well, i am.
i am also whiny and slow-moving. i have started my first blog three times. i don’t know if i think i am attempting some great feat here. am i tricking myself into believing my very first post will be read and reviewed by millions after dinner tonight? the whole family gathered around the computer like it’s a radio? i am orson wells and it’s entertainment hour? i am full of delusions.
ever heard of spartanburg, south carolina? no?
well, i live here now. here. in spartanburg. south carolina.
i moved here recently from chicago where i was pursuing acting. and now i am at home. with my parents. and i’m 30. but i’ve got the sensitivity of a child allergic to the sun. i am the center of my world. i cry at the drop of an iphone (frequent) and i have already screamed at my dad that i need my privacy. i am a bucketful of sloppy emotions. all of them. but i am trying to paint this fence called life.
nothing much happens in spartanburg. here are my top three:
1. arm stung and the swelling of the arm-
i got stung by a yellow jacket when i went out to look at the roses. i found this very symbolic. i am still reliving the image of the poor bee wriggling off of his stinger, my wrist already red and starting to puff, but the bee. the poor bee. why did he do that to himself? i vacuumed his carcass up today. he has given his life for what? was i a threat? was i? stupid bee.
2. discovery of temperature-
it’s very cold. outside the temperature is hot and sometimes the pavement is actually mushy. but inside, where i do my very important 30 year old work, it’s freezing. i dress in sweats like a nana. my bones actually ache. i’m not used to air conditioning, parents! i have been living the life of an artist, struggling to feed myself and stay on track, and there was never any time for central air. only time to complain about it. now it’s too cold. too cold!
3. insulted by the ignorant-
a lady in a shop asks me if i got my hair cut because of miley cyrus. i don’t know what she was talking about but i can only assume miley cyrus cut her hair and it looks like mine. three breaths later she offers that i move to atlanta, to midtown, where there are “no blacks.” she mouthed that part, but i heard her plain and clear. she couldn’t see what color my heart is.
those are my top three. so full of life, my life now.
i am trying to change my life around, ok? i am trying. i know the things i don’t like about myself and i am doing what i can to stop those behaviors, relearn positive, and go west to my destiny. i am taking some time away from boyfriends, and social events, from seeing plays, and auditioning and from getting swept away in my former coffeehouse social club. i am trying to strip all distractions away so i can stare myself in the face, my wrinkly cherub face and say, ” this is what you are doing now. you are alone. you are ok. just please make something of yourself so we can say it was all worth it.” and i know it will be.
it will all be worth it. it will all be worth it.
say it in the car, driving just to drive, just to have something to do. say it. it will all be worth it.
say it on your bed, in between tears, the phone ringing on the other end. no one answers. you’re alone. say it. it will all be worth it.
say it in a bar, to the old guy who is listening to you, your for-now only friend. he fought an actual war, but he still sees your personal one as significant. say it. it will all be worth it.
sometimes life is a pile of shit. sometimes we don’t even know ourselves. but we have to hold on, keep going. it will all be worth it. it will all be worth it. it will all be worth it.