A triumph of the subjective
Fri, Feb. 13th, 2004, 07:31 pm
Sometimes just a simple gesture of friendship makes all the difference.
Ever notice how someone can write something on their own livejournal, a place where they are allowed to say anything the want, and it cuts you straight to the core?
I have a freind who frequently says very hurtful things on his/her livejournal and I'm actually angry with said friend. How can you be angry for something that was never said? Is it as good as said if it's written in some new-agy computer nerd do-it-cause-it's-fun forum? I am somehow embarrassed that things I read on livejournal hurt just as much as if they were said to my face.
Since livejoural is a place where people feel free to vent their secret frustrations and say what's really on their minds, totally uncensored, am I allowed to take offense?
And am I really more angry that people sometimes think awful things about me or that I am sometimes awful?
They are playing a game. They are playing at not
playing a game. If I show them I see they are, I
shall break the rules and they shall punish me.
I must play their game, of not seeing I see the games.
Sun, Feb. 1st, 2004, 01:42 am
I have had the same problem since I was 13. I actually remember when it started, that split second when the pit of my stomach dropped and I cried for no real reason. The moment I stopped believeing. There is this overwhelming self-doubt that clouds my perception of the world, changes the past, changes my future, and permeates my personality.
When I was in high school, this doubt was the worst and I was terrified of taking risks. Everyone thought I was brave because I was opinionated, independant, gutsy and "strong." But the things that really terrified me, the things I cared about, I shoved aside and called "hobbies" because I knew I could never excel in them. One of my mentors, Patrick, always pushed me towards these things even if it meant me screaming at him in tears. He took it, provoked me further, and never eased up. Now I know why. He coined the phrase that became my mantra - "I never know what I know." When forced to perform a task I was sure I couldn't do, I usually pulled it off with competence and, sometimes, even grace. It's just that I didn't know I knew how to do it. It's a tendencey I have.
There was a brief period in my life when I knew my potential. I had finally realized that things almost always work out for me, so why waste my luck and drive? I changed my entire life in the course of a year, and it was amazing.
Having absolutely no qualifications, I interviewed for three top schools for lighting design. I taught myself how to draw, how to make a mask, how to make a portfolio, and was accepted into all three schools. I moved out on my own in NY and survived - even loved- it. I decided I needed a job and just walked up Broadway until I found one I liked. It took one hour. Everything was falling into place and I was truley believing in myself. One day, I decided I wanted to design at an arts camp, made a call, had an interview, and was hired. I met an amazing boy, wanted him long enough, had patience enough, tried hard enough, and he was finally mine. All this seems to boil down to the fact that I knew I deserved these things.
Where did that faith go?
Mike always talks about self-fulfullilng prophacies. Usually, I don't see his point. Finally, tonight, I get it. It's not that thinking negatively actually cancels out possibilities, it just cancels out faith. I am stagnant because I have lost that self-asuredness, that feeling that I deserve happiness. No, I'm not perfect. In fact, I have so many flaws they blind and debilitate me. But underneath it all, I deserve to be happy, no matter what I may sometimes think.
This same mentor got me to read Illusions, by Richard Bach the summer after I graduated. I used to read it all the time, but haven't in some time. The premise of the book is that you are, by means of your perception, constantly creating and re-creating reality. i actually have had one of the phrases from it on my wall for three years, but haven't re-read it untill tonight.
The world is your excersise-book, the pages on which you do your sums. It is not reality, although you can express reality there if you wish. You are also free to write nonesense, or lies, or to tear the pages.
I think I'm ready to stop tearing the pages now.
I just wrote a whole entry and deleted it.
Basically, too much work/ not enough caring/ drained/dead/fucked/lonely/lost/wrong/sorry.
I am completely procrastinating as it is the only thing keeping me alive right now. Although, I am a bit releaved to finally have found an idea to base my design off of.
For some reason I have been preoccupied by a paragraph from Lolita today. Don't know why. I worked on it as a vocal excercise at AMDA and I think it may be one of the best first paragraphs in a novel ever (along with the first paragraph of Ender's Game). So, for no apperant reason, I am going to share it with you, if only for the fact that it keeps me from drafting that much longer.
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins, my sin, my soul, Lolita. The tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the pallette. Lo. Li. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo in the morning, standing four foot one in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my heart she was always Lolita.
Ok, well, I'm pretty sure there's another sentence after pallette but I've forgotten it. Something about teeth. Anyway, the point is... after a day of feeling too much I now feel nothing and all I can think about is passion.
Tue, Jan. 27th, 2004, 01:08 am
Sometimes I just need to be reminded of reality.
Thank you soooooooo much for being there!
One of my teachers at AMDA used to say that the thing that gets in an actors way is his or her committee. She used the word "comittee" to describe all those voices in your head that shout at you that you suck, you're not doing that right, they're judging you, etc...
My comittee is out of control right now. I've been doing a bit better today after talking with Dick and seeing that he feels exactly as stressed and rushed. It's just the whole self-doubt thing. It's making me petty, insecure, and suspicious - qualities I'm sure no one wants to love.
(See? there it goes again...)
This month has been all about expectations. Mine, of course. I have become so totally overwhelmed by this sea of doubt and self-examination that it's been hard to breath. I keep thinking of a line from a play or a movie or something, "There's thing thing. This thing coming down on me." But I don't know where it's from.
I have apperantly decided that I do not exist. Obviously, I exist in the physical sense but apperantly I have no "self". I have decided that unless I can do or be all these things that other people are, then I am nothing. I am so overwhelmed by the people I look up to and I will never be like them. I keep trying and realizing that I'm just not capable.
Not sure when it happened but it sure has knocked me down. Every day I am rushing and pushing and dieing to be all these things and my mind keeps churning and churning with the imposibility of it all until it just breaks down and there's nothing to do but cry. Since when am I nothing but what other people are? I used to feel like my own self, powerful in my uniquness. I had just, in the past two or three years, begun to be happy and relaxed into myself. It was amazing because I realized that I have the potential to achieve any dream I may have. I'm smart and dilligent enough to get it all. Somewhere in there, I must have decided that I needed to literally be it all.
I will never be book-smart. I will never be able to remember dates in history or learn calculus. No one will ever say, "She's so smart," about me.
I cannot work fast enough or hard enough to do projects at my usual level of completion this semester.
I am completely overwhelmed by my time commitments while everyone else seems to be doing fine.
These are the facts that make up me. Somehow I have lost the rest. It's just other people, other people. I need to be like other people. I'm going to drive myself insane. I am not like other people; I'm not as good; as intelligent, talented, beautiful, funny, or graceful as other people. And this has become the only thing that I can see.
Mon, Jan. 19th, 2004, 11:13 pm
"You think less of me?"
"Okay. I think I think less of me."