Change of plans or am I standing still?

Having a child changes things-- oh Lord, does it change things-- but now that I'm adjusted to having my little guy I'm missing the things that made me me. Writing and creative ventures were/are a really big part of me and I'm ready to get back into it!!

The thing that kind of makes me pause though is that usually when I write or get into my creative zone, I tend to detach myself from everything around me. I don't know why, maybe so that what I'm creating isn't influenced by anything but my thought process? Perhaps it's because I don't want to get distracted and lose my momentum?

Whatever the reason, obviously it would not be okay for me to detach now that I've got a little boy who depends on me for everything. I'm thinking of this chane in my approach as a good thing, I did have a bad habit of not following though because "the impulse was gone". Now that I'm not ruled by fickle tides of "inspiration" I can really work on my writing again. After all, the only way to get better is to keep doing it!

when there's nothing left to burn, you've got to set yourself on fire.

I've been so crazy swamped that I haven't had a chance to post. Let's update on whats happening now:

I've started dating this guy, Mark, and while it's a new thing, he's great. I haven't been in a relationship in years and frankly wasn't looking or interested in a relationship, but Mark blindsided me-- something he does often, I like it, it keeps me on my toes.

I am taking a semester off to recharge and save up for moving out and on. Wherever my life takes me next I'm going to need to be prepared so that's what this semester off will be for. I've spent enough time in limbo and frankly I'm ready for the rest of the adventure.

I'm working on writing more, I've seriously been slacking and I'm tired of it haha. If I don't push myself I won't accomplish anything, and that doesn't work for me. I'm posting all of my works to this blog

2010

Dear 2010,

I know that our initial meeting was a bit strained-- I was cursing at the sun through the closed blinds and begging Lady Gaga for a refund on you. But I digress.

I'm writing you to let you know that you will soon be my bitch. Yes, it's true. This year I am going to get my ass in gear, and go H A R D. I'm sure you had plans for me, but I really don't care.

You may have had some romance lined up, but you can save it. I won't have time nor the desire to be courted or wooed. And honestly, I don't have much faith in your taste-- the people you've tried to surround me with so far are not the business. And frankly, 2009 ended on a high note in the guy department and I'd like to let sleeping dogs lie frankly.

Sex is always on the menu as far as I'm concerned but I really don't think I'm going to be having too much of it this year. I know I know, this isn't at all what you were expecting from me, based off what you heard from years past, but this is a new era. Get in line.

My hustle is going to be top shelf this year, so I cannot have you trying to distract, or detour me k? I thought I should write you while we're still getting to know each other and just let you know how this year is going to go down.

Yours truly,
T.

p.s. no. you may not dreg up exes or curveballs.

Compulsively obsessive.

I am on another one of my manic bursts again; I've been writing adn reading with a furvor I haven't had in a while. I'm not worried or upset about it, quite the opposite, I'm overjoyed at my new obsession with one of my loves. I really hope to apply this new burst of creative enthusiasm to my other arts-- and to academics, I guess.

I've been looking into fine art schools abroad and in other states, I've got my heart set on a few places, and a friend suggested to me a school I've never considered. Julliard. I don't know why I've never considered it as an option, I'm a triple threat and then some; I suppose I've always just assumed taht while I'm good at all of them, there will always be someone better.

That's not going to be my thinking anymore; if I don't deserve it, they'll be hard pressed to find someone better. I'm gonna knock everything I do out of the park. Watch me.

Tonight and the rest of my life...

...I'm gonna love me more than I love someone else.
...I'm going to do what I need before I consider what someone else wants.
...I'm going to be the baddest bitch I can.
...I'm going to write more often, even if it's just flow of consciousness drivel.
...I'm never going to sell myself short.
...I'm never going to settle.
...I'm going to stick to my guns.
...I won't give in.

...is mine, and I'm doing it right.

I can't believe it...

I've actually done it. I've finished my one-act version of my play. I didn't think I could do it. Even though we cast people and have started rehearsals I didn't know if I'd have it in me to finish. But I have!

Not only that, but I'm planning to extend it to a full length play!!! It was hard to write this much, but I feel that to do my life justice, I've got to do it full out. It'll be a challenge but I think that I've gone more than halfway and truly no one can take this away from me.

Watch out world, here marks the beginning of the rise of my empire.

Who said answers don't fall into your lap?

I've been struggling with some demons lately, and the forefront of my stress is that I am utterly terrified of falling back into old "habits". At rehearsal I, quite literally, had a sign fall into my lap. It was something I wrote about a year ago:

"To tell you the truth, I don't know when it all started. The restlessness, the unhappiness. One day I woke up and found that my life was no longer enough to hold my interests. That's a bad sign. when you yourself cannot convince yourself that you are interesting or worthwhile. I never wanted pity or to drag someone else down with me into my own personal private hell-- so I internalized. There is a reason one shouldn't internalize. It comes back-- nothing will stop something from coming out if it wants nothing but to be seen or heard.

So I took to writing, to funnel a jarred and twisted, albeit innocent, childhood, a frustrated and rocky adolescence, and an awkward adulthood into imaginary people. To take my shortcomings, rises and falls, and memories and give them to someone else. It helped immensely. Its amazing and I love it, the freedom that comes with anonymity. I could be anyone, do anything, and no one would judge me or call me ridiculous because it was fiction. A work of my mind and my heart. With my writing I could take the bad moments and feed it into a poor soul, and then lead them to a world of wonders where the would face their demons and win. Conquering the world, and living happily ever after. But it has become my undoing, I am envious of people that don't exist, of people that I created. I found refuge from my darker days but created a new realm of evil and self directed rage.

Pretending that I am fine-- pretending I was as normal as everyone else, as normal as everyone else wanted me to be-- was easy for a time, but all good things come to an end. It began to irk me that I couldn't embrace myself-- it's not to say that I didn't show others my true self, it was that I couldn't personally reconcile who I have become with who I was. I can't draw a line differentiating the two, nor can I see how it is so easy for others. People are generally harder on themselves, and I am no different. But I cannot seem to forgive myself for things I had no control over.

It's the victim mentality that most battered children fall into, and the remaining problms that arise differ person to person. I myself have a martyr complex, and a self destructive streak. I tend to sabotage myself, and overload myself-- pretty much to punish myself, to ensure that even in happiness I'm setting myself up to fail sooner or later. That's one of my problems. I'm punishing myself for something I had nor will I ever have control over. I can't change the past, and I can't make myself forget. Though I desperately wish I could. That's what we all wish, to not own these memories anymore; to be able to take back our innocense. To be able to be free.

And now I'm scarred from it. I can't have normal, functioning relationships, even the idea of letting someone in seems dangerous. No matter how happy we are, how flawless we are, I can't shake the feeling that something bad is about to happen. Trust is given too freely, too willingly from me, because I want to be proven wrong-- that there ARE people who won't hurt me. But therein lies my paradox, in my efforts to be proven wrong, I'm all too often proven correct. That makes for even bigger complexes to arise.

As a survivor, I seek love and acceptance because it's an affirmation that what's happened doesn't define me. I want to know that I define me. I need to know that my past won't mark me, ruin me, or keep me from being me."

This shows me that I've grown from this; that I'm going to keep growing. Nothing in life is easy, and when have I ever had it easy? I'm a boss bitch, and I'm no longer the poor girl who tried to find the answers in other people. I'm in this for me, and mines. You're on my team, or you need to get out of the way.

"Blue Blanket"

this is a poem sent to me by one of my very closest friends. she is fantastic about knowing me and my limits; she knew I'd appreciate this poem. So I'm putting it up here for everyone to read, please absorb the message. I know exactly what I'm going to teach my son.

"BLUE BLANKET" by Andrea Gibson

still
there are days
when there is no way
not even a chance
that i'd dare for even a second
glance at the reflection of my body in the mirror
and she knows why

like i know why
she
only cries
when she feels like she's about to lose control
she knows how much control is worth
knows what a woman can lose
when her power to move
is taken away
by a grip so thick with hate
it could clip the wings of god
leave the next eight generations of your blood shaking
and tonight something inside me is breaking
my heart beating so deep beneath the sheets of her pain
i could give every tear she's crying
a year---a name
and a face i'd forever erase from her mind if i could

just like she would
for me
or you
but how much closer to free would any of us be
if even a few of us forgot
what too many women in this world cannot
and i'm thinking
what the hell would you tell your daughter
your someday daughter
when you'd have to hold her beautiful face
to the beat up face of this place
that hasn't learned the meaning of
stop

what would you tell your daughter
of the womb raped empty
the eyes swollen shut
the gut too frightened to hold food
the thousands upon thousands of bodies used and abused
it was seven minutes of the worst kind of hell
seven
and she stopped believing in heaven
distrust became her law
fear her bible
the only chance of survival
don't trust any of them

bolt the doors to your home
iron gate your windows
walking to your car alone
get the keys in the lock
please please please please open
like already you can feel
that five fingered noose around your neck
two hundred pounds of hatred
digging graves into the sacred soil of your flesh

please please please please open
already you're choking for your breath
listening for the broken record of the defense
answer the question
answer the question
answer the question miss

why am i on trial for this

would you talk to your daughter
your sister your mother like this
i am generations of daughters sisters mothers
our bodies battlefields
war grounds
beneath the weapons of your brother's hands
do you know they've found land mines
in broken women's souls
black holes in the parts of their hearts
that once sang symphonies of creation
bright as the light on infinity's halo

she says
i remember the way love
used to glow like glitter on my skin
before he made his way in
now every touch feels like a sin
that could crucify medusa kali oshun mary
bury me in a blue blanket
so their god doesn't know i'm a girl
cut off my curls
i want peace when i'm dead

her friend knocks at the door
it's been three weeks
don't you think it's time you got out of bed

no
the ceiling fan still feels like his breath
i think i need just a couple more days of rest
please

bruises on her knees from praying to forget
she's heard stories of vietnam vets
who can still feel the tingling of their amputated limbs
she's wondering how many women are walking around this world
feeling the tingling of their amputated wings
remembering what it was to fly to sing

tonight she's not wondering
what she would tell her daughter
she knows what she would tell her daughter
she'd ask her
what gods do you believe in
i'll build you a temple of mirrors so you can see them!

pick the brightest star you've ever wished on
i'll show you the light in you
that made that wish come true!

tonight she's not asking
you what you would tell your daughter
she's life deep in the hell---the slaughter
has already died a thousand deaths with every unsteady breath
a thousand graves in every pore of her flesh
and she knows the war's not over
knows there's bleeding to come
knows she's far from the only woman or girl
trusting this world no more than the hands
trust rusted barbed wire
she was whole before that night
believed in heaven before that night
and she's not the only one
she knows she won't be the only one

she's not asking what you're gonna tell your daughter
she asking what you're gonna teach

your son

What's done is done...

...and needlessly holding onto anger isn't going to change the fact that it's finished. I understand your pride might be a bit wounded, but really, we're going to go an entire week of avoiding each other and not speaking over this? My mother found out I have a tattoo and is utterly PISSED off, and while I understand her anger, this irrational punishment she's doing isn't going to make the tattoo go away or make me want it any less. So she might want to rethink her tactics.

I'm trying so hard to finish my student direct, but my migraines are so bad I can't see straight sometimes. This show is emotionally draining to write to begin with, but with the stress from my mother, the show and school on top of it, it's a wonder I haven't just thrown in the towel.

Everytime I wonder why I do this.

Floorset was 12 hours long this floorset, and my goodness it was so draining. I fell asleep AT floorset, and I just slept like 9 hours. I wasted an entire day, and I so hate to do that. Now I suppose I'm just wrapping up some loose ends, catching up on things.

Really all I'm trying to do is avoid making a fool of myself; idle hands are the devil's playground after all.....

I'm terrified.

Thinking about the future today has got me shaken because I'm realizing somethings:

I am absolutely terrified. Terrified of going, terrified of staying. Just terrified.

If I go, then there's the fear of failure, the fear of my self destructive tendecies totally going off the deep end. The utter fear that if I go, that my family will have nothing to do with me.

If I stay, I'm afraid I'll never leave, that I'll never accomplish the things I've set out before me. If I stay I'll beocme complacent and my self destructive sabatoage will take a crazier form I'm certain.

I'm also terrified that I'll never become anything because I'm not good enough for society//the establishments I seek to join. Sure, I know I'm talented, but is it enough or the right kind for my goals? What if I don't get into USC and I don't get published because it's not what they're looking for?

I'm absolutely terrified.

Christmas? Wasn't He born in the spring?

This holiday season has kicked my ass. I figured once I was out of school I'd have time to work on my various projects I have saved, all at different levels of completion, and to just relax. Oh no, I seemed to have forgotten that I work in retail. Shit. I've replaced just about everything with work, or sleeping before/after work. The stress is mounting with all the crazies and demanding people. I just want to do floorset and be done with it all. This winter season has shown me that I'm really done with retail soon, I don't want to be subhuman to some woman who spoils her kids and scorns the rest of the world.

All the holiday cheer is lost on me this year, I've taken the pretend-it-isn't-happening approach. My mother is trying to get me into the spirit by reminding me that it's "Jesus Christ's birthday" and I "need to be thankful for the blessings He's bestowed" on me. So I kindly reminded her that Jesus was actually born in the spring and Thanksgiving had already passed, she wasn't too pleased with that assessment. If Christmas was really about family, togetherness, and love then why are there hoards of people abusing retail staff over boxes and shoes, people who aren't calling their disowned gay child, people who leave their parents old, withered and unattended in nursing homes? I'm pretty pessimistic this season, but come New Years Eve, it'll be on like donkey kong.

My resolution for 2009 will be: Go Big, Get Right. Get it Done. I'm getting my hustle on, no excuses no reneging. I'm all over this, and damnit I'm already behind schedule on my life. But sadly I may have to postpone moving again, family issues, combined with money crap, combined with health all add up to me having to stay a tad later than I had planned. But we'll stay positive, keep pushing and remember to always do right by life.

Chelle and I are compiling some stuff for a book, and I've really got to wrap up my SD, but in all of that and everything going on, I'm still starting new projects. I don't know, it just feels wrong to not follow an impulse, to ignore the inspiration. I'm really excited to write more, but I wish I were more consistent on following through haha It's in my nature to procrastinate and leave things undone for months at a time. I've really got to work on that.

oh me oh my.

Life is a tad jumbled now, hence the gap in posting. But holiday season is kicking in so I've practically sold my soul to the Dirrty Bird ©. Let's get a jump on this post shall we?

I recently got my body touched, and that opened an entire can of worms. He's got a girlfriend, and I figured that'd work to my benefit because I'm not looking for a relationshit. Well, he's crumbled under the pressure I guess, because he's dropped the ball. That's not the annoying part-- it's the regression he's suddenly taken. It's very junior high: the slinking around in my view in the hopes to make me watch him, the talking about me with his friends so there's a little mob throwing not-subtle-at-all glances my way, the whole NOT TEXTING thing. ugh, ridiculous. We're both adults, let's handle this in an adult way. Whatever.

I'm so overwhelmed lately that I've taken a mental health week, but now I need to get back in the grind. I need to finish "Haunted", my prompt book for "Pygmalion", my set design for "Antony and Cleopatra", and the 30 billion other things I've pushed back. I don't want to get behind schedule, but I also don't need a mental break down. That would push the schedule even further, and we can't have that. Oh crap, that reminds me, I've got to start working on my monologues and my USC essays.

I am reaffirming something I've believed in all my life: you should only fall in love if you've got an amazing story behind it. You're going to have to retell this story at PTA functions, your wedding, dinner parties, etc, so why not have a great story to tell? I refuse to fall in love unless we've got an interesting story to tell, I am fabulous enough for an even greater love than "high school sweethearts" or whatever, so I am going to demand what I deserve.

My friends are fantastic, and supportive, and hilarious. Throughout everything I'm going through, mucking around in or avoiding they've got something to offer. Thanks you guys for being amazing and keeping me sane =]