will ring.
I don’t know who it is I’m hoping to call but I’m keeping it there like I’m really expecting someone to call me.
But I know no one will. With the exception of maybe my sister.
But she’s working so not even her.
I am so socially awkward.
I wish I could change that. I need to become more comfortable.
But its too much of a challenge. I like being liked but I don’t like the effort I need to put forth in order to have people want to like me. It’s a complex issue. I have many of those.
I’m ranting. But that’s okay.
I’m sitting at The Last Drop.
I’m drinking my large to-go coffee and using their free internet, because here I know I’m not stealing and it won’t back out on me at any moment like it does at the apartment.
There is a girl sitting to my right, next to my cell phone. She’s drawing someone here, I don’t know who it is though. I randomly try to catch view, quick glimpses of what and who it is she’s drawing but I can’t see. Her left arm is obscuring it. Oh well.
I saw The Woolgatherer this afternoon. It was well done. “Beautiful…”
There was a speech in it that Cliff made to Rose (obviously as they are the only two characters in the entire play) but it was about why he was there, and about how even though he was halfway home he couldn’t get her out of his mind and he had to turn around to see her, if he could. If I can find Jessica’s copy of the script I will post it here. Its just that good It needs to be read. Trust me. At least as far as I can remember it does.
It’s so odd. I’m starting this “new life” but within this new place I am falling back onto the old me completely. And even when I try to break free of that old me I am put back there by someone else. No matter who I meet they end up knowing me as Jessica’s sister. I have been known as Jessica’s sister my entire life. I did have a brief respite when I was at Fairleigh. But now I’m here. And she’s got two years on me. And many friends compared to my very few. She as everything while it seems that I have so little. And so everyone I meet will know me as Jessica’s sister. Once more. I’m going back to the role I have played all my life, since second grade when I had my first teacher, Mrs. Price, who had also taught Jessica. In the years to follow I would have others who had taught Jessica or/and Nicholas. But that was the first time that I was referred to as Jessica’s sister by a teacher. I was not allowed to be just Caitlin. I had to be Jessica’s sister, Caitlin. I don’t resent that at all. I understand that it is just a part of my life, a part of who I am. But I cannot always be her. I can’t always be the other version of Jessica. The lesser version. I need ot get to a place where I can be a whole, complete version of myself I need to learn who I am. I need to find who Caitlin is. And then maybe I can step out of this shadow I’ve had cast over myself, that I have gladly stood in for the past twenty years. Maybe 21 will be my age. It could be my golden year. I could find myself, and someone else, and legal alcohol all at once.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Georges Perec.
I just read him fr the first time today and I already love this French modernist stuff.
Species of Spaces- The Bedroom. Love it.
For my FYW class we needed to take one of the samples from Species of Spaces and rewrite it as our own, taking an entire page.
I chose Placd small thought no 2.
Perec's says "The passage of time (my History) leaves behind a residue that accumulates: photographs, drawings, the corpses of long since dried-up felt-pens, shirts, non-returnable glasses and returnable glsses, cigar wrappers, tins, erasers, postcards, books, dust and kickknacks: this is what I call my fortune. "
Thats the extent of the sample so to extend something like that is a bit difficult becase he doesn't go into detail, but I decided to detail it up. And I'm actaully really proud of what I did. I don't care if its exact, its my own interpretation and I like what I did with it. And yes, its very stream-of-conciousness, but whatever. And to warn if your reading this you might find somethings within that you recognize. And so...
Day go by, passing one into another. Nothing to show but an accumulation of stuff, junk. Miscellaneous items meaning nothing, or something. Remove a box from a shelf and what do you find: scraps of paper, ripped and crumbling, snatches of words legible through the folds, “Love ya, Shannon!” or “What happened with Adam?” Meaningful or meaningless? A flowered card wishing “the Best” from Rob. The results of a failed game of MASH, living in a shack with 17 kids. A peg game. A paper plate “Sweetest.” Hockey memorabilia. A rainbow admittance bracelet. A hospital bracelet. A voter registration card. A British pound. A singing birthday card - “Mmm-Bop.” A wooden ruler. Collections of poetry, bad and good. A card, filled with writing, recollections, and Pamela Anderson. A Grassroots Inc. script for getting money on the street. A collection of snapshots; nine smiling girls on a beach. A sign reading “Homecoming 2004, Go Juniors!” A boy in a suit and a girl in a dress, smiling and happy. A group of young students, none older that four years, awkwardly still around a teacher. A line of cheerleaders waiting for competition scores, expectation and dread on their faces. Three children, one an infant, sitting on the lap of an elderly man in flannel. Four young women on a train, invincible for a moment. Everything and nothing. Postcards of insults, postcards of secrets, letters of hellos and goodbyes- all never sent. Burned down candles, broken necklaces. Doodles and drawings and diagrams of life choices. Pro and Con. Yes and No. A box of cigarettes still unopened. A green plastic lump labeled PICKELEFOUR. A red leather book, filled to the brim with quotes. Ads for plays, flyers for shows, concert tickets and playbills. At the bottom a folded fortune teller. “Yellow, Green, Red, or Blue.” The entirety of my life kept within a box on a shelf. Junk meaning nothing and everything.
Species of Spaces- The Bedroom. Love it.
For my FYW class we needed to take one of the samples from Species of Spaces and rewrite it as our own, taking an entire page.
I chose Placd small thought no 2.
Perec's says "The passage of time (my History) leaves behind a residue that accumulates: photographs, drawings, the corpses of long since dried-up felt-pens, shirts, non-returnable glasses and returnable glsses, cigar wrappers, tins, erasers, postcards, books, dust and kickknacks: this is what I call my fortune. "
Thats the extent of the sample so to extend something like that is a bit difficult becase he doesn't go into detail, but I decided to detail it up. And I'm actaully really proud of what I did. I don't care if its exact, its my own interpretation and I like what I did with it. And yes, its very stream-of-conciousness, but whatever. And to warn if your reading this you might find somethings within that you recognize. And so...
Day go by, passing one into another. Nothing to show but an accumulation of stuff, junk. Miscellaneous items meaning nothing, or something. Remove a box from a shelf and what do you find: scraps of paper, ripped and crumbling, snatches of words legible through the folds, “Love ya, Shannon!” or “What happened with Adam?” Meaningful or meaningless? A flowered card wishing “the Best” from Rob. The results of a failed game of MASH, living in a shack with 17 kids. A peg game. A paper plate “Sweetest.” Hockey memorabilia. A rainbow admittance bracelet. A hospital bracelet. A voter registration card. A British pound. A singing birthday card - “Mmm-Bop.” A wooden ruler. Collections of poetry, bad and good. A card, filled with writing, recollections, and Pamela Anderson. A Grassroots Inc. script for getting money on the street. A collection of snapshots; nine smiling girls on a beach. A sign reading “Homecoming 2004, Go Juniors!” A boy in a suit and a girl in a dress, smiling and happy. A group of young students, none older that four years, awkwardly still around a teacher. A line of cheerleaders waiting for competition scores, expectation and dread on their faces. Three children, one an infant, sitting on the lap of an elderly man in flannel. Four young women on a train, invincible for a moment. Everything and nothing. Postcards of insults, postcards of secrets, letters of hellos and goodbyes- all never sent. Burned down candles, broken necklaces. Doodles and drawings and diagrams of life choices. Pro and Con. Yes and No. A box of cigarettes still unopened. A green plastic lump labeled PICKELEFOUR. A red leather book, filled to the brim with quotes. Ads for plays, flyers for shows, concert tickets and playbills. At the bottom a folded fortune teller. “Yellow, Green, Red, or Blue.” The entirety of my life kept within a box on a shelf. Junk meaning nothing and everything.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
I love you, but...
Right now I have that same feeling to where I am. I love you but...
I love this school and this education and this environment but...
I miss my friends. I miss my teachers. I just miss things.
And although you might not know it I am an incredibly shy person. I do not do well when thrust into social situations where everyone knows each other already and I'm the odd one out. Not to say that everyone already knows each other here, but I feel like since they live in the dorms together and did all those dumb bonding things at the night activities during orientation everyone really does know each other. And I'm just standing there awkwardly shadowing my sister cause its the easiest thing for me to do.
I panic when I don't know anyone. I get awkward and just odd. I can't deal with it. So instead I leave. Right now I could be at the "Welcome Back/Kickoff" party for all theater majors. Instead I'm in the apartment. I was there for 10 minutes-ish and then I left because I just couldn't do it. I can't meet people in situations like that, especially when they're all familiar already. It's just too hard for me. I'm shy. People don't realize that, but I truly am a very shy person. I end up curling into myself and avoiding everyone, new and old.
I wish I knew how to move on, or that I could make new friends quicker and easier but I can't. I need someone else's help to introduce me, or to spark a conversation or just something. How am I supposed to be a adult and have an issue like that? How am I supposed to make friends? Expand my horizons? Find someone to connect with? I won't. So I really do need to get over that... But it's just so hard.
I love this school and this education and this environment but...
I miss my friends. I miss my teachers. I just miss things.
And although you might not know it I am an incredibly shy person. I do not do well when thrust into social situations where everyone knows each other already and I'm the odd one out. Not to say that everyone already knows each other here, but I feel like since they live in the dorms together and did all those dumb bonding things at the night activities during orientation everyone really does know each other. And I'm just standing there awkwardly shadowing my sister cause its the easiest thing for me to do.
I panic when I don't know anyone. I get awkward and just odd. I can't deal with it. So instead I leave. Right now I could be at the "Welcome Back/Kickoff" party for all theater majors. Instead I'm in the apartment. I was there for 10 minutes-ish and then I left because I just couldn't do it. I can't meet people in situations like that, especially when they're all familiar already. It's just too hard for me. I'm shy. People don't realize that, but I truly am a very shy person. I end up curling into myself and avoiding everyone, new and old.
I wish I knew how to move on, or that I could make new friends quicker and easier but I can't. I need someone else's help to introduce me, or to spark a conversation or just something. How am I supposed to be a adult and have an issue like that? How am I supposed to make friends? Expand my horizons? Find someone to connect with? I won't. So I really do need to get over that... But it's just so hard.
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