Faux Grown Up

Why Do Fools Fall in Love, AKA the Josie Gellar Story

2006-09-28T12:13:00.000-05:00

Why do people fall for their friends?

I mean, I know that this is a huge cliche--falling for a friend, whining about it, worrying about whether it will affect the friendship, blah blah blah. I recently found myself in the unfortunate position of counselling a friend in a similar situation. She ended up hooking up with one of her best friends, he subsequently treating her like crap, oldest story in the world. I just wanted to shake her every time she started talking to me about it--she was being so deliberately blind about what an asshole he was being.

Still, I can't help it. I am becoming the cliche. And I think this is going to have a cliched ending as well. Not the best friends realize their true feelings, ride off into the sunset cliche. No, I mean the girl falls for a friend who isn't interested in her, only to end up with her heart broken and the friendship over because he can't deal with the awkward of it all. That cliche.

I've just never elicited much a of response from guys. I don't say that in a self-pitying way. Well, maybe a little bit, but mostly it's just stating the truth. I mean, I'm pretty, I suppose. I'm tall and curvy and I've got great breasts. I'm very smart, and I can be funny, and I'm very sweet. There seems to be nothing wrong with this picture, right? I think I just give off some sort of a vibe, sort of a "stay away" type of thing. Or maybe I'm just lacking that va-va-voom factor that make some girls hot and some girls just "pretty." Or hell, maybe I'm just lacking some self-confidence. But whatever it is, it's how I've made it to the age of 19 and never been kissed.

Yes, folks, that's right. My horrible secret is out. I have never been kissed. I am Drew Barrymore in that terrible movie. I hate that movie, because she gets to kiss Michael Vartan in the end. LIFE DOESN'T WORK OUT THAT WAY FOR ME! I mean, I've had Spin-the-bottle kisses and even stage kisses, but nothing that I think really counts as my first kiss.

And the thing is, I'm not what you would traditionally think of as a late-bloomer. I mean, I'm fairly gorgeous, and have been since high school. It's just never happened for me somehow. Watching The 40-Year-Old Virgin, I had a terrible vision of my future.

Well, this started out as one thing and turned into a monologue on how pathetic my life is. Sorry about that.

I am SO ANGRY.

2006-07-29T23:15:00.000-05:00

There are so many things to say about this summer so far, I really don't know where to start. I spent June in Italy, studying Italian in an intensive language immersion program. Jules and I did it together, and we had a fantastic time.

However, at this exact second, I'm focused on a particular person whom I met in Italy, another program participant. Let's call him...well, let's be obvious and call him "D." D and I became friends very quickly, which is unusual for me. I don't make friends easily, but I found myself able to talk so naturally to him. Anyway, he's a good looking guy, and I developed a thing for him. The first weekend of the program, we went to Venice. One night, we all went out together. Dan and I ended up being left together while everyone else separated in an area with about five different bars. I don't drink, so he was probably just being a nice guy, staying with me and keeping me company. We talked all night after we broke the ice by realizing that we both take anti-depressants. We went through the usual routine, exchanging names of medications like designer drug users. After that, nothing was off-limits.

I really, really liked him.

We got closer after that. We spent time together. We both tend to walk near the back in tour groups, so we spent a lot of tours ignoring the guide and talking. He told me things that he didn't tell anyone else in the program. It all came to a head the third week of the program when I got up the nerve to ask him to do something with me one night. I didn't phrase it like a date, and neither of us ever indicated that we thought it was, but it had date-like elements. Nothing happened, to my disappointment, but of course, everyone else in the program assumed that it had.

After that night, he got very distant. People were asking me questions about whether we were together, so I have to assume that people were asking him. He started acting very fraternal towards me--kisses on the cheek, that sort of thing. I was starting to accept that nothing was ever going to happen between us, that he didn't feel the same way as I did, or maybe that he didn't want to get involved with someone in the program. Ok. I was dealing with it. It brought up some issues that I've had with myself for a while, but I was dealing. Then came the journey to Elba Island. I saw D on the trip sitting with a certain girl, who we'll call Slutty Vapid McWhorebag, or just A. A wasn't one of my friends, but I didn't really know her, except that I thought she was stupid and vapid and I'd heard she was bitchy. I saw D and A, and thought to myself, "God, I really hope D doesn't hook up with A. That would really suck." Well, the next thing I know, D and A are hooking up. Everyone is shocked, especially me. Well, certain things that happen make it clear to me that D just doesn't know how to deal with me, that he's embarassed/ashamed.

Anyway, the week goes on, and it hurts, and it sucks, and eventually I leave. There's more to the story there, but it's complicated and has no bearing on the final point. The final point is that I was determined to remain friends with D. We were friends first, and I didn't want to lose that. I contacted him with a friendly note, the same sort of note I was sending to other people in the program. He never responded. The other day, I wrote him another note asking him how Cambridge is going (that's where he is now, and where I was a couple years ago. We talked about it a couple times before the rift). He never responded to me, although he did respond to another program participant's similar inquiry (this is all on MySpace).

I am just so pissed off at him for being such an incredible asshole. Why wouldn't he respond to me? Because he's an asshole. There are just so many angry things going through my head, I can't organize them well enough to express them here. He sucks. I hate him. How could he do this to me?

I just wanted us to stay friends. I hate that he's too afraid to let that happen.

What Dreams are Made On

2006-05-03T12:57:00.000-05:00

Well, I don't even know where to begin. First of all, I got a part. It was in a fifteen minute one-act, the directing II class's final project. The performance was Monday night, and it went so wonderfully, I'm still on a high.

In other news, I decided to declare as a drama major. This is obviously a life-changing sort of decision, and I'm so excited about it. I wrote a really long email to someone explaining my decision, but this stupid thing won't let me copy and paste it, and I don't feel like writing it all over again. Suffice it to say, I'm extremely happy. This is the right decision for me.

I'll leave you with something beautiful, to brighten a cold, gloomy day up here in Boston. From the Emilio Pucci Fall 2006 runway:

Ok, two beautiful things:

And a few quotes. The Shakespeare quote is from The Tempest, and many scholars believe that it represents Shakespeare's farewell to the world of the theatre.

"Acting is a masochistic form of exhibitionism. It is not quite the occupation of an adult." -Sir Laurence Olivier

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on...

Cast Lists

2006-03-03T20:49:00.000-05:00

Well, the cast lists are up, and, as usual, my name not does not feature. I don't feel sorry for myself, which is funny, because I think it is constructive to feel sorry for yourself sometimes. I think my theater experience has just been such that I don't find feeling sorry for yourself in this context to be acceptable, or even reasonable. I'll always be grateful to Ms. T, my high school director and all-around mentor, for instilling in me the strict sense of ethics and honor regarding theater that she insisted upon. I think it has made me a better actor, a better member of any theater community, and a better person in general. For one thing, I understand that not being cast is not a personal rejection. Yes, it is a rejection, and that hurts every time, but it's not personal. Being so close to Ms. T, I knew that every time I wasn't cast or wasn't given a great part, it had nothing to do with her personal feelings for me. This is useful to me now, since in the context of student theater here at Tufts, I'm auditioning for people who I know, who are actually my friends and peers. I'm glad I don't mix personal feelings into casting. I know that these people like me, that I am accepted, whether they cast me or not. I'm not pushy, I'm not spoiled, and I take what I'm given--it's what I was taught.

That being said, I've auditioned four times this year so far. I've gotten two callbacks, which has been incredible. However, I haven't yet been cast. I'm okay with this--I knew when I decided to audition this semester rather than working as an ASM that it would be an uphill climb. I'm not the most talented actress at this school by far. I'm not always going to be right for a role, and even if I'm right for it, I often won't be the best person for it. However, there is one thing bothering me right now. I auditioned this week for the spring minor productions. The major production went up this week, so the people in it were allowed to audition for the minors. With very few exceptions, those people from the major make up the cast of the minor. As strongly as I believe that the best person for the role should be cast no matter what, I'm a little frustrated, since I thought that my chances might be better with all of the usual choices tied up. Instead, they are available, and they are cast.

I don't want to be bitter, or angry, or resentful. I like these people, and they are my friends. That being said...can't I get a break? I really thought I had a shot this time, and finding out that I was wrong hurts more than usual.

Waiting

2006-03-01T23:48:00.000-05:00

Well, here I am again. I've had two auditions this week, for Passion by Steven Sondheim on Monday and for The Dining Room today, and tonight, the callback list for Passion and the cast list for The Dining Room will be posted. I'm actually experiencing a level of anxiety about this that I haven't felt for my last few auditions. It's probably the combination of both at once. I thought I wanted to write a post about theater here at Tufts, but now that I'm here, I just...don't want to do it right now. Hmmm. Well, suffice it to say that I'm very nervous and trying to keep my hopes down, as disappointment is the worst sting of all. It's not even failure, because I know I did my best, and it's out of my hands. I suppose part of it is rejection, but I'm fairly used to that by now. No matter how hard I try, I can't keep myself from imagining what would happen if I were to get cast. I try to quash those fantasies immediately, but I can't prevent them entirely. Then, when I don't get cast, I have to deal with the feeling of crushing disappointment, knowing those fantasies will never come true.

Ok, I'm getting a little too melancholy. I'm for bed, as I have a long day tomorrow.

Nothing Gold can Stay, But They Consider Beige a Reasonable Alternative

2006-02-15T13:01:00.000-05:00

I'd like to take this opportunity to rhapsodize about one of my favorite topics--fashion. Olympus Fashion Week has come and gone, and with very few exceptions, I was left remarkably unimpressed. For one thing, the color palate was incredibly bland--we're talking beige, everywhere. I mean, I understand the whole "fall colors" concept, but would it have killed them to try for more bright greens and reds? I mean, give me a break! It brought to mind that Robert Frost poem:

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Thank God for Badgley Mischka, who I can always count on to brighten up my day:

I mean, look at that print! I'm a sucker for purple. Also for flowing, pleated chiffon. There were a couple other highlights for me. I love the sister team of Rodarte; they really have attention to detail down to an art, and I adore their floaty silhouettes:

I'm looking forward to the European shows, etc, to flesh out Fall 2006, since Olympus Fashion Week kind of failed me. However, sitting in my dorm room in Boston, with snow piled on the ground outside, Fall 2006 seems remarkably far away. So I'd like to look back at the shows for Spring 2006, which I definitely preferred, to say the least. Yes, the color palate was fairly bland then as well, but the boring beige was not yet universal. Let me start with the master, who almost never disappoints me:

Oscar de la Renta is incredible. I mean, just look at it! Perfection! The lines, the shape, the details! I can just picture myself in it at a snazzy luncheon.

I love a nice, full skirt. I myself am 5'10.5'' with a pretty classic hourglass figure, so I can't always pull off the full skirt, but I still love them. I marked this Balenciaga dress for the skirt alone, as it has no other redeeming qualities in my mind:

I mean, the top part? Immensely unflattering. But the skirt...Oh, the skirt... To be perfectly honest, there are a few details that I adore so much that I will ignore an outfit's other (sometimes major) shortcomings for the sake of that single detail. As I mentioned above, pleated, flowy chiffon is one of those. Observe this Alberta Ferretti dress, which I found marked in my lookbook for no reason that I could remember other than the chiffon:

I mean, ugh. Except, so cute! The chiffon! I can't resist! Another clincher for me is the little bow at the front. Burberry Prorsum's color palate is pretty much irredeemable for me--I would never, or could never, wear all of that olive and khaki--but they had bows on a lot of their clothes:

Now, here's Dolce and Gabbana doing something well:

Now, here's Dolce and Gabbana taking an idea way, way, way too far:

There are no words.

Poofy skirt. Enough said. Well played, Gaultier. Well played indeed.

I love the preppy stuff that Bottega Venetta did:

Now that is a skirt shape that I could rock.

Karl Lagerfield himself scares the shit out of me. (I'll let the brilliant Manolo sum up his opinion of Lagerfield, as he has a way with words I can only dream of.) However, I have to reluctantly admit that I like his treatment of the classic Chanel suit. I think it would be difficult, even for Lagerfield, to completely screw up such an iconic style (knock on wood).

However, this does not excuse his hideous Fall 2006 show for his new Lagerfield line. The devil, he has many forms.

Now I come to what was, for me, the highlight of the Spring 2006 shows: Valentino. I adored both the Ready to Wear and the Couture shows. Here are a few of my favorites:

Look at that print!

I don't love the neckline, but I do love THE SKIRT!

The last two were from the Couture collection. Let's read what Style.com has to say about that collection: "The fact that old-school technical wizardry still exists is something to be marveled over, of course. Whether the woman still exists who is cut out for such a genteel, highly wrought way of dressing—for wisteria polka dots, apricot silk, and cream suits—is another matter altogether. It all makes for a lovely spectacle, in a nostalgic way, but a bit of a frustrating one, too." Hey! Waving my hands wildly in the air. I'm right here! I'm cut out for it! Pick me! Pick me!

All right, that's it for me. Of course, there were other designers whose Spring 2006 collections I enjoyed. Elie Saab, Diane von Furstenburg, and Donna Karan, for example. I doubt I'll be wearing any of it while I trudge up the hill to class, but it does give me something to dream about and doodle during Greek and Roman Comedy.

Let me leave you with a quote from Coco Chanel:

"Fashion passes, style remains."

An Open Letter to My Roommate

2006-02-14T23:36:00.000-05:00

What I'm about to write requires a little background information. My roommate, A, and I are not friends. It's not that we don't get along--I have no idea whether we would get along or not. You see, A doesn't speak to me. She never has. I have no idea why she decided not to speak to me. I suspect she made the decision when she received my response in the negative to her email asking me if I, too, am an evangelical Christian. A writes for the "journal of conservative thought" here at our school, which I will call "That Offensive Heap of Trash," or just Trash for short. You can imagine how thrilling that is for me.

The Vagina Monologues were performed here last weekend. My friend directed it, and I, along with most of my friends, saw it. I thought it was excellent--a very good production. I guessed that A was writing an article about the Vagina Monologues for Trash a couple weeks ago, when I saw some information about it on her desk. Since I doubt she was reading up on the Monologues for her own pleasure, I assumed she was writing an article criticizing them, and guess what? I was right. The article came out yesterday in the "Valentine's Day Edition" of Trash. I'd just like to write a letter to A here about her article, entitled "A Dissenting Feminist: V-Day at Tufts is a Vulgar Disgrace." I'm not even going to talk very much about the politics or beliefs involved in the argument. I'm just going to say a few things to her, one writer to another. Also, as an editor to a journalist. I'm using the title of journalist loosely.

First of all, I find it interesting that you didn't see the Vagina Monologues. I know perfectly well that you did not see it since you were out of town last weekend. When I write an article criticizing a performance such as this, I generally see the production before I start writing. Well, doubtless the repeated use of the word "vagina" was just too much for your sensitive ears. In addition, whenever I assigned a piece to a writer about something like this, I required them to see it. It's like writing a review of a movie based on the plot summary that you read online. It's just not good journalism. It's not even mediocre journalism. It's bad. Granted, you were criticizing the moral value of the show rather than the production value, but if you'd seen it, perhaps you would have understood some of the power inherent in the work. Also, you might not have claimed in your article that it "glorifi[es]...prostitution and child rape." It's called a minimal level of research. Look it up, and send whatever definition you find to your editor at Trash, because apparently, he hasn't heard of it either.

Next, you spent most of your article talking about the woman who the Tufts Republicans are bringing to speak against the Vagina Monologues. I realize that you feel obliged to plug for your group's events, but the amount of space that you spent summarizing this woman's opinions in her books is absolutely ridiculous. This is not a book review. The fact that about half of your article is a recap reveals that you couldn't fill that space with your own opinions. Not that I'm interested in reading that much of your opinions, but if your article wasn't long enough on its own, your editor should have axed it. Period. End of story.

Also, "...lines like, '[My vagina] was better than the Grand Canyon, ancient and full of grace...' do nothing but cheapen women and make them seem like whores in the eyes of the public"? Really?

I'm not going to get into the reasons that I support the Vagina Monologues, since the show's positive effects have been discussed elsewhere by people more qualified than I. However, for future reference, let me sum up the points of this letter (you understand summaries, I believe): See things before you review them. Don't summarize somebody else's opinions in an opinion piece. Get a life.

Intolerable

2006-02-07T22:43:00.000-05:00

Have I mentioned that I despise the girl who lives next door to me?

My dorm was not originally a dorm, so the walls are so thin that they're practically nonexistent. You can hear so much. Just to make things better, my next door neighbor has her bed right up against our shared wall. Added to that, she talks on the phone all the time, at all hours of the night. She has the most pretentious, faux-intellectual conversations. I hate those people. I HATE them. She also has a long-distance boyfriend. When he came to see her right before Christmas break, I was literally sexiled by my next door neighbor. It was utterly horrifying.

I'm an insomniac, so sleep is difficult for me in the first place. Sometimes, when I'm lying in bed, close to falling asleep, I hear her cell phone ring. My fists clench involuntarily and my eyes squeeze even tighter shut. A scream echoes inside my head. She answers the phone and begins talking.

I won't be sleeping for a while.

Is it just me, or is it ironic that Turkey has the bird flu? Ehyyyy!!!

2006-02-06T11:09:00.000-05:00

Well, it's been a while since my last (incredibly depressing) post, so I thought I'l let y'all know about something incredibly fun that I just did. It is called the 24 Hour Theater Festival, and it. Kicks. Ass. Basically, the participants are split into three teams, and a first line is chosen randomly out of a hat (The first line was "The Joker is dead. Long live the..."). All teams must use that first line and create a 20 minute skit. This must be written, costumed, rehearsed, memorized, and performed in 24 hours. This is so much fun, I can't even describe it. I also can't describe our skit, since the premise doesn't sound particularly funny, and it relied entirely on the actors and the writing to make it into the masterpiece that it was. Let me just say, however, that we had a choreographed dance break to the music of Faith Hill's "This Kiss." Also, the title of this post is a line from our show. Enough said.

In other news, I auditioned for A Midsummer Night's Dream. I got a callback, which was so intensely fabulous that it didn't even matter so much that I didn't get a part. I'm planning on auditioning for the minor shows as well, but I am also doing props for the Bare Bodkin show Dirty Story. That should be fairly wonderful.

Despite all this fabulousness, I am having a rather rough day. With my schedule all off-kilter from being up and active for 24 hours, Sunday felt incredibly surreal. This morning, my alarm failed to go off, so I missed my first class, Italian. This is a class of 16, meaning that the teacher definitely noticed my absence. Also, this was the first day that our actual teacher was there, instead of the substitutes we've had so far. Way to make a good impression. Then, I decided that I really didn't feel like going to my other class, since it is not only a lecture, but a lecture about material that I learned last semester. I'm calling this a mental health day. In addition to all of this, I dressed rather nicely today to compensate for feeling so crappy, and since I'm wearing a skirt, the universe decided to punish me by making it snow. It's 40 degrees outside, so it won't stick, but still. It really makes you believe that sometimes the universe is just out to get you.

All right, must dash. I'm going to put on some more makeup before the 3Ps meeting. Did I mention that I'm overcompensating?

And now a line from our show:
Scarlett: Oh, I'm from Georgia.
The Joker: Well that's just peachy! Because the state fruit of Georgia is the peach! Ehyyy!!

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness

2006-01-23T13:07:00.000-05:00

Well, things are getting back to normal up here. I've been to 4 out of my 5 classes, I just went to my first 3Ps meeting of the semester (3Ps is the theater group that I'm involved with), and the Tufts Republicans have done something offensive. As I mentioned, it snowed last night, so everything is white. Walking to one of my classes on Academic Quad, I see these little things poking up through the snow on one of the central lawns. I couldn't figure out what they were. Then I saw a sign explaining that they symbolized every "unborn baby killed in an abortion" since Roe v. Wade. I barely made it to my next class since it was hard to see through the red in my eyes. There's also an article in the school paper about it today by two Republicans, talking about "mourning Roe v. Wade." Oh, did I mention that it was written by two male Republicans? For God's sake, at least get a woman to write it so she has some modicum of credibility as regards to the fact that she might actually, you know, be faced with this incredibly difficult choice someday. That's what I find so enraging about the abortion debate in government--most of the people talking about it and making the decisions are old white men. I'm sorry, but if you don't have a uterus, I'm not all that particularly interested in what you have to say about this issue. That's not to say that men can't participate in the debate and add to it, but the fact that men are making the final decisions on this? Total bullshit.

So I suppose it's fairly clear where I stand on this issue. I deplore the apathy plagueing my generation of women, the very people that these decisions will ultimately affect most directly. The women born after Roe v. Wade simply have no understanding of what it means for abortions to be illegal. The generation before us cared and cares because they remember. They remember back-alley abortionists and the pain of being told that a botched abortion has left you infertile. They remember abortions performed at home with wire coat hangers and women bleeding to death on their bathroom floors. They remember being told that it was illegal for them to make a decision about their own bodies, a decision that would affect the rest of their lives.

My generation could stand to be reminded of these things.

But we'll learn. If, God forbid, Roe v. Wade is overturned, we'll have to learn quickly. Making abortion illegal doesn't prevent it; rather, it forces it underground, into those dark alleys and blood-stained bathrooms. We'll learn about shady doctors and the fear of seeking treatment. We'll learn about the realities of caring for children we didn't plan for, didn't want. We'll have to learn the art of protest, just as past generations have. We cannot be silent.

Those opposed to abortion make a big deal over the more grisly aspects of the procedure, focusing on the belief that the fetus is alive, that abortion is murder. They are having success because they call on basic human emotions and manipulate them for their own purposes. Those who support abortion tend to couch their arguments in terms of a woman's right to make decisions about her own body. While I support those arguments, they are somewhat cold and clinical when compared to enlarged photocopies of dead fetuses. We should remind the world of the seedy reality of illegal abortions--we could stand to be reminded.

I don't know whether a fetus is alive. I don't know if I would ever choose to have an abortion. I do know that the government has no right to take that choice away from me. Samuel Alito very carefully avoided answering questions about abortion during his confirmation hearings. I fear the worst may be soon to come once he stands in Sandra Day O'Connor's place.

Stopping by Eaton on a Snowy Morning

2006-01-23T09:13:00.000-05:00

Well, it's the first snow of the new school year--excitement! I really love looking out my window, which has a gorgeous view of the Boston skyline, and seeing everything covered in white. Of course, then I have to step outside to go to class, and it doesn't seem nearly as nice.

The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Brave New World and its Inhabitants

2006-01-13T19:50:00.000-05:00

One of the things that I find most amusing about the much-discussed "Blogosphere" and its culture is the sense of false familiarity and even intimacy that it gives me. For example, I was reading the latest Vanity Fair (the one with Lindsay Lohan on the cover) and I found a picture and blurb about the Gawker crew. Now, as a devoted reader of Defamer and Wonkette(two members of the Gawker family), I recognized the people in the picture as the people responsible for the blogs that I check constantly. I felt a sense of pride and somehow accomplishment about this: "Look--Vanity Fair is recognizing people who I know. I know them." Of course, I don't know them, but...

I feel the same way about Television Without Pity. As a longtime reader of the site, even before it grew to its current proportions, I feel a proprietary sense of pride towards them. Funny how our minds work, isn't it? When I see Sarah and Tara referenced somewhere, I feel like I had a part in their success.

Inversely, I revel in the anonymity this world offers. I can post anything here and it won't come to bite me in the ass later. This means that I don't actually tell people I know about this blog. After all, what if I want to write something about them someday? I won't be able to if they know that the blog exists, because they could conceivably read it at some point. I mean, I haven't written anything earth-shattering here yet, but I might eventually.

It's all very strange. So I conclude by offering this in honor of all the wonderful bloggers out there. I didn't write it--Shakespeare did--but it sums up my feelings pretty completely:

Oh, wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! Oh brave new world,
That has such people in't!

Ringing in the new and the true...

2006-01-13T19:29:00.000-05:00

Well, it's nearly the end of Christmas Break, and I haven't posted anything here since Orientation in August. However, my excuse is a good one, since I've been engaged in collegiate activities, and as I'm sure you can imagine, college is a time-consuming process. I've been home for almost a month, and I keep drifting farther and farther from the reality of my life at school. Sometimes I look back at last semester and feel like it was all just a strange dream, which is not impossible given the vivid and realistic nature of my dreams. Then I'm forced to look at myself and see how much I've changed and grown. I don't always like what I see, but I suppose no one ever really does--at least no one who's truly self-aware. I've made a lot of friends, and I've met some incredible people. I've learned things I never even imagined learning, and I finished the semester on the Dean's List. I suppose I don't have any really profound revelations for this space right now, but I believe that the recognition of change and growth is always rather profound, so I thought I'd take a moment to acknowledge it here.

I hope, in this new year, to use this space to post some of my poetry, old and new. Also, I might make a comment once in a while about what's going on in my life. We'll see. It's sort of like making that resolution to right in your diary every day of the new year--it never really happens, at least not for me. Hopefully, however, this is a more realistic resolution, and one that I can possibly keep.

So I end 2005, a year of many momentous happenings in my life, with Alfred Lord Tennyson, a way in which I believe many more things should end:

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Orientation

2005-09-05T11:23:00.000-05:00

For the past year, I feel like all I’ve been doing is waiting. I enter one period of limbo after another. First, I waited for the college application process to begin. Then, after sending in my applications, I waited to hear from the colleges. Then, I just bided my time until graduation, after which I waited, the apprehension and tension mounting throughout the summer, to finally head off to college. Now, to my disappointment, I find one more state of limbo.
Orientation is hell for me. I barely know anyone, and unlike most other people, who do things with their roommates for the first few days, I don’t seem to have that option. My roommate seems to be warming up to me, but she’s still not my reliable companion by any means. I want someone to face these first few days with, someone who I can count on to go to meals with me, to make plans with me. Even though I’ve met some nice people through my advising group, they all have roommates as well, and nothing can really replace the support and companionship of a roommate during Orientation.
Orientation consists of a sea of different faces. I’m hit constantly by waves of names and information, most of which I forget within minutes. There’s no way of knowing whether someone I know will be at the same panels as me, so I’m simply surrounded by strangers everywhere I go.
I’m lonely.
I simply don’t know how to reach out to people, how to surround myself with people. When I look around, it seems that everyone else has that quality that draws people to them, that quality that I seem to lack completely. As a defense against the isolation that I feel when walking around alone, I’ve been spending a lot of time in my room, reading or talking to people online. I call my parents constantly, and even though I know they don’t mind, I feel like I should be doing something other than talking to my parents. I miss my friends desperately, that group of people who had just finally started to include me as a regular part of their group.
I fear deeply that college will be like most of my years in high school, when I felt isolated, never really part of a group of friends. I was on the outskirts of several, but I was never a key member of any group. I had friends, but I was never really a “best friend” kind of girl, for some reason. Intellectually, I know that those years were different; I was depressed for several of them, constantly changing medications and adjusting to them. Now, my depression is stable, for the most part, and I’ve been on the same medications for several years now. I’m more confident and personable, and I’ve been trying especially hard in the past days to be open, friendly, and as vivacious as I am capable of being. Maybe it is paying off, but I’m not really feeling the benefits of it yet.
When classes start, I’ll be regularly with a group of people, and hopefully I’ll develop some friendships that can fill the void I’m feeling now. I also can’t wait to sign up for the theater groups, since I’ve always felt that theater people are the easiest to be integrated into. I’m determined to make the best of this. I’m not sure, deep in my heart, that this is the best place for me, but it was my only choice. Everyone tells me that I can have a good college experience wherever I go, that it all depends on my attitude, not the place. I hope that they’re right, because I currently feel wretched, and I really need for things to improve.

Depression or Anxiety? You Be the Judge!

2005-08-25T23:15:00.000-05:00

I'm so intensely freaked out right now. I'm also so depressed that I can't force myself to leave the house. However, I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning, so I guess I'll have to leave the house. It's probably a good thing, all in all. But if I have one more person tell me how much fun college is going to be, I swear to God, I will scream.
I'm watching Mystery Men on the SciFi Channel. God, it's so horrible, and so funny. Hee!

Countdown

2005-08-24T12:04:00.000-05:00

Well, the countdown has begun. 5 days left before I fly up to Boston to begin college at Tufts University. And, yes, the panic attack has begun, as well. I shipped up 7 boxes last week filled with my personal possessions, my clothes, and, most importantly, my shoes. Let me just say, I will die if my shoes are lost in the shipping abyss. I kept a few pairs to wear, but most of them are in a box...somewhere... God. I also bought bedding (finally). I went with the Shabby Chic collection from Target. Kind of pricey, but worth it.
A number of my friends have left for school now. I miss them!

Cruisin' for a Bruisin'

2005-07-06T02:39:00.000-05:00

Let me begin by stating for the record that I am so goddamn sick of hearing about Tom Cruise. Now, I’m going to be a hypocrite and talk about Tom Cruise, because certain of his recent rants have filled me with an uncontrollable rage so powerful that I literally see red any time anyone mentions them. I speak, of course, of his incoherent babbling about depression and psychiatry in general.

First for some personal history to explain my very personal reaction to Cruise’s statements. I am 18 years old, and I have been on anti-depressants since I was 11. The details are mainly irrelevant—suffice it to say that my medication definitely does work for me. I can feel a difference when I take it compared to when I don’t, and that difference has kept me on medication for seven years, through several doctors and many medication switches. I don’t feel that, as some have described, the anti-depressants make me numb or disconnected. To me, it’s as if my depression is a deep pit, one with steep, slippery sides that are impossible to climb. Alone, I might be able to claw myself up a few feet, but I will inevitably slide back down, unable to hold on. I still have moments of depression, but I feel that the anti-depressants cushion my landing when I fall into the pit, and they provide a ladder so that I may climb out again. I experience all of the normal highs and lows of human emotions. My former state of mind, before medication, was abnormal—medication makes me feel things normally, not the other way around.

On a quick sidebar, I'm always more than happy to talk about depression with anyone who is interested. I won't claim to be an expert, unlike certain others, so I'll refer you to such agencies as the National Institute for Mental Health for detailed information, but I'm happy to talk about my personal experiences. I am very passionate about educating people about depression, since so often it goes undiagnosed because the sufferer cannot recognize the symptoms in himself.

I’ve felt fiercely protective of anti-depressants for years, and I react personally when they are attacked. Hence, my intense fury towards Tom Cruise.

For those of you who have not yet seen a transcript of Matt Lauer’s interview with Tom Cruise, here is a link. I feel that the illustrations really add a certain something to the overall effect. If you want other information about Cruise’s recent spiral into insanity, Defamer has been covering it in depth, as has TomCruiseIsNuts.com. The latter has simply compiled the various incidents. You are welcome to check these out if you’d like to understand where some of my quotes and questions come from.

So, let me get right down to it. Tom, what exactly is it in history of psychiatry (about which you, apparently, are an expert) that you base your objections on? Granted, there have been missteps along the bumpy road to progress, but we’ve come a long way from tossing people into Bedlam and allowing the upper class to watch them through windows for entertainment. And if you’re going to condemn all of psychiatry based on its history, then let’s expand that to another branch of medicine and see what happens, shall we?

Take surgery, for example. You’ve heard of Hippocrates, I assume? You know, the Hippocratic Oath? You know, the “father of medicine”? He wrote about the four humors (blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile) and their influence on personality traits. Anyway, a name you might not be familiar with is Galen, who was profoundly influenced by Hippocrates. In fact, he transmitted Hippocrates’ theories into the Renaissance and expounded his own theories from both Hippocrates’ work and his own studies. His theories dominated European medicine until around the 16th century—this becomes much more impressive when you learn that Galen lived and worked in the 2nd century AD. Galen did a lot of work on human anatomy by dissecting animals, and much of his knowledge was accurate. He even came close to understanding the circulatory system. However, he firmly supported blood-letting as a sound medical practice, and it was through him that blood-letting became a widespread practice. After he died, everyone pretty much stopped studying and experimenting with anatomy and physiology because they assumed that Galen had done it all. Fast-forward a few centuries, and we find people looking at anatomy anew. By the way, these people included Leonardo DaVinci. Anyway, they wanted to dissect actual human corpses, but unfortunately, the Pope wasn’t having any of that nonsense. So, to furnish the surgeons with cadavers, it became common practice for a recently buried body to somehow find its way out of its grave all the way to a surgeon’s operating table. Yes, Tom, that’s right—early surgeons were also grave-robbers. So, the next time you have a serious medical problem that requires surgery, maybe you should stop and think to yourself, “Wait a minute. I know that this doctor telling me that I need surgery or I’ll die seems well-meaning, but hundreds of years ago, other people called surgeons robbed graves. Should I really go through with this, now that I know the ‘history of surgery’?” Let me know what answer you come up with.

So, let’s move on to your next assertion: that “there is no such thing as a chemical imbalance.” Ok. So, Tom, now that you’ve said that, I’d like to see your medical license. I’d like to see your diploma from medical school. I’d like to see the documentation from the years of research you’ve done on chemical imbalances. Oh, wait, you don’t have any of those! You were too busy making Eyes Wide Shut and Mission: Impossible to have any of those things! So, Tom, until you do earn those things, why don’t you shut up about things that you are not qualified to talk about in a public forum! The exact cause of depression is not currently known. There is debate in the scientific community about this, among people who actually do have the qualifications that you lack.

Now, don’t even get me started on your ridiculous assertions about postpartum depression, particularly since Brooke Shields has already responded quite articulately to your bizarre attacks on her. I don’t think there’s really much question about the fact that a woman’s hormone levels change after she gives birth. What “misinformation” does Brooke Shields have? Unless you were standing in the room when her doctor explained her options and described the possible results of the anti-depressants he was describing, as any responsible doctor would do, and you, with your vast knowledge of psychiatry, heard him make some mistake during this explanation, I don’t think you have any idea what Brooke Shields does or doesn’t know. Despite certain eyebrow issues, she seems like a fairly intelligent woman, and she certainly hit the nail on the head when she remarked that Tom Cruise has probably never experienced postpartum depression. I join with her in hoping that his fanatical babbling will bring attention to a serious medical condition.

And you, Tom Cruise, are a pompous asshole, not just for the reasons above, but also for telling Matt Lauer that he should be more responsible in knowing about what he talks about on the show. In my opinion, Matt Lauer comported himself with dignity in the face of your rude and maniacal ranting, and he deserves credit for at least trying to inject some sense into a hopelessly senseless situation.

Do you even understand what you’re doing? You are using your public position to add stigma to an issue already avoided by many people. So many people already regard depression as some form of weakness, something that is all in the sufferer’s mind, something that could be overcome if the sufferer would just shape up and grow a spine. Teenagers don’t talk about this because they don’t understand it, and they’ve been taught that bullshit about weakness. Well, I’ll stand up right now and show you my spine: Fuck you, Tom Cruise. You are insulting me and every other person in the world who suffers from depression, diagnosed or not. I am not weak. I am a normal person who was unfortunate enough to be born with this problem, but who was fortunate enough to have a nurse for a mother, one who suffers from depression herself and recognized the signs in me early. Fuck you, on behalf of everyone who suffers from any sort of mental illness. Fuck you, on behalf of all of the people who will be ashamed to talk about their depression because they heard you railing against its validity. Fuck you, on behalf of the people who have committed suicide and will commit suicide because of their mental illnesses, the ones that you so blithely dismiss.

And finally, fuck you, for absolutely ruining Jerry Maguire for me forever.

FREEDOM!!!

2005-05-30T11:31:00.000-05:00

Well, I graduated last night.

Yes, I have graduated from high school.

EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, now that that's done. Graduation was boring, but not as long as it usually is, thank God. I went to the afterparty, but it was the sort of event that one can only enjoy when seriously inebriated, and since I wasn't willing to join the others in that state, it wasn't too much fun for me. Hey, I was there, though, so my friends can't call me antisocial, as they usually do.

Just thought I'd let y'all know!

Internet Kindness

2005-05-27T13:38:00.000-05:00

If you have not yet investigated the blog of the fabulous Manolo, you must do so immediately. Particularly check out "Shoes for the Graduating," in which the Manolo answers my question about shoes for graduation.

In addition, the Rahulio, seeing my question, has given me a gift certificate to ice.com, on behalf of the Manolo family. Just another wonderful example of kindness on the internet.

Thanks to everyone for their advice and kind thoughts! 53 hours to go!

Current Observations and Complaints. Number: Numerous.

2005-05-25T15:57:00.000-05:00

So, in case anyone was wondering (which I doubt), I got into Tufts, and I'm still waiting to hear from the wait lists at Duke and Swarthmore. For now, I'm planning on going to Tufts--Go Jumbos! Yes, the Jumbos. Don't laugh at me. Stop it--I get that enough from my friends!

Anyway, I've finally finished all of my exams, and I'm actually graduating in 4 days! Yes, unbelievably, I will be walking across the stage in my rented gown that smells like vinegar and accepting my diploma, then getting the tassel moved on the cap which I don't get to keep! Plus, as an added bonus, we get to listen to, like, three more student speeches than usual this year! Yes!! If our graduation ceremony needed anything to make it better, it was more speeches from people who I don't really care to listen to.

No, actually, I'm friends with the people giving speeches, but honestly, graduation was too long before with just the valedictorian and our headmaster speaking. This is going to be agony. The valedictorian and salutatorians are all pretty good friends of mine, so I'm pleased about that. Plus, from the plans I've heard, the after-party is going to be wild. However, that's all hypothetical right now since the original location for the party has fallen through. A setback like this, however, cannot prevent an AACAD after-party! We shall overcome!

If you're interested, this is my dress for graduation, and I asked the Manolo for his opinion about shoes to go with the dress, and his answer is on his page under "Shoes for the Graduating."

However, I am starting to get fairly freaked about my prospects for the summer. I'm going to Italy with my family in June, but even that looks rather bleak, seeing as several of my friends will be travelling in Italy together right before I get there, undoubtedly having much more fun than I will have with my mother, father, younger brother, and aunt. Ugh. I know I shouldn't complain, but I'm at that point where travelling with the family has become more of a burden than an opportunity, particularly since I've travelled on my own now.

I also really want to hear about my housing situation and roommate for next year, but Tufts doesn't mail that stuff until June or July.

Sars has written a fabulous piece about Star Wars III which I think pretty much sums up everything about it.

Intense Distress and Panic

2005-03-30T21:20:00.000-05:00

Well, I heard from two colleges today, Duke and Swarthmore. I got wait-listed at both. I have 3 colleges left that I haven't heard from (Yale, Princeton, and Tufts) and I can only say that things are looking grim from this side.

Folks, I am a triple legacy at Duke. My mother, father, and grandfather all have degrees there. My mother has two degrees from there. I have great grades, good scores, great recommendations. Or, at least I thought I did, before I was wait-listed at my third and fourth choice schools.

Swarthmore's not such a shock. Applying there was sort of an afterthought, and my "Why Swarthmore" essay seriously sucked, since I really didn't have any answer for them about that. But Duke? Duke I was not expecting. I'm in a serious state of shock.

God, God, God. I need serious help over here. I just can't deal with this anymore. I'm having a panic attack, and I'm supposed to go to school tomorrow. Hmm, wonder if I'll be cutting tomorrow?

Computers=Worthless

2005-03-29T08:43:00.000-05:00

Has anyone else experienced the intense frustration of having your laptop turn off randomly in the middle of something? I was writing down ideas for my mega synthesis paper when, suddenly and without warning, my computer shuts off.

O...kay...

So I try to turn it back on, but it doesn't turn on again for, like, 10 minutes. When it finally turns on, I am able to work on my list for, like, 2 seconds, before, once again, it turns off, and this time, it just refuses to turn back on.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

My computer keeps doing this, and the worst part is that I can't get mad at the help desk people, because they're actually my friends. I can't give them my laptop, because they'll keep it for days, and I have work on it.

WWWHHHHYYYYY?????

Wait, I know why. It's because the laptops that they give us are complete crap, and they only work for, like 2 1/2 years at the most. Acer laptops suck.

The weather...Lord save us...

2005-03-28T21:34:00.000-05:00

So, the weather here has stayed cold unusually long this year, but we've had a few beautiful days lately, so everyone's been wearing short sleeves, skirts, capris, etc. And then, after all the joy, all the comfort, all the warmth, we had a dress-up day for the National Language Honor Societies' induction ceremony, and what happened? Why, it rained intermittently all day in these hideous downpours, and it was freezing. So, there we all are, walking around campus in our skirts and heels, freezing our asses off, whining about the cold. Yes, that's pretty much what we do in the south every time the temperature drops below a certain (arbitrary) point.
And, of course, none of us have decent winter gear in the first place, so even in the middle of January, we're dashing across campus, shivering spasmodically, wrapped in, like, five layers of sweaters and jackets, because our blood is so thin we can't stand outside for more than five minutes.
We are weak. So weak.

Drumroll, please... The tension builds...

2005-03-27T21:24:00.000-05:00

Well, it's the 27th today, which means that I start hearing from colleges in 3 days. I feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin. Duke is the earliest, with website notification on the 30th. Then, I should hear from Princeton, Yale, Swarthmore, and Tufts in the first week or two of April.
Christ on a cross.
I'm feeling so torn about this, but I don't have anything to be torn about! I don't have any decisions to make yet, because I haven't been admitted anywhere! I definitely don't feel confident enough to think ahead past April 15th.
God. I will be so glad when this is over.