Feels Like Never

This semester marks the beginning of my seventh year of college.

For those of you who don't know the story, here's my experience thus far:

I began at the University of Arizona in 2005. I had average grades in high school, so I didn't really think to apply to any other schools because I figured I wouldn't get in. I also had zero faith in my dance/choreographic abilities at the time, so I chose not to apply to dance programs, either. So I went to the U of A and declared myself an anthropology major. It took me three years there to come to the conclusion that it wasn't the right place for me. I also spent some of that time applying to Cornish College of the Arts in Seattle...but that is a WHOLLLLE other story, believe me. (I'd need a strong drink in my hand to tell you about that debacle!) Once I got into some of the core coursework for my major, it occurred to me that I was treating college like a hobby. I love anthropology, but I had no intention of being solely an anthropologist. My career path has ALWAYS pointed to dance, and studying anything else in college was just silly.

So I made the somewhat bold decision to drop out of the U of A and transfer somewhere else to get my BFA in Dance. After much research, I narrowed it down to four programs: New York University, The Boston Conservatory, Elon University, and Arizona State University. ASU was originally my last choice, because native Tucsonans like me are basically raised to hate Phoenix and ASU. But once I applied and went there to audition, I knew it was the right place for me. It's contemporary-based, and very kooky--just like me. I was accepted, moved to Tempe, and began classes in Fall 2008. I was basically starting as a freshman all over again, but I didn't care because I was finally doing what I wanted. Additionally, I discovered the vibrant theater scene in Phoenix and began getting involved in that.

In Spring 2009, I started getting sick. It began with chronic fatigue and snowballed into a severe depression that took me two years to get over, and one of those years was spent on medical withdrawal from school because I could no longer make it to classes. So that prolonged finishing my degree even more. I went back to school full time in Fall 2011, and was able to complete my senior capstone project with my class, even though I wasn't going to be graduating with them. (And let me tell you, watching them graduate without me was very difficult.)

So that brings us to where I am now. Seven years later, STILL IN SCHOOL.

I met with my advisor today, and discovered that next semester I will have to have 19 credits on my schedule to graduate in the Spring. Even if I could handle that course load, I wouldn't be able to get an overload approval because my GPA isn't high enough. So I guess I'll be graduating in December 2013 now instead of the Spring???? I don't fucking know.

Another thing standing in my way is performance credit. I am required to be cast in and perform in three pieces choreographed by either grad students, faculty, or seniors choreographing their capstone projects. I have only been cast in two qualifying pieces since I started at ASU, one of which I didn't get credit for because my health issues got in the way of filing necessary paperwork in time. I signed up to be considered for a couple of pieces this semester, but I couldn't dance in the actual audition because I had twisted my ankle in class earlier. But the choreographers I signed up for had seen me dance previously, so I thought maybe I had a chance. Well, I didn't get cast in anything. So how exactly am I supposed to get performance credit if no one casts me in their fucking pieces??! Not that I blame them. My technique isn't up to par because I was on medical withdrawal for so long, and my health problems also caused me to put on weight. I wouldn't cast me in a piece, either...after all, no one wants a chubby, mediocre dancer to perform their choreography.

The performance credit thing is just one of many roadblocks that won't stop popping up. I don't know how much more I can take. I'm so tired of being in school. I'm 25 and STILL chipping away at a bachelor's degree, while most of my friends have graduated and have moved onto grad school or started their careers. In fact, I'm older than most of the fucking grad students here. And people look at me funny and ask, "Didn't you graduate already?" Um, no. I may have gotten my capstone project done, buuuut I'm still here. It's so embarrassing.

I feel like I'm NEVER EVER GOING TO GRADUATE. I really don't know what to do anymore......

And Never Brought to Mind

Happy New Year! I'm happy that 2011 has ended. The first half was the worst few months of my life. I spent most of it asleep, and the rest daydreaming about dying. Then the rest of the year was spent trying to repair the damage. So needless to say, it was a rough year, and I'm ready for a fresh start. I spent New Year's on the marina in Sarasota, FL watching fireworks and sipping champagne with Kay and her roommate. Earlier, I watched a Rat Pack revue show and then saw Next to Normal for the second time, all at the fabulous Florida Studio Theatre. Not a bad way to ring in the New Year. I'm looking forward to the future.

Shrugging of the Shoulders

I did end up cancelling my PT audition. I kind of feel like a loser for doing so, but at the same time I'm okay with it. Meh. I spent the day sleeping, eating ice cream, doing crafty things, and watching Twin Peaks. Audrey Horne is my hero and one can never get enough Dale Cooper.

I think I might still audition for Little Shop at Hale later this month, since, oh yeah, I didn't get cast in Hairspray. Kind of made me a little sad since I would've loved to be in it and killed the dance audition (and in HEELS, damn it!), but I totally understand. I really think my fate with that show is to choreograph it rather than be in it. I look too much like a Tracy to be in the ensemble, and I'm not good enough to actually play Tracy. So I've decided to focus on the choreography side. Mesa Encore Theatre is doing it next summer, so I'm going to contact them now. Maybe I'll choreograph their West Side Story while I'm at it (if they get the rights, that is).

Still desperate for a job. I just applied to Barnes and Noble but haven't heard back yet. Dahh. My next applications will be for Changing Hands and the Apple store. And McDonald's. Because at this point, I'm so not above working at McDonald's. I just want and need a damn job.

It's nice to feel somewhat motivated to do stuff. I've spent many hours thinking that I won't last through this year so why bother making long-term goals. But I suppose the five thousand medications I'm jacked up on are starting to work because I'm not thinking that as often. Shrug.

Early Morning Updates

• I had the chance to talk with Claudia La Rocco just before her ASU residency ended. We met up on campus for a bit and I got to pick her brain. I think it went pretty well...she told me a lot about the goings-on of a journalist, and gave me some great advice, insight and ideas. I was really nervous, though, and feel like I came off as an awkward bumbling idiot. It's like I spend so much time alone that I forget how to talk to people. Or something. But I suppose feeling awkward but still getting good perspective is better than not contacting her at all.
  
• I participated in a fabulous Flash Mob recently, and it was a blast. It was so nice to see lovely people like Kathryn and Cat who I rarely get to meet up with. (That should change, because they're awesome.) It was also great to be there for everyone, even if I didn't personally know the woman who the flash mob was commemorating.
  
• I never really followed up on the hospitalization situation, mostly because it was a disaster. And a disaster that absolutely could have been prevented. Basically, without going into details since it's a private family thing, being hospitalized didn't happen. It should have, but didn't. And I wish I could go back in time and just NOT consider it as an option. It was hard enough to make that decision, and even harder to actually prepare for and to tell people it was going to happen. I told my teachers, withdrew from classes, stocked up on cat food and litter for Ragnar and was about to ask my roommate if he could take care of him while I was gone, and started packing. None of which was easy or pleasant, especially running on so little energy and an inescapable feeling of wanting to die. For things to play out the way that they did after all that, I'm just humiliated. Now, I'm back to struggling to make and get to doctors appointments, being put on different meds and blah blah blah. Same shit, different day. As mentioned in an earlier post, one of the medications I'm on is more or less an upper to keep me awake. And it has kept me awake, but hasn't changed my mood. So I still feel like shit, only now I can't sleep through it.
  
• I'm doing a blogger meetup thing today. I'm really nervous about it because I hate meeting new people, and the thought of having to socialize/make conversation for an entire day makes me anxious as all hell. I don't really know why I'm doing it. I guess to talk about blogging? See what various AZ bloggers are like in person? I don't know. We're doing a lot of poking around downtown Phoenix, though, and I've been wanting to familiarize myself with that area more. So that's good? I meant to get plenty of sleep tonight since I'm nervous about the meetup and need time to get ready for it in the morning, buuuut despite being tired, I've been too nervous to allow myself to sleep. Agh. We'll see how it goes.

I'm just MAD about Dolls!

I'm on new medication that's supposed to wake me up. It basically feels like glorified caffeine, meaning that I just feel wired and jittery instead of feeling awake. And one of the side effects is increased agitation. You know, because I'm not moody enough already. Of course being exhausted all the time is horrible, but so is the polar opposite. I want nothing to do with either extreme.

I hate this. I'm tired of feeling yanked around. I'm sick of doctors appointments and side effects and having to write down every symptom since my memory is so foggy that I can barely remember anything. Hate hate hate.

Same shit, different day.

BlahblahblahHEALTHblahblahblahGETOUTOFMYHEADSTEVEblahblahblahBADDREAMSblahblahblahOHLOOKMOREMEDICATIONblahblahblahSTILLTIREDALLTHETIME.
And that's about it.

Oh, except that THE OSCARS are tomorrow. It's the only award show I actually care about, and spend every Oscar Night camped out in front of the TV watching the ceremony in its entirety.

Also, I'm obsessed with Easy A. I finally saw it earlier this week, and have literally watched it every day since then. It's THAT glorious.

Waves

I'm wondering which is worse--constant pain, or pain that comes in waves. Right now, I'm thinking it's the latter. If you're constantly in pain, you're almost able to reprogram your brain to get used to it and not to expect anything more. Whereas when pain comes in waves, you never know when it'll hit. It comes out of nowhere and blindsides you, paralyzing you for awhile. And when that happens on a day when you're actually feeling okay with things, it hurts SO MUCH MORE than when it's constant.

Stalemate

I am so damned exhausted right now, physically and mentally, that I can only give headlines about this ridiculous week:

• The sleep study was a disaster. Mostly because...I couldn't fucking sleep. And I'm pretty sure it was 99% my fault. The other 1% having to do with the five million wires stuck to my face, neck, chest, legs, and fingers. Basically, it was an epic FAIL. Waste of my time, the clinic's time, and my parents' money. It'll take a week or so to get the results, but I doubt they gleaned anything from my 30 minutes of being half-asleep and 5 1/2 hours of trying in vain to fall asleep for real. (And I also hate the word "glean." The fact that I willingly used it in a sentence should say something about how sour I feel about all this.)
• I thought that making and accepting the decision to be hospitalized was going to be the difficult part. It's not. It turns out that the process of trying to find the right facility and be admitted has been the most frustrating, exhausting, and ridiculously taxing experience of my life. Mostly because my parents and I can't get on the same page about anything. And stupid family problems that we've been dealing with for years have decided to rear their ugly heads at the WORST possible time. I wish I could get into the specifics, but it really wouldn't be appropriate to blog that openly about these family issues. Basically, I feel like we're at a stalemate. Nothing is getting done. And I'm so frustrated that I feel like tearing my hear out.
• I just want to sleep. All the time.
• The ONE positive thing about this week is that my hair has finally decided not to be greasy and disgusting anymore. At least for the time being. I don't know what the deal was, but I'm glad that I don't look like a ragamuffin anymore.

Ugh, never again.
(Except I probably will have to get another stupid sleep study done soon. Especially if they suspect narcolepsy.) (Echhhhdlskgjaglkjmads.)

Maps

1/16/11, JFK, 5:51 PM
I'm completely heartbroken. My entire body HURTS; I'm in so much pain that I can't think straight. Which I suppose doesn't matter, because so many things are running through my head that trying to sort through them would just hurt more. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we intertwine our lives with someone else's if it's all not going to work anyway? Everything is so complicated, and is only made more complicated when everyday things become associated with one person. Everything makes me think of him. I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't deal with this. I don't know HOW to deal with this. I don't know what I'm supposed to do or how I'm supposed to feel. And I wish that he was the one. As much as I love him, I know in the back of my mind that we are probably not meant to be together forever. But whoever that person is, I wish that I could find him. Because this hurts too much.

I've never been a "dater." Ever. I never understood how my friends could just move from person to person like it was nothing. I don't trust easily, and I don't open up easily. And I mate for life. When I love someone or something, I love with my whole self. Which is why I don't make friends easily, either. And it's why Steve was basically my first relationship.

This all hurts like hell. I can't stand it.

LATER, Airplane, 9:10 PM-ish
By myself in a plane full of people, 154 miles away from PHX. The captain just said we should be on the ground at "40 past the hour, and at the gate shortly after that." The woman sitting behind me is traveling with her dog. I'm sitting in the window seat, and if I tilt my head to the left towards the window, all I smell is dog breath. I just watched The Hours. I love that beautiful, sad movie. Then I watched the "Maps" music video, which I love so much that I actually bought it off of iTunes a long time ago.

I always associate that song with people leaving. Every time someone leaves, it feels like a death. Like I'm being abandoned for something so much better. People go away to their new lives, and "Maps" runs through my head. WAIT -- THEY DON'T LOVE YOU LIKE I LOVE YOU. Everybody leaves me. They leave me and go somewhere else. But I stay here, alone and stuck.

I remember before Derek was accepted to Cornish, him and Christian and I were going to move into a house together. I can still imagine what our house would've looked like--probably one of those cute, small houses near campus, with hardwood floors and warm light. The walls covered in photos and memories and art and the silly things we collect. It would be a little scary living in that area, I guess, but I wouldn't mind because I would be safe with my friends around. Inside jokes and singing the theme to Three's Company. Derek and I doing Greek homework while Christian has her latest art project spread across the coffee table.

But none of that actually happened. Derek moved to Seattle and Christian got a job at The Loft. She found a whole new group of friends, a new identity, and a new apartment. While I slowly started to fade away and float around campus like a ghost, not sure what I was doing or where I was going. Then I made the decision to transfer schools, and had one of the best years of my life preparing. Dancing, writing, taco/movie nights after class with Todd and other dance friends. Then I moved, and things felt both terrifying and wonderful. The ASU Dance program was kooky, just like me. I got cast in Kiss Me Kate, discovered the theater scene in Phoenix, met and started dating Steve.

One day before Karen's modern class, one of my classmates named Stephanie looked over at me and said, "You look really pretty today, Katy. Really happy." And I was. I felt like I was glowing. I had finally broken out of a years-long cycle of Tucson stagnation, and found my own deliriously happy place to start doing great things in.

And then everything fell apart. I fell apart. Suddenly, I couldn't get up for class anymore and couldn't figure out why. I fucked everything up. Or rather--my body did. I worked so hard to get to that great place in my life only to enjoy it for one semester before my body completely betrayed me. My health abandoned me. Then everyone started leaving again.

What scares me is that I'm at the point where I almost don't want to feel better. I don't want to work hard to get my life where I want it to be, only to completely fall apart again. I can't do it.

We've landed.

1/21/11, Bedroom, 12:31 AM
This is the predicament I'm in. I experience things so deeply. TOO deeply. And I never get over anything. I realize that pain and loss and change are all normal parts of life. But I feel like at some point, people deal with it all. It might take time, but they eventually heal. I don't heal, regardless of how much time passes. Things that have happened 2 years ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 14 years ago still hurt like they happened yesterday. I'm only 23, and have an entire lifetime's worth of change ahead. But I can't keep experiencing these seemingly normal life things over and over again, because they destroy me so easily. Even as years pass, small parts of me are still baking cookies with Christine and Margie. Still remembering how cold and waxy Christine's skin felt when she was lying in a casket. Still 12 years old sitting at a parent-teacher conference with my Mom, listening as all my teachers listed everything I was doing wrong. Still dancing to "Nothing Else Matters" on Utterback's huge stage. Still drinking Dr. Pepper and pulling all-nighters in Graham-Greenlee. Still watching Twin Peaks and eating Del Taco with Steve on weekends. Still walking around New York City watching Steve be perfectly fine with everything while it takes me every ounce of energy not to cry all the time. And so on ad nauseam. I never really move on. I'll always be doing Greek homework in the adorable house that never actually happened. I can't get any of this out of my head.

What I really don't understand is how and why I got here. For years, I watched my friends find their little niches and desperately wanted to find my own. And I did, after working hard to get there. Only to get sick and ruin everything. I'm not doing this again. I'm not going to get better just to plummet all over again. I feel like I'd rather give up and succumb.

Crossroads

I still have writing from the airport and airplane that I intend on sharing soon. But right now, I need to let you know some things. First of all, I am so sorry if this scares you. Or if I've scared you. I have been in the position where I've feared for a friend's life, and it's awful. It's not my intention to put that on any of you. I feel like I'm hurting everyone, and I'm so sorry that I can't snap out of this for you all. After writing down some very scary memories and thoughts tonight (which I'm not sure if I want to post yet), and thinking about some other things that I can't get out of my head, I started crying and shaking. Uncontrollably. So much so that I ended up vomiting.

I've decided not to go to class tomorrow--well, today. I am going to take care of some things, drive Derek to the airport, talk to my therapist and parents. I think that I may have to be hospitalized. And soon. I have been thinking about this for the past couple of months, and tonight I feel I've reached a point where I could potentially be a danger to myself if drastic steps are not taken. Please know that nothing will happen to me tonight. I'm sure of it. But I know that I can't make it through another night like this. So I intend on getting more help.

Again, I'm so sorry for everything.

Well, I'm back.

And all this hurts so much that I can't think straight.

I scribbled lots of stuff down at JFK and on the plane, so maybe I'll post it tomorrow when my brain is working again. I'm going to sleep.

Things

GOOD:

• Spent a couple hours with my family in Tucson yesterday to celebrate my Adoption Day (which is actually the 15th, but I'll be out of town). Played Scrabble and my Mom sent me back with a pumpkin pie. Om nom nom. She also got me a Disney Princess greeting card that plays "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes." 'Cause I'm five years old, for real.
• Went shopping at Old Navy today because I desperately needed some new jeans. Turns out they were still having massive clearance sales, and I ended up getting a quite few pairs of jeans at deliciously low prices. Including a pair of skinny jeans! And they all look really good on me, which rarely happens. Scorrrre.
• My Dad called earlier to ask me to send him some ASU tuition statements for tax stuff. The conversation wasn't all strained and awkward and felt a little more natural. I hope things will continue to get a little better between us.
• My doctors appointment the other day went pretty well. He took a billion vials of blood to run a bunch of different tests on and ordered a sleep study, which I'll probably do in the next few weeks. Anxiously awaiting results.
• Derek is coming to visit AZ tomorrow! I haven't seen him in at least a year so I'm excited to catch up.

CRAPPY:

• I'm exhausted and scary depressed ALL. THE. TIME. I was so tired the other night that I barely remember being at Marissa's epic Harry Potter birthday party. The one thing I do remember is being so tired that I had trouble talking to people because I couldn't think of the right words to use. Later in the evening, I went into my room to check something on my laptop, dozed off, and drifted awake at like 6 AM. My life.
• My hair is ridiculous. Every time I've washed it since getting it cut, it just turns out greasy and disgusting. I try to only use a tiny bit of shampoo/conditioner, but still can't wash all of it out. Or something. It's driving me insane. I'm also pulling large clumps out of it. Awesome.

NOT SURE HOW I FEEL:

• Going to New York on Thursday to visit Steve. I feel like I really need to see him to get some closure, so I can figure out how to be friends. But I guess I'm kind of dreading it at the same time. I really just have no idea how to do this.
• School starts next week, and I don't know if I can actually handle it. I'm scared. And don't feel at all rested or refreshed from Winter Break, just more exhausted.