Sometimes, Glass Gets In Your Eyes.....

So a glass object was broken on Friday of last week as we were walking out the door. Steve's bag hit it and it went flying, crashing, etc.

We cleaned it up in a hurry and left for the show.

I cleaned it again when I woke up the next morning.

I have since pulled glass out of my foot twice and my eye once.

For some unknown reason, the glass decided to take a tour of the apartment. I found it by the bathroom, in the living room, dining room and hallway. Of course, it was also in my body.

The glass in my foot was a pain in the ass. The glass in my eye scared the hell out of me.

I kept noticing my eye hurt after I was petting Kitten. I thought it was a hair of hers that found it's way in my eye. But it got worse. It felt like it was in my upper eyelid and this morning, it was a little bump. It kept watering and I was actually able to put eye drops in (and for those who know this about me, you know it was REALLY damn painful if I put eyedrops in....I have a crazy physical reaction to eyedrops where, no matter how hard I pry my eyes open, they close before the drops can enter). It came out this morning after class. I wiped the corner of my eye and felt something really sharp and hard, but I dropped it before I could look at it. I know it wasn't a damn cat hair!

I feel 100 times better. I was really worried that it wouldn't work it's way out of my eye and I would have to go to the emergency room.

Whew. Crisis averted. And another gentle reminder about how much I take my body for granted. Take the good, take the bad. (take them both and there you have the facts of life, the facts of life)

It's wonderful.....

It's so wonderful when, over a few cups of tea and some soul spilling, that you finally know, within your heart, that someone considers you a friend.

My day

I finally had it. My day.

The last two days were spent with me sleeping and/or crying the entire time, until show time. I thought it was one thing or the other, but I really think it was everything combined. Totally overwhelmed. My body said, "um, yeah, we're shutting down now" and it did. The shows went really well. But I was a zombie before and after each one.

Today, Steve and Mike went to a Bears game. They haven't seen each other in months and I was planning on spending all day in bed anyway, so I was happy for him to go. I took over the counter sleeping pills last night, put in the earplugs, hit the pillows around 2:30ish and woke up to say goodbye to Steve around 10:30 this morning.

I woke up and smiled. I smiled for the first time in weeks. A true, I am happy to be alive smile. My day just got better.

I treated myself to breakfast at my new favorite restaurant, then headed over to Jewel to get us some healthy food (my body is SCREAMING for healthy food, after all the shit I've been putting into it lately). I drove around for awhile, came home, put groceries away, watched Top Gun and my Punky episodes, took a bath, put lotion on, pampered myself and I feel like my old self again.

I know it's a combination of things: There is no show or rehearsal tonight, I had my first day to myself in months, I finally slept last night with only two interruptions, and I had a nice bath and good food.

I was blaming it all on rehearsals and the show, or school and homework, or this or that. It was all of it.

And now it's gone. Dealt with. History.

I am sooooo freakin' glad I'm back. It's amazing how much you can miss yourself when you are gone for awhile. I really missed myself. It's not like me to not laugh or make smart ass comments or go out with friends after a show.

I'm so glad I'm back. And Steve is too!

Yay.

And opening weekend was awesome. Exhausting, but awesome.

this quit being fun tonight.

More firsts

Our first tech rehearsal was tonight. All in all, it went really well. We didn't have the lead, which made some of the scenes a bit more difficult, but again, it went really well. We have a much better feel for how things are going to go, where we can and can't move, how our blocking has changed, etc. I can't wait to open the show and I know I'm not the only one. We are all a bit tired of rehearsing, which is to be expected. Just making it though this week and weekend, and all will be gravy.

Until Camenae rehearsals start to hit harder.

I've been given space to finish up Cubicle rehearsals before Dido rehearsals start full blast. Hopefully, since my part is in the first three acts and that's all, I won't have too many nights away.

I just keep thinking that I will feel settled once this happens or that happens. So far, the settled feeling hasn't hit yet.

Except for this, and this is what keeps me going. I've decided to not do any more shows during the school months. That means I can do summer shows and shows where the vast majority of rehearsals are during January. I can't do another fall show or late spring show. My body and mind can't handle it.

But now I know. And making that decision relieved so much stress, it was amazing. Just making the decision. Now, it's getting through this tech week and opening, then dealing with Dido rehearsals (which, the vast majority will be in January....thank goddess).

All in all, things are going really well. I am really looking forward to the days when Steve and I can actually share dinner, where we can go to sleep at the same time, watch movies in the evening, all that happy horse shit. I don't know when that will happen. But I'm hoping soon.

Oh yeah. The wedding. We have to plan the wedding in there sometime too. *sigh*

Finally

A day to unwind. Even though I was a bit stressed earlier in the day, I soon realized I needed to get my ass out of it, apologize to the man, and have a great brunch. Today found me sitting on the couch cleaning my rings, watching some Discovery Channel shit about cosmetic surgery and loving on my KFC. The evening holds plenty of cleaning of the kitchen (which, in a weird, mind-clearing way, is really enjoyable) and maybe doing some reading.

Yesterday was good, but really hard. We were only at dinner for a few hours, which is never enough when it's family. Of course, if we did this once a week or so, it would be just fine. But with Amy and Olivia (and soon to be good Mamaw) it's usually 6 months or so. We all had a really good visit, laughed, etc. But the way home, I was crying for a good chunk of the drive. I drove down so Steve drove back. It was just really hard to leave them, for so many reasons.

I know that everyone, once they hit a 'certain' age, needs to shed their unchosen family and belong to their chosen family, be it marriage to a lover, a group of friends or a few really close friends. But what I'm realizing about the relationship to my family is, I would chose them even if I didn't have to. My mom is one of my best friends. She is the best person to talk to when I'm down because she knows what to say (or not to say). She has, without a doubt, the longest history with me. I was being soothed by her voice before I even took a breath on my own. And it still calms me, comforts me and makes me realize everything is okay (even when it's really not).

To not be with her (or dad or the rest of the family) for a holiday is really hard for me. This is the first, and the first will always be the toughest of anything. But this is a year of firsts for so many things. I don't know if it's good to have everything change all at once or little things bit by bit. Either way, even if Mike was still here, I know I would still be having a hard time being away.

Even though I know they don't think so, I feel that I am abandoning them. "Hey, guess what! First year without Mike, Mamaw is in Texas and I found the love of my life. See ya at Christmas (maybe)."

They were the ones making sure I knew that I now had another person to consider, another family to consider, and they understood completely that I wouldn't always be there like I was before. But it doesn't make it any easier by any means.

I know I'll get over this feeling. I know once the 'firsts' are done and over with, life will make more sense. But writing makes it burn a bit less....

My Thanksgiving

Well, today is my Thanksgiving with my family. I've actually NEVER liked the holiday. I don't agree with it and the message it gives. However, I DO enjoy the fact that it's always been an excuse to get together with family and eat ourselves stupid.

I get one day with them.

I'm going to miss the weekend long visit.

Badly.

Another One

I had another dream where I woke up crying. Again, it was about Patty and Ethel. In these dreams, I am always wrong that they're dead. And they're there. And they love me and miss me. And I'm holding them, petting them, loving them. They're always happy and even when I'm crying in my dream (like this morning) it's a happy cry because they're there and I was wrong. This morning's dream came after I woke up, ate some Cheerios and went back to bed. The 'napping' dreams are always the worst, and that's usually when they come to me. I dreamt that they weren't dead, they just had medical bills I couldn't afford and I gave them to mom and dad. When I went to visit them (in a new house), I brought Patty with me, not understanding why I did because it was only going to be a short visit. I unlatched her pet carrier and let her out, noticing that there were five or six other cats and was kind of worried that she would get hurt. Then I saw one of them and knew it was Ethel. Patty and Ethel met up again and were so happy. I was petting Ethel and Patty, knowing that they were together again and that I was wrong about them being gone forever.

Then I woke up. Steve had already gotton out of bed. I just continued crying by myself.

I hate and love those dreams at the same time. I love that I get to see them and they're always happy, but I hate that when I wake up, reality dictates that they are cremated, in little white boxes on our curio cabinet shelves.

But they are always loved. I guess that makes it okay.

The Comedown, Bush style

I really miss Bush. I really miss the Nixons, the Toadies, Weezer, Pearl Jam, NIN, old school Marilyn Manson. I really miss that feeling of being young, the world ahead of me, immortal. I miss that feeling of lying down on my blue carpet, listening to music while doing homework. I miss, more than anything, the days when I had six classes, volleyball practice and rehearsals, and STILL found time to get into all sorts of trouble with my friends. I miss the boundless energy of youth.

What I don't miss, however, is the horrible uncertainty that comes with youth. The body I took for granted. The innocense lost. The way I took everyone and everything for granted.

Would I go back? Hell no. Would I wish to relive even a day of that life......I don't think so. I wouldn't want to tarnish it with any knowledge I have now, because I would have made different choices. And that would alter who I am right now. While I have my faults, some glaring, some kinda cute, I am me.

And I don't regret, for one fleeting moment, being 16 and convinced the best thing for me to do was to take my clothes off every time I heard "Comedown" by Bush on the radio. Yes, even driving 75 on my way to Louisville with Kary, singing at the top of our lungs, topless. Ah, the wonders of having never been arrested......

Sometimes I really miss the feeling of home, the home I grew up in. I now have a new home, a new life, a new family (quite a few, actually). But there are times I stop and think about that girl I was. I think about Camille, Kirkwood, Southern Comfort and Mellow Yellow. People's Park and The Westside Disciples. Cruising on Friday nights, confronted by rednecks wanting a look or feel or to break something. Large belt buckles and too tight jeans, showing what they were seriously lacking. My friends and I, the original mall rats, bunny ears and McDonald's chicken nuggets. Green County Chapel Roading It, our code for "oh shit, we're gonna be late for curfew...Tory, YOU drive", swerving to miss deer on unpaved back roads. Shoneys after prom.

The boys making fun of me, throwing things at me. Holding the walls as I walked by, afraid my size 28 men's jeans waist would topple the building. Bubba yelled as I went from class to class. Crying every morning in front of the mirror, hating who I was and what I looked like. Wanting to be done but never knowing how to end the pain. Deciding to quit eating, maybe that would help. Angry music played to lessen the screaming in my soul and I doubted everyone and everything, including myself most of all. Telling myself it would all make me stronger, that I had to leave that fucking hell hole if I wanted to survive.

But I did survive. I survived all the touches I didn't want, all the glares as I walked down the halls, all the insults thrown at me. Being the only popular girl to be harassed as much as I was. Because I never took it lying down. I never verbally sucked the guys off and told them they were great last night playing ball when they really sucked. I never wanted to date them, look at them, impress them or like them. And for that, they made my life a living hell.

But I survived.

And sometimes, when I'm feeling a bit nostalgic for the "good" old days, I remember the pain of living back then. I remember the rumbling in my stomach as I wanted food but couldn't. Standing in front of my full length mirror, naked, crying and hating everything I saw. That goddamn teen angst poetry that I can laugh at now but kept me sane back then.

Would I go back, even for a day.

Not a chance in hell.

Oh, the coffee stains

Well, there is a giant coffee stain on the left tit of my gray shirt. Yes, it's one of those days. But classes are still going well. I am really afraid, however, that if I don't get one day to not have to leave the apartment soon, I will, unfortunately, grab a gun and head for the nearest bell tower. I am done. My mental health can't handle much more. Yep, to the point of exhaustion. Just one day of recharging, taking naps, watching horror movies, doing nothing. That's all I need.

And I'm going to get it on Sunday, come hell or high water. No rehearsal, no nothing.

And it couldn't have come at a better time. Or a more needed time. yeah.

There is a Swingline automatic stapler right in front of me. Ah, Cubicle, how I love thee.....