Shhh

I enjoy finding back-alley secrets: the discrete side of society. 
What happens "off the record" is often far more interesting than what is supposed to happen.


During the day, I get stuck in traffic that's backed up for miles as cars trudge from place to place, as people run errands they don't want to be running. But at night, I cruise around town, nothing and no one in my way, traffic lights flashing yellow, saying "Go ahead."


In the morning, I pay five bucks for a cup of coffee and a croissant. When evening comes, the guy behind the counter hands me that same coffee along with a shopping bag of free pastries as they close for the night.


During the day, I go to class and work. I put on a strong, happy exterior to power through the to-do's. At night, when no one's around, I can be me. I do what I want to do, what I love to do. Just for the hell of it.


I like staying up late, taking walks with no exact purpose, and seeing what happens (or doesn't) while the rest of the city sleeps. At that time, I can enjoy silence and stillness in the world, both of which seem unattainable during the day. 


Yet I can't decide if I'm an early riser or a night owl. Is it possible to be both? I feel anxious when I lay down, as if I'll miss out on something happening right outside my window. So in the morning, I spring out of bed to get caught up on whatever happened while I was asleep. I hope that never wears off: that childish engagement with the world around me. I see too many people become jaded all too quickly with life, growing apathetic in their twenties. There's so much to see, to do, to experience. It just doesn't make sense to stop exploring (yes, this brings a Northface ad to mind). Anyway, to summarize, I argue that the world is an endlessly fascinating place, if you take risks and investigate past what societal authorities want you to see. 

Airport Hostility

Yesterday, I flew from Dallas, TX, to Nashville, TN. On the plane, I wrote in my notebook about "airport hostility": "Everyone is ready to fight at any moment; you can feel it in the air, though it's hidden well." 


That statement may sound a bit dramatic, but has anyone else noticed that people seem especially irritable on airplanes? This lady sitting next to me was saving a seat for her husband who was a few people behind her in line. Another woman approached and pointed to the empty seat, starting to make her way to it. When the lady next to me explained that it was taken, the other woman took it quite personally. She huffed and rolled her eyes before she continued down the aisle to find a seat. Awkward.


Then, I'm sitting on the plane, buckled up for a two-hour ride, kind of looking around at the other people on the plane. I notice that no one is talking to each other. Everyone has their iPods, laptops, books, drinks, food, whatever, or they're sleeping. I suddenly wonder: why can't we all start singing songs or telling stories? I mean, with a couple hundred people on this plane, surely someone has a good joke to tell, right?
Just then, the lady next to me starts throwing up. I'm serious. The lady that was saving a seat for her husband? Well, now she's vomiting—violently—into one of those tiny barf bags they give you on an airplane. I realize at this moment that those little bags cannot actually hold much liquid. So, I scramble to find mine in the back pocket of the seat in front of me, and I hold it out to her as an offer. I then realize that her husband on the other side is doing the same. We look at each other, the husband and me, with matching cringes that seem to say, "Yeah...this sucks." Of course, she's embarrassed to be throwing up on a plane, so no one's really winning at this point. Oh, and naturally, there's no flight attendant to be seen. Eventually, the lady stops vomiting (thank God). Her husband digs a napkin out of her purse and helps her clean up. Now, this is one of the sweetest things I've ever seen: a husband wiping vomit off his wife's jacket sleeve, telling her everything is okay. She is clearly devastated. She doesn't dare to make eye contact with anyone until everything is cleaned up, but finally she turns to me and says, "I'm so sorry." I just smile at her. "It's all good."


I guess I got what I wanted after all: something to unite people on an airplane. I was hoping for a story or a song. Instead I got vomit. But hey, that's life.

frigid toes!

This weather makes me want to stay inside and write.

Weather: the state of the atmosphere at a place and time.


Ah, yes, how we love talking about the weather. It is the one immediate thing that we all have in common. It's specific, it's undeniably present, and the worse it is, the more it bonds us together. Especially in a place like Dallas, where the summer heat is so brutal that the power grid struggles to support air conditioners and where rolling blackouts occur for months, the weather is the common enemy that unites neighbors and strangers alike. When I sense that horrifying early-conversation terror that I have nothing in common with the other person and therefore nothing to say to him or her, there's the weather to my rescue. "Man, it's cold outside!" or, "You know, it's supposed to rain later today." That's genius, Miranda. What a simply effortless conversation starter you are. I suppose it's better than the dead-end "How are you," right? Eh, maybe not. 


If I were homeless, I would go south. I would just start walking until I reached a beach. There I could live the dream, lying on a beach all day and night, until a hurricane would come and carry me off to the next place. That sounds fun, though dangerous.
In all seriousness, I do want to try being homeless at some point. I mean, just for a day or so, to gain some understanding of what it's like to live nowhere and anywhere, and also to see how differently people treat you.


In fact, we should all try being homeless for a week. It would be an incredibly difficult challenge. As a young lady, I don't know that it would be the wisest decision, but it's been on my mind nonetheless. 

This is for me.

Look forward. Imagine the entirety of your life, the timeline of all the events that have happened, and all those to come.

Realize how fleeting this particular moment is in that expanse.

Understand how insignificant this particular problem is in the full picture of your life's work.

Now breathe and move past it.

I want to travel the world, starting with Europe. I want to see landscapes, architecture and artwork that will render me speechless. I want to be fully immersed in something so beautiful that all I can do is stare and take it in for as long as possible.


I want to create masterful, relevant, world-changing theatre. 


I want to burst through peoples' expectations.

Imagine the infinite possibilities of your life. What happens next is completely up to you. It is a matter of making one decision at a time. So take this moment, this obstacle, whatever it is, and own it.

Shit.

As I sit here sipping my usual morning cup of coffee and listening to sad, acoustic, indie music, I'm feeling a powerful apathy. It's the kind that makes you want to turn off your phone and hide in bed all day. Two questions consume my head:
How did I get back to this place?
and How do I get the fuck out?


To the answer the first question, I'll start by saying that I ran across a quote recently: "People say that bad memories cause the most pain. But it's the good ones that actually drive you insane." In the past few months/years (I'm not sure how long), I have been haunted by good memories. And now I realize that I have been living in an idealized past, which to this day stops me from moving forward. As you probably guessed, these memories are of a boy—a boy who used to make me happy and now tortures me without even knowing it. The truth is, I don't even know him anymore. 

Let's rewind.

I was brainstorming on ideas for a screenplay earlier this year, around May. Someone told me to start with a "what if" to form a concept. I wrote down two:
1. What if you were stuck in the past?
2. What if you were only capable of loving one person?


Now, looking at them side-by-side, I see that they are not in fact two separate ideas. They are, for me, one in the same. 

I am trapped by memories of a beautiful relationship which no longer exists. 

On that same page, I had recorded a quote from Samuel Beckett's Cascando:


If you do not love me
I shall not be loved
If I do not love you
I shall not love


I do not agree with this poem. I believe that love is a series of choices, an all-too-conscious decision to work through problems rather than give up. Though I sincerely hope this poem is not true for me, I cannot be sure: I have no proof of the contrary, for I have yet to love any other boy. What I do know from experience is that filling all of your capacity to love with one person is a huge risk. In doing so, you may experience immense disappointment, regret, and pain...a wound like no other. 
From this wound I have yet to heal. 

Investigate.
Repeat.

WOAH

Where did a month go?

I'm only alive when I'm moving.
The faster I move, the more alive I am.
I am most alive when I am dancing.
And lately, I have been DANCING.

The past month, I've been dancing through life. Everything has been going really well, for the most part, and I've learned that saying yes keeps you growing, opening yourself up to new, sometimes frightening experiences. Prioritizing is key: if you take on ten million tasks in no particular order of importance, the Jenga pieces all come crashing down in a depressed, scattered mess.

Regardless, say YES.

Say YES to life. Say YES to risks. Ready, set, go! and go and go and go!

Where I differ from the old cliches is on the point of "Never look back." I disagree. Look back; reflect; learn. If you never look back at where you're coming from, how will you know where you want to go?

I've learned to be a better writer with this strategy, too. Full commitment to writing whatever is on my mind; diving in, and saying YES to my own thoughts as I translate them to paper. Then, LOOKING BACK. Editing and finding the most important thoughts (eliminating the "fluff," as an old English teacher once called it).

Intellectualizing is the absolute enemy to art, to life, and to being present at any given moment. I sink when I'm alone, thinking. My room can be a cave of cloudy thoughts, burying me in their immense weight. Depressing as shit. It's not until I get out of my room and DO something that I can snap out of it. Artists have a disgusting habit of intellectualizing life. Life is not something to observe from the sidelines and use as a subject for a research paper. You can't duplicate life if you've never lived. What you get is a taupe, bland, oatmeal kind of product. I decided, I don't want to live an oatmeal life. I love oatmeal. It's incredibly healthy, agreeably textured, filling, and cheap. But oatmeal is not one of life's great treasures. Eating oatmeal is not an experience. And oatmeal will not be a priority in my life. 

Anyway....how did I get on a tangent about oatmeal?

Like the moment you see flowers waiting for you on your doorstep,

the best things in life aren't things at all.

who cares what kind of flowers they are; someone cared enough to put them there

I have blogged again and again about my search for the "best things" in life. It dawned on me tonight, finally, that this is a most foolish endeavor. I prize no possession more than the memories that I hold in my head. Moments of understanding or fear or elation; the most intimate and outrageous experiences; surprising and inexplicable feelings; interactions with unforgettable people. The events and relationships that, over the course of twenty years, have stayed with me through everything.


And THAT, dear friends, is the stuff that's worth writing about. 

oops, I did it again

I took on too damn much [working 30 hours, play rehearsals, filming, bills, etc.] Unfortunately, that means I will likely neglect my blogging duties for the next few weeks. 
Unicorn is out of the office until further notice.
In the meantime, help me answer this question: is it better to strive for an extraordinary life, or to find happiness in the opportunities you are given? I have always believed the former, until just recently. As I embark on my twenties, the idea of settling for an "average" life, with a family and the whole "white picket fence" shabang...doesn't sound as horrible as it used to. That's not to say that I want to settle down anytime soon, but what's so shameful about being "average" anyway?

Newest Find: Sunflower Market!

Yesterday, at the suggestion of one of my co-workers, I finally made a trip to the Sunflower Farmers Market. And I am unashamed to say, I have fallen in love with a grocery store.

I had driven past this quaint market a few times and honestly thought it looked a bit...questionable. This store is located, as the cashier so eloquently put it, "in a weird area, where if you go down Henderson one way it gets really nice, and if you go the other way it gets really sketch." But that's exactly what makes Sunflower Farmers Market so wonderful: its appeal to both markets. Sunflower's slogan describes the atmosphere perfectly: "Serious Food, Silly Prices!" Organic-loving, vegan hipsters come for the remarkably healthy selection of fresh produce, hormone-free meats, and fair-trade coffees, while average Joes enjoy their reasonable prices on everyday items. Because yes, Sunflower Market offers textured vegetable protein by the pound. But they also carry Cheerio's.

In fact, this comparatively small grocery store has just about everything: a bakery, deli, sushi bar, floral department, bulk foods (including flour, nuts, candy, beans, and coffee), frozen foods, and a great selection of beers and wines. Walking around the store, I must have looked like a child, sampling bakery treats and filling my basket with small bags of their bulk foods (including, yes, TAFFY). Each employee I spoke with was helpful and friendly, and (unlike most grocery store workers) they didn't seem to hate their jobs. Overall, my first trip to Sunflower was a total success. 
So if you like good food at good prices, check out Sunflower Farmers Market on N. Henderson Ave., right next to The Pearl Cup. As someone who lives in University Park and works in Uptown, this location on N. Henderson is super convenient! In fact, now that I have fallen in love with their saltwater taffy bar, I will definitely be making regular, post-shift sugar runs.

Going South!

South Dallas ain't so bad, folks. 

(during the day, at least)

Despite the roads that desperately need re-paving, the stench of dumpsters, and the unsettling sounds of cars, warehouses and large dogs urging to free themselves from their chains, South Dallas somehow maintains a certain charm.
Walking around town on the empty sidewalks, I felt like there were abundant treasures hiding just behind this rough exterior. I passed classic landmarks like Doug's Gym ("49 Years, Same Location") as well as some new, trendy favorites like the Lily Pad Cafe ("Sustainable Street Food"), demonstrating the eclectic diversity of this area.

On to the point of the journey downtown: a trip to the Dallas Farmers Market, which was more than a tad disappointing. Apparently, although the market is open seven days a week, the individual vendors can choose not to open on weekdays.
On the way back from the Farmer's Market, we made two fantastic discoveries. I first toured around the Arts District during my freshman year, and it has since been a go-to for theatre (DTC, Winspear), art (DMA, Nasher), and culture. Somehow, I overlooked these sights time after time. First, the Main Street Gardens are a green oasis right in the middle of downtown, at the corner of Main and Harwood. This site seemed to attract mostly families, pets, and tired bicyclists, and it even had a fountain to cool off your feet (or paws). Then, out of curiosity, we crossed over to the Thanksgiving Square. With its impressively steep rows of fountains and shady trees, this spot provides a low-key, serene escape to enjoy a quiet lunch, relax and reflect.

Then today, I visited the Deep Ellum Outdoor Market. This quaint affair takes over the parking lot next to Deep Ellum's Cafe Brazil on the third Saturday of every month, and it is the perfect spot to find local art, crafts, food, and music. Each booth offered something unique, from handmade jewelry to on-site portrait artists. A two-person, acoustic band filled the tent with good vibes. The event was just large enough to offer variety and just small enough that the experience with each vendor felt personal. The one downside? After just a half hour perusing tables in the July heat, I was dripping in sweat and desperate for air conditioning. Overall, though, I left with two great jewelry pieces and a belly full of fried sweet potatoes. Yeah, it was a good day at the market.

My buys! Bracelet: imported from India; Necklace: handmade by a local artist.

So no, it may not be as glamorous as Uptown or as safe as Highland Park, but South Dallas has plenty of its own charms. And I'll definitely be back to sample the area's abundance of locally-owned restaurants and cafes.

Grow Where You Plant Yourself

Dallas is the ideal place for sports-lovers, meat-eaters, and money-spenders.

Dallas is not the ideal place for a hippie/thespian/college student. 

As I look around at a city I cannot afford, I wonder if I would have been better off going to a low-key college in the middle of nowhere, then moving to a big city after graduation.
But alas, here I am. 

Then again, Wait. 

I am in Dallas! 

A city of incredible energy, diversity, and pride. 

Why the hell am I not taking advantage of it?

That is why I am making July my month of exploring. With D Magazine as my sidekick, it is time to embrace the city that I have kept at arm's length for nearly two years. And of course, I'll let you know what I find :)

Timeless

 "When change happens, you’ve got a choice. You can either keep on doing what you were doing and hope things work out, or you can make the decision that not only you can meet the challenges of the future, but you can help set the pace." -President Obama 6/28/11


It's true: we live in a world run by corporations, the members of which strive every day to develop newer, faster, cheaper and easier technologies—"better" ways to do things. 


But will anything ever be good enough to be left the way it is?

 The answer is, yes.

A few classics have outlasted generations of trends.  

Similar to the "Most Underrated Things" post from a while back, this is a short list of irreplaceable originals, things that will never go out of style. Before I begin, let me give a pre-cursor: I am always making lists. I suppose I make them to mentally sort through my experiences; so that as I age I may surround myself with only the good, and all the best, things in life. So, here it goes:

1. Candles. Something about a real fire just cannot be replicated. Open flames, despite all the potential for disaster, have never lost appeal. And dinner by candlelight is just sexy.


2. Wallet photos. Today, anyone with a cell phone can click a button to instantly take and store a photo in their memory card. Yet no matter how impractical and unnecessary they may be, I cannot help but favor old-school wallet photos. There's something endearing and meaningful about carrying a person's actual photo in your wallet.


3. Hand-written letters. No email, text, nor Facebook message can duplicate the excitement you feel when you receive a handwritten letter in the mail. The key to my heart? Good ole snail mail.


4. Cooking. Yes, crafting a home-cooked meal is rather laborious compared to microwaving a Hotpocket or swinging by McDonald's. And it's risky business if you're not experienced in the kitchen. Yet all the time spent on preparation and labor makes the reward that much tastier when your meal is finally ready. Furthermore, cooking for yourself means you have some kind of connection to what you're putting in your mouth, as opposed to mindless and joyless consumption.

That's it for now. If you have anything to add to this brief list, by all means share.

Still Learning

I must learn how to ask for help.

Hauling a queen-size wooden headboard in a Honda Civic, and proceeding to then load it singlehandedly into my apartment and install it myself, is just not something a reasonable person would do. A reasonable person would ask for help.  

So, that's what I'm working on, starting now. I will accept that even if I can do something of that magnitude alone, I shouldn't. 

_The ultimate question is, why should I?_ 

With so many people in my life more than ready to help, I have no one but my own stubborn self to blame when I choose to take the whole world on my shoulders (just like my statue friend, pictured above).

Over the past two weeks, I have determined that I am most definitely an A-type personality. It hurts to admit that because people generally don't enjoy being around us "high-strung" A-types. But I'm learning very, very quickly (from living with a solid B-type) that something's gotta give. 
Today, that something is leaving my headboard leaning against the wall until I find someone to help me assemble it. 


..even though it's driving me nuts to see it there...


Nope, I'm going to the gym.

Traveling makes me feel jaded. 
Watching countless towns come and go; seeing the same restaurants and billboards and gas stations; realizing more with every exit that my hometown is no different from any of them: it makes me feel like a tiny ant crawling aimlessly through a maze.


Also, I won two dollars today by playing the lottery in Arkansas. Still, he and I are not quite even, considering the bumpy roads and filthy bathrooms. But hey, at least I didn't get lost in Pine Bluff again.
On the up-side, I'm back in Dallas! First items of business: moving in and finding a job. Wish me luck!

Promise

I refuse to ever be a puppet to a corporation, a toy to a man, or a disappointment to myself.

And if that means driving a junky car till I die; if that means living in a tiny studio apartment; if that means shopping on a budget and eating at home and not having cable and sewing my own fucking clothes...Well, that's perfectly fine with me.


This is not for readers so much as for myself. This is a promise to myself. Because unfortunately, this is all too easy for ladies today to forget, including myself. We continually throw away our self-worth and our dreams to fulfill what someone else wants us to be, to take the easy route. 

I for one am completely fed up with doubting myself. 

Trophy wife? Fuck that.

Clock's Ticking

When there is no immediacy, nothing gets done.
But when the pressure's on, I feel alone, wallowing in my own hopeless self-pity. I start to do something, then stop, want to call somebody or go for a walk. Start & Stop. Start & Stop. All day.

This is how people settle into patterns of ordinary life. AVERAGE. I don't want to be average.

Currently listening to: Under Pressure by Queen/David Bowie




[I read two plays this weekend, one of which I enjoyed. Small success, even if I owe it to the power outage. Oh, and the world didn't end.]

Get Busy Living

Supposedly, the world is going to end today. 












If you're still wondering what this is all about, this short article breaks it down: http://www.businessinsider.com/end-of-world-may-21-2011-4 
But no, I do not believe that this Judgment Day theory is true. Regardless, though, why would anyone fret about the world coming to a sudden end? That is, after all, the inevitable fact of life: if it doesn't end today, then will it tomorrow? the next day? the next?...

The most poisonous thing a person can do is sit at home, waiting for something to happen. It quickly becomes a habit, and eventually becomes a lifestyle. 

I unfortunately learned that first-hand over the past year. I turned down one opportunity after another out of fear: fear of failing, fear of spending money, fear of falling behind in school, fear of being discouraged by others. Then  one day I was sitting there in my single apartment, and literally felt as if time were standing still. It was then that I realized I had been putting off life. Sure, I was saving money and eating healthy and making great grades. On paper, my life was productive and smart. But in reality, I wasn't even living anymore. I had micromanaged every detail of every day to the point that I had lost touch with friends, and was stuck in this monotonous and joyless pattern of existence. 
Now, if ever I feel myself slipping back into that apathy and laziness, I quickly catch myself. Get out of the pajamas, set some goals, keep moving forward. Make the most of today, every day, because there is no guarantee of seeing tomorrow. 


"I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living or get busy dying." The Shawshank Redemption, 1994

if only, if only

I wish I were an animal—to be so straightforward that I could greet my sister by tackling her to the ground, solely out of affection; to take naps unashamedly; to run around the neighborhood with no inhibitions, no logical purpose, and no worries. Instead, here I am, sitting methodically and dispassionately at my computer, waiting for my washing machine to buzz. 

Productivity, 

Rationality, 

Efficiency: 

these are the values of our society. 

Vulnerability is weakness. Fun is for the frivolous. We obediently learn how to protect ourselves from showing traces of such things in our lives. These lies unite to form the inflated human ego, which has proven itself to be a volatile creation indeed.

This ego is to some degree responsible for nearly all economic, political, and social failures in our world today.
Why, I wonder, do we feel the need to continually demonstrate our control over nature, animals, and ultimately over one another? Bullying, abuse, theft: these acts wreak of insecurity and unhappiness. Inner issues with outer consequences. As I watch the news, crimes like these don't outrage me anymore. I, like the majority, have become fairly numb to violence and suffering. Instead I now feel a deep sadness, slight guilt even, for the failures of our social institutions.
Our own egocentrism is slowly leading toward the downfall of the human race. So...what are you going to do about it? 

What. am. I. going to. do about it? That's the real question.
In the meantime, I maintain that if reincarnation is true, I'm hoping to return as some really cool animal. 
A cassowarie would be ideal. 

Speedbump

No, I did not get hit by another car.

I am currently suffering from that all-too-common pain-in-the-ass, "writer's block." Oh, how I have grown to hate those two words. Actually, it's not a block so much as a dam. That is, I am not at a loss for words; rather, I have too many. They're all conflicting and intertwining and mushing around inside my head, then on the page. I have not been able to filter them, so there they are, collecting: word vomit in my notebook. Gross.


Starting is easily the most difficult part of any project, and the planning stages always bring the biggest headaches. Considering this is the first time I have attempted any sort of creative writing since high school, I suppose this kind of struggle is to be expected. Countless ideas have been circulating around my noggin for years, and now I have to decide which is most important, then find the words. Well, back to the books!


[In other news: miniature hail-storm in Knoxville today. Also, I burnt the last bag of popcorn, which I'm sure you will agree, is the worst.]

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.

Samuel Beckett

Stand still; Repeat

I want to write a screenplay so brilliant that it achieves national recognition, sweeps film festivals across the country, and lunges me rapidly into the spotlight as one of the promising young voices of our generation.
I want to direct a play so inspiring and beautiful that it catches every facet of the human experience, moves audience members to change their lives; I want to change peoples' minds about theatre.
I want to move to LA, star in some sell-out TV show, live in a bungalow apartment in West Hollywood, and party like all the hipsters (taking artsy pictures to document our fabulous lives).
I want to surf. And skydive. I want to travel the world.

At the moment, I am in Knoxville, TN, sitting in my pajamas, listening to the radio.
So...how to go from here to there: that is my current dilemma. I guess I'll start by getting out of my pajamas.

But really, as someone with huge dreams, I feel static when I'm home. Not to mention I cannot find a play (after reading about twenty) that I want to produce. Perhaps I have been too passive in  my search for a play (or, arguably, in my artistic career in general). All the libraries and bookstores in the world aren't going to magically present me with the perfect play, one that speaks exactly to my experience of life. So why not write my own? Furthermore, instead of auditioning and waiting to get cast in a play, why not create my own opportunities? 


I have so much to say; perhaps it's time to take that giant leap of faith and start writing...Wish me luck. I'll keep you updated.

Growing up.

Well, ladies and gentleman, I am officially in my twenties.

I expected to feel a certain pressure upon entering this decade of my life. Twenty is a landmark birthday, and I am supposedly entering the "best years" of my life. 
I do feel a certain confidence in where I am, professionally and personally. There is nothing sudden, however, about this change; it has been a long time coming. For the past two years (since the last semester of high school), I have felt the beginnings of adulthood emerging within me. Rather than striving to be like someone else, I have become more and more curious about and content with who I am. 
Many signs affirm this transition:
I no longer read Cosmogirl, or any other magazines which tell me how to be more attractive or get guys or put myself into a category based on a quiz. 
I have abandoned social climbing; I have come to realize, the only ass worth kissing is in the professional realm.
I would rather read a play/book than watch TV.
I enjoy cooking and sometimes even cleaning.
I can actually hold conversations with my professors without feeling totally awkward.


These are just  a few of the miraculous discoveries that my twenties have brought so far (it has been nearly a month). And I must say, I anticipate this decade to be the best one yet. 

Deep Breath, and Go

Stressed. Starting with Spring Break, I have not stopped moving. California was a much-needed escape from reality, but it left me apathetic upon returning to Dallas. I just want to keep exploring. The next weekend, I journeyed down to New Orleans, and again I felt as though I could stay on the road forever and be content. 
Now that I'm home, settling back into my routine, classes and rehearsals are torturous. I spend the majority of them checking my phone, eating, or drawing. The past ten days, I have felt overwhelmed with the dreary list of tasks set before me. For some reason, I have not had the positive attitude toward them as I usually do. You see, I normally approach a challenge with the attitude that I can handle it; bring it on. But currently, I feel helpless, meak, robbed of control over my own life. 

I have got to snap out of it.

It's time to end this pity party.

Day 30

As Britney so eloquently puts it: "Oops, I did it again."

I missed Day 29! Tomorrow concludes my 30 days of blogging, so I'll try to make these last few posts good ones.

Yesterday I learned...that others help us make sense of our own lives.

When I'm alone, doubts about the present and anxieties about the future fill my head. But as soon as I talk with my mom, dad, sister, or best friend, it all makes sense. I come to peace with whatever is on my mind. It's reassurance that you're not alone in your struggles, a simple connection with another human being that makes life seem a little more manageable.
I am a stubborn, independent girl. But I am realizing that I am so much happier when I swallow my pride and ask for a little help.

Today's post is yet to come.

...and here it is:

Know yourself.

Know yourself so well that no one else can make you doubt yourself. Know what your opinions are before you share them with others. It feels so much easier to simply agree with whoever and whatever surrounds you on a moment-to-moment basis, but that, my friends, is wasting a life, a soul, and a highly capable mind.

So take charge. Don't let anyone tell you who you are or what you think.