slavetothestage: (Default)
Thinking about starting to update again. Already made a nice, big entry, but it (along with most of them if I keep going, I think) is friend-locked. So, if you want to see, be my friend and sign in. ;)
slavetothestage: (ravenclaw)
So I've been thinking.

I got to go with my mom up to Conneticut last weekend and visit my grandma and my Aunt Terri, whose husband (my mom's older brothers) died about a month ago. A little surprisingly, I had a fabulous time. My mom's family's always a lot of fun, in ways that my dad's family is not. They're just a bit more...relaxed, y'know. Crazy. Like me.

Anywho, the thing that got me thinking is...growing up with family. You know how you're a little kid, and you have your extended family that you see however many times a year, and everything's just cool with that. There's no history to the family in your mind, except maybe a family tree. Certainly nothing dramatic.

And then you get older, and you start getting...whiffs of things. Stuff that's happened, stuff that's going on, the kinds of things your older relatives don't talk about in front of you quite yet. And you're old enough to know you're missing something, but you're also old enough to know not to ask.

Then, eventually, you start adult. And more and more things get mentioned and discussed in front of you. And part of it is just learning about your family, about what came before you, the good things and the bad. But a big part of it is the confirmation that you ARE an adult. By talking about these things in front of you, things that can range from a little embarrassing to downright ugly or criminal, your relatives are including you into the adult community of the family. Sure, you probably haven't sat at the kids' table since you were in elementary school, but you haven't QUITE been a member of the adults' committee.

The funny thing is, you still end up in the dark about a lot of things. Your older relatives don't usually have a notebook in a drawer full of the all the family secrets you get to learn as you come of age. You figure it out as you hear about it and ask the members you're most comfortable with to explain in full.

It's interesting feeling that's been on my mind lately. I was talking to my mom about it and she said she knew exactly what I was talking about, and that there were still things she didn't know, not because people were hiding it from her, but just because no one had thought to specifically tell her about it. It's a little difficult, too. It's hard knowing the bad stuff about your family, but there's something necessary about it. There's something about embracing your family, warts and all, because they're somewhere inexorably connected to you. I could probably make a cross-country trip stopping at McKenna households without spending a night at a hotel, just because that's the kind of family it is. And they could be relatives that I've never even met. Family's a funny thing.
slavetothestage: (ravenclaw)
So I haven't updated in a while. It's 1 in the morning and I don't know why I'm really updating now.

All in all, this has been a crappy summer so far. Probably the biggest reason is the fact that I have yet to find a job. And I'm not talking the money aspect even, although, really, I'm practically broke. I just feel so entirely pathetic and useless sitting around the house. I haven't been able to go anywhere because I'm in and out of job interviews pretty much every week. Plus, I quite frankly don't have the money to go anywhere (except someplace I wouldn't have any expenses). Thankfully having job interviews on a fairly regular basis has kept my parents out of my hair about work. My dad's just not happy with life and my mom's having more and more problems with these freak migraines which came back after her brother died and she had to really take care of his widow for a couple of weeks. Why am I whining? My mom has had a much worse time of it.

But I'm just so sensitive about it all. I feel on the edge of crying so much of the time and it's pissing me off. I just want to be out of the house, working, feeling productive, until I can finally go back to school (where I have TWO jobs waiting for me). Plus I'm pretty isolated out here in Jersey, something that's partly my own fault. If I put a little more energy into it, I could have seen several people by this point in the summer. At the same time, I'm really nervous about spending money, because, again, I don't have it.

The thing with the job situation... I started the summer interviewing for some really awesome internship positions. And got rejected, obviously. By the time it became apparent I needed to lower my sights, it was already halfway through June. Now it's July, and I just keep thinking, "Who's going to hire someone for two months?" It's making me horribly claustrophobic. I'm on Craigslist every day. It's just...frustrating. I'm an intelligent human being. This shouldn't be that difficult.

I don't like the person I am right now.
slavetothestage: (procrastinators unite)
So the other day my good friend Martin picked up an issue of Rolling Stone from last year. He flipped through the pages until he came to an article on Syd Barrett, the infamous recluse and founder of Pink Floyd, and handed it to me. The first thing that struck me was the picture, centered on the page, of a young man with sunken, haunted eyes. He was attractive, somehow beautiful, with disheveled black hair and the look of someone needing saving. I looked around online and found the picture here, although the quality isn't as good as in the magazine.

I wasn't familiar with Syd Barrett. I knew who he was, but my recent introduction to Pink Floyd hadn't reached their earliest albums. But this article managed to make me fall for this hurting, disturbed man who, in 1971, would tell Rolling Stone that he had "a very irregular head." His heavy involvement with drugs, particularly LSD, obviously was a huge component of his decline, but, in a way, it was also a symptom of a mind already failing. He was removed from the band when his behavior become unmanageable and he eventually turned into a recluse. It seems impossible to manage in the high-profile rock and roll community, but the last time his own band-mates saw him was in the 70's. And the man lived until 2006.

So tonight I put on The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, Pink Floyd's debut album and their only album in which Barrett wrote most of the songs (all but one, in fact, which was written by Roger Waters, who would take over as the main songwriter in the group after Barrett's departure, plus two instrumentals that were collaborative efforts by all the bandmembers). It's strange to put it on after being introduced to Pink Floyd via The Wall and Dark Side of the Moon, because the sound is entirely different. The truth is that it is entirely Syd Barrett. The lyrics are strange, slightly schizophrenic, and have the fluid, illogical flow of a person rambling from thought to thought without the benefit of transitions. Yet the songs are fascinating and somehow captivating, as if to say, "This man was pretty brilliant, but he doesn't have it in him to do this for very long. Listen while you can." It's a man before a breakdown: Barrett only contributed one song to Pink Floyd's next album, and it reads like a farewell: "It's awfully considerate of you to think of me here / And I'm most obliged to you for making it clear that I'm not here."

Trouble rock and roll stars certainly aren't uncommon. In fact, rockers who DON'T mess with drugs, sex, and alcohol seem to be out of the norm. I think that the case of Syd Barrett is the most strange because, really, it seems like he should have died years ago. His family has been very private about his problems, both physical and psychological, and that's probably for the best. It's known that he died from complications with diabetes, but whatever caused that haunted look in his eyes is something deeply, intensely personal. It's not fair for the public to expect anyone to open that up and share it with the world. Let it simply be known that he was a man clearly troubled his own life but whatever personal demons he was unfortunate enough to have. I can only hope that he found some peace and happiness in his life of quiet seclusion.
slavetothestage: (Default)
WTF. You're a total mess about someone and then they show up in Rochester. I'm confused and ecstatic all at once.
slavetothestage: (Default)
Wow, I just wrote the longest, most personal LJ entry I ever have. It's locked to a select people, but if those of you who read this but aren't actually on LJ want to know what's going on in my life, feel free to IM me...
slavetothestage: (ravenclaw)

How well do you know me? )
slavetothestage: (procrastinators unite)
Just saw The Prestige with the fabulous Emily Pye. Now, Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale are competing the entire time to be the world's most fabulous magician or something. But we've decided that the real Scarlett Johanssen. Dude. She has sex with both of them. And she survives by the end. Total winner.
slavetothestage: (procrastinators unite)
So I want to be an actress.

This might not be a surprise to some people. I mean...I never came out and said I wanted to actually do theatre as a career before. I did a ton of it in high school and everything, but I found myself a little bored by the rehearsal process, so I figured it wasn't for me. However, doing REAL rehearsing and getting down really deep with characters and everything has just lit this fire in me. This is what I want to do. I want to be able to do this emotional mining and stretching of my mind, body, and soul forever. I want to be on stage with an audience feeding off my energy and giving it back. I want a life of being able to love who I am but also be able to love the characters I play.

I love Virginia. She's a total bitch, and the entire cast reminds me of this every time I come off stage, but I absolutely love her as, I think, only someone who plays her could. Because I have to dig deep and find out WHY she's such a bitch. And I know. I understand why she lashes out, why she has these huge walls around her heart, and I hurt for her when the one person she let herself open up to, even if it wasn't completely, throws it in her face. Maybe, given time, she could have really given herself to him. It would have taken quite a while. Virginia is someone who has been hurt all her life. Her dad's an alcoholic, her mom wasn't strong enough to keep him from beating her and her daughter, her sister remained the favorite enough to avoid a childhood of abuse, she made the mistake of trapping herself in an awful, abusive marriage... If you really think about it, it makes sense that she is the way she is. She's a survivor. She's smart and beautiful, and she should have been able to make a real life for herself. And she'll always survive, but it's never going to get considerably better than what she has now.

Not to say that she doesn't have flaws. She married Costa, for one. Nobody forced her to. But she has an obsession with money born from a bitterness about not having it growing up. But it's so hard for me to blame her. She's had an awful life. And Natalie even makes the observation in the play when Butch complains about her bitchiness: "Who could blame her? Chain anybody to a husband like hers..." But she knows how to use what she has. She has smarts, and she has looks. It's how she's gotten this far in her life. It may not seem like much to be in a blood-sucking marriage, but she has $3,000 saved up of what has to be her personal savings. She has money, and some sort of material stability. That's already something she didn't grow up with. She just picked the wrong financially stable immigrant to settle for. Love is so valueless to her that it probably never crossed her mind to wait for it. After all, when you don't have an example of a good relationship growing up, especially if you have an example of such an awful, abusive relationship instead, it's harder to know how to make a good relationship for yourself.

I don't really know why I'm rambling with this. I'm odd. I'm also ASMing for Eurydice, which makes me crazy.
slavetothestage: (ravenclaw)
Well, I haven't made a post in a while, so...I thought I would make a post. Cause I'm brilliant like that.

I'm back at school, thank God. I'm finding it really hard to get back in the habit of classwork, though. I like...three out of four of my classes. My professor for Psychology of Gender is just incredibly obnoxious.

The big news is that I got cast in a really awesome role in the first Todd play, The Lower Depths. I'm really in love with this character. It's funny to say that, because she's a total bitch most of the time, but I really feel like I know her and understand why she is the way she is. I mean, that's incredibly basic and necessary for an actor, but I found this connection really quickly. Probably because, on Sunday, I spent about an hour and a half on three pages of text that was a very emotional, vulnerable scene with my lover who basically breaks up with me. No matter how tough and hard you may be on the outside, it will always hurt when you're in love with someone who leaves you. You can't ever protect yourself against that. I just really love Virginia. She's this hard, broken, damaged woman, but she was born with nothing. She married this landlord for security, he's an awful, controlling bastard, and she finds love that leaves her. She's a survivor. And it just makes my heart ache for her a little.
slavetothestage: (Default)
So I was on my way home from work today, listening to Diana Krall's CD When I Look In Your Eyes. She's such an amazing singer and my dad has all her CDs, so I've been trying to make sure I've heard all of her work. The last track, "Why Should I Care," comes on. I listen. It ends. I repeat the song. I repeat the song for the last twenty minutes of my car ride home. That's at least four times.

It's a soft, simple song about being left while you're still in love. It's not like I've ever even had that kind of experience to relate to. The song simply grabbed hold of something inside me.

I was so fascinated by it that I wanted to look up who wrote it. The style, and the fact that Diana Krall is known for covering old jazz standards, lead me to believe that it was probably from the fifties or so. I looked it up. No, it's not from the sixties. It's from the late nineties.

And Clint Eastwood wrote it.

This has just blown my mind. I don't know what to think about this. All I know is that I'm in love with this song.

Was there something more I could have done?
Or was I not meant to be the one?
Where's the life I thought we would share?
And should I care?

And will someone else get more of you?
Will she go to sleep more sure of you?
Will she wake up knowing you're still there?
And why should I care?

There's always one to turn and walk away
And one who just wants to stay
But who said that love is always fair?
And why should I care?

Should I leave you alone here in the dark?
Holding my broken heart
While a promise still hangs in the air
Why should I care?
slavetothestage: (gob hot cop)
So once upon a time I went to this place called high school. And at this high school, there was this boy who played about five million instruments. If there was an instrument he didn't play, you could leave him alone in a room with it and he'd come out an hour later and wipe the floor with whoever was supposedly the current master in the world. And this boy would write songs that were fucking awesome. There was one song in particular that I saw what I believe was the concert debut of at Coffeehouse '04. This song became legendary. Girls he didn't know would come up to him at speech meets and go, "OHMYGOD YOU'RE HIM PLAY THAT SONG!" I am not even kidding. And I always wanted a recording of this song, because...dude, it was just awesome. Well, finally, I follow a link on this boy's AIM profile to find that he HAS recorded this song and made a brand new Myspace profile for his solo music, following the ending of his band.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the most musically talented kid to come out of Westmont, who should by all rights become an international recording star, Jeff Hownek, and that legendary song, "Louisiana." Dude, seriously. It's fucking awesome.
slavetothestage: (dilandau fucked your mom dude)
Yes, Liz and I actually had a conversation about the psychiological implications of having sex with a woman who turned into a man during intercourse. Yes, I love Liz and am going to have hundreds of her babies.

theater daydream: We should do crazy Dilandau Escaflowne RP
GazellaOryx: I have all the episodes, if you have a connection that doesn't blow.
GazellaOryx: And yes, we should :o
theater daydream: You could be Dilandau. And we could do...something.
GazellaOryx: Who would you be?
theater daydream: I could be Van. Or anybody.
GazellaOryx: Having drinks XD
theater daydream: OMG LIZ U R SO OOC WTF
theater daydream: I <3 U
GazellaOryx: I could have said "having buttsex".
theater daydream: That's a whole can of gender issue worms. XD
GazellaOryx: AHAHHAA.
GazellaOryx: "Ohhh god Celena, yes! You're so... OMFG DILANDAU?! *pulls it out, pulls it out!*"
theater daydream: *ROFLCOPTER*
GazellaOryx: That's a surprise I wouldn't ever want.
theater daydream: But...if you're having sex with a woman...and she suddenly turns into a man...where is your penis? I mean, wouldn't that do some damage?'s not like guys have a whole in the front.
theater daydream: Unless you're just having buttsex with a woman.
theater daydream: But if you're NOT.
theater daydream: I mean, these are important questions!
GazellaOryx: Maybe he was just having buttse-- yeah.
theater daydream: But what if he WASN'T?!
theater daydream: Dude.
theater daydream: His penis would be gone or something.
GazellaOryx: It would be absorbed.
theater daydream: OUCHIES.
slavetothestage: (dilandau fucked your mom dude)
Okay, my boyfriend told me to update my Livejournal. And I wanted to show off the icon I just stole from Liz, which won't be funny unless you've seen Escaflowne and have known the GLORY that is Dilandau. So, really, of my LJ friends...Liz and Erin. And Liz made the damn icon. But maybe if Erin suddenly logs back on to LJ and looks at her friends page and sees the icon...she will be amused.

I just keep looking at it and laughing. OMG. I want to marry Dilandau. Except really not, because he would beat me and kill me or something. And then have gender issues. But OMG, what a character.

I'm going to call Erin just so she'll look at my icon.
slavetothestage: (procrastinators unite)
Okay, so most people will know that my dad's in the employ of the Catholic Archdiocese of Newark as he works to become a Catholic priest. I'm totally supportive of this. I'm not Catholic, but I have no problems with the Catholic Church.

However, today my mom came home with a refill of my birth control prescription that set her back over sixty dollars. Why? Because my parents' new health insurance is through the Archdiocese, and it WON'T COVER BIRTH CONTROL. Is this or is this not OMG retarded? At least I'll only be here for three months before I can go back to getting it at a discounted rate at school. But...seriously. I wonder what my parents actually think about birth control now that they're in the Catholic camp. At least they didn't have to make a practical decision about it, as they're far done with kids.

God, I'm not even having sex. It regulates my period and gets rid of my cramps.
slavetothestage: (Default)
What is your perspective of me? Using this candybar doll maker, make a doll of me from what you remember of my looks or your imagination and post it here in the comments. Once you've posted here, ask the same in your own journal and see what your friends think you look like!
slavetothestage: (procrastinators unite)

I love that, not only is this pig fluorescent green, but he looks so much happier than the other pigs. Is being green really that great? I mean, shit, I'd be green if it made me that freaking joyous.
slavetothestage: (Default)
There are some of us in the world who feel the need to fix things. People who, because we have experienced harmony, wish to endow it to all those we know and love. People who listen to others complaining about their parents and suggest ways to talk to them. People who play the middleman and try to work out problems between friends who aren't talking to each other.

I can't stand not being able to fix things. I hate being in my usual position between two people, but without the power to make it work. I can't agree with either, but I love them both. I hate not knowing what to do, but I hate really knowing there's nothing I CAN do even worse.


slavetothestage: (Default)

December 2009

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