Sleep Deprivation

So, basically, this is another photograph because I have to go to bed.
But I did finish my IPP! In large part, it was a success. Now let's hope that we get a 4 at least for all this work and not some terribly low score.

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Photographs

Today is just a photo and this brief self-worth poem [written by me]:

"I will make my days make meaning,
Even as the darkest skies do cross,
That long horizon."

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More poetry is also available for your perusal.

The Trigger

At 3:20pm:
When I want to take a break, I do.
When I want to work, I do that also.
When I wish I was doing something else entirely? I fight and struggle to get things the way that I want.
I think I failed my IB Theater TPPP today - even though I thought it was solid in preparation, I didn't do well. And so, before I jump off the bridge into the freezing water of rejection and failure, I am giving this day up to myself. I want to do what I want. Everything creative and pent up that just wants to burst out of me: now is the opportunity. What kind of list would this make? I'll probably make dozens. But I want to do it all. Right here and now. Let's go.

At 9:55pm:
I spent the entire day doing a one-on-one photography shoot with myself. Why? Because of pure frustration energy. I wanted to celebrate myself, do something creative, accentuate my crazy wardrobe and new figure, avoid homework, and (best of all) create a stockpile of images to blog with [46 whoo!] I think it turned out pretty well - I was tossing around this idea with making a collage. Now that I have spent the entire day focused on that, I now am dog tired and minus one lamp (it fell over during my shoot). I think I will carry out other parts of my list, such as writing a flippin' story and reading.
Yeah, probably reading.

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Predictive Text

So, if I were to title this blog post fully, it would be called: Totems Got Talent & the Predictive Text of My Life. Because for some reason whenever something clairvoyant or similarly hinting at a future time, I (rather than calling it foreshadowing) call it my "predictive text." Aren't we so glad to be in a modern age?

Memoirian Highlight: Totems Got Talent
The afternoon was a lazy bump on the log of my life (and as melodramatically cliche as that sounds, it was the only fitting introduction). I bummed around after I heard tennis practice was canceled, yet again, due to hurricane-like rains. Seriously? We've been outside for a full practice perhaps 2 out of 16 days of tennis now. Wonderful, wonderful Washington.
But the "gift of time," as Ms. Keeney deemed it, was thrust upon me, and I had only the inclination to do the responsible senior student thing: sit on my bed, reading and knitting. I probably should have worked on my portfolio or studied up for some test that would possess my soul in the coming days, but instead I just piddled my time away making string into fabric and finishing up the last 100 pages of Fool.
Eventually, it was time to rise from my aching seated position and wander off down the street to Sammamish High School for Ka-chan's Totems Got Talent show. Sometimes high school ideas are not bad, sometimes they are not good, but generally they are always fun to watch. So I loped from the bed to my car and drove in the direction of the sun, which, by the way, was directly in my face because I am too short and therefore the protective covering did not reach my eyes. I really need to get sunglasses - curse you awe-inspiring natural occurances!
As I reached the school, I was still wrapped up in my literary world, and so after I bought the ticket, I began reading in my seat. Frantically, and with a passion, I finished the final 20 pages of the book and was satisfied just as the lights came down for Peter and Ali.
As our hosts, they were a soft-spoken comedy act and just funny enough not to upstage the performers. There were many many musical acts - most of them amazing, actually. There was a violinist who really made the canaries sing with her performance of The Hot Canary (she won 1st place), a boy who used the entire guitar as both a percussion and strummable instrument (who won 2nd), and a tap dancing tiny chick who was sparkly and beautiful and I don't know how she got her legs to move like that (who took 3rd). The other acts were inspiring as well; both hiphop and interpretive dancers, giving us a feel for the entirety of the dance world, a bevy of singers from jazz choir and other hidden talent pools, speed painting and comedy from Ka-chan, Mr. Leffler going down on Mr. Kendrick (who was a judge, and actually super awesome with his obviously faked German accent and Diet Coke montage) and even a lip-synching Pokemon master - which may have been a little stretch for the judges. Other than Kendrick, the judges were Gingrich (an older man with a dry wit and a round intonation) and Renee (a blond woman who was clearly the "nicest" of the panel). Overall, the night ran one hour longer than expected, and I was set to marvel at the colored lights flashing on the back of the stage as my starvation muscles clamped down over my stomach. I hurried out to give Ka-chan a goodbye hug and then rushed home to garbanzo beans and dal.

Right now it's foggy outside, but I must tell you that the clouds will eventually part and perhaps we will see shining day this afternoon! I have now the conviction to go to Cheap Wine and Poetry, which is totally awesome because I love literary readings and am kicking myself for not being more involved in Hugo House as of late. Anyway, other than that, life is pretty much a monotonous hole that I'm trying to read my way out of (finished "Death of a Salesman" and Fool in the last two days - along with two knitted squares of variable difficulty)

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Haha...

I'm a little embarrassed. I had my blog post all written up the day before, had a ton of time during the afternoon, and then just came home after Totems Got Talent and fell asleep! Ahaha...
Anyway, here is the old post that was supposed to be from yesterday. My next post will be from today! Hoorah!

J Reviews... Death of a Salesman
I got my reading fix last night. Starved as I am to finish any source of literature, our teacher gave us Death of a Salesman yesterday to finish before spring break. Since I'm one of those annoying kids who feels that she must always be working and yet, when working, feels as if she should be doing anything but, I decided to start reading in class and got through the first 13 pages. Then, after our tennis match, I brewed a cup of tea and went through the other 99.
Death of a Salesman is an engrossing story. The stage is really interesting because its specifically broken up and there is a lot of transition with time and light, etc. It feels like the set of a movie rather than the stage of a play - there are constant changes and the observations are mainly on character building rather than real plot. I felt that the plot was very similar to Waiting for Godot in the fact that the people just kept spinning their wheels. They never really completed anything but talked a whole bunch. But, for some reason, this play freaked me out more than Waiting for Godot.
I'm not sure why, but the symbolism hit much closer to life in this one. Probably because it's not as hyperbolic of a setting and depicts a fairly realistic family dynamic - other than the fact that Willy Loman has some attractive mental issues that send him plunging into the past while he thinks he's staying in the present. I think the reason it scared me was probably because of those memories fading so easily into the rest of the storyline. It felt like there was no transition between what was real and what was fake; when that happens, it really raises the issue on whether that's how we see our own lives or whether it is just the world of the play. Perhaps I felt the monotony hit close to home for our situation at school as well. We work and work and try to make things happen, but we can't all be great people and there will never be someone who can drag us out when we're punch drunk and unable to keep our ambitions flowing. Ultimately, this play put a great emphasis on the individualism that Americans so enjoy - then Arthur Miller struck it down by showing that, in a lot of ways, we are reliant on other people and that we are just too afraid to talk about not "being someone."
Who knows? The final scene with Ben really scared me. I think it's because I didn't realize that he had even come into the scene at that point - I even thought that Willy was talking to some other person in the room. Then, of course, since Ben's lines are all memories of a dead man, I realized that he was speaking in generalities about prospects and having flat conversation with the wall. Strange.
Anyway, at least I got my reading fix down. I think it'll really calm me down if I take a few of those little indulgences every once in a while; two or three hours to read doesn't seem like too much of a stretch to fit into a weekly schedule, does it?
Maybe next time I won't freak myself out (but, if I do, it will probably be because I am thinking again...)

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Several other book reviews are also featured on my blog, including reviews of feminist literature.

The Healing Process

Idriss opened his mouth.
With a resolute expression, he explained that there would be little time for socializing once we got on the island and absolutely no time for pleasantries. He suggested that we all introduce ourselves now to get it out of the way. His hand scraped across the edge of a granite counter for emphasis, so over the braying of overly-nice people asking whether he was ok, I turned to my partner and asked for her name.
"Jasmyn," she replied.
Her cocoa skin was oddly familiar to me, and I wondered where I had read about her character before. I introduced myself as J, and we began to discuss the theater. But, just as we were coming across the subject of whether "Death of a Salesman" or "Waiting for Godot" was more earth-shattering in its portrayal of monotonous living without a denouement, Idriss called out across the balcony for whether anyone objected to writing their memoirs later so that everyone could read them and instead listening up for about twenty seconds. Needless to say, we agreed.
"We are going to be docking at Point de Dictionaire - and yes, the French did claim this section of the island. There will be relatively few people who will understand English, and you will have to buddy up with someone so that you don't get lost. I don't want anyone losing their limbs to wandering Venus flytraps or something." Idriss paused. I refrained from pointing out that we were going to an island in the Indian ocean and that Venus flyraps were only harmful to flies.
"During your stay at Point de Dictionaire, you will be advised to look into some of their research laboratories or etymology workshops - they're quite fascinating from what I've heard. Anyway, don't stay out too late and report back to the main camp before eleven."
Now Idriss had finished talking, and everyone could see a sliver of green fertile trees pressing against the lapping waves. We were all fairly hungry and tired, and Jasmyn decided that we should partner up because she liked me well enough - I agreed more out of resignation than enthusiasm.

Traveling in JDishia - The Healing Process. I'm not sure whether The Healing Process as a title signifies anything yet, but I'll get back to you on it.

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More writing and stories are also available for your reading pleasure.

Travels in JDishia

I remember back in the day... wait - I'm not that old!
But truly, when I was younger, I was always in imagination land. I created an entire world out of just the stuff around me, and my friends did the same. We were always in ice caves (playing ice N64, of course, with games crafted by Chels out of pure ice blocks) or swimming around the Saharan desert. I realized, yesterday, as I was writing my Memoirian Highlights, that I really miss that world. It was so flashy! So real! When I went to sleep, I knew that I could be there... Now that we're stuck in the natural world, I have been slumped over a desk to try and figure out where we're going with everything.
Moviemakers and writers inspire me because they haven't lost that world; when I write, I return to it, but now I believe it's time to buck that world in an online fashion! So now, I introduce the new episodic structure of Travels in JDishia - another of my hare-brained schemes of keeping this blog as a television channel rather than a movie.
When I was young, I almost created a website based off of my imaginary island [or country, depending on the year] of JDishia. JD was one of my elementary school nicknames (no real reason for the 'D' after Britney left, that's why I became 'J') and I had such an inspired idea about the entire thing! I wanted to create my own language and food and culture... little did I know that computer failure completely destroys all dreams and hopes.
So, returning to my naiive past and conjuring it up in this present seems like an opportune way to move my personal writing forward and say 'to heck with you chains of monstrous school!'
Anyway, the first episode will come either tonight or tomorrow, when I'm less freaked out about missing class.

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Memoirian Highlights: Part Two

So, we're back. Perhaps this should be an episodic program, actually - like a television broadcast or the Picture Dictionary. Whenever it fits fancy, the Memoirian Highlights will flock over The Cowation like a plague of long-winded draft reading material. Who knows?
Anyway, back to the action. Samedi, Saturday, le deuxieme jour.

Samedi
So, the night was Tolo night, but the day was spend-time-on-J day. In a much more energy-filled morning wake, I threw on a summery outfit that prayed for warmth but received only cold and traipsed out of the house on a hunt for shoes and a dress. I had a very specific idea in mind: army green dress that goes off the shoulder and has ruffled ruching at the neck and sleeve seams because of the elastic. Obviously, I didn't get that.
What I did get was a running around time to myself, searching from high to low for that one perfect dress and finding a really cute bag and a pair of the best shoes ever (coral pumps - garish and flashy and completely like me) I had left at 9am and went through all the places I knew to look, so by the time it drew near to 12 noon, I was burned out and searching for a sit down place.
Lucky enough for me, when I stopped off at Redmond Town Center, a new tea place had opened up in place of our cookie haven. My heart was torn, but I was excited to see somewhere I could buy loose leaf tea that didn't include hoity-toity employees in downtown Bellevue. I opened the door to the Green Grind and wafted their casual scent.
The store was clean, green, and very earthy. They had their teas up in canisters on the wall, all different colors and loose leaf. I had originally thought it was a coffeehouse but, though they did serve that as well, it became increasingly evident that they were mainly focused around tea. A smooth talking salesman waited on customers with a skilled knowledge of his product; he spoke about yerba mate with a South American man who had entered on his lunch break to marvel at the fact that, yes, you can get that stuff here. And damn good too. I tested the waters with an Indian chai, which cemented my love for the place. A cute college-looking guy served me and seemed to be trying his best to avert his nerdy image as compared to the manager. It didn't work too well, but his bashful charm drew me in and, as I left, I was smiling at how much of an embarassment I had made of myself. I really am very awkward with strangers.
My first response as I stepped out of the place was to call Da and tell him that I had found the loose leaf tea haven (huzzah!) and that we could buy some the next day. It solved the problem of my conversion to a loose leaf tea addict, and I was glad. But, just as I finished the tiny cup of chai, I realized that it was nearing 11:55am and that I needed to head out to Victor's for a meet with the theater girls to "work on theater stuff."
When I arrived there, I was semi-starving (making room for what I knew was going to be a big Applebee's dinner that night) but also had no cash, so I sat and began working on my TPPP. Always fashionably late, Maayan and Sofia showed up at 12:20pm as I was typing furiously to figure out my new project. Once they were there, the laptop closed and we headed outside to the porch to talk about our lives. Maayan paid for a lunch and I got the veggie soup off of it so that I wouldn't die, then we shared cookies and eased ever-so-quickly away from theater. It was a nice time, actually, and instead of going our separate ways, Sofia came along with me to meet up with Bree and go dress shopping.
We left an hour too early and headed over to Factoria, where I explored the dresses at TJ Maxx and Target - finally finding one at the second store. Sofia's approval and a pair of skin tone (for a white person) tights cemented me on the choice, and I bought it straight away. We met Bree and Andi at Nordstrom Rack just a bit later, and they each bought a pair of shoes (albeit from different stores, Nordstrom Rack and DSW). After what I thought was the shortest shopping trip ever, we decided to part and then head over to Bree's aunt's house (I was informed that she was a hairdresser and that she would be cool with doing our hair, which is always a plus). But, as we got to the parking lot, I realized: we had lost the car.
Or rather, we had lost ourselves in the parking lot. Sofia was laughing all out as we finally found it - I felt rather stupid, but got over it quickly. It's always great to be flailing around in the cold, pressing the button on your keys until you realize - oh, that's my car right there.
I took her home and then drove to Bree's (after a confusing traffic stop at Interlake, then Maayan's, then her house because neither of us knew where she lived) and we got our hair put up. Bree's aunt Megan was extremely nice; with a mousy smile, she chatted with us about boys and Vietnam and all that passed as she tied our hair with rubber bands and bobby pins. I was a little embarassed to have to leave early - Quinn was already waiting at my house and I'm glad I called him to make sure he didn't go up to the door when I wasn't there.
I sprang in, grabbed the tickets, and then jumped in his car to drive to Applebees. We chatted amicably on the way down the hill (as I marveled at the fact that Quinn could even drive) and then I realized - I should call Grant to tell him when we're meeting.
With the apologetic kick-down-dog mentality I always purport (and need to get rid of), I told him we were meeting in 20 minutes at the Applebees not in Factoria. Needless to say, he wasn't happy.
But we all were fine in the end because, since there were so many of us, the table took at least 25 minutes to secure. Quinn and I waited. I goggled at the fact that he had never been there before, then frantically texted Da about his name and phone number (the fact that I hadn't told them it was a male friend picking me up probably explains that...) until the waitress and our other party members clustered together to meet at a table in the back.
Grant arrived shortly thereafter, legitimizing the very very large amount of confusion about what "semi-formal" means. The sophomores were in a parade of tennis shoes and jeans mixed with casual dresses (Abby's wouldn't zip up, so I give her credit for wearin the tank underneath) while our men were in a range from boring (Chris's basic button down shirt and jeans) to extremely formal (Grant's black suit and red tie) to just plain awesome (Quinn's kilt and the brown shirt we bought for him). The girls followed in a similar line - mine was probably the least formal while Andi's was the most. Quinn and I both were a little off, so once we had finished our meals, we made a last run back to the houses for boots and deodorant. Thankfully, Da had gone to a movie so he didn't have to come inside.
Then it was off to the dance. It appeared that very few people had shown up. Sophomores and freshmen and the occassional senior, but the dance floor was mostly empty. After a few wayward techno songs, we slow danced once and then took my complicated pick-up-the-girls picture before splitting to Meydenbauer Beach. Our band of cars departed from the Interlake parking lot in a wave of male driving; the night was young.
The air was young and frigid when we pulled to a stop, and I borrowed Quinn's way oversized coat (at least on me) as we tripped over our own feet and galloped like horses down to the water's edge. We scrambled to take off our shoes as we went on the dock, watching strange lights come up and down from the island across the way, telling stories of zombie lust and making plans to hijack a boat. None of these got very far.
When we were pretty much lifeless and freezing, we decided to head back up to the cars and find somewhere else to chill. Andi's house was conveniently open, so we headed over there where her dog tried to go up Quinn's kilt many a time. By then, it was nearing midnight and past, so we were all a little tired and the car rides made me feel boring because of my lack of conversational lethargy. Andi's house was warm and didn't contribute to my staying awake.
Finally, after looking at embarassing pictures of younger people that might have been us, we decided to head to Wendy's in our band of cars and pick up Frosties for the road. Quinn ordered while I didn't, deciding ice cream was not the best choice right before bed. He dropped me off and I felt strange, laughing to myself about thinking that I could drop him off even as he was driving. We were both a bit listless, but I still, quite clumsily, asked him whether he would like to go on a "real date" sometime, and he replied, "sure."

So that was the end of the Spring Fling Tolo night. Randomness, excitement, flair, and the absolute boredom that comes from being a teenager in the suburbs at night. Well, at least it sprouted some interesting conversations!
On a side note, the picture above I found in my camera after perhaps the longest time ever [shows you how much I use my little one...] from Bumbershoot. I can't believe that my nails were that long! Anyway, I just thought it was really cool and, well, reflective so enjoy!

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Memoirian Highlights: Part One

I think I am going to do a monstro-post after I finish with my theater presentation outline - hold on a second.
Back! Alright, so I was debating all day whether I should post an omnibus post about the weekend or if I should split it up into specific days [I know, why do I think about these things that much? Probably because I'm a crazy person] and finally decided that I can suffer through writing a longer post as long as I split it into sections. So... here it goes!

*DISCLAIMER* After a conviction of the heart on Friday, I have decided to write personal narratives in a style I call "Memoirian" because it combines my metaphoric-physical perception of self with the true events [a.k.a. my fictitious life and my real one intersect - sweet!]

Vendredi
I woke with a stutter. My lips pursed together and I let out a long wheeze - like the slow death of an old car. I rolled over once, buried my nose into the red pillow before tossing off the sheets. I woke up too early, I thought, though, truly, my issue was going to bed too late. After a week of WASLing, I had grown accustomed to 9am wakeup calls and elaborate mango smoothie breakfasts.
As I stumbled into a simple dress and tanktop, pressing a comb haphazardly through frizzy hair, my stomach howled for morning food, which today meant a buttered English muffin. I groaned.
After riding into the back parking lot, circling hawk-like for an exclusive space near the tennis courts, I grudgingly put my hand on the parking brake and stepped into the school. Catcalls and curses in the hallway over waking up at this godforsaken hour passed by and, all of a sudden, it was 7:30am and we were herded into the cafeteria for a special project.
"Welcome to Group IV!" called Sheriff O'Byrne, once Principal Principal now morphed into a solidly built cowboy with a megaphone. Interlake's day of forensic crime scene investigation was about to be underway. As we huddled with friends, muttering about our misfortune, the Sheriff rounded us up and separated us into hesitant groups.
I found myself sitting at Table 3 of Group IV, waiting with a surly expression as other layabouts congealed around me. I was not pleased - though I suppose it beat going to English class. We were then given our case (armed robbery of the accountant) and were shuttled off to prescribed classrooms.
The remainder of the day was a blur of mindless activity; from H.Q. Thompson's, we fingerprinted suspects, used bullet trajectory to recreate the scene, and took an extended lunch break (at which we went to buy cupcakes for Ms. Dossett and other burned out children). Just like true lawmen, by the end of the day we were ready to crash and I took refuge in Madame's just in time to catch the conclusion of Moliere.
Though it wasn't a poor day, it was extremely dull. I was charged up to go to tennis practice (after mistakenly missing it the day before - eck) but then "LA PLUIE DES DIEUX!" came crashing down. Hail feathered our courts in a blanket of white quickly swept away by rain - I stood outside and laughed, pseudo-searching for the coach while truly just watching the macho baseball guys jump away in fright of the falling stones.
Needless to say, practice was canceled.
So, I went instead to chill at Kita's for about an hour and a half, talking as we do, and then gracefully left to my own home in preparedness for the evening. I was ecstatic to be going to see Vikram Chandra at My Avatar (the final leg of the Hugo House Literary Series this year) but, as in previous literary series, I was blown away by the entirety of the show.
We got into downtown Seattle and went to the Town Hall; once I got inside, the columns and church-like windows, the pews covered in teal upholstery, and the semi-circular amphitheatrical feel got my pen moving as people migrated to their seats. First came The Maldives, a pretty awesome folk band that was the source of jokes all throughout the night (from the director at Hugo House, commenting on numbers [8], their instruments [banjos and harmonicas], and their beards [5/8 of them had beards!]) As they calmed down the audience, the Hugo House director pranced up on stage and joyfully opened for the winner of the Youth New Works contest - a senior at Roosevelt who was more than a little nervous. As she read her work, I considered my own writing dream and the trials and failures that would come with it. Though the smear of jealousy painted my face for a second (ok, maybe a minute) it passed as I eased into her story and thought of how many great writers are coming into being.
The next thing I noticed: patterns. The winner of the New Works contest for adults, a bubbly woman with an acting frame of mind and stock-straight posture, was wearing a patterned dress that matched the jacquard (maybe?) print of the carpeting. The director at Hugo House was also wearing a patterned outfit - complete with stockings that looked more Urban Outfitters than Armani Exchange. I appreciated the color and life as each of the winners completed their stories (both about growing up, both wildly different in every way) and the Maldives were asked back to the stage to intro for the next amazing personality - Christa Bell.
I didn't know what I was getting into when I first came to the show. I really didn't. Maybe it's because, in the back of my mind, literary readings still connotate to coffee shops and dive bars where people snap instead of applaud and everyone is smoking. No! Christa Bell, a beautiful black feminist poet, taught us heartily about Sheism that night, taking her new scripture continuing on CoochieMagik and playing with the audience. She experimented with singing, vaginal hand gestures, and coochieomancy (the art of asking a question and then opening up a woman's legs to - surprise! - know the answer). I wish I could say I was that confidant on stage - but I honestly can't.
As she left the stage to applause and scattered standing ovations, in between wondering about what the older couple in front of me had thought (they hadn't responded at all throughout the entire thing) and trying to jot down mental notes about technique for my graduation speech, the Hugo House director announced that "she felt sorry for the guy who had to follow that!" And here, coming out on stage, was Vikram Chandra.
I had not seen him clean-shaven or with glasses before, nor had I envisioned him as a portly man. But he was all of these things, and he was still brilliant. I believe that some writers are also performers and others are less so - Vikram is of the latter category. But his prose sang, a draft worthy of my praise (and Da's hard-earned cash, as I bought another of his novels outside at intermission). I closed my eyes part of the way through to envision the glittering red trapeze artist falling to her death. That moment was when I felt my dream as a writer legitimized. It was inspirational.
Vikram segued into the intermission, retreated into the audience with a kind smile, and I began to jot down more notes. That was when I decided to work in Memoirian style - I didn't have to be literal all the time. Memoirs could be flashy and fun and whatever I wanted (plus, I much consider this style more like reality; we combine countless portions of fiction into our daily lives anyway). I briefly looked up from the page I was scribbling, which consisted of the conversation of two women behind me talking about language barriers and general oddballities, and there were The Maldives, gracing the stage with their gangly limbs. They introduced Cheap Wine and Poetry (which I might go to this week!) and then sashayed into playing two more songs before the final reader stepped out on stage: Jennifer Finney Boylan.
A transgendered man who became a woman, Jennifer from James, read a portion of memoir about her life in two worlds. She had apparently known Vikram Chandra at Johns Hopkins in grad school and read about him in her story (and made me smile at the strange synergy between my bringing a Hopkins bag with me from the shoe cage and their stories) as well as a porcupine in an engine and a convention of ventriloquists. She also played electric harp and the piano, sang a song that she hadn't ever performed for an audience, and generally lit up the stage with wonder. I was just so in awe of all the guests that night, I came home exclaiming that things were awesome and ready to start writing for miles and miles of paper.
Unfortunately, I fell asleep.

Ok, ok, I know... I was going to make this a monstro-post, but that didn't seem to work out once I got in the groove of Memoirian language. So, there. I have officially changed the name of this post to Part One and will hence commence with Part Two - Samedi [a.k.a. Saturday in French, in case you didn't realize that Vendredi meant Friday in French and that this was the logical next step of a Part Two post]. See you there!

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Tangential

10 True Statements:
I am challenging myself to stay calm.
I must be obsessing over extreme crops and fabric shots.
I watched The Daily Show interview with Jim Cramer - and got freaked out about our economy [again].
I would like to make a collage, but I can only slave away over knit squares.
I should never eat lunch right before practice; my sides started cramping so bad I had to walk the mile yesterday.
I am secretly [now not-so] grateful that the game was canceled (partly because of the time off and partly because I really want to play in our first match).
I am going to tolo with Quinn.
I told Da to make a vegetable soup today - and it actually tasted good!
I found out I like cabbage, which is weird.
I let my anger/frustration come back today, and, no matter what I tried to make it go away, it got the better of me.
The 11th True Statement:
I am really excited for tomorrow because it concludes the week, concludes my PPP, begins and concludes Group IV, and allows me to start my creative process again. Hoorah!

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And, if you like the photo, see what else I've been knitting!

Part of My Self

Not a typo, I swear.
I was just reading on GalaDarling again, and on the email updates from TUT's Adventurers Club, and I am confused. Confusion seems to be the opportune mot; I am feeling as if a continental shift must occur.
I... well. The first thing I need is to do my classic action: make a list. Then maybe I can sort out my personal confusions into easier managed bits.

List of My Self Presently:
1. I complain too much. So what if I have tons of work and there are people that annoy me, etc? It's not like I need to talk about it all the time. There are a lot of great things going on in my life as well that I should focus on more readily.
2. I am creative. Sometimes I feel as if everyone else is doing something more personally fulfilling than I am. Ka-chan has her art, there are writing classes I can't take, the boys are so much better at sports... but, seriously? I have the opportunity to sit down and write, to knit, to make collages and work on whatever I want. A varied amount of interests and a world to explore.
3. I am NOT OLD. When you're at the end of something, I think there's just this feeling of being 'old.' Coming out of high school, obviously, does not make you physically old. But there are just some telling signs that you've been around the block. I think that's part of why college seems exciting - it's a chance to be new again! But for right now, we are not old. I am not old. It is just a different circumstance than it will be in a few months.
4. I am not alone. I forget that a lot of the time because I focus on relationships in terms of intimacy. In that sense, I have no one. But there are always people to call [Heathy, Charlotte], people to hang out with [Grant, Kita], and people to make conversation with [my tennis team... haha]. So, in a way, I have become a closet optimist by remembering that there are other types of relationships out there that don't have anything to do with making out on someone's couch.
5. I am one person - and that person is not 'we.' Maybe it's from being part of a collective lately that I have treated individuality as somewhat... strange. Like it's all cool to be going to something alone or that I am just oh-so-odd to take some time for myself. No! That's the theater/tennis/class-of-2009 mentality that 'we' are all in this together. In a few months, we will no longer be together. It will be me (at college, granted, with friends, granted - but always me) that wields the power to make my own choices. And that's it.

So that's what's been confusing me lately. I believe a lot of it can change, which is nice. Change is difficult, but I've done it before and I hope to do it again - nothing gets accomplished without a little pushing.
Possible solutions that I constantly need reminding of: call friends, take a break, do something creative, knit, start a project, read, write journal entries, exercise... LIVE.

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Mother

Mother

Picture Dictionary is back! Mother was my word today - apparently the reason that it sounds so similar cross-culturally is because there are root words for it in many of the base languages (mat in Sanskrit and mater in Latin, etc.) according to Word Nerd. I had always wondered about that actually... not sure why.
Other than that, today was slow as all nonsense. School, tennis pictures, paying off items, convincing people to go to tolo... you know, regular stuff. Joshka is back to being a friend of mine [hoorah!] but other than that, no social development. I have got to start doing something creative again.
And, as I sat here in this very state of mind, I got the email.
ScriptFrenzy is in April and the NaNoWriMo people encourage everyone to do it! So I shall... 100 pages of scripted work in 30 days [whoo!] Hopefully this will recharge my creative juices and get me moving on something outside of school. Vikram and My Avatar this Friday will fuel my creative spice, tolo will fuel my energy, and then I can sprint off the blocks and venture into that new type of writing that I have worked with but never tried. Good luck, me!
Anyway, for now life is just a mess of tests and unattractive work opportunities. Thank goodness I have nothing to do today - a little rest period, you know?
Au revoir!

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It's Never Been Ok...

After the euphoria and experience of the show, coming back down to regular life seems dull and slow. Thrill-by-the-minute cannot, obviously, continue forever - but today just reminded me that there are so many days and weeks left in the school year. I definitely need to get moving again, but "moving" doesn't look quite the same anymore. I have a lack of time and a lack of motivation; when it was just one, then everything was ok.
My goal for tonight is to finish writing my pitch. My goal for tomorrow is to edit the pitch and commentary, then find supporting materials. Wednesday will be completely devoted to practicing. Thursday, I will take my customary pre-exam breather, and Friday will be the actual presentation. What am I talking about? PPP of course! That stands for Practical Performance Proposal in IB Theater [Theatre?] terms, and all of our exams are coming up quick. I've decided to deal with it in chunks: this week, PPP; weekend, journal/IPP; next week, TPPP... I wish there was a suspension of all other work for these IB assessments but, alas, no.
As I use WASL week to my advantage [at least, in terms of R&R], I find myself waiting on the next inspiring moment. Hopefully Vikram Chandra and the other guests at My Avatar on Friday will spark my imaginative forces to move forward again - being stuck sucks. [I hope to resume to Picture Dictionary soon enough - maybe that will help] Don't know what everyone else does.

At least my TUT motivational quote seems to get it:
Have you stopped to consider that it's life's "disconnects," "almosts," and "not quites," Jordan, that make life's "connections," "gotchas," and "eurekas" so fantastically romantic? Good, because they were your idea.

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Speak: In Pictures

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Speak: The Conclusion

Ahhh! I have such mixed emotions right now!
I am both happy and sad that the play had to end - it was an extremely stressful journey, but now that it's over, I know that I will miss it. It was just so much of an enjoyable experience, and everyone worked really hard. Despite our issues [quitting, lack of time for tech, etc], the audience really enjoyed the performance both nights and we worked really well as an ensemble.
Friday was intense. Never mind the performance, I had to run around doing errands and averting crises all day! I had gotten home late that night after going over the sound and light cues with Maayan and figuring out some last minute items [then, consequently, couldn't sleep very well because I was so full of nervous energy]. I walked into school, fixed my attendance record, and then ran into Ms. Bennett who came up last minute with a tree branch at the ready [hoorah!]. In the morning, I was sitting in each class, just waiting for the next moment, waiting for the time that we'd be released. There was a video played in 4th period about it and I got to announce in English class. In French, Madame came in and she then had to pick up a TV from our house [since she had left hers at home]. Everyone in the cast was nervous and excited and wearing signs that told when and where the performance would be. At lunch, we finished up the programs hurriedly [and didn't have to go to three pages, luckily!] and bought chalkboard paint and chalk... everything was just so tense!
I burst into Coach's tutorial and asked about my match, but there was no word [I felt kinda bad about pestering him - after all, he was giving me another shot] and so I headed off to get the theater people set up. They put up the risers, painted the wall, got into costume and makeup and readied themselves. Tech started up, my laptop was hooked up [hence why there were no posts for the last few days]. And then... I had to leave.
I went to tennis practice, nervous and freaked out, but I think that running four laps and doing some basics really helped eke out a little of my stress. As Koops said, "sometimes you just have to let your kid go to kindergarten." Coach didn't set me up on a match; instead, as I informed him that I needed to run out at 4:20pm, he said "Monday. You're in." and that was that. I was so ecstatic! I raced back and told everyone, received hugs and compliments and then jumped into the mix. We got everyone into makeup and costumes, then started rehearsal with two hours and counting. After a bit, I got my hair straightened by Sofia [who says Hugo's technique wasn't good, haha], changed into my nice dress and heels, and got some small makeup done by Anna. After one last Saints cheer, it was game on!
The first night was a raucous audience - they cheered after every scene and got the loudest laughs I have ever heard in the theater. Opening night was also hard on tech - I stayed up in the booth, stabbing myself [literally] with my nails at every little mishap. I probably wasn't supposed to do that but... ehehe... The audience gave the actors a real confidence boost, and when we all got out, everyone was really enthusiastic. I met up with Ka-chan and we drove around and talked about how much we had both changed over the years... we ate Skinny Cow ice cream near the flower section of QFC because there were no other shops open. Ah... it was so nice. I hadn't eaten anything that day since 12pm because I was so nervous, so I went home and wolfed down some salmon finally. Then I crashed. Period.
The next morning I woke with the same suspended energy - I rooted around the house and found paper and magazine clippings to make personalized cards (as well as gathering bears up to give to the cast). Da bought flowers for me to give to the teachers; I baked cookies and pumpkin bread... overall, it was a busy morning right up until 3:30pm. Then I went to get Abby and we were off!
After getting everyone into makeup and costume, we tried to rehearse a few of the transitions that didn't work out so well. We got them down in a much better way, but the advice from Goldstein was that we be faster, louder, and funnier. So cues were moved up, our cheer became our mantra ["What time is it? PLAY TIME!"] and we scuttled backstage for some last minute adjustments. Another nice dress, another announcement to the audience, but this time I went out amidst them and snapped shots for posterity. Saturday's show ran a lot smoother, but people were less rowdy; it was an encouraging audience, they just didn't stand up and clap after every scene [literally, all 35, the night before]. I didn't skip out across stage to steal some of the limelight this time - instead, Livvie asked Kevin [Keveen] to Tolo in a cute and improvised way. It was a great ending to a nice night. I gave out my cards and received two sets of roses [white and orange, oddly, which went with my outfit] and finally felt the wave of accomplishment and remorse flit over me.
And then: the cleanup.
Half the stuff was mine, so we had to pack everything into my car [we were so heavy that I took a speed bump at 5mph and still felt it kick]. Nicole and I dropped off the major stuff at my house and then raced on over to Red Robin, where our cast party was held. We ate until the food looked disgusting, and then tried to go bowling [but our plans were foiled by angry yelling parents]. I went home, went to bed, and woke this morning at 8am with my mixed emotions all roiled into a ball.
I somehow wish that we had had more performances, but at the same time I know that it had to end. I just feel... so torn. So, to alleviate my strange feelings, the following post an homage to Speak in pictures (as well as a very long post).

Gorgeous

Sometimes I love the nervous energy. It fills me up with the ability to succeed, but it can also take it away in a snap. I'm not going to post any pictures until after the show because all of my creative energy seems to be unintentionally drawn to it. Instead, I am going to write a Letter to Self and hope that satisfies. Enjoy!

Dear J,
Oh, I know we've been through this all before, but I believe that there is merit in repetition. Let your soul breathe for a second. Take a deep breath deep into your chest and make everything blossom again. Let all the little words that you've said to yourself that keep you going rise up, and the negative ones, the ones that say you can't do it, sink to the bottom and disappear.
I am here with a mission. Not just to work, but to play hard and feel beautiful. To know, to understand, to create. I am here with a purpose that we can see clearly. I will finish this.
Living in the future, living for the future, perhaps it is not the greatest of ideals. I cannot deny that you are working well in the moment, rolling with the punches, but if you invested yourself even more deeply into this moment, what do you think would happen? Perhaps you would explode with all the pent up energy. Or perhaps you would learn to soar.
Either way, it's fine with me. These days and ways will pass as soon as we are capable. Let the air drag you in and out, let the breath draw you. And in the poetry of our subtext, the stuff under all the daily happenings, maybe there we will find the softness and the passion that people always seem to seek.
You are gorgeous and wonderful and sweet. You are going to do great things, save yourself, laugh with humiliation, embrace, pretend that you're embarrassed, and fail with grace. It will take a long time for you to accept that you're not just a bunch of negative space; and it will take an even longer time for you to touch that inner beauty. But we're taking baby steps right now, the little feet shuffling movements that get you into that beautiful future - with best friends on your side.

Take me away with you, when you are ready to fly,
J

Here It Goes

I haven't been able to write in a few days or so, and I think it's really throwing me off. I guess I am going to just write a completely rough draft in less than 20 minutes.
So, here it goes:

The Crash Course
RING!! Here the parting shots,
Of your distant dissonance, barely waking you up from the sleep of the grave;
Is that my alarm clock singing or am I floating haphazardly down the hall?
Trippin' over freshmen like freshmeat or worse - nothing at all.
We've seen it all before, or so we think,
That theater has our fingerprints all over the walls,
Those door handles, these hallways, those elevators,
Yeah, we've seen it all before.
We trudge into your classroom like the end of days - blessed,
When the final bell herds us onto old pavement.
Yeah, we've seen it all before.

Skip the lip service, we've been through this all before;
The aftermath, it rings, like the sound of your cell phone going off at just the wrong time,
In your skull like a sadist trying to burn you alive.
But we stay here, we breathe,
We ask ourselves questions that make little sense,
And I'm not talkin' 'bout the "Ohdoeshelikeme? Wherewillwegoout? Willwebe2gether4ever?" kind of crap that leaks out of your brain on a Wednesday afternoon.
I'm talking about the "Where do we go when we die?" kind of stuff,
The subjects in English class that actually make you think - contrary to whatever you thought was real.
"Where are we going? What's wrong with society? Why are my parents doing this?"
Or maybe, most important, "Am I going to graduate?"

I will finish this later. Now it's time to go to tennis!

More poetry is also available for your perusal.

Writeen

I remember Heathy and I trying to make a website one time... before www.thecowation.com became my personal project and after the JDishia site became a total failure [not entirely because my computer crashed and I lost all its data]. We were avid writers back then, and we tried to create a website for "teens" (though we were pre-teens at the time - aspirational children!) that was about writing and life.
It was a total failure.
It wasn't a terrible plan, it was just like... we didn't know what we were doing. And we didn't know why we were doing it. And so now, when I think about it, I think about what sorts of plans I've had that may have flopped in the past and why. Just in general. Why didn't I ever successfully stow away in the back of Heathy's truck? Why did our relationship peter out after the first NYC trip with Molly? Why couldn't Chels and I actually take over the world?
Some of these things, I realize, were totally unfeasible from the start. But others are more... simple. Understandable. Doable even today, I believe.
So maybe it's time to look back on the past and see whether what I've done and not been able to do has always been contingent with my belief system or my determination or if it was just plain lazy impracticality.
These days, I know that I doggedly pursue things (for the better, I believe) but sometimes that gets overwhelming too. After Speak, I think, I'm going to take a vacation from people and things and realities that I don't like. Take a little island adventure back to JDishia and figure out whether my main character in WWIII is actually a function of Chels and I plotting to take over the world in 4th grade. Who knows? My writer side might even try to resurrect that failed idea of making writing interesting for teens and start something completely new with it.
It's all a matter of time.

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The Lack of Time

My predictive text tells me that I won't have time to post tonight - considering that I get home at 7:30pm and totally woke up late [because my dad asked me to, oddly] this morning. So, here is a snapshot of our papier-mache turkey in all it's half-painted glory.
We're going to have the greatest final week ever!

Want to see the dramatic conclusion? Check out my production of Speak in pictures and its write-up.
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Another Tiring Day

Daylight Savings Time hit us by surprise - we woke up in the morning feeling strange and then OPH! We're late to a meeting. Fortunately, we had woken up an hour earlier than we thought we should [lucky timing, right?] and then hopped into the car with tea in hand.
When I returned, I lazed about [probably not the best idea] until people showed up at 1pm. Compared to yesterday, it was a more mellow and less productive day - but we did get to rehearse scenes! We worked on the papier-mache turkey (which is now finished), making flyers in Illustrator CS4 (which Joshka didn't know how to use...), running the Gossip Girl and Freeman scenes, and watching Master of Disguise (which has to be one of my favorite movies - go fig!).
When all was said and done, we had hosted Madame at our house with her kids, heard the sad story of a wounded coyote in Sofia's backyard [it had to be shot...], and I got to hang out with Marisa for a bit. All in all, it was a good day...
...except for the hyperventilation thing. Both yesterday and today, I got it, and I think it lowered my immune system so now I have a small cold to go with it. It's kind of sad, actually. Yesterday, I got to see Ka-chan and have her paint some of our poster space, watched it snow and ruin the world at night and - oh! I totally forgot to talk about the play!
So, last night, I went to a musical featuring Elena at Overlake [called Once On This Island] and it was amazing. It was about Haiti and a folk legend type of idea, which was really cool and bittersweet - even so, it seemed like a fairly jaunty tale because of the music. It was basically about an orphan girl who grows up and feels ready to be out into the world, then girl-loves-guy (because of the gods who played around with her - fighting Death and Love in her heart) who has crashed his car (since part of Haiti was French and the other native), and then her struggle to get back to him. Though she becomes his mistress, he leaves her for the society girl - and she dies waiting for him. However, the gods are merciful in her treatment after death, so though it is sad, it seemed happy as well.
Afterward, there was a big deal of thanking people and saying goodbye to the seniors, which I thought was pretty cool. I know that there's no way to compare our show to that, but it was just a nice example of great high school theater.
Anyway, after all of the happenings of this weekend, I am really struggling to get some work done. But it's just one step at a time, right? One step at a time...
I really hope that snow doesn't cancel school tomorrow.

Want to see the dramatic conclusion? Check out my production of Speak in pictures and its write-up.
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In Case You Were Wondering...

Why didn't I post yesterday? The picture should explain it all.

Want to see the dramatic conclusion? Check out my production of Speak in pictures and its write-up.
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Speak

The play has officially taken over my life.
Not that I didn't know that was going to happen, but it still comes as an amazing commitment and the excitement and stress go hand in hand. I am pumped to work but have also been shot down this week - regardless, it lends fire to my energy.
On a somewhat strange tangent, I kind of feel like yoga has given me that ability. Defusing the stress and putting it into potential. I need to harness that earlier because, in the moment, I get extremely angry or pent up [and eat emotionally - never put granola bars in front of me!] but then later I make a resolve that will actually lend itself to a betterment. I believe that is the most important part. Anyway...
For the concrete happenings of this week, which seems as if it has been a really long time but has truly been brief, I will give a brief daily overview (brief, haha...)

Monday - First day of tennis: the running made me sore, but it also made me feel really good. I was really exercising - after months and months of low to none. The courts were wet and mucky for some inexplicable reason [Washington... mud... uck.] and so we went inside to do more conditioning (I tripped during grapevines - I guess I am just that coordinated). Overall, however, it was really refreshing to be back on. I love sports, I love exercising, and I have missed it dearly. Sadly, we learned that we have to cut 10-13 girls this year. It makes everyone on JV quake in their boots... I know I'm worried. But it gives me the right to be ruthless during matches! GO J!

Tuesday - Abby and I asked Coach if we could just stay for an hour of tennis on Tuesday because of play practice, but when I had gone that amount of time, I felt that they really needed me there, so I ran up to Perlman and asked him if I could go to that. Thankfully, he was understanding, and I ran back to the theater in a panic. I took over while tech continued to adjust lights and be... techy. We worked through some scenes and then drilled O'Byrne through his 10 Lies [Best. Scene. Ever.]

Wednesday - Every moment of the day and every class, from when I wake up in the morning to when I go to bed at night, I am thinking about Speak. No lie. We were offered to stay in Ms. Bennett's room but were stopped halfway through by the administration and rules. It felt like just one more thing to me and so I got extremely emotional [and unprofessional, eck]. Fortunately, my cast members forgave me for this outburst and Catskill even tried to talk to the office. I believe that the best thing that came out of the entire thing was the fervor it gave people to work collectively and the conviction to work harder and beat out the odds. I knew it galvanized me to work as hard as I can to make this the best production it can be.

Thursday - I know that it sounds horrible, but I prayed for rain. I hoped, prayed, and wished all the night and that morning. And, I believe, my prayers were answered. It started snowing during 3rd period, cementing in stone the fact that the courts would be unuseable that day. The girls tell me that they ran inside for an hour and then were dismissed, so I drew in a deep breath about dodging out to go to practice. We had an all-cast rehearsal from 3-7pm, half in the theater, half in Ms. Pendlebury's room. Melinda (Nicky), unfortunately, had an unexpected sickness and was escorted off campus by the nurse. But we persevered. We went through the entire play [minus the scenes that were unable to be done because of lack of actors] and ate pizza provided by Catskill [thanks!]. I got some great notes down and I believe that we are a little more prepared to get this right. As well, we got parts of our lights done and a Facebook group created to attract viewers. There were some issues with tech, but they were fortunately resolved later in the evening.

Friday - By this point, I have stayed up by an hour extra each night. I was quite tired and not focusing, but I went to tennis and won a match! I was so happy because my greatest frustration on Wednesday practice [where I went after our rehearsal fiasco] was losing on a tie-breaker (6-7, 7-10... gah). I really hope that all the previous people make the team, however, so I felt a twinge of guilt for beating the girl. But, I guess, it's dog eat dog in some ways. I came back to rehearsal and we hotseated Nicole and Ivy. It was intense and absolutely entertaining. I love hotseats, personally.

And that brings us to the now, with exactly one more week to go. We are working tomorrow and Sunday, then drilling it in every day thereafter. I believe in us. We will succeed.
And that is the bottom line.


Want to see the dramatic conclusion? Check out my production of Speak in pictures and its write-up.
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Super Bright Day

This outfit is what I would be wearing if I didn't have a skinned knee/the skirt was locked away in the costume room for the play. I love wearing bright clothing, but since I wore that last week, I am going to wear my electric blue dress and wait on a glow stick.
I didn't think that my panicking and etc. could get worse, but yesterday... it did. Partially my fault, but that will be detailed later. Today we have a stronger cast and a new resolve to work for long hours on the rehearsal. We will not be silenced!

I am suspending the Picture Dictionary until I can get some time to myself - right now, I am feeling just so crappy and out for blood that I think most of the images would be terrifying anyway.

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Fico

Fico

Fico: to flick someone off.

Today is another one of those save-your-bases days; I had a REALLY hectic Tuesday yesterday and am going to try and eliminate some of the easier tasks [because of commitment issues, I can't just give them up, haha].
There will be a detailed report at the end of this week, because I am running out of time and patience at the moment. However, God-willing, we will all shine next week and glow until the embers burn out. Or, at least, we will trail into the darkness quietly.
Have a great Wednesday!

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Leaves

Leaves

So, yesterday Joshka drew a random word for me that I feverishly wrote down as my Picture Dictionary word for that day - and here is the realization!
I am somewhat saving myself from having to post in the evening because I want to work today [isn't that strange?] so I'm hopefully going to get a lot of my theater homework done in the space of time between 5pm and 9pm.
Today is Superstar day and I completely and totally don't know what to do for it. I am often pop culture deficient, if you must know, and so therefore it's somewhat difficult for me to figure out a person to emulate. Oh well, I'll just dress nice and hopefully it'll pass.

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Spirit Week '09

Taking a break from the Photographic Dictionary [considering that I was rushing around all day at a mile a minute], I present you with... THE BLACK CAT, a fictional superhero that I created from cat-pertaining items that I found in my closet. Today was Superhero Day for Spirit Week, so I decided that I wasn't Catwoman-y enough to be her and went with a cuter version. Hope it's enjoyable.
Other than that, tennis killed my legs, but I am happy to say that it makes me feel great. I know that I wasn't ready conditioning-wise, but working out just makes me happy. As much as I hated it in the moment, I loved it when I was out. Then I went to yoga and Aurora was back and she presented us with another one of her great insights about how we accept an imbalanced world because everyone has some sort of imbalance - there are a lot of ways that I would change that I hope to embark on (maybe now, maybe in college) and she just seemed to encourage that sort of work.
Anyway, those were the positives and major highlights of my day [the negatives are pertaining to my quick temper, Speak vs. administration, and the fact that I worry a crazy amount when any deadline begins to approach - eek!] I will probably bring back my dictionary tomorrow, but for now, enjoy my whiskered face!

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