The Day After Today

The semester is about to begin again and I cannot help but be excited. My classes aren't as daunting as they usually are, but my work schedule is. For some, an early morning is routine. For me that is not the case. I must wake and prepare myself every week-day morning for a shift at 7:30am; I got a job at a testing center on campus. I actually quite enjoy it. All in all, it is very simple and works very well with my demanding education, but the hours kill me. I cannot function that early and often nearly dose off on route to the office. After work, I attend 3-4 hours of class. I am a full time student with 18+ credit hours. Luckily Alax and I have very similar schedules and we get hungry at the same time: this affords us the opportunity to eat lunch together, bitch about the people we despise, and calm ourselves the the monster that is Educational Theatre. After a hearty meal, we get to work. Building, rehearsing, plotting, dancing, etc. takes its toll until it is near midnight. Then I get to go home and sleep.

Even with a filled day, it becomes increasingly clear that I am meant for art. I love my school and my education it delivers. I love the work I do for my department, and "meh" over literally everything else that has to do with my day. Even during my semester break, I only find joy in those tasks related to art. One day I won't have to worry about trivial things: the most of my shit will be focused on the thing I love to do.

David Sedaris says is it best in his book, Me Talk Pretty Some Day, and it becomes clear that "In order to get the things I want, [I have to] pretend I'm a figure in a daytime drama, a schemer. They ball up their fists and state their goals out loud. 'I will destroy Buchanan Enterprises,' they say. 'Phoebe Wallingford will pay for what she's done to our family." Sitting here in my bed I know three things are certain.
I will finish school in the spring of 2014.
I will become a theatre teacher at a high school.
I will change minds about art. Everyday.
Looking ahead at my dreams, I need only set my sights. That's easy enough. "You will be mine,' I command."

My mind and body have been growing for a very long time now. Each new experience contributing to where I am now: which is nowhere. I have absolutely no idea where I am right now. I don't know what I want (except the aforementioned goals) and I don't know when I want it.

My summer breakup left me so badly scarred that I changed who I was. The thinking behind that change was due to the fact that the person I had fallen in love with, and whom I believed to reciprocate those feelings, stopped caring for me. My mind convinced me that I was not good enough. I sought escape from that terror by means of expression. I began to drink more (though, no more than any average college student), I decided I would get a tattoo (previously thinking it would never happen) (still hasn't but will), and I became a cynic.

Never once did I feel any need to take my own life, but I did have a very dark view of the world from that moment on. This past year may have been great, but I don't remember it like that. Now that 2013 is upon us, I am forcing myself to come to terms with what happened. I usually just push uncomfortable information out of my mind; I go numb. But reality is I got dumped, I started drinking, I broke laws, and did some bad shit. Nothing that would make me hate myself, but still. Things I'm not proud of.

In facing the truth, I've set a few goals for the new year. Many refer to them as resolutions, but in light of the new digital-quality jokes (1080p) I think we should just call them goals. To make myself a better human, to feel more comfortable as me, I must make myself change. The things I want include a steady mind, a sturdy body, and a functioning liver. To achieve these things, I'll do:

1. Drink less. Only consume alcohol on birthdays and when not in Utah.
2. Get fit. I'm going to try and run everyday: and hopefully do some lifting too.
3. Use clippers. I bite my nails and I don't really want to, so I'll change that.

My hope is that in a week I'll have six pack abs, perfect nails and cuticles, and be sipping a daiquiri by the pool at a friends birthday party in L.A. The reality of this is not anything close. In a week, I'll probably weigh the same as I do now, but be considerably more endurant, have shiny nails, because I'm coating them, and be drinking water in my bed as I read or do homework. Life is a bitch, but to be the better person, I have to change some shit.

I don't expect him to come crawling back after I do these things. I don't want him to. Forcing myself to view our relationship has been eye opening. Maybe I'm remembering it wrong, but as I recall, the only time he ever loved me was behind closed doors. It took a romantic holiday centered around love to get him to hold my hand above the table in a restaurant. That kind of behavior is what justifies closed minds. The notion that gay is related to sex only causes people to lose sight of same sex love.

One day someone will appreciate and love me from head to toe, in any light. He will be my boyfriend in any situation. He will know how hard I've worked to get to where I am and He will appreciate that. He will recognize that it was a very intoxicated December that set all this into motion, and that my six pack abs glisten in the sunlight. He will notice how great my finger nails look and comment that I should be a hand model. And he will get me a glass of juice just as easily as a beer from the fridge in our apartment in the city we love.

These are all the things we can look forward to in the new year. That and more as the world becomes more accepting. Also, working out is hard and eating healthy is even harder! Since sitting down this evening to watch a movie and relax, I've had about three different snacks. And while they are a bit less caloric than my regular foods, they were still consumed well after a time in which food can be healthily digested. Oh well, maybe I'll have better luck tomorrow night.

I love you bitches, you cool cats. K?