Stream of consciousness

Today was one of those days where I realized that despite all of our rivalries and cliques and preconceived notions of each other, we're all really just looking for the same things out of life.

I went to Comfest today and did a bunch of people watching. I realized how much I enjoy finding new people who aren't so uncomfortable with silence that they feel the need to fill every pause with words. I also enjoy casual outings with near-strangers.

I sometimes assume people are being standoffish when really they're just introverted. I then feel stupid when I realize that I'm the same way, so I ought to recognize it when I see it.

I realize that first impressions are often misleading, and I appreciate when someone acknowledges that their impression of me has changed. It takes a certain amount of moxy to admit to someone that you were wrong about them.

There are many different kinds of love. Love for a friend, a family member, a spouse, a sibling, a pet... but even within those categories love is different depending on who it is you're loving. I don't think I've ever loved two people the same way.

We often dislike and mistrust people who are unfamiliar. It's a survival mechanism from back when we were more primitive creatures. I'm going to try to keep that in mind from now on.

I miss walking at night.

A word of advice to all the single ladies out there:

Find a man that challenges you. Not one who dominates you and belittles you, because you'll never love yourself. Not one that puts you up on a pedestal and worships you, because you'll never love him.

On Jealousy and Letting Go

Jealousy is a funny thing, isn't it? I feel like it isn't so much a singular feeling as it is a group of related, distinctly unpleasant feelings. Confusion, inadequacy, anger, contempt, arrogance, envy, sadness, and probably a bunch of other things all wrapped into one. The only thing I hate more than feeling jealous is feeling humiliated. The difference is, humiliation is more or less momentary and is forgotten soon enough. Jealousy can eat away at a person if left unchecked.

I think it's reasonable to assume that no one really enjoys feeling jealous. And yet so many people try their damnedest to make others jealous. And that's kind of what makes it so interesting to me. There are people out there who would never think to try to humiliate another person because they think it would be mean or they recognize that it's against society's moral code. They would never try to physically harm someone for the sake of seeing them hurt. But these same people will go out of their way to try to make someone jealous-- a feeling that is uncomfortable at best and painful at worst. It's like this passive aggressive form of sadism that we all more or less accept as a normal part of life.

I find that in most cases people try to make others jealous because they themselves are jealous. An eye for an eye, right? But making someone jealous doesn't ever seem to ease your own pain the way you'd hope it would. I know, I've been there. Everyone has been there. It leaves little more than a hollow satisfaction that departs as quickly as it arrives-- if it ever does.

In a world where we're all plugged in to each others lives via texting and social networking, it's easy to let ourselves give over to little temptations. Post a few pictures of yourself partying up with strange guys for your ex boyfriend to see. Write a blog post about how much better your life is now that whats-her-name-that-skank is out of your life. Gloat on facebook about how your team won that oh-so-important game against your rival. Mostly we got over doing these things in high school... but sometimes we slip. If we're hurting badly enough, if we're feeling ignored, or if all we want is to trade places with someone else.

Being the hugely insecure person that I am, jealousy and envy used to be kind of a big problem for me. About a year and a half ago I started reading up on Buddhist philosophy, and they talk a lot about letting go of attachment and giving into genuine affection. It seems to me that jealousy stems from unhealthy attachment mixed with dissatisfaction with oneself. 

I'm not saying I don't get jealous anymore. I do, just like everybody else. But instead of giving into all those negative emotions, I ask myself whether or not I care about the person I'm jealous of. If the answer is yes, then I allow myself to feel good about their happiness or success. If the answer is no, then I recognize that it's just not worth it and I move on.

And if you're out there right now trying to make someone else jealous, do yourself a favor. Just let go.

The Importance of Being Earnest

I hung out with Corbin the other night for the first time in a while. We went and saw Super 8 and then we made our way to a 24 hour coffee shop where we proceeded to sit and talk until 3:30 in the morning. As we talked, I started to come to a pretty unpleasant realization. The reason Corbin is such a good guy is that he's genuine. But that's not the unpleasant bit.

The unpleasant bit is that I noticed how genuine Corbin is. Not because it was an unusual thing for him, but because it was an unusual thing for me. As we were talking (about life, about school, about movies, about everything), I started to think back over the past couple of months. I thought about the various people I'd been in nearly the exact same situation with (sitting in a coffee shop, having a conversation), and how different it had been. How I was never able to relax; how I was constantly wondering what the other person thought of me, or if he or she was being open with me; how I watched what I said, and never let myself be me. And yet there I was, with Corbin, saying everything that came to my mind and actually enjoying myself.

I thought about the first time I ever hung out with Cory, and how he told me that one of the things he values in others is earnestness. "It's the opposite of phoniness. And it's no good condemning phoniness. I should just encourage its opposite." I agreed with him then, but I'd never really applied it to my own life until now.

I'm probably gonna get a lot of flak for this next bit if the wrong people are reading this blog, but it's how I feel so I'll say it anyway. The thing about the theatre department is that the majority of people who run the show (so to speak) are actors. In my experience with actors, I've found that they often put on kind of a front, even in real life. We all do, really, but perhaps being in theatre brings that quality out more so than in other professions. Or perhaps the theatre simply draws in those who are used to acting in their own lives already. I don't really know-- I'm a writer, not a psychologist. 

I'm not saying that everyone in the theatre department is that way. In fact, I think it tends to be more of a group characteristic, because on an individual basis people tend to be a lot better. But those who shun that way of social interaction tend to be on the fringes rather than in with the crowd.

At any rate, I've sort of been drawn into all of this posturing and trying to impress others business. So much so that I've forgotten what it's like to have real friends. Friends like Cory, and Corbin, and my friends from back home, and from other departments. People who are down to earth, and who aren't so afraid to be themselves. People who don't mistake friendliness for romantic interest. People who value earnestness and good naturedness and honesty. I'm ready to get all that back.

Here's a fact: the only person I have a crush on right now is Michael Fassbender. And let's be honest, who doesn't have a crush on Michael Fassbender?

Sorry to disappoint you, fellas, but you're just not as alluring as you thought you were. Maybe it's time to step your game up.

On another note, next year is going to be awesome.

Things I Like, Things I Don't Like

What a great way to procrastinate!

Things I Like:

-cats
-dogs
-guys who read books
-guys who write
-anyone who writes
-croissants
-people with big, brilliant, impossible ideas
-people who actually take those ideas and run with them
-well written film and television
-old school nintendo games
-reading
-being outside at night
-meeting awesome strangers
-good dubstep
-making lists
-raspberries with whipped cream
-cuddling
-breaking things
-superhero movies
-Cabaret (the actual musical, not the movie)
-cabaret (the style of performance)
-driving fast
-long car rides
-people who appreciate the little things
-guys who can sing
-when people tell stories about their lives
-conversations in the dark
-profound moments between two people

Things I Don't Like:

-chemistry classes
-people who are unreliable
-intolerance
-eggplant
-misconceptions and generalizations about impoverished people
-people who write shitty books and get famous while simultaneously encouraging young girls to be in unhealthy relationships (That's right. Fuck you Stephenie Meyer.)
-Inception
-playing frisbee with shoes on
-doing dishes
-those people in class who say "I agree with ____" and then repeat what others have already said.
-when people complain about their lives but make no effort to change their situation
-losing things
-any lunchable that's not the pizza kind

Back Cove

I walked a lot when I was a freshman and sophomore in high school. Portland, Maine is a pretty small city, so it was easy enough to get around without a car. I only really took the bus if I needed to get somewhere quickly, or if it was raining. It was about a half an hour walk into town. Another ten minutes or so to the pier and Flatbread Pizza and Casco Bay Lines.

I never got sick of walking. Sometimes I wouldn't even need to go anywhere. I would just walk.

Behind the apartment complex where I lived there was a park. Payson Park. Just beyond that park was Baxter Boulevard and Back Cove. Back Cove is sort of this water inlet from Casco Bay. There's a trail that goes along it that's about three and a half miles if you walk all the way around. 

I probably walked around Back Cove fifty times or more during my sophomore year of high school. I remember that winter was especially tough for me, so I'd leave home and walk the trail two or three times in a row.

I had a long bout of insomnia from eighth grade until about my junior year of high school. It was at its worse that winter during my sophomore year, so I sometimes walked the trail at night. I can't exactly describe what I felt when I walked the trail at night... the only feeling I can really relate it to is when I spent that week sailing off the coast of Maine. It was like I wasn't me, almost. I was just my thoughts. It was cold and it was dark. It was exhilarating sometimes. It was terrifying other times. During the day the trail was full of people on their morning runs and bike rides. But at night it was quiet, empty, and it was all mine.

One night my sister's dad caught me leaving the house. He asked me where I was going. I didn't answer, I just walked out the door. I remember worrying that he would follow me, or shout at me, or hit me, or call the cops or something. But I just kept walking until I reached the trail. He didn't do anything about it. In fact, he never even mentioned it again.

Another night I was picked up by a cop. He asked me what I was doing out so late. "I couldn't sleep," I said. Then he asked me a ton of questions. I don't even remember what they were. Eventually he just brought me home and told me that it's too dangerous to be out at night. I told him I understood, and that I wouldn't do it again. I walked again the next night.

It was a sort of reckless freedom that I had. During those nights I felt, more than anything, like I was on my own. In the best and worst of ways.

I stopped walking when I moved out and lived with my friend Olivia. She didn't live near Back Cove, and I didn't feel right leaving her house in the middle of the night. I knew her mom would worry if she ever found me missing. But at night I was always itching to leave. Eventually my restlessness lessened. But every once in a while, when I have trouble sleeping, I still get the urge to get up and walk. Sometimes I wait until it passes. Other times I actually do it. It's never the same as it was back then; but then again, I'm not the same as I was back then.

I had the urge again tonight, even though I wasn't trying to sleep. So I decided to write about it. And for a moment, I could almost feel the cold air on my face again. I could almost smell the tide and hear the occasional car passing. And for a moment I could feel that peculiar feeling again. The one where I'm not me, I'm just my thoughts.The one where I'm a profound speck of dust in something that's infinitely bigger and emptier than I could ever imagine.

More of the same.

I had sort of a big lack of self esteem moment today. It happens sometimes.

Naturally, I put on a pretty dress and pretended I was somebody else for the day. I even managed to make the guy at Cup o' Joe laugh at a joke that I'm normally not funny enough (or outgoing enough) to make.

When I got home, I nearly slapped myself. Why? Because I am funny enough and (sometimes) outgoing enough to make people laugh. How do I know? Because I did it. And I've done it before, and I'll do it again. And after that silly realization, I sat down and wrote this:

Alright, so I might not be one of the prettier girls, but I still have a bunch of guys chasing after me. So I must be doing something right, right? And I might not be a stand up comedian, but you don't have to be to make people laugh. I might not be part of the acting crowd, but I'm not an actor and I don't want to be. I'm a writer. And a damn good one at that. 

Yeah, I didn't go to Harvard or Yale or Columbia or NYU. But I could have if I hadn't settled for OSU in the name of love! But you know what? I don't regret ending up here. If I'd gone to one of those schools I probably wouldn't've ever ended up in theatre. And hey, it doesn't really matter what school I go to... either way, I'm going to end up in L.A. busting my ass in an agency mailroom until I get a foot in the door anyway.

And you know what? I'm really fucking smart. My IQ was tested by two different schools when I was younger, and both scores came out around 155. That's 15 points above genius. I skipped the sixth grade. I took all college courses -- and got all A's-- my senior year of high school. I can read most people like books. My memory is fantastic. My ability to learn new things is fantastic. I'm fantastic.

I came from nothing. From a poor, broken, single parent family. I've been in situations you only ever read about or see in movies or on Oprah. And look where I am now! Look what I've accomplished!

And twenty years from now, when I'm a full fledged screenwriter/director/producer and I look back on today, I'm going to laugh. Because I know that I am smart and funny and talented and at least semi-attractive. And I'm kind, and I'm insightful, and I'm open minded. And yeah, I'm kind of an asshole sometimes. But let's be real, who isn't kind of an asshole sometimes?

So here's a big old fuck you to anyone who has ever thought that I'm not good enough. Because I am.