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Crush enemies, abandon hope, and unleash endless waves of unrepentant sarcasm. |
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There's nothing to see here that's really out of the ordinary. Nothing really terribly interesting either, unless you like griping, gossip, grudges, and possible mental illness. If anything it's some small way to keep myself writing (though you'll see by the dates on the entries that it's by no means an effective way), as well as a means through which I can vent about any number of things that are pissing me off. Occasionally there's pie. Look: I'm not a normal person. I'm suffering from untreated depression and plagued by increasingly frequent migraines that pretty much render me bedridden for days. I've suffered a lifetime of abuse and neglect, and still have to struggle with unfathomable depths of low self-worth, not to mention the eating disorders. I'm a weirdo, a freak, an aberration of nature and human experience . . . but it doesn't make me interesting. So, you can read this if you want. I've got some social commentary that might be a little fun, and occasionally throw in a poem or two, but for the most part it's the ramblings of a stricken mind. Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain; she's just trying to change her dress. |
| I had all this fun/bittersweet stuff to report on as soon as I'd caught my breath from the ending of finals, but it seems to have been waitlisted in favor of the wonderful news that I was in my first car accident yesterday (as a passenger) and seem to have fractured my sternum when the belt retracted. |
| It is now 12:32, and I have successfully finished and printed my final Shakespeare paper. I'd like to take the time to shout out to my main man Jim for the donation of his printer to the Help Ahlyssah Graduate From College Foundation. |
| This entry is brought to you by the color GREEN!!! Well, long story short, Ahlyssah's life pretty much sucks. Whether that's due to defective mental processing, my own mind working against me, or some vengeful god wreaking out copious amounts of havoc in retribution for some blasphemy committed by my ancestors a thousand years ago is unsure. What is sure is this: life is fucking painful. Let's start at the beginning: as I've addressed before, I've kinda sorta developed very strong feelings for my floormate, Bradley. It started as a few fantasies of virginity loss, then became a sweet lil' crush, grew to fixation, and now I feel like I'm fucking in love with him. Most of these feelings stem from the flattery he liked to heap upon me in favor of my large hinter, and the much more sexually explicit things he said as well (one time he talked about running his penis up and down the crack of my ass). He made matters worse when, after showing me such warmth before Spring Break, he suddenly cooled toward me when we returned to campus. It's like being chained to a pickup: it's not so bad when he's letting you ride next to him in the cab, but then he suddenly boots you out to drag behind, leaving a bloody streak of agony that follows the truck for miles. Oh, and did I mention that the whole time he was making these comments, he was still with his girlfriend? Admittedly, he's been trying to break up with her for some time now (about a year or so), but if he were truly serious about pursuing a girl, even for sex, should he not have waited until after the break-up? To make matters worse, he's "fallen in love" with Laran, a girl in choir he was paired with for the "Doin' the Latest Rag" dance. So, yay. Whatever chance I had with him is now totally gone, and I'm going to spend the period between now and when I find a new crush wondering what would have happened if I had told him. I mentioned this one a LONG time ago, and never gave an update pertaining to the results: I went through with the audition for a solo or vignette in the chorale concert. I admit: I didn't know the music for the first piece AT ALL. We ran through it ONCE after class, and in the four days between the two choral classes, I couldn't remember anything. Not starting pitch, not key, nothing. You see, I had an exam in archaeology the day after the auditions, and since I had greatly neglected my reading for the material, I spent most of my weekend and early week feverishly trying to absorb the information. It was hard, because the wondering about Bradley's motives and feelings toward me had made me quite miserable and I was thinking very seriously about blowing my brains out. In fact, that was ALL I could think about: what would happen if I found a loaded pistol, put it against my head in some random location, and pulled the trigger. So yeah, I knew nothing of the first "down-tempo" song (down-tempo my ass, that tempo was faster than a fucking peregrine falcon), and probably fucked up the second one as well (though I'm sure I did a damn sight better). Add to that the fact that I was in the first audition group, and thus, didn't even warm the fuck up, and you've got one shitty audition. I don't blame them for putting me in the larger group for "Soon It's Gonna Rain" (probably the stupidest Broadway song out there, and there are tons of Broadway tunes that are horrible), and I don't blame them for dropping me completely when they discovered they had too many sopranos. I wouldn't have let myself anywhere near the choir room after that had I been in charge! The fact that Dr. B is letting me stay in Chorale is generous enough, especially since all my auditions for her have been awful. I just wish that, you know, I wasn't such a talentless fuck-up. After, what, NINE YEARS of chorus, should I not have at least a little skill? Why do I still sound like a soprano in the Vienna Boys' Choir? Why does everything I do in life have to be so rotten and horrible? Let's see, what else: I got sent to the counseling center on campus because I told Kim that I was miserable and feeling suicidal. Should have been a simple enough conversation, right? Did I not discuss similar feelings with her over the summer? She didn't call anybody then, so why now? She says that she felt this time was "serious." Yeah, right. Even though I'm surrounded by people who could interrupt an attempt, even though the last thing I want to do is upset anyone, even though I've got friends around who can cheer me up just by being in the room, even though I don't even have the fucking means to end this wretched life, THIS is the situation that is serious. Not over the summer, when I was isolated from all friendly contact, when I couldn't give two shits about how my parents would feel (it was their fault, anyhow), when I could easily find a time and place where I would be alone for hours (hell, if I just closed my door they wouldn't bother to check on my status until a whole day had gone by), and even when I had A) a dagger B) kitchen knives C) painkillers galore D) sleeping pills more galore and E) a mother fucking gun, that wasn't that serious. So the RD and a cop showed up to escort me to the counseling center for a two-hour chat with a nice woman named Anchul, which led to a trip to the student health center to shoot the breeze with Nurse Practitioner Mary Davis, to whom I told all kinds of shit I've never disclosed to any other therapist, including that I have hallucinations and delusions, and who looked straight at me and said, "Tell me about the sexual abuse." Fuck, are her eyes really blue or is that some kind of alien implant that lets her delve into the depths of her clients' souls to uncover whatever dark secrets may be lying in wait? But that's a whole other bunch of bullshit. In conclusion, life is tough as hell. I'm going through a lovely little quarter-life crisis as we speak, and am trying to determine whether anything is truly real or not. Good luck with that. I hate this painful, complicated, disappointing experience called "life" with a passion, a fervor second only to Jerry Falwell's hatred of brown people. I aven't given up yet, though. This is like a brutal, terrifying, sickening scene in a story I'm reading for the first time: reading the details is so painful, so disturbing, but I keep reading because I have to know what happens next. I've become attached to this reality, and even though I hate it, I have invested interest in the outcome. So, I'm still holding on; but damn is it hard. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. Flavor of the Night: Heavy Metal 2000 soundtrack |
| Ugh, I don't think I've ever had a dress rehearsal that lasted more than two hours. I gotta say, last night's dress takes the cake. It wasn't too bad; during the full-show run the choir sat on the risers during vignette pieces, so there wasn't too much undue discomfort (except for my stupid ass, who wore the same heels I'd been wearing all day!). I'm not exactly looking forward to tonight's performance; I hate having to sing a song for the last time, and I doubt that we will have the opportunity to do another Broadway-themed show for quite some time. Maybe if this goes well, they will allow us to repeat it (and maybe in the Concert Hall this time! Harris is so small for a performance like this) in the future, but I'll probably be gone by then. I didn't get much sleep last night (a combination of worse-than-usual insomnia and Aimee, Sasha, Ray, and Joe being unusually loud until 5 AM), and since Paola was already back when I returned from Shakespeare, I didn't get the nap I was looking forward to. This is going to be one long-ass night, and I know that I won't be doing my homework for German (I wasn't going to do Herrn Sommer anyway, but I also won't do the Uschi presentation thing), and what sucks even more is that I can't nap after German tomorrow, since I have that stupid appointment with the psychologist to see what drugs she WANTS to put me on (ain't gonna happen, not as long as I breathe), which is going to take until two; I could rake in two hours of sleep, but I need to eat before archaeology, otherwise I'm going to pass out. So yeah . . . long shows on school nights suck. Dr. B, I'm disappointed that this was the time slot you were gifted for our concert. |
| Looks like my wish has finally come true: after days of oppresive heat (for April) and unwavering bring sunlight, it's finally raining. I've been concerned, what with it being Spring and all, and us lacking rain. The ground has been cracked all week, and the grass has been dying. Fortunately, it started raining this morning. Not just a little sprinkle, a serious downpour. It has recently stopped, but according to the weather forecast we shall be getting more rain tomorrow. Frankly, I'm glad it has rained. I know everybody is concerned with gas prices and we all want to reduce our carbon footprint by going out and buying shit (any fool can see that the "go green" movement is just another stupid fad dominated by shopping), but personally I'm less concerned with energy usage as I am water usage. People seem to forget these days that water is just as expendable as petroleum, and unlike energy, which can be supported by other means than gas such as wind, solar, and hydroelectricty, water cannot be replaced with anything. But in our rush to "go green" we're neglecting to "go blue" and conserve our water. For example: I recently got onto Rebecca for turning up the water in the shower as hot as it would go so she could steam-iron a dress. Granted, she said that she had planned to get into the shower, but that she had become distracted by "other things." Honey, I don't give a fuck what "other things" you have to do in the course of the day, do not fucking turn on water if you're not going to use it! She could have easily gotten into the shower as soon as she put her dress in the bathroom, and she has no excuse for being irresponsible. I am disappointed that I was polite if hard about it; I should have bitched her out then and there about wasting water for selfish purposes such as making herself look slightly more tidy by wearing a dress without wrinkles. Fuck the dress, fuck the wrinkles, and fuck you, Rebecca. And while we're on the topic, please stop taking up the entire fucking counter with your makeup, curling iron, flat iron, and all the other shit you spread out over the two sinks (yes, she uses up both sinks in the morning) when you pretty yourself up. Nobody needs that much makeup. So, hooray for rain. If this keeps up, we will fill our water table and not have to worry about going thirsty anytime soon. |
| I've started wearing my old glasses again. I did not think I really needed them since my left eye just became dominant after the vision in my right eye started to deteriorate; with both eyes open I did not notice a difference in my sight. However, seeing as how my vision has worsened lately, I have been donning these somewhat scratched and grossly out-of-date lenses from my freshman year of high school. Aside from the slight frosting effect the hard life of these glasses is producing, I'm seeing a lot better than I have been, though I must admit I shall have to get them updated; long distances still produce a blurred picture. There's something about wearing glasses that makes me feel safer, more protected. I feel somewhat hidden when I wear them, and I really just want to hide right now. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| I've been a busy little bee lately, at least in terms of social outings (not so much in terms of actual school work). Thursday was Alicia's (and her twin Melissa's) birthday, and I was invited to join them at PF Chang's with some friends. I decided to go when Sophocles posted on Facebook that he was going (I think Sophocles is cool, and rather cute), since I didn't want to be the only person who showed up. I'll finish this later. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| Fly away, fly Fly from it all. There is no room for you here As long as you fear to fall Never again allowed to weep To bemoan the circumstance, To cry youself to sleep. Not permitted to feel the burn No more. Fly from the emotions, Perish, flee Pain is no good when it strangles me Life is not over, not for a while I must fly from that which would not let me smile And death, Death Is no option at all For why bother dying when life is so small? I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| So last night was the long-awaited Macbeth performance at the Folger Shakespeare Library in DC. Things were meant to turn out so well: Bradley decided the six was too late, and that we were better off leaving campus at 5:30 (giving us a full two hours to get there and check out the library), our tickets were paid for and waiting for pick up at the box office, and I had a SmartTrip card to pay for parking at the Metro. It should have been easy sailing. Well, we were a bit delayed in leaving for the car, because A) Aimee wanted to try out outfits on Bradley for tonight's drag show (we all decided it would be fun if we dressed up to attend), and B) because Bradley thought that when I said I had a SmartTrip card and thus would pay for parking, it meant that I would be driving (apparently he forgot that I have no car), but fortunately we discovered our (his) mistake before getting out of sight of our dorm, so it was no matter for him to run back and grab his keys. Then, disaster: his car would not start. Apparently there's a flaw that has surfaced in which his interior lights stay on when he locks the door, and his battery has taken a nasty draining as a result. We ended up calling Philip, initially with the hope of jumping the car, but for the first time since I've known him, Bradley had not backed into the space, and thus such a procedure was impossible. So, we asked Philip if he would kindly drive us to the Metro, to which he agreed. More problems arose: it was the end of rush hour, and traffic wasn't as yielding as it could have been. Worse yet, we were stuck behind slow-moving vehicles not once but twice. We finally made it to the station and Bradley went to purchase a farecard, only to have the machine eat his money. The station manager had him fill out a form so they could reimburse his loss, then had Bradley pay for two farecards (I wasn't paying enough attention to catch him and tell him I was covered). Then we hurried down the escalator only to be met with the closed doors of the train we had just barely missed. By this time we were quite later than we had time for, and we were starting to worry about the box office being open by the time we arrived. The ride on the Metro and the walk to the library went smoothly, however, even though I was having a hard time keeping up with Bradley's long, tall-person strides. We were pleased to discover that yes, the box office WAS open, and there was a kind usher to lead us to our seats. Bradley, even though he came in much later than I (not sure what took so long), was lucky enough to have A seating, whereas I was in B; that should have been fine, as B seats are merely above and behind the A seats, but somebody was in my allotted seat when we arrived. There was a seat in the front row of B open, but when I got there I found my view disrupted by a large beam directly in front of me. I spent most of the first half leaning to my left (fortunately the man beside me leaned forward most of the time, so I could lean without feeling like I was invading his space. During intermission, the volunteer switched seats with me, and I had a much better view for the second half. The play was absolutely fantastic. I am VERY sorry to have missed the first twenty minutes or so; I really wanted to see how the witches (played by men wearing freaky skull mask-things) did my scene! The one scene I saw them in, I loved them. They were very musical, and it all seemed quite mad. Still, I'm very happy to have made it there, and not just because Matz required it. It was thoroughly enjoyable, and I don't think I'll ever see a better rendition. And there is my tale of worry and woe. It gets better: I skipped German today, mostly because I was too damn tired, but also because, I just didn't feel like it. I'm a bad, bad Lyssa. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| Best to leave for Metro at or shortly before 6:00 PM. Hop onto Orange Line toward New Carrolton, arrive at South Capital Station. Walk North along 1st Street or 2nd Street SE until East Capital Street. I'm sure there will be signs along the way. Hopefully all went well with the ticket purchase and our tickets will be awaiting us at the Box Office. |
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