Promises, promises

So in the last post I wrote, the one after the Weekend from Hell, I said I would be more cheerful next time. That, amongst other things, is my excuse for waiting this long to write again. However, at the moment I am in a seriously good mood, for several reasons. First, Alice. It's a new mini-series on the Sci-Fi channel (or Syfy, as they are currently known. I understand WHY they changed it (I'm one of the nerds who actually reads the newsposts...) but I still think it looks silly. Plus, now they can't do the iF thing, and I miss that a lot. But I digress.) It aired tonight, and I am in love. Seriously, the last time I enjoyed tv this much was way back when Tin Man came out... Apparently I just have a thing for twisted re-workings of kids stories. I think I'm okay with that... Anyway, the really good thing about this one is that the Dodo is played by: (drumroll please) Tim Curry. And since I am seriously majorly crushing on him (in a celebrity I've never met and am not likely to ever meet sort of way), that alone would have made it worth watching. Truth be told, that was the main reason I was watching to begin with. However, not five minutes into it and I was completely swept away with the story, and with the rest of the cast of characters. It's always nice to have a heroine who can kick the bad guys' asses for herself, even if she does have the world's most ridiculously inefficient running style. Seriously, she makes me look graceful, and that's quite a feat. And Mad March? Definitely the creepiest thing I've seen in a LONG time. Well worth a watch if you get a chance.
Second, Harvey. I am, once again, deep into the belly of 2nd Street Theater, dressed in black and making things happen. This time, however, there are a few differences. For one thing, I'm not the youngest person involved, which means I am no longer the only one un-invited to the cast/crew drinking party things after performances. It also means I'm not the only one who has to rely on the charity of strangers (or friends. Whichever.) to get me home through three feet of freaking snow. I've always felt bad about having people go out of their way to give me rides home, and having a couple others sponging off of people helps a little. The director (Brian. He's awesome.) is also technically the stage manager, so I can also be just run crew, rather than having to pick up the slack like I did last show. (Admittedly, I really didn't mind doing that. I love Tim, and I do enjoy being stage manager, as long as the actors aren't too annoying...) I'm also the official Script Nazi (my term, not the theater's), the "prospective buyer on the third floor" (I make the noises from offstage), Ed's tea girl (for no apparent reason, I'm always the one he asks to go refill his mug with hot water), and I (sort of) play Harvey. In short, I am the single most important person in that building. (And modest. I'm also really, really amazingly modest. ^_^)
Third, Christmas. Well, sort of. The thing is, I really hate Christmas. However, I found some really good anthologies of horror stories to get me through the first couple weeks of publicly aired Christmas carols, and for once in my life I have a good idea of what I'm getting everyone for presents. I think I can actually afford to do it, too, although I may have to have my dad mail the ones that need to be mailed from his work, since I'm pretty sure he can do that for free...
I certainly hope that's enough cheerful for you all (you all. Ha. I don't even read my blog posts anymore...) I'm actually having a pretty good week, and definitely looking forward to our next show on Wednesday.

Happy Solstice/Christmas/Hanukkah/whatever you happen to want to be happy about

~Charlotte the Pirate

That Fabulous Feeling of Complete Helplessness

Here's the deal. I hate confrontation. Always have, in all likelihood always will. It stems, I imagine, mainly from my upbringing. You'd have to meet my mom's side of the family to understand it, but the whole lot of them are big on the "we won't tell you we're mad at you, we'll just talk about you behind your back to everyone else in the family" way of life. I've heard a lot of what they've said about my black sheep aunt, so I shudder to think what they say about me... Anyway, there is a point hidden in here, and that point is that because I grew up around that mentality, it has always been difficult for me to share my feelings with people, and I've never really known how to deal with other people's feelings either. Bearing that in mind, this last weekend was... rough. I'm not going to tell the story here, mainly because I'm not in possession of all the facts or of everyone's point of view. I was not there when it technically started, and I was not there when (I think) it ended, or at least moved on. Suffice it to say, I was present as two of my very best friends in the world broke up. I don't know for sure why they were fighting to begin with, but relatively soon after I got there, it escalated to an actual breakup. So I, along with two more of my friends, got to stand by and watch a relationship implode, while being basically powerless to do anything about it. My friends tried to help, doing what they felt was right and trying to diffuse the situation, and I spent the weekend basically mute and useless. The thing is, though, is that their attempts to help were immediately classified as quote "meddling", and the girlfriend in the situation became quite impressively mad at both of them. However, she recently assured me that she wasn't mad at me, although it would depend on what my part was in the whole fiasco, just at my friends. So now I feel really bad, because my friends lost (or came close to losing) a good friend, and I did not. Not because I'm a more compassionate person, or because I did anything even remotely close to right, but because I can't open my stupid mouth, even when it matters most. I spent the entire weekend (and most of the last couple days) wishing I had the guts to simply speak up, but I never did, and now I feel like a lot of the suffering that went on this weekend was partly my fault. I've never been good at either making or keeping friends, so the prospect of losing the ones I've got now is absolutely terrifying. However, I don't believe that should be an acceptable excuse. Sometimes things need to be said, and as much as it hurts to say them, it's even worse not to. I don't know. Maybe I'll be able to fix my brain enough to be able to function in situations like that, and maybe I won't. I am going to try, though, because I can't sit idly by and watch people I love hurt themselves and each other any more.


Sorry this post is so bleak, it's been a rough couple of days. Next time, I promise, I shall be more cheerful.

"Parents should never throw their children out of the house"

I guess my dad can't be expected to know that line, since he never came to see Steel Magnolias while it was running. Still, I would think it would be a pretty standard thing in a parent's mind, especially with a first-born only daughter. However, I'm not so lucky. My father has decided that if I do not have a job by the end of September, which is two weeks away now, I no longer have a place to live at his house. And, as if that isn't bad enough, he was also kind enough to point out today that no one else in the family is going to want me either. And I don't even have an Aunt Clairee who adores me to run away to. Now, I know nobody reads this, and I'm okay with that, but should I happen to have a long-lost rich uncle out there, who has been searching for me all his life, and was probably about to give up, now would be a really good time for him to speak up. I read too many fairy tales growing up, could you tell? I never wanted to be a princess, though. Pirate, maybe, or witch, but not princess. And the thing is (sorry for the tangents, I've been doing a lot of thinking the past few hours) I don't want an inheritance. Don't get me wrong, a lot of money would be nice, but I think I would honestly rather get a job, make my own money, live in a tiny little apartment somewhere that isn't Bend, and get by on my own. And if you know me, you know that this is a huge deal. Not three months ago, I would much rather have gone with the freak inheritance miracle fairy tale ending, no question. Now, though, I think I need to prove to myself (and the rest of the world) that I can accomplish something worth doing, and that I am worth something. Unfortunately, this whole plan hinges first on me getting a job, and then on me being able to survive out in the world by myself. Which is a scary thought, really. I mean, how does one do one's taxes when one has no idea what that process even looks like? Or go about finding an apartment? What's even a reasonable rent for one when you do find one? And how in the hell does an anti-social, people phobic, young looking, naive 19 year old figure all this out on her own to begin with? Not to mention, at some point I would like to go back to school, but not here, which means I'd have to find another apartment in a completely different city, along with another job, also in a completely different city, and somehow manage to find a way to get myself down there. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't all of this stuff I'm supposed to have learned how to do by this point in my life? I mean, I think this is one of those life experiences that you really can't go into totally blind, and yet I seem to be doing just that. Shouldn't there be a kindly grandmother or somebody to step in and help? And just where the hell is my Fairy Godmother when I need her? I really need to lay off the fairy tales... Oh, well. What happens, happens I suppose. Maybe I'm destined for wonderful things, and maybe I'm destined to spend the rest of my very short life in a cardboard box by the river. At least I have some good friends, and a lot of good memories to hold on to. And if all else fails, I'll print out a picture of Tim Curry to hang in my box, because Tim Curry cures all ills. Truly...

How I went slowly out of my mind

You know, I love the theatre. Always have, I think, although I haven't been involved very long. My very first director (bless his warped little heart) cast me in a role that was, quite frankly, way to big for me. Add to that the fact that I was in seventh grade and deathly shy at the time, and it's a wonder I ever got back into it at all. I did, though, my Junior year of high school. Once again, I got cast in a role too big for me, although I like to think I did better with that one. Aside from the accent, anyway. I don't know what it was, but it definitely wasn't German... The next play I auditioned for was Grease, and it was an undisputed disaster. And that, ladies and gentlemen of the press, was my introduction to the wonderful world of stage crew. I was only on run crew for Grease, and hated nearly every minute (although Mark's lap dancing skills were impressive. Don't ask.) Despite that, I went back and auditioned for Mackers (that's the theatre-approved version of Macbeth. Also known as the Scottish Play, but I've always thought that sounded stupid.) I got a role, albeit a small one, (Lord Ross. I'll give a cookie to anyone who can give a character description of Lord Ross. No Cheating.) and spent the majority of my time organizing stuff backstage. This was a tremendous help with my next play, since I was given the title of "Stage Manager." Cue swelling, inspirational music here. That was for Crimes of the Heart, which is a bloody nightmare of a set. Working sink, working refrigerator (ours was possessed), lemonade made on set, multiple bottles of coke opened, multiple walnuts crushed underfoot, and the most gods-awful scene change music in the history of time. I loved it all, and sometimes I wish I could go back. The point of all this rambling at no one in particular is that I am now more or less the stage manager of another show, Steel Magnolias. Technically I'm not the official stage manager, but the guy who is clearly does not want to be, so for all practical purposes, I'm in charge. I am by far the youngest person involved in the show, and as such people were rather patronizing at first, but I think it's getting better. Once they realized I know what I'm doing and am willing to help and be useful, they got a lot less cloying. The really weird part of all this is that my other run crew member is an older woman, late sixties I think. She's never done this before, joined the production on a whim, and seems to have adopted me as her own personal theatre mentor. It's kind of cool, really, makes me feel a bit like Ra's Al-Ghul. Of course, he was technically evil, wasn't he? Oh, well. It's kinda cool being looked up to and treated like I know more than I do. We open on Thursday, here's hoping things continue to get better as they have thus far.

Silence

Silence is golden.
Children should be seen, not heard.
Hush, little baby, don't say a word.
Hush.
Hush.

hush...

The Day of Silence.
It's a good idea.
Really.

But what happens if the silence doesn't end?

If tomorrow...
Next week...
A year from now...
You open your mouth...
And realize...
The words aren't there.
What if it happened to someone you knew?

Someone like me.
Someone who woke up one day...

And looked at the world...

And realized...

No one can hear me.

No one can hear my screams...
Or see my tears...
Or feel my pain.
No one can tell what I'm thinking.

Or maybe...

They can see...

But they don't care.

hush...

We are taught to be self-reliant.
To fend for ourselves...

In the "real world."

They talk about what's "out there."
The monsters...
The demons...
The "bad" stuff.

What's out there doesn't scare me.
The "bad" stuff?
It's all in here.

The voices...
The tears...
The lies...
All in here.
And I can't escape.

Can't run.

Can't hide.

I cannot destroy myself...

Because in doing so...
All the darkness...

Would escape.

The world can't hold more darkness.
Not now.
The world has too much darkness already.

So I'll hold on to mine...

In silence...

The reasons and wherefores

A very intelligent friend of mine once told me that I needed to stop bottling emotions up inside myself. She said that she never liked talking to people either, but what always worked for her was to go out into her backyard and scream at the trees. Unfortunately, I live in a subdivision, and the neighbors don't like this. Go figure why... So, I figured this would be the next best thing. I doubt anyone other than me will read this, but I don't really mind. I intend to treat this like a journal, just someplace for me to ramble and get thoughts out of my head. It also seems like a good spot for storing my lousy poetry...