Man, when I want to be bitter, it's really hard to bite my tongue. But maybe I do it too often- I so often censor what I say, people don't know how I really feel.
I think I'd shock some people if I told them how I felt.
Today is a day that I hate labels and expectations-I really don't want to be the person everyone expects because it gets really tiresome sometimes. Not the whole "being a good person" part (I think I'll always strive for that) but the "well Lauren should act like this..." I have been going to school with the same people for 12 years and as much as I love some of them, I really want to get the hell out of here.
One thing I've learned is that when friends go off to college you really learn about who cares- the people who care keep in touch. The people who don't fade away like morning dew.
Yet I don't want to rush it- what's the point of that? If I spend every day wishing to be out, I'll never appreciate the good things. Good things like discussing literature with Keeney, or laughing at every single thing that Wiemer says. If I'm wishing to be out of here, I won't appreciate Casey's pit stains (ugh), Mullen's typos or Conner's never ending argument of whether bagel is pronounced "bay-gull" or "bag-ull"
Do you know what the problem of being a writer is? Things fade away when you don't want them to, and you have to deal with it. Fires go out and then that's it. All the work you did on that piece, whatever it was, doesn't matter anymore and a part of you always wishes it does.
Real life doesn't play out the way you write. Things are so much better in your head when you're a writer. Things are more exciting in my head. Writers have overactive imaginations. So often I plan out how conversations are going to go in my head, and when they don't turn out that way...
My life, for over a year and a half, was soooo Hollywood-esque...and now that it's not I don't know how to regain footing. Those lines, those wonderful things that would sound SO GREAT are never said because I don't have balls. There's no soundtrack, no climatic moment, no passionate love scene, no montage. There's just life and it's messy. And I am ok with that, I think. It just makes me bad at life...or something?
I figured out why I haven't been writing White Houses- it's because I'm intimidated. I'm scared to tell a story that's not really mine. I feel like it's accumulated from all sorts of places, all sorts of people and I don't feel like a writer or a narrator. Just a compiler of details asked to sort and sort and sort. I'll do it- I'll do my task...it's just really difficult to have something so daunting. I don't know quite why it feels so big, but it does.
Oh God, God. How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world.
(Name it, I'll buy you a pizza)
I don't want to live for anyone but God. I don't want to do anything for anyone but God. My life should be about that- not about all the crap it's currently about. I can take myself out- you don't need to clear me out like phlegm caught in your throat.
I know I'm crabby, but I guess growing isn't all optimism and happiness. Tomorrow I'll look back and smile softly, I think.
-Lauren
post script- Y'know all you invisible readers, it really wouldn't take so much to leave a little comment here or there, just so I know I'm not alone in all of this. Sometimes I feel like I'm talking to myself.
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3 comments:
Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 2. Here quoted from your most recent source, Laughing Stock. A marvelous play, and you did such a good job with it too.
No worries, if something's on the tip of your tongue, you just need to wait for the right time to spit it out. Just patience, that's all it takes. and we're all learning.
POSTSCRIPT - You're not alone. You're never alone.
To be honest, my most recent source IS Hamlet, our current study in AP Lit. Laughing Stock has just deepened my desire to understand and appreciate the show.
I take it, anonymous reader, that you saw the show and thought you may appreciate the irony of this:
At the end of Act 1, the monologue Gordon recites is one from Act 2, Scene 2- where he tells Rosencratz and Gildenstern that he is "depressed but doesn't know why" And everything he says to them, although possibly deeply true, is a bunch of crap because he doesn't trust them.
And this is the monologue Gorden chooses to recite to Sarah- a bunch of crap and lies. Perhaps it's the deeper reason for why she starts crying.
I don't know who you are, but thank you. It's nice knowing I'm not alone- feeling that way is the easy part. Seeing past it beyond the blue is the hard part.
p.s. if you want me to buy you a pizza, I'll eventually have to find out who you are.
Unless it is to be left in an ally somewhere....
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