Worst Enemy

I miss my friends. I miss all of them, at the same time. I miss the ease with which we used to hang out. But, I suppose things always fall apart in the end, don't they? Maybe this is why I used to place myself on the outskirts of so many different social groups- because somehow I knew the group I found myself with most would fall apart, and I would need another one to pick myself back up. Maybe that's one of those wicked personality traits you get being the child of divorced parents. I had always thought I'd avoided any sort of psychological damage from my parents divorce, but a lack of trust that relationships won't fall apart? The ease in which I simply phase people out of my life, with an unconscious effort? Could these be the far reaching effects of being the witness to my parents volatile relationship? Could I have developed this strange self-defense mechanism that caused me to distance myself from relationships I knew would fall apart?

Years after we'd known each other, after we'd identified one another as best friends, Emily told me she didn't actually know much about me. I'd like to think she knows a bit more about me now, but thinking about all my friends, who really knows that much about me? Inside and out? Sam has known me for years, we've shared our childhood, but been apart most of our adult life. She knows the person I used to be, but I doubt she knows the person I am today; at least, not well. Meghan knows me fairly well, due to my mom and having seen my family life first-hand. And then Emily probably has the best idea of my character, due both to our friendship and her strangely perceptive mind. But, in all of these scenarios, its not the fact that I let my guard down that gave my friends this insight, its a shared past or experience, learning through trial rather than communication.

It's been my biggest difficulty in pursuing an education in the performing arts. Even for someone interested in acting, which may seem silly to some; though it seems like an outlet to escape being yourself (and it can be) you're also leaving yourself bare. You're giving up the walls you create when you perform, boring holes in it to allow people to see something real in the facade you're creating. I remember in Fundamentals of Acting we were tasked with performing a monologue, one we were to write ourselves. I could have done the easy thing and just wrote a funny one- as a matter of fact, it's probably what I should have done- but instead, I wrote a monologue about being abandoned by one of my best friends, Jake. I thought it would be a simple thing to give the monologue in front of everyone. I had the lines memorized, but I hadn't realized how hard it would be to convey this feeling of abandonment in front of my classmates. I stared at the floor and avoided their gazes, as if that would spare me from their judgement.

I'm not sure if anybody actually judged, though. At least, not maliciously. Perhaps it was because we all had to do the same thing, we all had to bare our souls before our classmates. We could empathize with the feeling of discomfort we all felt. Maybe all it takes is a bit of empathy to nullify your own, personal judgement. Artists play at CCH all the time, some of them great, others... less so. But, regardless of their performance, I'm always impressed with and envy their ability to be on stage, to be brave enough to face the crowd. I imagine even those that don't look nervous are far more fearful than they let on. I would be.

Returning to the point at hand, these walls I've built have kept me confined from my friends. I speak my mind when it doesn't pertain to me, when it's not revealing anything about myself. Luke needs some advice on something personal? I'll give him the answer I think is the best course of action. Somebody asks, "How are you feeling, Timmy?" I say, "Oh, I feel fine," regardless of what I'm feeling. Is it wrong to do that to your friends? To block them out of your personal life, when they continue to let you in? The longer I get to know someone, the thicker the walls get. The closer I get to someone, the more indifferent I act around them, when in truth I love them very much. All my friends- the ones I long abandoned, and the ones who long abandoned me, and the ones who stick around today. But I love them at arms length, too uncomfortable with myself to let someone else in my head. I don't let people know how I'm feeling, when all I need is someone to talk to.

My insecurity is my enemy. I am my own worst enemy.

The best laid plans

I'm scared. I'm scared that everything I've ever tried to avoid in my life, all that normality and mediocrity I talked about in my last post, is catching up to me now. I work at a gas station, not quite 9-5 but still incredibly menial. I suppose some people think I should be happy about that. I should be content with my completely unimpressive and depressing job and just be glad I'm a tax paying American citizen. But fuck those people. Fuck the life they think I should have, or the way they think I should live my life. Fuck me, for being incapable of getting out of this life. For being too much of a coward to have followed my dreams before, for not trying out for plays when I had the chance, or moving out of Alaska, or in the very least Fairbanks, when I thought I could.

As much as I disagree with the lifestyle choices Kylie's making, as well as the fashion choices she makes, I'm completely envious of her courage. How she was able to pack up and leave her life in Fairbanks behind and just start new and fresh in San Francisco. I'd love to be able to do that. Maybe I can. Work off the student loans I've accumulated so far and see what they'd make of me in San Fran? Maybe even apply for school down there? Kylie's one of the few success stories I know of, though. Most people who've moved to the lower 48, that I know of, have ended up moving back due to homesickness or financial reasons. People I would consider much stronger people than I. What's more, I've made this case to myself before, also. I told myself I was gonna move out of Alaska in a year... two years ago.

I barely even know how to be an adult. Credit? It's probably crap, in all honesty. I'm pretty sure I'm in debt, and I haven't even started paying off my student loans yet. Still, there's always those stories that give you hope, that make you wonder if maybe you could also be special, meant for great things. Madonna moved to New York with $30-something in her pocket. Chris Colfer was an unknown kid from the midwest, and now he's a huge gay icon who's best known character was literally written into the show he stars in because they liked his audition so much. I don't think I can hold a candle to Madonna or Chris Colfer, or any number of talented celebrities with humble backgrounds, but I don't know if I could live with myself if I didn't even try.

Which has always been my downfall. I fear failure, and so I never try anything. I never audition or try to pick up a new skill, especially a performing skill, because then not only is there the possibility of failure, but there's the possibility of failing in front of an audience. Fear has always been the primary motivator of my inaction, so it only makes sense that the only way I could get out of this sickening rut would be an equally terrifying presence in my life- mediocrity. If it's gonna work this time, though, I need to stick to my guns. I don't have the luxury of giving up this time, I can feel it. So, here's my plan:

The next audition I hear of, I'm trying out for. I've already asked Hannah to keep me in the loop, and I've got a couple of the theaters in Fairbanks set to send me an e-mail alerting me of upcoming auditions. I need to go to school here for at least another semester, in order to get my GPA up. Then I'll start applying for schools in the lower 48, and scholarships. Maybe I'll even focus on theater magnet schools. I just know that if I don't motivate myself enough this time, I'm gonna fall back into that same rut I've been in and I'm don't think I'll ever be able to climb back out. Not the way I want to, anyway.