Happy Happy Birt-day!

In honor of my birthday, which is a week and two days away (that's February 4, for all you non-algebraic types), I'm giving you the opportunity to see what I want!

Aren't you SO lucky?


No, mostly I just want to show off the cutest, ugliest dolls I have ever seen-- Uglydolls! And I want them all!

And to pimp wists.com. I love it so incredibly much; it's so simple and fun and fantastic. Check it out!

So here is my super-magical wist.

Fear.

You can’t get into a relationship without thinking about marriage. Okay, qualifier: you can’t get into a relationship without thinking about marriage if you’re me.

I don’t do it on purpose. I don’t sight someone across the room and immediately size them up as a future and eternal companion. I really do not want to get married right now; it's completely the wrong time of my life for this kind of stuff.

But here’s the thing: I keep thinking about it. Not necessarily marriage to a specific man, but marriage in general. The last week or two it’s been torturing me, and not in the way that it usually tortures young women of my age. It’s been a constant companion, even teetering on the edge of becoming an obsession.

I’ve noticed, however, that my desire to be married is directly proportional to the state of my mental health. When I am feeling shaky and when I am hiding in bed, day after day after day, I want to be married.

My life is currently a mess; I have nothing to hold on to (save the show I am performing in at the moment). I have no job, no school. My dedication to my religion is a joke. My relationship with my family is tense and harsh. I am crazy about someone I can’t quite have yet.

I stay in bed and sleep all day. I drive and part of me hopes that I won’t find my destination. I hide in the in-betweens—in sleep, in driving, in showers, in backstages— and keep hoping that someone can save me from myself, even though I know that’s not true. I fall apart like clockwork; once or twice a day.

I am messing up. I am a mess. I want to be someone else.

In other words, I have no way to contribute to society and show that I am, in fact, worthy of my place on this planet and the air I’m breathing. There is nothing for me to hold on to that I cannot lose at the drop of a hat. Nothing.

I think, somehow, that marriage is tangled up in my mind with stability, with solidity. Marriage is the reassurance that no matter what has gone wrong, the person who sleeps beside you has made the choice to be with you. Marriage means someone that will not leave.

I know that’s not true; marriage is no guarantee that you will have someone forever. Nothing could be further from the truth. But somehow I still want that reason to stay in this world—to know that I am half of a whole and that someone would not be okay without me, that I am not entirely replaceable. I want that bond and that promise. It scares me how much I seem to focus on it lately.

I wish I knew my endings. For a long time, I was doing so well living day by day… and suddenly, the thought of not knowing what will happen tomorrow is panic-inducing. I seize up. If I’m going to lose something or someone, I want it to happen now so that it won’t hurt later. I can’t handle any more of this.

If I were married, at least I would know that ending. At least I would know that part. There would be a degree of stability in my life—a pair of arms and a familiar face to wake up to, someone who I could stay with, who wouldn’t leave.

I don’t know what I mean by writing this entry. I don’t want to get married, not really. All I want stability and promise. Reassurance. I wish for a day, for an hour, that I could be unafraid. That I could stop dreading that in the morning, I will be alone again.

I just can’t do this anymore.

A Concept Is Born!

Sometimes I wish that I could be like other people. You know, those kinds of people out there who are practical and well-adjusted and have good and healthy kinds of things going on because they know about perspective and objectivity. They like themselves better because of it.

Perspective! Objectivity! A concept is born!

Me, not so much. See, the thing is that I'm not a very clear-headed kind of person. My objectivity does make an appearance if I first strangle it to death and then let it come to its senses; it generally shows up at about two in the morning, gives me the finger, and proceeds to inform me that I am actually in control of my life and that includes everything-- especially relationships. It likes to solidify my belief that I'll probably marry in the next few years, and hell-- if it ain't this one or the next one or even the next one, keep on moving forward. He'll be along eventually. Don't sweat it.

Objectivity is very much a learned behavior for someone like me. I tend to become far too entangled in my own situations-- I often think that my life would be less complicated if I didn't care so much about what was going on in it. I'm always emotional and rarely rational; I confess that sometimes I would rather wallow in my misery than be happy by putting things in perspective.

I find objectivity difficult, especially in relationships of a romantic kind. It's hard to say, "Well, I'm terrifically happy and this is the best thing that's ever happened to me, but I'll be all right if this doesn't work out, because I'm not really sure you're the One. Thanks though."

Mind, I can say this to you, but I'll punch you if you say it to me. You'd better want me for eternity and beyond, buster, or this is so over. That is, in a nutshell, the kind of person I have turned out to be. Good grief.

Nobody wants to hear that they're dispensible or replaceable. Do you? Let's be serious. Objectivity can really suck, but in order to maintain sanity, it's necessary.

I think maybe objectivity/perspective is just a healthy dose of uncertainty and acceptance. Nobody knows what will happen tomorrow, so you accept that and enjoy the time you have. Loving someone while you're with them is the bravest thing you can do-- no certainty of a future, hardly any sense of a past, just a knowledge that you have to live and be present or you'll lose everything.

Objectivity prepares for the best and worst. Best: marriage! happiness! eternal joy! Worst: he's a cheating bastard who'll dash off with the first chippy who's ten pounds lighter than you are and sink you in the snowsand of heartbreak.

But lucky you, you have the vine and the Westley of Objectivity to pull you out! (Little Princess Bride reference for you there.)

Eventualities are hard to face. They're terrifying. But objectivity reminds you that there is something or someone on the other side.

I think that the hardest part of romantic objectivity is knowing that I could A) live without the object of my affection and B) that they could live without me. With someone else.

And that's the part where objectivity leaves off and I have to start to panic a little. Nobody else! Nobody else! Me, me, me! I am not so prideful that I can't admit that I really dislike the thought of people moving on from me. Oh, that one is the worst thought ever.

And then perspective seeps back in and puts her arms around me and tells me, hey, shape up, kid. You're damn lucky to have him right now, and right now is all that matters. You're nuts about him and he's nuts about you. Take it and run with it. Live for now or you'll lose tomorrow.

And then I can breathe again.

Halloween.

I hope y'all had a happy Halloween; mine was FANTASTIC.

Here's a little proof:

Hale.

I just wanted to throw out an entry to let you all know that I was cast as Tansy in The Nerd at Hale Center Theater West Valley.

For those of you not from Utah, that's... a pretty big deal. I'm reeling. The unbelievability factor of this, on a scale from one to ten, rates ... a fifteen, here, for me. HCTWV has been such a source of intimidation and fear in my acting life over the past few years... they do such great shows and hire such amazing talent... and now I'm actually doing a show there. Not even just doing a show, playing a lead on my first shot.

I feel like I went amazingly mad someplace.

And I was single-cast. That means I'll be doing every show, not alternating with another cast. Monday through Saturday, with two shows on New Year's Eve and on Saturdays (I think). We open on New Year's Eve and close, I think, on my birthday.

And I'm getting paid. That especially does not translate at all. I have become one of those insanely lucky people that gets paid for something they love to do.

I can't even think of things to say. I'm still in shock that I got this role. Get back to me in a few days and I'll be unbelievably ecstatic, but right now... I'm still in shock after some twenty-four hours.

Where I've Been.

Sometimes life gets hard and intensely personal. Sometimes you just don't have the guts or even the desire anymore to share it so openly.

Nothing funny is happening. Nothing that will make you laugh, or make you smile. Maybe I lost my touch somewhere and I don't see things the same way anymore. Maybe I just need a rest, a regrouping.

Beautiful things are happening. Hard things. Things I have to keep deep in my heart, safeguard because they are so easily broken. Is it someone? Yes, there's someone-- that's part of it. You can't know about him yet. I'm hardly even allowed to know about him yet. I know I'm not making any sense.

Do I miss you? More than words can say. I wish I were better at writing letters, or even dropping postcards. There are five or six beautiful letters that are rotting in the bottom of my drawer, for no reason. They're out of date, they're passé... and maybe someday I'll send them anyway. Just know that I miss you. Jory. Tiffa. I think of you every single day and wish I could ask for your advice, wish I had you close by-- you are my best advisors. I wish I were better at such extraordinary correspondence... but I have not forgotten you. Ever.

Am I all right? Maybe better than I've ever been. Maybe worse. I think somewhere that I made the final shift into growing up; this is the woman I am. I started taking responsibility. I started thinking clearly.

Maybe I'll move someplace else; someplace better, someplace that doesn't carry all these memories inside it. Starting over, because my life is starting over somehow. If you want to follow me, you know where to find me; either that, or I'll let you know.

Just know that I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. If this is the last thing I ever write here, know that I do. Thank you for loving me too.

Missy Higgins.

The past few days I've really been listening to this song. It's so beautiful it hurts.


The Special Two
Missy Higgins

I've hardly been outside my room in days,
'Cause I don't feel that I deserve the sunshine's rays.
The darkness helped until the whiskey wore away,
And it was then I realized that conscience never fades.

When you're young you have this image of your life:
That you'll be scrupulous and one day even make a wife.
And you make boundaries you'd never dream to cross,
And if you happen to you wake completely lost.

But I will fight for you, be sure that
I will fight until we're the special two once again.
And we will only need each other, we'll bleed together,
Our hands will not be taught to hold another's,
'Cause we're the special two.
And we could only see each other, we'll breathe together,
These arms will not be taught to need another's,
'Cause we're the special two.

I remember someone old once said to me:
That lies will lock you up with truth the only key.
But I was comfortable and warm inside my shell,
And couldn't see this place could soon become my hell.
So is it better to tell and hurt or lie to save their face?
Well I guess the answer is don't do it in the first place.
I know I'm not deserving of your trust from you right now,
Oh But if by chance you change your mind you know I will not
Let you down 'cause we were the special two, and will be again.

And we will only need each other, we'll bleed together,
Our hands would not be taught to hold another's,
'Cause we're the special two.
And we could only see each other we'll breathe together,
These arms will not be taught to need another's
'Cause we're the special two.

I step outside my mind's eyes for a minute.
And I look over me like a doctor looking for disease,
Or something that could ease the pain.
But nothing cures the hurt you, you bring on by yourself,
Just remembering, just remembering how we were

And we would only need each other, we'd bleed together,
These hands would not be taught to hold another's,
We were the special two.
And we could only see each other we'd bleed together,
These arms would not be taught to need another's
'Cause we're the special two.

I Love Me Some Robbeh!

Stylish Laureate: Nice. Dr. Chels.
Iess than jane: I seriously ought to be a psychologist, wtf.
Stylish Laureate: Don't become bald, grow a moustache and talk with an oddly charming southern twang.
Iess than jane: I won't! I'll just develop an English accent, take up pipe-smoking, and wear a lot of tweed.
Stylish Laureate: See, I can respect that.

Today.

I feel like an angel, all air and smiles.

Oceans.

It's so easy to care for someone that turns it neatly around, hands it back. It's nourishing and reconnecting and amazing.

It's scary, though, to sometimes wonder who in my vicinity is an emotional vampire. To wonder who, when I need them the most, will jump ship with my heart between their teeth and swim ashore.

Heart-strings tug, but they can be broken. Miles of ocean are separating me from so many people now, and strings are straining, and I can't decide where to cut and where to hold on.

It started before this show or these men or this friend or this hurt inside me. There is no one to blame but myself and I can't come around enough to feel guilty.

It's the irrevocable knowledge that I'm nearly done growing up... that above all, I have to live for myself and follow my dreams. And for once... I'm not frightened. I'm not recoiling and hiding under my comforter. I want this pride in myself, in my accomplishments. I want school and an apartment and Salt Lake City and people.

I can't always take care of everyone, can I? And I can't always do what you expect me to... even if it hurts you. It doesn't mean I don't care or that I'm leaving anyone behind. That would be a lie, too much of a betrayal. It just means that I'm changing, and I hope you can come with me... or at least try to understand.

At six in the morning, the sky was watercolor blue. I said I was ready to fly, and he smiled and squeezed my hand.