The only good answer to what I am feeling is to face it head-on and deal with it, and hope that it hurts less with each time I'm confronted with it.
I could run away - bury my head in the sand. That would be easier but I've never been the sort to run away from things. And it wouldn't work anyway; I'd not only still be troubled by it, but I'd have lost something important to me in the process.
I am quite ready to not feel this way anymore, though, and I can't seem to shake it off like I normally do. Eventually I simply tire of the aches and pains and summarily reject them. However, this time they've settled in comfortably, like an elephant sitting on my chest, patient, immobile, and mildly suffocating.
In other news. I went to the Jersey shore the other day and got sunburned. I went to the street fair in Park Slope yesterday and got more sunburned. Between the two events I ate my weight in hot dogs and ice cream, which is only appropriate.
I want the clouds to clear out so I can go on a walk in the sun (while wearing sunscreen and a very large hat).
Monday, June 20, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
A life lived in fear is a life half-lived.
Oh, the heat today! You know, I remember shivering while walking to the train during the bitterly cold winter months, feeling the tips of my fingers freeze off, and dreaming of the hot summer months. Of not having to bundle up in a million layers to go outside, or wear big clonky waterproofed boots - of flowy sundresses and espadrilles and drinking iced tea under a tree in the park.
Of course, now, the flowy sundresses stick to me as I sweat my ass off walking to the train, I don't actually own espadrilles, and my iced tea is warm by the time I get to Prospect Park. Although I much prefer the heat to the cold, 100 degrees is really pushing the limits of what I can tolerate.
At least now it's storming, and things have cooled off, if temporarily.
Today was, as I described it to my mother on the phone, a lonely day. Going outside - at least until late afternoon - was entirely out of the question, so I wandered around the apartment, completely at a loss as to what to do with myself. I cleaned a little, organized a little, and watched a lot of TV (I've totally overdosed on Doctor Who) until I simply could not stand it anymore. I packed up a book, my tea, and some sunglasses and braved the thick and oppressive miasma that was today's weather so I could go sit in the park.
And really, once I got to the park and sat down on a bench in the shade, it was all right. Nevermind that there were butterflies everywhere, and they were attacking me (by which I mean, alighting on my brightly patterned dress, flying away, coming back, and doing the same thing). I felt like an accidental Snow White.
At least tomorrow and Saturday I have plans. Feeling isolated always gets me down like this. I do so hate being lonely.
Of course, now, the flowy sundresses stick to me as I sweat my ass off walking to the train, I don't actually own espadrilles, and my iced tea is warm by the time I get to Prospect Park. Although I much prefer the heat to the cold, 100 degrees is really pushing the limits of what I can tolerate.
At least now it's storming, and things have cooled off, if temporarily.
Today was, as I described it to my mother on the phone, a lonely day. Going outside - at least until late afternoon - was entirely out of the question, so I wandered around the apartment, completely at a loss as to what to do with myself. I cleaned a little, organized a little, and watched a lot of TV (I've totally overdosed on Doctor Who) until I simply could not stand it anymore. I packed up a book, my tea, and some sunglasses and braved the thick and oppressive miasma that was today's weather so I could go sit in the park.
And really, once I got to the park and sat down on a bench in the shade, it was all right. Nevermind that there were butterflies everywhere, and they were attacking me (by which I mean, alighting on my brightly patterned dress, flying away, coming back, and doing the same thing). I felt like an accidental Snow White.
At least tomorrow and Saturday I have plans. Feeling isolated always gets me down like this. I do so hate being lonely.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Can't even deal with coherent thoughts today.
8:00am: wake up. Thermostat reads 86 degrees. This is inauspicious.
10:00am: Why did I think hot oatmeal was a good thing to eat?
2:30pm: go to market. It's closed! Everything on my block is. For a minute I think it's because it's actually too hot for anyone to go shopping. (It's actually a Jewish holiday, so all the shops are closed.)
4:00pm: have returned from shopping, where I sat in front of an open freezer case pretending to find peas. All my frozen stuff has thawed in the ten minutes it's spent outside.
5:45pm: decide it's too hot to do anything important. Watch Doctor Who and drink iced tea.
I really like Matt Smith's hair.
10:00am: Why did I think hot oatmeal was a good thing to eat?
2:30pm: go to market. It's closed! Everything on my block is. For a minute I think it's because it's actually too hot for anyone to go shopping. (It's actually a Jewish holiday, so all the shops are closed.)
4:00pm: have returned from shopping, where I sat in front of an open freezer case pretending to find peas. All my frozen stuff has thawed in the ten minutes it's spent outside.
5:45pm: decide it's too hot to do anything important. Watch Doctor Who and drink iced tea.
I really like Matt Smith's hair.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
I made the wall of shadow draw back, beyond desire and act, I walked on.
^^Why, oh why, did I decide yesterday to re-read Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair? Neruda, guys. He knows angst. I was intermittently crying and laughing - laughing because I was reading my original copy from 11th grade, the one that's marked up and highlighted beyond comprehension, and there are all these hilarious notes written in the corners. (The one that most frequently showed up: "NOT ABOUT SEX.")
Last night Anika and I went down into the Meatpacking District (or, as we call it, the Nexus of Evil) since neither of us has partied in weeks and we both felt like we've lost our mojo. We started at the Standard, which is just the douchiest place since douchey came to Douchetown. Seriously. The guys are never really all that interesting or cute - but they, of course, think they are - and the girls are all bitchy. (Anika and I both separately noticed a table of girls glaring at us angrily every time we wandered in their direction.) Very bridge-and-tunnel, that crowd. We bounced around to a few places, eventually ending up at Cielo where I met two cute neurosurgeons from Colorado. (Or so they said. Who knows.) Unfortunately I couldn't party all night; I found out at 10pm that I had work at 8am.
So after about two hours or so of sleep, I dragged myself out of bed today and spent 10 hours doing the weirdest smattering of work notes - changing gel scrolls, moving some lights around on the balc rail (oh, my stomach hurt after that), wiring birdies, adding connectors to live cables (I really loved it when I was stripping the wires and the metal of my Leatherman made contact with the copper wire, eliciting a huge spark and zap, thus blowing the breaker but allowing me to continue stripping wires without electricity coming through them). My favorite moment was when I was asked to go find four gobos that were supposed to kind-of-but-not-exactly look like this other gobo. Hot damn! I love these kinds of adventures. And the one I picked out was perfect, of course, because I had an idea of what the look was trying to achieve. (It was like when designers would ask me to pick color for them. "Kate, find me a really nice yellow for like...a hazy early morning sunrise." "Kate, find me a blue that doesn't wash too grey but isn't, you know, too blue without any grey at all." Today's was, "Kate, find me a gobo that's like 'Dappled' but not really.") Spot on.
I really like working. Not just because of the money, but because being in the theater does something for me. Especially working on these big shows. I feel like I'm part of something, and that makes me feel less alone, I think.
**
Between the lips and the voice something goes dying.
Something with the wings of a bird, something of anguish and oblivion.
The way nets cannot hold water.
My toy doll, only a few drops are left trembling.
Even so, something sings in these fugitive words.
Something sings, something climbs to my ravenous mouth.
Oh to be able to celebrate you with all the words of joy.
Sing, burn, flee, like belfry at the hands of a madman.
My sad tenderness, what comes over you all at once?
When I have reached the most awesome and the coldest summit
my heart closes like a nocturnal flower.
See? ANGST.
Last night Anika and I went down into the Meatpacking District (or, as we call it, the Nexus of Evil) since neither of us has partied in weeks and we both felt like we've lost our mojo. We started at the Standard, which is just the douchiest place since douchey came to Douchetown. Seriously. The guys are never really all that interesting or cute - but they, of course, think they are - and the girls are all bitchy. (Anika and I both separately noticed a table of girls glaring at us angrily every time we wandered in their direction.) Very bridge-and-tunnel, that crowd. We bounced around to a few places, eventually ending up at Cielo where I met two cute neurosurgeons from Colorado. (Or so they said. Who knows.) Unfortunately I couldn't party all night; I found out at 10pm that I had work at 8am.
So after about two hours or so of sleep, I dragged myself out of bed today and spent 10 hours doing the weirdest smattering of work notes - changing gel scrolls, moving some lights around on the balc rail (oh, my stomach hurt after that), wiring birdies, adding connectors to live cables (I really loved it when I was stripping the wires and the metal of my Leatherman made contact with the copper wire, eliciting a huge spark and zap, thus blowing the breaker but allowing me to continue stripping wires without electricity coming through them). My favorite moment was when I was asked to go find four gobos that were supposed to kind-of-but-not-exactly look like this other gobo. Hot damn! I love these kinds of adventures. And the one I picked out was perfect, of course, because I had an idea of what the look was trying to achieve. (It was like when designers would ask me to pick color for them. "Kate, find me a really nice yellow for like...a hazy early morning sunrise." "Kate, find me a blue that doesn't wash too grey but isn't, you know, too blue without any grey at all." Today's was, "Kate, find me a gobo that's like 'Dappled' but not really.") Spot on.
I really like working. Not just because of the money, but because being in the theater does something for me. Especially working on these big shows. I feel like I'm part of something, and that makes me feel less alone, I think.
**
Between the lips and the voice something goes dying.
Something with the wings of a bird, something of anguish and oblivion.
The way nets cannot hold water.
My toy doll, only a few drops are left trembling.
Even so, something sings in these fugitive words.
Something sings, something climbs to my ravenous mouth.
Oh to be able to celebrate you with all the words of joy.
Sing, burn, flee, like belfry at the hands of a madman.
My sad tenderness, what comes over you all at once?
When I have reached the most awesome and the coldest summit
my heart closes like a nocturnal flower.
See? ANGST.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Life's too short, babe, time is flying - I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine.
Why am I watching Rent? I hate this movie. Although I have a real soft spot for "I Should Tell You." And "Take Me or Leave Me," of course.
Everything about today was an adventure. I met Jeremy for lunch at this Panamanian place near Prospect Heights. Neither of us had been to this restaurant before and ordering from the menu was something of a trial in and of itself. Like, a menu item was just listed as "shrimps." And "curry chicken" was listed twice, and no discernible difference appeared to exist between the two. And when I tried to order tamales, the waitress informed me that they were "still frozen." (To which I wanted to reply, "...couldn't you...heat them?")
Despite this, the food was delicious. I had the "shrimps." (It was shrimp with curry sauce and veggies and rice.)
After lunch I took the train into Manhattan, and met up with Megs at the U-Haul place way over on the west side. Now, I haven't seen him in ages either (I mean, I haven't seen him since...Christmas 2009?) and this weekend/next week we're working on his show together. Today we drove into Jersey with our rental van to pick up his shop order and load it into the theater. More notably, after the load-in we went to this RIDICULOUS doughnut shop. I had a huge square doughnut filled with coconut cream. RIDICULOUS.
**
Why do I feel so restless? Why am I nervous? I'll admit, the mornings and nights are the worst. Whenever I'm being actively tortured by a particular feeling, I find that I wake up nervous in the morning and go to bed nervous at night. I suppose I fear the things that transpire at night, and I'm going to wake up broken-hearted. It's the part that still makes my heart sink into my stomach at the thought, that makes me want to lay my head into the crook of my arm and cry bitterly.
Everything about today was an adventure. I met Jeremy for lunch at this Panamanian place near Prospect Heights. Neither of us had been to this restaurant before and ordering from the menu was something of a trial in and of itself. Like, a menu item was just listed as "shrimps." And "curry chicken" was listed twice, and no discernible difference appeared to exist between the two. And when I tried to order tamales, the waitress informed me that they were "still frozen." (To which I wanted to reply, "...couldn't you...heat them?")
Despite this, the food was delicious. I had the "shrimps." (It was shrimp with curry sauce and veggies and rice.)
After lunch I took the train into Manhattan, and met up with Megs at the U-Haul place way over on the west side. Now, I haven't seen him in ages either (I mean, I haven't seen him since...Christmas 2009?) and this weekend/next week we're working on his show together. Today we drove into Jersey with our rental van to pick up his shop order and load it into the theater. More notably, after the load-in we went to this RIDICULOUS doughnut shop. I had a huge square doughnut filled with coconut cream. RIDICULOUS.
For SERIOUS.
(the top one was the doughnut Megs had - jelly filled with peanut butter on top!)
**
Why do I feel so restless? Why am I nervous? I'll admit, the mornings and nights are the worst. Whenever I'm being actively tortured by a particular feeling, I find that I wake up nervous in the morning and go to bed nervous at night. I suppose I fear the things that transpire at night, and I'm going to wake up broken-hearted. It's the part that still makes my heart sink into my stomach at the thought, that makes me want to lay my head into the crook of my arm and cry bitterly.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
I-AM-DARK-HEART!
I'M WATCHING THE CARE BEARS MOVIES RIGHT NOW, DON'T JUDGE ME. /endcapslock
Brooklyn is under a tornado watch? What the fuck, guys. And now it's all overcast-looking. I took a walk earlier but I only like to walk when it's beautiful and sunny; walking when it's cloudy is just depressing to me.
Why are the Care Bears in a boat? Why is there a giant talking star? Why are fireworks coming of of their bellies? This movie made way more sense when I was 5.
Yesterday I walked all the way to the Botanic Garden. On my way back I ran into Jeremy, which was just too funny - he and I have been trying to coordinate schedules and find time to hang out for awhile now, to no avail. And then by chance we run into each other (in the middle of an intersection, to boot). We walked through Prospect Park, catching up on life (I feel like I've been doing a lot of that lately. But it's a good thing).
Something was up with the male population of my neighborhood today. On my walk some firefighters whistled at me from their truck as it was stopped at an intersection and I was crossing. One guy passed me on his bike and turned to look at me and stared for a good five or six seconds before nearly running someone down. And at another intersection, the cars were backed up (because there was a stoplight at the following intersection and there was simply not enough room for all the cars...as is typical around here) and this guy in an SUV tried to spark up a conversation with me. Like this...
Him: "Hey, sweetie."
Me: *fidgets, ignores him, wishes I could cross the street already*
Him: "I hope you're having a nice afternoon."
Me: *continues to pretend like I can't hear him. Scratches neck, pulls scab off a scratch, ow that kind of hurt, I hope I'm not bleeding*
Meanwhile, traffic begins to move. He doesn't.
Him: "You sure do make the color green look beautiful!"
Me: *oh, I'm wearing a green dress today.*
Other cars honk loudly, he drives away, I cross the street to the grocery store where the guys stocking the shelves stare at me and watch me shop. Seriously, what the fuck, this is the worst. This dress isn't even that short.
I think it's something in the air, or the water, or it's the tornado watch. Usually maybe one of these things happens to me in a day...not all of them. Although I was totally cool with the firefighters whistling at me.
Brooklyn is under a tornado watch? What the fuck, guys. And now it's all overcast-looking. I took a walk earlier but I only like to walk when it's beautiful and sunny; walking when it's cloudy is just depressing to me.
Why are the Care Bears in a boat? Why is there a giant talking star? Why are fireworks coming of of their bellies? This movie made way more sense when I was 5.
Yesterday I walked all the way to the Botanic Garden. On my way back I ran into Jeremy, which was just too funny - he and I have been trying to coordinate schedules and find time to hang out for awhile now, to no avail. And then by chance we run into each other (in the middle of an intersection, to boot). We walked through Prospect Park, catching up on life (I feel like I've been doing a lot of that lately. But it's a good thing).
Something was up with the male population of my neighborhood today. On my walk some firefighters whistled at me from their truck as it was stopped at an intersection and I was crossing. One guy passed me on his bike and turned to look at me and stared for a good five or six seconds before nearly running someone down. And at another intersection, the cars were backed up (because there was a stoplight at the following intersection and there was simply not enough room for all the cars...as is typical around here) and this guy in an SUV tried to spark up a conversation with me. Like this...
Him: "Hey, sweetie."
Me: *fidgets, ignores him, wishes I could cross the street already*
Him: "I hope you're having a nice afternoon."
Me: *continues to pretend like I can't hear him. Scratches neck, pulls scab off a scratch, ow that kind of hurt, I hope I'm not bleeding*
Meanwhile, traffic begins to move. He doesn't.
Him: "You sure do make the color green look beautiful!"
Me: *oh, I'm wearing a green dress today.*
Other cars honk loudly, he drives away, I cross the street to the grocery store where the guys stocking the shelves stare at me and watch me shop. Seriously, what the fuck, this is the worst. This dress isn't even that short.
I think it's something in the air, or the water, or it's the tornado watch. Usually maybe one of these things happens to me in a day...not all of them. Although I was totally cool with the firefighters whistling at me.
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