Community and self

So, I've been having several thoughts, lately. The tone of these thoughts are likely going to be better understood if other things about me are understood first. And so, with that in mind...

I used to be a practicing member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (aka "The Mormons" - so called because their primary source of study/gospel doctrine is found in The Book of Mormon). I still struggle with being outside of that community. It was easier living in an area full of Mormons, because it was easy to find post-Mormon communities, too. I had several friends who were kind and understanding about the kind of sadness one can feel about losing hold on beliefs.

While I enjoy the idea of living somewhere that hosts many varied beliefs, I have a difficult time finding any kind of a niche in such a place. I've always struggled socially. And I've always been a little bit sad about the fact that I struggle socially. I am not one of those charismatic humans with animal magnetism who draws others to her effortlessly (though, as luck would have it, I'm married to an extrovert who people are drawn to, so thankfully we still have friends in our lives).
But as it is... On days off, I tend to stay huddled indoors, reading or staring at my phone (sometimes for hours) flitting through social media sites and reading random articles... I don't seek out real social situations. Especially not if traffic has to be involved. Any abundance of strangers (especially angry strangers inside machinery) is anxiety-inducing to me in a way that I did not realize until living in a busy place like this.

I have said many times "I'd rather be busy than bored," usually when people asked how I was handling heavy loads of work at school, or how I was balancing full-time work with community theatre involvement. I'm not particularly good at finding ways to busy myself, so having several obligations to force me out of my shell and push me past thinking about social anxiety is my preferred lifestyle. When I am bored, I have too much time to think and sink into sadness over all the many stresses in life. Letting myself sink into that stress/sadness combo feels like the scene from The Neverending Story where Atreyu loses Artax, and I can't handle that being my mentality so often (it has been happening a lot lately).
My sanity sometimes feels like it is slipping. I had to take on less hours at a job recently, in large part because of my mental health. I think I have a lot of pent-up angst, worry, and sadness bopping around inside me like a pinball machine, and that job required a permanently cheerful face while dealing with difficult personalities on a regular basis, and I struggled as I've never struggled before in a job.
I'm actually a very good employee; I'm hard-working, I care about getting things done the way they should be done, I'm productive, I find useful and helpful things to do during downtime... But I felt like a bad employee there. I'm still subbing in for random shifts here and there, but I'm not there full-time anymore. And what feels crazy about that to me is that I was most definitely being kept busy! I was busy, and needed, but I was hating it. I couldn't handle it.

I don't know if the big problem is that I'm missing a sense of community and friendship?... I was looking back through recent years as I thought about life yesterday, and I realized how many communities I've been part of and then left in recent years. I was a regular at a certain community theatre, and I left. I was working at a pediatric dental office where I got along very well with my co-workers and boss, and I left. I was working at a playhouse two summers in a row, and I didn't go back for a third. I was attending school full-time in an immersive theatre program, and I graduated. And I grew up in a church that shaped so much of who I grew up to be, and I stopped attending. Most of those exits have occurred within the past three years, maybe four. All of it has definitely occurred within the past five years.

I've thought about going back to church at times. However, I honestly don't have aligned beliefs with all of the church's teachings anymore. There are certainly things that I miss about that church, primarily the feeling of community I had within it (without having to stretch myself too far to feel like a part of the community). But I don't think I actually belong there anymore. And I don't think I can lie to leaders about my beliefs just to feel included again. It wouldn't be right, and that wouldn't be true to myself or to the community I'd be attempting to rejoin. I think, simply, the issue is that I sincerely miss belonging somewhere.
Being someone with a somewhat-recently broken family (my parents are divorced and loathe one another), I don't even feel the sense of belonging that I used to feel amongst my own family. Everything feels messy and jumbled, now. And I know that even the school I miss so terribly will look completely different to me in two-three years' time. The students I attended with will have moved on. Some of the faculty will be moving on (some of them already have). That community is not mine anymore; but I was so incredibly fond of it. It was such a struggle getting myself into that community in the first place; I sacrificed a few other communities in order to be a part of that one (I had to drop the dental office, and I dropped the community theatre involvement because I needed to dedicate my time and artistic efforts in full to my artistic education instead).

Sometimes I wonder: what was it all for? I have a degree now. Did my college community completely override every community I'd been a part of until then? I know that the things I learned and experienced there had an influence on my opinions and emotions... Did I sacrifice more than I even realized in order to obtain that degree?
...would I do it again?

Honestly I think my answer is "yes." And that clears up a little bit of angst for me. I was preparing to be angry with myself for getting that degree I struggled so hard for.

Maybe I'm just looking for somebody/something to blame, when I'm way off the mark. Everyone struggles. Maybe it doesn't have to be someone's/something's fault. Maybe I honestly need to just struggle past my own carefully-built barriers and get myself into a better place. With or without a community to prove anything to. With or without a sense of belonging. Maybe I just need to find out how to belong to myself, and how to own my life, and live it with good intentions.

Maybe I can still be as good and kind a person as I was when I attended church. Maybe I can still be as productive a person as I was when I attended school. And maybe I can still be as vivacious a person as I was when I was good at dental assisting, and when I was involved in fun productions and projects on a regular basis. Maybe I just need to stop relying on a distracting lifestyle. I wish to be busy, but being busy might not be a real answer to my problems. Perhaps all it is is a distraction from the anxieties that I refuse to process. Perhaps I don't need a community in order to feel validated as a human being. Maybe I don't need approval in order to feel good about myself. Maybe I can just start by being a kind person who takes care of herself and her loved ones. Maybe all of the other nonsense will fall to the wayside if I let it. Maybe strangers will frighten me less if I don't prioritize the approval of others so highly in my life. Maybe I can just live my life the best way I know how and let the nonsense be nonsense. Maybe I can care more about being genuinely myself again.

"by the old gods, and the new..."

I think Game of Thrones is in my head more than I am. Problematic, perhaps.

My husband and I have been watching Game of Thrones together, lately. We started it with our roommates, and then our schedules were wonky and not aligned at all so I progressed through season 5 with one of our roommates, while another roommate lost interest, and my husband was left in the dust at episode 3 of season 2 for a WHILE.

He didn't feel much like watching it by himself, for some reason. Very odd, indeed, it is SUCH a picker-upper.....

Anywho, the roommate I kept watching with has been doing a show out of town for several weeks, and to keep my Game of Thrones fix in motion (and to catch my husband up) I started watching with him from way back where he was.

I have re-watched episodes that I struggled with tremendously (TREMENDOUSLY) the first time. I have picked up on a few extra details that I didn't catch the first time through (and have been incredibly frustrated by some of them). And I've still been so invested in the story (though now I tend to strategically look at my phone when I know something gruesome is about to happen).

*
*
*

I get overly invested in stories. I get overly invested in a lot of things, I think that's a large part of my current struggles; I still feel so invested in a school that I graduated from. I'm done. I did a thing, and still, it somehow doesn't feel over the way it probably should.

It's a little embarassing to admit, but this happened when I graduated high school, too. So many others were so ready to graduate and get a move on. They had goals and plans and they were straining to get to them a.s.a.p. I was very much not that way; I continued volunteering to help with backstage work (my best friend at the time was the daughter of the drama instructor, so it wasn't THAT weird... I was just helping my best friend and her family, and getting a weird fix for being back where I wanted to be at the same time....) I was like season whats-it of Glee where somehow 3/4 of the alumni managed to find their way back to the high school choir room within the year following their graduation.

I used to think it was a Peter Pan complex (and actually, maybe it is, I don't have a therapist so I have to figure out stuff on my own the long way). I think, instead of a Peter Pan complex, it's more of a Tinkerbell complex.
Why does Tink hold on so tightly to Peter? Peter is, in many ways, kind of the worst. Tink doesn't get treated all that well by Peter, but she contributes to his cause and that is satisfactory and pleasing to her. She can't let go of him. She wants to see him succeed, and she wants to help him with the talents and powers she has to offer. Maybe Disney saw that this was the case and that's why they started a whole Tinkerbell series, to redeem the character and make her strong and independent (or maybe it was a money thing. Who knows?).

I don't understand why I latch on so tightly to things. Even when I don't like a job, I'm sad to leave it. Even when I'm considering leaving a place behind because it doesn't seem to be good for me, I feel sad about leaving it. Because what about all the opportunities? Surely I didn't do enough to make this place/this job/this whatever what it should have been. It's my fault... Right?

Seven hells, it's so gross. Would Arya Stark latch on to her situations like this? No, she wouldn't. Sure she's a little bit of a sociopath, but SHE WOULDN'T SELF-PITY LIKE THIS. I don't plan to Arya Stark my way through life, that would be crazy, but she's admirable because she keeps kicking against the constraints that others try to put on her.

*
*
*

I may need to watch less Game of Thrones. But we're halfway through season 4 already! I'm catching up to where I was before! I'm stubborn, and can't let go!....

I read somewhere recently that INFJ personalities (ayyyyy, that's me) envelop themselves in imagination/other worlds because they struggle with accepting the real world around them.

Weird.

I swear, by the old gods and the new, I'm really good at staying invested stricly in the real world... (Good thing it's a fictional world, or that might have been a sacreligious thing to say).

generous, nurturing, hopeless

So, the other day I came across a little "test" of sorts via the Facebook. A friend had posted a test/game where three different crossword puzzles appeared in sequence. What one is meant to do is latch on and remember the first word they see as each of the three crossword puzzles appear. My three words, in sequence, were:

Generous
Nurturing
Hopeless

Once I had completed this test/game, the video explained to me that each word means something to the participant.

Word number one is how you see yourself.
Word number two is how you think others see you.
Word number three is how you view your future.

Boom. Ouch. True. It's so silly but it's truuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuue. Especially today. The lost feeling I mentioned back in June is absolutely still a thing. I'm a smidge better at handling it (most of the time) now, but it remains. Money is difficult in a new and expensive place, directly after being a full-time student. Especially being married to a person who ALSO was so recently a full-time student. When one hears about being poor, one thinks "what a bummer." When one experiences being poor, one feels incredibly stuck. And we're quite priviledged, as being poor goes. Complaining about our woes feels almost ridiculous. So, we're just a little stuck. And lost. And hoping we get ourselves into a better situation soon. But hope sometimes feels silly, too. And hopes get dashed too easily when one already feels vulnerable. *Sigh*

Hopeless is a stupid word.

what I meant to say was..

So, honestly, I know how unlikely it is that someone wants to find a random blog with someone's life complaints spewed all over it. But I think this blog is kind of good for me, in that it isn't for you. It is for me.
As a matter of fact, if you know me personally, it might be best for me if you did not tell me you stumbled upon my blog. I'm realizing that this has become my new "scream into a pillow" therapy.

I used to keep a journal (which might be a smarter option, but then I felt weird throwing those away. I still have them, but I don't know what their fate will be). Journal-writing was my outlet for all of the things I wanted to say, but didn't/couldn't at the time. Everything that I wanted to rant about, obsess unnecessarily about, fawn over, and say for the mere satisfaction of saying it, was put into those journals.
Now, with this blog, I feel as though I'm putting my thoughts out in the universe (perhaps there's someone out there who would be mildly entertained by the quirky cynicism and overly-emotional blah blah blah that has been my persona here). Maybe they'll (my thoughts) reach someone, maybe they won't. And that feels mildly adventurous, the not knowing. The assumption I'm laboring under is that no one I know reads this, which is incredibly freeing, since I tend to be too careful around pretty much everyone I know.
This lets me feel like I have a voice in the world, particularly during times when I feel like my real voice is too weak to be heard. So, if you know me, by all means read it, but please do so with a grain of salt, knowing that I tend to write while emotions and confusion are high. And I'd really rather not know if anyone I know reads this. Unless there's something remarkably troubling about it and you feel that something between us needs to be resolved in some other way (other than me ranting about my emotions until they're out of my system and I can truly look at them objectively, albeit possibly embarrassed). That was a lot of words. But they need to go somewhere, and here they will be.

whirlwind spat me out

Almost a year later, and now I'm not sure what the journey is going to be.

It was almost comforting, that year of separation from my husband and busting my ass in school, because I knew what it was I had gotten myself into. As difficult and crazy as it was, we always knew what our biggest problems were, and could deal with them because we were aware of them before they happened (that also happens to be the reason I haven't posted since February, things just got way too busy). Now that that's over, I have no idea what my next steps need to be. I feel like I just tumbled out of a whirlwind and I'm trying to steady myself, I just have no idea which direction to face once I can stand steady.

And maybe that whirlwind was inside of another whirlwind, which was inside of another whirlwind. For instance, this is the first summer I haven't been in or working on a show since 2005 (that's a lot of shows, and a lot of time spent not centering myself when I could have been). I also just finished a year of school where I took 19 credits during Fall Semester and 22 credits during Spring Semester (and humble brag, I almost graduated Magna Cum Laude... the 22 credits took their toll and it wound up being Cum Laude, but I was still proud of that). My husband and I have spent less than one year of the past 2.5 years living together with just the two of us. It's a lot to process mentally, and emotionally.

Having grown up as a member of the LDS church (which I no longer attend, though I have not removed my records), my life as I currently live it looks wrong. The very strict, very simple lifestyle of the LDS church is something that sometimes I weirdly mourn. I never quite fit in there; I felt like I never learned how to pray correctly, or I simply didn't understand how to feel a prayer's answer. If/when I relied on the spirit to guide me, I inevitably felt lost and stuck at a crossroads (much like I feel now, I guess). But I knew where I was. I knew what to expect. And I grew up being taught that that lifestyle is how it "should be." My philosophy wound up being that whatever path I picked, I'd just find the silver lining in whatever situation became mine. My eldest sister once told me "If you look for the bad or for the good, either way you'll find what you're looking for. You might as well look for the good you can find." That's been the aim, and that's been the survival tactic through whatever sort of trouble I've found in life (in or outside of church).

I feel lost rather often, though, and finding the beauty in that can sometimes feel tiresome. I've been quite literally lost (physically) a few times lately, now that I've finally moved. I'm in a new place, and outside of the Mo-Mo bubble I often struggled with, but there are always new struggles that crop up. Like getting at least a little lost every time I leave our apartment (usually not by choice, but by accident because the freeways here are quite different from what I'm used to). The "what in the world are you even doing with your life?" struggle is very real these days, too. I don't, as a matter of fact, have a significant reason to live where I live now. My husband did, but his goals are in a transitional state these days; our reason for initially heading this way is gone, and the general state of things is currently a huge, overwhelming "now what?"

Neither of us knows what our life is now. Everytime a friend or relative asks what we're up to I feel immediately defensive (I have always, [and unfortunately probably will always] cared far too much about the opinions of others). We're kind artists, he and I, which means we will not be cut-throat about achieving things, we won't purposefully mistreat others for our own personal gain, and in this scary world that seems to mean that we are dooming ourselves to "failure." I suppose "failure" is in the eye of the beholder, though. I don't really want to know the kind of people who would think of us as failures for being "the nice guys." But honestly, how do we succeed as "nice guys?" Or can we? Will we be in student loan debt forever and always (because again, this world...) and will we ever be living in a place where we both feel centered, happy, and purposeful?

Gosh I hope so.

The quiet ones

The quiet ones are told to speak up all their lives.

"What did you say?"

"I think what {quiet one} is trying to say is..."

"It's the quiet ones you've got to watch out for."

"HEY, {quiet one}, you're talking too much, shut up!" (Sometimes this is funny. Often it's not delivered brilliantly enough to be funny).

We observe. We listen. We tend to understand.

But when the quiet ones do speak up, it makes people uncomfortable.

How dare the quiet ones be vibrant? How dare the quiet ones laugh loudly? How dare the quiet ones enjoy? How dare the quiet ones speak up? It isn't comfortable, it isn't normal....

And so we hush. We observe more. We listen more. We understand more. But what do we see? What do we hear? What do we know?

I guess the {noisy ones} will never know.

Your youest you

Today's me has thought many things: how do I be my muchiest self? How can I be true to myself? How do I live purposefully? What shall I do with my untaken time today?

Maybe I shall take it.

I could have one of my least favorite kinds of days (I've been thinking of them as "purgatory days" lately)... A day where I actually have hours to myself and I think "the possibilities are endless!!" and I spend it watching things I've already watched, eating things I've eaten before, thinking "I'll get around to it" when it comes to laundry and homework and dishes and letting them haunt me throughout the day. I end those days most of the time hearing Scarlett O'Hara's voice say "tomorrow is another day," but I ain't Scarlett. Nope nope nope. I am not living her life. 

Am I living mine?

...

As I forced myself to do motivated things, gathered my hair into a messy ponytail, and began throwing laundry into the washing machine, I thought "were I writing myself as a character aboard a sinking ship, what would I write? Would I write a person who found a corner and waited in misery for the end? Or would I write someone who made herself as useful as she could, helping others, and fighting for survival? I know I would idealize myself and write the latter. Absolutely, I would.

So why not write myself that way every day? Why not do things? My happiest times have been my most motivated times (even as a kid, when what I was motivated to do was go outside and climb an enormous tree in my family's backyard and look around at all I could see and wonder about what life is). When I do something because I want to, when I get the things done that I know I need to, when I do these things in a manner that allows me to take care of myself at the end of the day, I am my happiest self.

I had the unique opportunity to portray myself recently, in a play. I don't mean that I played a character similar to me. I mean, I played myself. My name was used, clothing similar to my own was worn, a hairstyle the designer saw me wear in class one day became my designated hairstyle. Of course, this "self" I played was not my truest self, but that in and of itself gave me so much to ponder. Would any portrayal of myself be completely true? I'm playing "myself" all the time, and even I think I'm doing it wrong sometimes.

Why did I need to gather my hair into a ponytail in order to start doing chores today? No real good reason. I've seen people do it, and I wanted to be such a people. No one was watching, but it was a performance, in a way. I was performing myself for myself. My favorite idea of myself in that moment, anyway.

Years ago, a sister of mine read "Tuesdays With Morrie," and in my opinion, misinterpreted its meaning terribly. My interpretation of her interpretation was that one should do whatever they feel, whenever they feel it, and the chips will fall where they may, but one must be selfish in order to be true.

I read the book and did not glean such a message from it, but her interpretation (or my interpretation of her interpretation) shook me. I did not like it.

The reason I bring this up is that I do believe we should practice self-care. But I also firmly believe that we should all take care of one another, also. BUT we can't truly take care of others if we are not capable of doing so because we aren't taking good enough care of ourselves first.

About a month ago, a beloved professor of mine called me out on my tendency to go against the metaphorical flight attendant instructions of placing the gas mask over my own face before helping my neighbor with theirs. This professor was one of the writers of this other version of "myself" that I played a few months ago, and while calling me out on my disobedience to metaphorical flight attendants, also said "you always say that you were playing this wussy version of yourself, but I never hear you step up and take leadership."

Certainly not my most favorite pill to swallow, but she is correct.

That version of myself is/was an idea. Every day the way that I portray myself is perhaps another (maybe similar, maybe not) idea. It is super rare that I perform "myself" with a real purpose, though. And whyever not? 

Does it make me completely false if I determine at a day's beginning who I'll be that day?

Are my choices true if their motivators are pre-conceived?

But where I'm the one who would be choosing the motivators/goals/purposes for the day, does that refute the previous questions?
How do you be your youest self?

Who am I living for?

Why do I choose what I choose?

...

Oh, the ponders.

Who even am I?

One of the most significant things I've learned in my relatively short life is this: the answer to the question "who am I?" is ever-changing.

As has been said by someone far more brilliant than I: "All the world is a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his lifetime shall play many parts." Or something like that (I could look it up, I really could, but I'm trying to hurry because I'm probably going to a concert that my dear friend is singing in even though I'm already in my pajamas due to the fact that tomorrow will be my third consecutive 5am shift during my first week back for my last semester of college and all I want to do is sleep for 500 years. I really love that friend).

I'm just a'ponderin' these days, quite a bit. Like, who am I?
But seriously.
WHO AM I?
And the answer is never exactly the same.

I have been: a Mormon engaged to be married to her first boyfriend at age 20, a weed-smoking/shoplifting/smartmouthed 14-year-old who wanted nothing more than the label "BADASS" stamped on her persona (guys...that was never going to happen), a kid afraid to tell her teachers for a good month or two into school years that she went by a nickname and was rarely ever called by her full name, a successful pediatric dental assistant dreaming of becoming a dental hygienist one day with her own fantastic office, a kid who abandoned her regular group of friends for a year in order to hang out every day with a group of girls who played "vampires" at recess (admittedly, one of my happiest times, if I'm recalling my life correctly), the fourth child (out of five) whose primary identifier was the fact that she was most likely to be playing in a corner with a doll while the other four were cartwheeling in the other room, a Mormon married to not her first boyfriend and constantly seeking artistic outlets with him, a pretty much ex-Mormon who went back to college full-time in order to get a degree in Musical Theatre.
Among many other things.

I am still working on that Musical Theatre degree, that one is something that I have been/still am. I'm so close, and feel so ready to quit. That is much of what has me pondering who I am currently. There have been much more motivated me's along the way. Me currently is feeling all tied up. Much of my current situation is not/was not my very first choice in all the discussions and compromises that led me here. Now, I've been incredibly blessed in the program I'm a part of. The faculty is teeming with fantastic mentors. So many of the students there are people I would love to work with/keep in contact with for all my life.
But that's the thing, my experience is different from theirs. I'm fairly positive that, one day, once we're all graduated and moved on from where we are, they're going to matter to me so much more than I do to them. I'm near thirty, most of them are almost or barely past twenty. They will move so far past these experiences, and who knows who they'll be when they're nearer to my age? My age difference makes me an outsider, and (though sometimes I actually love that fact) that's a struggle for me. Knowing that I'll be saying goodbye to so much so soon makes me wonder what I'll be remembered for, and I don't have a clue what it could be. It's ironic that I've spent so much of my life trying to be unobtrusive, but then hurt that people know nothing about me.

As the musical First Date puts it, "I go building up walls, yet I wish to be found."

It's terrifying to leave and to feel as though it won't matter. The people who shaped my life (aside from my immediate family) at age 20 are no longer a part of it. I hate thinking that these people who have changed me and taught me so much will see me as a part of that area of life. Maybe they won't. Maybe I'll come back and read this only to slap myself on the forehead 10 times over for how ridiculous I'm sounding.
I do want to clarify that I know these friends love me. I know that I "belong here" to so many of them right now. But one day I won't be someone that they rely on or think of on a daily/weekly basis anymore. And it feels silly to want them to, because I am so much older. Shouldn't it not matter to me? Most of these people were born when I was 10 years old or so. I'm closer in age to some of my professors than I am to most of my "peers" (which is kinda embarrassing - 'cause that brings up the question of what on earth I've been doing with my life all this time).

I'm not sure who/what I am, and often I'm kinda at peace with that notion, but I'm currently struggling a great deal with it. I need a Narnia. I need some other world to escape to for a while, but to reappear after learning a million things to discover that I've only been gone five minutes. Too many thoughts, too little strength, too much to do, too little time. So many answers that I wish were easy to find, and yet I feel like I've never stopped asking most of them from the moment that they first occured to me. And I'm sure I'm not alone. There must be others who feel exactly so many of the things that I feel. I'm just not particularly adept at reaching out. Sakes. Gotta go. If I'm going to this concert, I'm going to have to pretty up a bit.

So, hopefully that's an answer to who/what I am right now: a good friend. Whatever it will mean in future years. I guess being remembered well is all most of us really can ask for.

"Prettier than"

I have always enjoyed the look of silver more than gold. I think gold is lovely (as is bronze), but silver has always been my favorite.

I nearly began this with "I have always been of the opinion that silver is prettier than gold," but "prettier than" is a tricky little thing. "Prettier than" is in the eye of the beholder, and can be sort of mean. I spent a lot of my super-young years obsessing over "pretty" and "prettier than," and it isn't a very nice thing to think about. I am one of the youngest in a semi-large family, and I compared myself to my elder sisters and younger sister far too often as a kid/teenager.

Once, at around age 12, while bemoaning my lack of "prettier than" quality out loud, a particular beau of a particular elder sister even told me once, "----- is beautiful, ----- is pretty, and you're cute. When you're a little older, you'll be pretty, and when you're a little older than that, you'll be beautiful." So in my mind I accepted my current appearance because it wasn't my turn to be "prettier than" yet.

It's a little odd, and maybe it didn't happen as often as I remember it... But people around me (people at church, elder relatives, friends of siblings, etc.) had a pesky habit of telling me how beautiful and talented my older sisters were. "It's not my turn yet..." I'd tell myself. But then when I seemed to be the correct age for it to be my turn, people started telling me all about my little sister! I was shook. I was supposed to be the "prettier than"/"more talented than"/"special-er than" one! But, no. Nope. Not my turn... And maybe never my turn?

It was such a silly thing, and so much stress over utter ridiculousness. Why on earth did I care? And it didn't help a ton that my best friends growing up tended to be many/all of the following: skinny, witty, competetive, talented, and beautiful. (And occasionally mean, depending on the "era," as it were). I felt awkward among them because I was a curvy, people-pleasing, shy and insecure kid. I decided making people laugh was my only chance at being likeable (since being deemed "pretty" and "talented" by my peers seeemed to be so simultaneously important and impossible for me). I had decent experience being funny-ish, after years of trying to make my older brother and my younger sister laugh. And in my adolescent years, being the funny, "smart-ass" (pardon my French) friend, as I was often referred to, suited me well. Different expectations are placed upon the "smart-ass." I wasn't pressured in the same way that other friends of mine were. I could fly under the radar among the bustling crowd. I accepted the "Chanel 5"/"Chanel 3" position. (Have you seen Scream Queens?! I've only seen the first season, but oh man... It's entertaining. And it also calls attention to the nonsense of popularity/beauty/competition over shallow things). I've never been a Chanel or a Chanel 2. Or, if Scream Queens references aren't your jam, maybe Mean Girls? I accepted the "always a Karen/Gretchen, never a Regina" position.

Honestly, thank goodness my family moved to Utah when we did. Having grown up primarily in Alaska, I was thrown into a completely different cultural standard by moving to such a different place. The people surrounding me now were generally kind-ish, but sort of not? (Utah is lovely in many ways, but several people here operate in a very back-handed and passive-aggressive nature. Adjusting to a High School environment packed with that at 16 was far from a joy). My humor was too mean for these people to handle. I did not look like I had any older siblings who worked as beauticians. I was not tan, nor bleached, nor did my hair resemble in any way alien Britney's 'do in the "Oops I Did It Again" music video. I thought the term "sloughing school" was stupid. I thought the term "what the crap?" was stupid. I thought seminary buildings next door to high school buildings was a little much. I started to resemble Katerina Stratford from "10 Things I Hate About You" (especially once my little sister began to thrive in her middle school environment and began resembling Bianca Stratford - it was too perfect). That jolting move to a new state robbed me of my comfort zone of powerful friends who already accepted me and thought I was funny. Now I was just a blank canvas who couldn't hide the insecurity and awkwardness I felt so plagued by. I blanched and basically just started glaring at people a lot and never took my coat off. My little sister told me once that she'd been hanging out with a group of older boys (boys my age) and when they realized who she was describing as her older sister, they said "YOUR SISTER IS THE ALASKAN ASSASSIN?!" To be quite honest, as much as it meant that a lot of people who I didn't know at all thought I was super-weird, I kind of loved that nick-name. And the Kat Stratford resemblance. I felt so free of needing to be pretty, because suddenly the beauty standards were no longer a norm to me. The beauty standards were weird, and people in Utah were going to judge you no matter what you looked like, for one reason or another. I was such a grump, but I felt so free during that time.

That freedom propelled me into becoming involved in whatever I wanted, and no longer attempting to fit into other "socially expected" groups (I had attempted cheerleading once upon a time. Woof). I actually thrived when I let go of needing the approval of the crowd. I recall, as a kid, feeling a certain expectation on my shoulders to be nominated for some dance royalty during my high school years. (My Mom had been nominated for Prom Queen, as had my eldest sister, and my other older sister had been nominated for Homecoming Royalty). Well that didn't happen. But I was in a couple of musicals, and I discovered talents and strengths that I had previously struggled to believe in. I made friends who I am happy to see now, when I see them (as rare as it may be, unfortunately). Perhaps that was a part of my non-desire to attend my Ten Year High School Reunion. My high school experience actually taught me that I didn't need that. I didn't need validation from my past peers that I'd really become something special. And I didn't need to see them in order to remember that I loved them. (Moving at 16 years old had also taught me that you can let go and still love those you've left behind.) My experiences surrounded by people clamouring for whatever their notion of "the gold" was had taught me to love "the silver" prize. I think I learned so much more by never really seeing myself as the top/best/special-est person around. Maybe I always liked silver more, or maybe it represents this okay-ness with not being some sort of "Regina George," but regardless, I'm super grateful for all the not-gold (and for the glimmers of gold here and there instead) in my life.

Woof

Sometimes feelings are gross. Sometimes I wish I could go all Vampire Diaries-esque and "turn my feelings off," but that would be weird.

(Once upon a time I started watching The Vampire Diaries just to get the gist so I could gain information for a persuasive research paper in English 2010 about how Count Von Count [Sesame Street] affected all of vampire fiction from the 1970s on... And then I proceeded to watch the entire show. I picked a team. I cried, I swooned. I cried some more. And that wasn't the only vampire fiction I immersed myself in at that time. But, long story short I wrote a damn good paper and I got an A).

So, in The Vampire Diaries sometimes the vampy-folk shut off their emotions (usually during a dramatic, emotional fiasco), only to eventually turn them back on (during some dramatic, emotional fiasco). I'm trying to sound all cynical, but lezbehonest, I cried. All the times. Sometimes I spoke aloud to the Netflix, as if it could do anything about what I was watching.
Lest you think I'm actually cynical... Nah. Just awkward about liking things I could get made fun of for liking.

You should know I also read Twilight. AND saw the movies. And I LIKED them all.





Don't hate. I also like things that people aren't super mean about.

But yeah, feelings. Lame. I feel like my feelings are being sucker-punched in the junk. (Also, have you seen Sucker-Punch? I pretended I didn't like that movie, but really, I did).

I'm worried about loved ones. I'm angry with people who seem to be in denial about some very important issues. I'm not, as a rule, an angry person and I dislike feeling this way. I've seriously contemplated getting bits of Lin-Manuel Miranda's sonnet from the Tony Awards tattooed on my person (the first time I've ever seriously considered tattooing my person at all). "Love is love is love is love is love... Cannot be killed or swept aside."
The feelings are bad, and I don't know how to fix them. And complaining about them feels gross. But holding feelings in feels even worse. Bah. Do we just Robin Hood our way through this? "Damn the man, save the Empire" or something like that? How do we fix the feels?

Responsibility, what's that?

Feeling a whole lot of feelings, lately.

I can't even listen to more than one sad song in a row without getting into a slump for a significant part of my day. I have something of an empathetic personality, and I feel sadness easily if that is the emotion being presented to me. Or if I'm bored, sadness is usually what decides to kick in these days. I'm a little more prone to negativity and sadness without my best pal around.

It's amazing what a trick it is to get by without someone whose presence you've grown so accustomed to. I've been doing a very sloppy job, lately. It's a little ironic. I'm here and living separately from my spouse/best friend for school, but because I miss him so much I'm having a very hard time with school.

I've turned assignments in on time and I've generally been getting by, but barely. And I'm struggling with that fact. I'm typically a little more of a go-getter and a doer when it comes to schoolwork. I think it's important, especially as a theatre student. It's like those memes you see about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley hating their homework when their homework was MAGIC. When the bulk of my homework is for a major which could be definitively described as "magic", it feels ridiculous to slide by, only doing the bare minimum.
And frankly (pardon my French, I know the swears bother some of my near and dear ones), if I'm going to spend time in my life to get a degree in Musical Theatre, you bet your ass I'm going to do my damnedest to do it as well as I can. This is a degree that is not particularly well-respected by most of society. I'm going to get the most goodness and awesomeness out of it that I can, because I believe in it.
But, as I said before (and to contradict everything that I just barely said), I'm struggling with motivation, lately.

Are there tricks for that? The sadness also brings me tiredness, which kills motivation even further... But honestly, (it might get really real for a second here) I wonder if I really want to be rid of the sadness. The sadness means that I'm not cold, heartless, or emotionless. The sadness means that my husband and I miss each other and still help one another to be happy when we're around each other a lot. The sadness makes me appreciate what I do have that is good. Sadness matters. But I really really really don't like it right now. It's just hanging around a little too much. My entire outlook has changed "colors."

I honestly just wish I were Wonder-Woman, but I'm not (as my recent minor toe injury tried to remind me). I wish I could be as motivated as I hoped I would be when these crazy plans were made, but I just feel stuck. I wish a lot of things.

"If at first you don't succeed, try... try again." - The Rescuers

New Radicals - You Get What You Give (Original)

#feels

That's enough, please.

School struggles + minor foot injury + struggling to get enough hours at work to get by + struggling to get enough hours of sleep to get by + missing my favorite human so SO much = a cranky, emotional me.

Forgive me if I'm a little less pleasant today than I generally try to be. I have been receiving a couple of subtle reminders a week lately that what I'm striving to do is "just crazy" and "selfish". I gather that in some eyes, the choice my husband and I made looks like utter selfishness/career-first-spouse-later thinking. I assure you all, the decision was actually made from a place of love and support of one another.

He and I unfortunately do not have perfectly aligned schedules in education. He did not want to pull me away from a program I was thriving in, nor did I want to keep him away from truly progressing with his goals/dreams. While others "love their spouse too much to be separated from them," I love my spouse too much to hold him back from accomplishing great things, and he feels the same way.

We all love differently, and all love is important. Granted, living apart is kind of miserable (and I only say "kind of" because I know others have it so much worse; we do at least get to see each other in person now and again).

This decision is still something I struggle with every day, and I guess I'm just trying to say... Judgement from others doesn't make it any easier. I realize it's not anyone else's job to make my life any easier than I choose to make it myself, but some consideration is always nice. I don't think these judgements are being spoken with malicious intent, but it does still hurt to be judged even by someone with the best of intentions. And I kind of feel like (sorry to pity-party) I'm already hurting enough without anyone needing to add anything to it at all.

Que "Everybody Hurts..."

"Then there are friends who sail together..."

"There are those who pass like ships in the night, who meet for a moment, then sail out of sight with never a backward glance of regret; folks we know briefly then quickly forget. Then there are friends who sail together, through quiet waters and stormy weather, helping each other through joy and through strife. And they are the kind who give meaning to life."

I wish I knew who said it first. It's been running through my mind almost constantly for the past week. I'm so grateful for the week I've had, I don't know how to express it in my own words. I'm just so so so grateful for friends who show love.

I'll be wearing red

There is so much that I want to say, and yet so few words come to mind.

Two years ago (from yesterday), a precious little was born. Due to many health complications, he had to be delivered at 29 weeks (with all the health problems that he had, this was the only possible way to save his life). After a week of fighting through it as best he could, the sweet little passed away. This little was my nephew, who I only got to meet once.

Although it was a heartbreaking day, I hope I never lose my memories of the morning I met him. As my wonderful, courageous, and tender-hearted eldest sister held her precious child, I reached my hand out to hold his, knowing that it would likely be the only time I could ever embrace him in any way. I didn't ask to hold him. He was so small and fragile, and moving him could cause him stress and further problems, and I also didn't want to take away any of the time that my sister had to hold her beautiful baby.
The second my thumb touched the palm of his hand, his tiny fingers curled around it in a faint but firm grip. I say "faint but firm" because he didn't have much strength at all, but his little hand seemed to be latched as tightly as was possible around my thumb. I don't think I will ever be able to perfectly describe the emotion of that moment. All I know to say is that it was overpowering, beautiful, and sad.

It may be difficult to understand for some, but I miss him. I get to hear my other nieces and nephews laugh and cry, I get to read them stories and sing songs with them, and I get to know who they are. All I know about sweet little Gideon is that he fought his many trials so hard, he seemed to love and find comfort in music, he was and is dearly loved... and that I got to hold his hand one magical time.

A family that might not realize my love for them recently and unexpectedly lost a little, as well. I only met him a few times, but I know that he was a sweet little boy who also was and is dearly loved by his family. And I know that his favorite color was red, and that I plan to wear red on Friday in order to honor him in some way.

I feel as though I have been watching the world through grey-tinted glasses, as of late. This time of year will always mean a bit of sadness and heartache for my family (and theirs). I have, unfortunately, been a less than bright force in the world around me for a while. I ought to be cherishing the precious moments, and making brighter the world around me (and seeking to improve the lives of those around me). Whether a lifetime lasts only the span of a week, or four years, or twenty-eight years, or a hundred years... What seems to matter most is the way in which we show love and are loved in return.

Gideon's willingness to hold on seemed to be the gift he had the power to give to his family. My sister, her husband and her other children were devastated by the loss of his precious life, but they were so grateful that they had time with him at all.
The immediate grip of his tiny little fingers around my thumb felt like his gift for me; it felt as though he knew I wanted to hug him tightly and he did what he could with the strength he had to "hug" me, as it were. His sweet little spirit touched so many hearts in the short time we were blessed by his presence.

As I drove toward home on the day I met Gideon (which was, as it happened, also the day he passed away), the song "He Lives in You" from The Lion King Broadway cast recording began to play. So many of those words resonated with me as I drove, and cried, and listened to the words:
"have faith..."
"he lives in you, he lives in me..."
"he watches over everything we see..."

I want to believe that these precious little ones are guardian angels, who are now watching over their loved ones. They are still in everything we see, because they have blessed us with their light.

I wish comfort and love to anyone who has suffered/is suffering a loss. I wish to be a person who brings some comfort and/or joy into the lives of others. And of course, I wish we didn't have to say goodbye. Life is precious, and fleeting, and we may never understand it.
And I wish I was a person who knew how to love more unabashedly and bravely. As it is, I simply try to make people happy, but sometimes I don't succeed.
Again, this family might not realize that I love them dearly and am grateful for their part in my life. But I hope they know that they are loved, and I hope that they are able to be comforted during this heartbreaking time.

I'll be wearing red on Friday.

One Day I'll Fly Away - Moulin Rouge

Aaaaalllll the feels.

"You're lost in the woods. We all are."

I'm feeling a little extra lost, lately... I feel like I'm "getting by" and have all these things I have to do but haven't done yet, and I also feel like I'm not enjoying the things I'm doing as much as I should be.

I have my moments! I enjoy things sometimes. But my joy feels so fleeting; it seems as though any old comment or situation can chase my moment(s) of joy far away. School is just getting harder. There are things I should have been doing at the start of this semester of school that I have still not done, because it seemed too hard at the time, and now the eminent difficulty seems all the more daunting and is all the more vital to get done.
There are also things in the coming school year that will be weighing on me and making my life more difficult. See, there are times in my life when I enjoy being busy and responsible, but I feel like this next school year will not be one of those times (and yet, keeping busy and staying responsible will be required of me whether I "feel like it" or not). I've already made a few decisions/commitments because I knew it would make other people happy. I've already tied myself to extra responsibilities and work that (should I survive) I'll be grateful for once the crazy times are over, but that currently look like several more weights to add to the stack that I'm already carrying.

I'm struggling to make ends meet, financially. I honestly don't know if I can do this. It sounded like such an interesting adventure. Albeit, a terrifying and saddening interesting adventure, but I thought we could probably do it. I'm feeling a lot of weight on my shoulders at the moment, and I'm currently just trying to get a little relief. I'm fairly certain that no one I know reads this blog, and in some ways that's encouraging. I don't think I'd feel free to whine quite this much if I thought someone I know was keeping up on it. If some stranger reads it, just for kicks, I'm sorry that this post isn't very chipper. But if Pixar's Inside Out taught us anything, it's that we all need a little sadness, right? We need a balance.

Well, this is a sadness post. Everything is tinted a little more blue today. I don't know how I'm going to do any of the things that I should be doing, if this strange adventure is to go according to plan. And if it doesn't go according to plan, what was it all for?

Also, can it actually be defined as an "adventure" if it relies so much on a plan? Seriously, what am I doing with my life? I feel like I'm a good person, but I feel like I'm not good at being a person. Is that even possible?
This post is my version of a deep breath before I fall asleep, because falling asleep means I wake up in some hours and go to school, then work, then rehearsal, and then I study (if I do things the way I'd like to believe I would), then go to sleep again.
I know I'm going to sound awfully contrary (particularly with the way this post has been going) when I say this, but when an entire day is planned out and my time is occupied before I even get the chance to live that day through, I feel really depressed about it. That's quite ironic for somebody who wants things to go according to plan... But I hate having something to do at nearly all hours of the day. Especially when I'm running on so little steam.

On that note, I wish I could end this post with a cute little "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can" train, but I can't. Because at the moment, I don't.

"Books and cleverness... There are more important things: friendship, bravery...."

Many a time when I've needed inspiration/motivation, I've told myself to "be a Hermione." The girl got stuff done. I know that I tend to get into slumps and to turn into more of a Ron Weasley (another fantastic character, but one with a lot less self-motivation). I get so disappointed in myself when I become a Ron instead of a Hermione. And I've been crumbling under a lot of pressure lately, and getting more and more exhausted and less and less motivated... This post should perhaps actually be titled "Bloody Hell," or another Ron Weasley-ish phrase, but I choose to emulate Hermione (ironic as that may be, considering Pottermore deemed me a Hufflepuff years ago).



I say "ironic" because they say that the famous trio (Harry, Ron, & Hermione) represent qualities of the three houses outside of Gryffindor house. They each have qualities which could have made them likely candidates for these other houses, but their deep-set values and choices made each one of them a Gryffindor. It is speculated: Harry could have been a Slytherin, Hermione could have been a Ravenclaw, and Ron could have been a Hufflepuff.

When I get all introspective with my Harry Potter-isms, I tend to think of myself as a Hufflepuff with Ravenclaw tendencies. I dearly love to learn, but I am rarely up for the type of logical reasoning associated with Ravenclaws. Were I a Ravenclaw, I would most assuredly be found pouting outside the common room more often than not, unable to solve the riddle required to be granted access to my own dormitory.

I actually (silly as it may seem for an adult woman) had a bit of an existential crisis recently with my Harry Potter-ism. As you may know, the Pottermore website was updated somewhat recently. Those who already had Pottermore accounts had the option of sticking with their previous sorting, or being re-sorted. Hoping to reassure myself of a true Hufflepuff status, I took the new sorting hat quiz. And, lo and behold...



No, no. No, no, no, no, no. Couldn't be. Could it? I'm such a Hufflepuff, it's ridiculous! Though, at the time that I took the test again, I was in a very studious mindset (I got a 4.0 GPA that semester for the only-eth time in my life!) and that mindset might have lent very much to my being sorted into Ravenclaw house.

It's so very silly (I have a lot of respect for Ravenclaw house), but I was so disappointed. And it felt untrue, to be honest... So silly.

After a while, though, I decided to try again (I had a student email address with which I could join Pottermore and be sorted yet again). Time had passed, I had accumulated a better perspective on the whole affair. I decided that if this time resulted in a Ravenclaw sorting, I would wholeheartedly be a Ravenclaw. I mean, admittedly, based on the lack of respect shown to Hufflepuff characters by other characters within the Harry Potter wizarding world, when I was first sorted into Hufflepuff I recall being initially disappointed, and then chuckling to myself because it made perfect sense. So, again, if I was now sorted as a Ravenclaw, so be it. I would be happy about it. I took the quiz again, and...



Wait, whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? I have a great deal of respect for Gryffindor house, as well, but goodness. It couldn't be. I couldn't be. Too much bravery and too many crazy shenanigans for my liking in Gryffindor house. Perhaps I'm braver than I think I am, and while that is an encouraging thought...

I truly feel that I'm a Hufflepuff. I have now taken the sorting hat quiz three times, and each time I've felt that I answered honestly and sincerely. And now, as the sorting hat can't quite seem to make up its mind, I've decided to continue identifying with Hufflepuff house (not a difficult decision in the slightest bit).



Right? Dumbledore said it. You gonna argue?

I may have a little Ravenclaw in me, and a little Gryffindor as well (seems likely there's not a lot of Slytherin to be found, but who knows? Maybe a fourth time taking the quiz would tell me otherwise. Probably not gonna find out).

Oh, this post... It started as one thing, and as it continued it took on a whole other life. A defensive, "I'M A HUFFLEPUFF" life. Perhaps I'm simply seeking Hufflepuff status validation. If you knew me well, I think you'd agree that I'm most certainly a Hufflepuff.

 Come to think of it, this entire post is probably all the proof you need. This definitely seems like something a Hufflepuff would do (and I should absolutely be doing homework, but this is important).

Even if we are able to do certain things, our values say a great deal about who we are and might at times be more telling than our obvious abilities. I choose to be fiercely loyal and hardworking. I choose to keep striving toward Hermione-level motivation, and I'm sure it'll be a constant battle. I choose to stay afloat as blissfully as I can.