Friday, January 18, 2013

Seasonal Progressions and Maturing Sessions

I spend so much time thinking about who I want to be when I grow up.
I want to write. I want to dance. I want to sing. I want to act. I want to make music. I want to sell books. I want to sew. I want to travel. I want to teach. I want to build things. I want to capture things.
I want everything, and I'm afraid that I can't have it all at the same time.
Do you ever catch yourself thinking about your future plans in a rotation?
Like, every summer you see your life going one direction, and it's the only direction that makes sense. Every single summer, you want to grow up to be this one person, who is talented, and worldly and objective and always loving and never without adventure and catching all of the wonderful opportunities that fall into their lap, because that's what Karma or Fate has set up to grace them with. Every summer, I'm planning on becoming that woman. It's like summer is who you want to be, because she takes the leap. I want to be Summer.
Then Fall comes and ruins all of that, with reality, and different ideals. I don't know if I like them better.
My objectivity about situations and life and love disappear. Slowly, but surely, I feel pain more and take time to focus on things in a more realistic and blunt way. It's like removing the proverbial rose-colored glasses from in front of your eyes. The truth is, I see what's in front of me then. Right that moment, I see all of the truth about who I'm not in the face of who I wanted to be. Did I ever really want to be Summer anyway? Fall is so much more realistic, with her step-by-step motions and tried-and-true outcomes. How would I know if Summer was going to be all that I thought she was in my projected image anyway? Maybe I'd get there and feel like I had skipped steps for something that turned out to be something that I didn't really want. Where do you go from there? Fall might not be so bad. Fall seems to be a good foundation for many things, without any of the risks. Fall
Winter comes slowly at first, and then all at once. And when I'm with Winter, I'm stagnant, with a million plans, and not one of them taking shape.  I want to be the same person who I am now, but Greater. The same, only more developed mentally, with more money, and more stories, and less sensitivity to what others think of me. Yet somehow, I turn into the frozen Mississippi; solid and unmoving on top with everything rushing underneath. Winter becomes tiresome quickly.
Spring is the one who is curious and watching, willing to be tugged in whatever direction the fresh, cool wind will take her. Things will take her fancy, and she'll follow them for a good deal of time, obsess over them, learn much about them, and then when she lulls, they'll be tucked away, waiting to be pulled out another day. But Spring never has any concrete plans of the the Long-Term persuasion. At least, none that she has thought about enough to put into action.
I rotate like this, or in a similar fashion, every single year, taking only a few different directions.
All I know is that I'm always influenced by everyone around me. I spend so much of my time around people who have made their whole world out of so much of their own raw being. Their talents seem to pave the way for anything they could ever want to do. \I look at myself and want to be so much of that.
I'm just so afraid I won't be that.
Or worse, if I ever do become that, I'll be too busy looking at the Inspiration to appreciate where I am.
I think I'm afraid of not knowing how to grow up.
Much love, Best Wishes

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Prodigal Blogger Returns....maybe for good!

I was sitting at dinner in the Student Center today, when a friend of mine told me that she checks my blog from time to time and is always sad to see that I don't update it very often at all.
"you're a spunky writer," she said "and since I don't see enough of you, sometimes reading you is fun!  I wish you wrote more." and it occurred to me that she was right! I loved having this blog, but now it's high time that I proved it. I don't know exactly what I'm going to say on it. All I know is that in my life I have just put away social media sites, and it may actually cause me to get a great deal more done than I was admitting I could.
With homework, working two jobs (campus costume-shop, as well as a bookstore cafe) and being an active member of the campus Theatre Department, I must admit that I wasted more time than I should thinking about social media sites and the like. Not something I'm proud of, as there are so many things I always thought that I might focus on while at college.
I should very much like to be able to properly pick up sewing once again, for me. I love vintage fashion, but I find that finding the actual pieces I imagine is easier said than done. For all the thrift stores in the area, I find that I can rarely find a jem to take home with me, of any kind. No shoe, no dress, no bag could be seen as acceptable to be given new life. And buying replications of a basic style is hugely expensive, of course. Why, then, can't I just sew my own dress? I love sewing and it will always do to have some practice samples lying around. In fact, I've recently decided that I like costuming so much, I might have to figure if I can do something to my major in that respect. The only problem with this is that the school that I go to is primarily an Engineering school and my theatre department is so small that we don't have a teacher for the only costuming class we have in the curriculum. That's not to say that we won't always, but at the current moment, we don't, and that's something that we could really use. I was considering maybe taking an internship at the Renaissance Faire in the costume shop and using that towards a credit. I think it would work rather well, and I know that I would love it.
I also always wish that I had more time to write. More-so than blog, even, but at the current moment, even that is enough. I basically just failed NaNoWriMo, unsurprisingly. Not for lack of trying, but rather for lack of time and any type of stimulant that might successfully keep me up to do the work that would go into it.
Maybe I'll end up finally using this blog, like I planned.
Much love, best wishes :)

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Bat Symbols and the Pride With Which We Still Wear Them...

On the weekends, I work at the Bristol Renaissance Faire in Kenosha Wisconsin.
This is a place more-or-less completely over-run by nerdy and geeky people on an every day basis. (and yes, I mean every day. Even during the week, when there is no faire, those who live temporarily and permanently onsite are all card carrying members of the Geekdom world. They work at a Ren Faire, for heaven's sake.)
When the Dark Knight Rises came out at midnight, and the shooting occurred in Aurora, I was upset for the families and people affected by this tragedy, but also for the film itself and the outcome of that night. I thought, and was correct, that this would be an end for a lot of the costuming that people do in celebration of a new movie and a midnight premiere, for security reasons; this would also shine a very negative light on many of those who attend Midnight premieres and partake in the costuming aspect because it would imply that they may think they are or wish to be characters in the film. James Eagan Holmes dressed in black ballistics and died his hair before his crime, and when he was apprehended, he claimed he was the Joker.
We're not all like James Holmes.
But these were reasons that we could mourn for, on the side of the tragedy of the victims.
This meant that our fandom was being frowned upon for the evil of just one of our number.
I thought it would be hard for some to represent themselves as a fan of the Batman, now. But I was very wrong.
This past weekend, among the crowds of people, I spotted probably close to a hundred Batman logo tee-shirts and backpacks and even some drinking vessels (that means cups), among the throngs of garb , belly dancing and chain-mail clad patrons, over the course of just the two days.
In every color, and throughout every age group, I saw many people sporting the Bat Symbol.
I recall turning to a cast mate and commenting about how happy I was to see that many folk in the symbol and Jaqui (my castmate) said:
"that's the community doing their part to mourn and still show their support for our Dark Knight."

If I wasn't supposed to remain in costume, I would most certainly have gone back to my car and changed into the Dark Knight Rises shirt I had inside that I got at the Mind Frame midnight premiere.

Much love, best wishes,
Wear the heck outta your Bat Symbol!

Friday, July 20, 2012

Dark Knight Rises and the Sanctuary of the Picture Palaces

I'm sure many of you got a chance to see the newest and supposedly final installment to Christopher Nolan's Batman Trilogy. I, like many of my fellow DC fans, bought tickets ahead of time, slipped on a catsuit, made a leather mask and stayed up late with my boyfriend and a few close friends to see Bale take on yet another strife, saving the city of Gotham once again, and perhaps for the last time, as the Dark Knight, Batman.
The film had me standing and fangirl-ing in my black cat ears by the end, and raving about it outside in the parking lot until everyone else but us had left.

It was when we arrived home and I got a chance to check my tweets that I finally read the news of the Denver, Colorado Dark Knight Rises shooting, in which at least 10 had been reported killed (at the time-later it would be declared 12) and more than 30 injured (later numbers ranged at 59-70), by a masked and armored man in possession of no less than four fire-arms. The shots were fired about 39 minutes into the film, and the patrons in the theater at first believed it to be special effects of the film. This was only after a form of irritant (some form of teargas) was released on one of the four theaters. The bullets passed through the walls of one of the theaters and into the one next to it, hitting a patron in that theater.

James Holmes was arrested outside the theaters moments after.

Reading the tweets and news reports about those injured and dead because they happened to be out enjoying the Cinema late at night for a special event makes me rethink the phrase:
"At the wrong place and at the wrong time", because people like Jessica Gwahi (@JessicaRedfield) and her friend Brent, who was with her at the moment that Jessica was shot twice and later passed on; people like Alex Sullivan, who died taking a bullet for his wife, had EVERY RIGHT to be there, as did every single person sitting in those seats. Enjoying something that was supposed to be safe. Something that was supposed to be fiction.

In the 1930's and '40's, the movie theater was a haven. A place to escape the struggles and strife of the everyday world. You didn't have to be trying to keep the bank from forclosing on your house, and the War didn't have to have taken your brothers, sons, and husbands away. Dorothy always made it home, Shirley Temple always gained a family, and the good guy always defeated the baddies.
A Theater is a safe place. A sanctuary. The one place in this whole world where the ones who sacrifice and perish, and the ones who fall victim are always okay in real life.
That safe place, that line between fiction and reality has been blurred, today. The terror that was to stay behind the screen was unleashed, and that may be one of the cruelest elements of this event- the lack of security regarding what's real in the refuge that is the cinema, and in our own minds.
What I fear most about this event, is not the guns used, but is the deception. And, curiously, the disappointment.
I try not to think about this, but I can't help but realize how excited it was for these movie-goers to be seeing this film at midnight. It was supposed to be fun. We were supposed to be free from the worries. Some of us will now will never get to have worries again.
It's the contrast between the excitement they felt and the truth of the events that have me swallowing tears.

Much love, best wishes, and do your best to atone for the mistakes in our species by doing something selfless this week.
I love you.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

The Rites of Passage: This year I can....?

I'm just sitting here in the library at the computer, (which is an incredibly awkward way to sit at a computer, seeing as how I always assume EVERYONE is reading over my shoulder and EVERYONE is watching me stalk my new Ren-Faire castmates) when it occurs to me that there was a time when I couldn't use the computer in the section of the library where I now sit. I had to use a computer in the children's room.
And oh, how I wanted to use a computer in the reference section, just like the grown-ups.
This made me think, also, about how every age for an adolescent (or a child, really!) is a landmark
Here's some that I can name:

Age 4: the first age that I can remember ACTUALLY SUBSCRIBING to. I remember when people used to ask how old I was, I would hold up 4 fingers like I was only a year away from renting a car.
I don't honestly remember conciously knowing how old I was before that.

Ages 5-9: Bit of a blur. I was homeschooled. I had no age-defined privliges.

Age 10: The double digits. Why this mattered in particular, I don't really know. I was a 4th grader. I was a hopeless loser as well.

Age 11: I still say that my mom stole my letter from Hogwarts. I know one was sent. But I wasn't the "Chosen One", so I guess they didn't send more than one owl my way.

Age 12: One more year 'til I'm a teenager! And I'm officially a Middle Schooler now! Well, I was a 6th grader last year, but it hardly counts... And I always called it Junior High, even though my school district had stopped calling it that and had it adopted title of Middle School around '96. But Junior High sounded better to my Wonder Years, Boy Meets World, & Dawson's Creek fed mind. I knew/KNOW the name is coming back.
I was so retro, I was hipster. Even at age 12.

Age 13: Officially a teenager! I could see PG-13 rated movies (though I never did). I was also, the top of the school, seeing as how I was an 8th grader, and next year would be walking the thoroughly guilded halls of the High School.
Big leagues now, baby!

Age 15: I could legally have a part-time job with hours that ranged from, like 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. limiting the hours to 8 a week. Not that I did have a job! Also: in 6th months, I would be allowed to go for my permit! Which ment that Driving Lessons began and thorough Awesome-ness was right around the corner!

Age 16: I could officially, legally get my drivers license, if I passed the test...which I didn't...5 times...delaying me from getting my license until...

Age 17: Yep. I got my license this year. BUT! I was also:
Allowed to watch Rated-R movies (which I got into even when I was 16)
An adult Sim
An Adult Wizard
Allowed to donate blood (which I also didn't do until later in life)

Age 18: A legal adult...I haven't done anything note-worthy.
Technically, I can move out, but I'm a student and my room is decorated.
I can be charged as an adult for any crime I have committed, but I haven't committed any...
I actually donated blood this year, but I could have done that at age 17.
If I was a guy, I'd need to register for the Draft, but I'm a girl.
18 isn't as eventful as it seems...

Well, that's that then.
I really am no different from 4-year-old me. The only exception being that I drive a car, I can go to scary movies, I look a bit taller, and a pint of my blood is potentially flowing through 3 people's veins.
I'm not a whole lot smarter, though.

Much Love, Best Wishes, and Yours Cordially,

Sub Count: 10

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

It's Leap Day. The title of this post has nothing to do with it's contents...

So I've been away for a long time...
Let me sum up my past month and 10 days:
1.Me and Tyler didn't work out. Do your best not to look too shocked.
2.I was Wendy in the musical Peter Pan. Not to toot my own horn, but I rocked it. Proof:

3.I was cast as Sandrine & Hope in my community theater's performance of Almost, Maine.
4. I got Bronchitis
5. I auditioned for the Bristol Renaissance Faire. I was supposed to drive 2 hours to get there. It took me 3 both ways.
6. Bronchitis because a Sinus Infection due to poor care of my Earthly Vehicle (my body)
7. Found out I got into the Bristol Renaissance Faire as a member of RenQuest (Hurray!)
8.Was invited to spend a week this June in Ireland.

So...Lots of stuff have been going down.
I'll get back to you with other coolness sometime soon!
Yours Cordially,
Much Love, Best Wishes

Sub Count: 9

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Dear John Green...

I've read every one of your books. Most of them several times.
And I have come to a conclusion.

You have written, through 3 of your 5 novels, and through 3 of your many characters, a variation of a recipe for the girl living my life thus far. 
Although I know there are probably 30,000 teenagers who are saying the same thing that I am right now, I feel like I'm on a different plane. 
I'm sure they do as well.
But my being is different. My story is different. And though I have always been an avid reader of many books, what you posses and command in your writing, while it is yours to do so (i.e. before it reaches the hands of it's readers) is the ability to write people. Not characters, but human beings. 

I am, in a manner of speaking, what one would get if one stuck Pudge (Looking for Alaska), Hazel (TFiOS) and Margo (Paper Towns) into a blender, pausing only to remove small, unimportant details like, say: testes, cancer, an 1/8 of the melodrama. 
With friends who change our lives by ending theirs, by committing me to a humiliating (yet nostalgically comical)1. 3 years of failing a drivers test, by tossing me in with one boy who broke my heart but opened my eyes, and another still who will tell me his life story by writing it in dry erase marker on a lazy Susan of a whiteboard in the center of a circular table in the library of a college neither of us attended....I sufficiently feel that my whole story is adequate enough to be the plot to one of your books. 
The only thing I'm missing: the epiphany that each being comes to in your novels. What makes them see what we don't.
What makes them...novel.

So I appeal to you, John.
Write me an epiphany?

Much Love, Best Wishes