Something, Somewhere

I really thought I had a pretty good idea of where I wanted to be in a couple of years. I wanted to graduate obviously, then stick around for a year or two to work, build my resume, and save money. Then I was going to pack up all my stuff and my cat, and move to New York City where I would choreograph musicals...and win awards...and get drunk with Susan Stroman on a regular basis. (Okay, I'm exaggerating. But not about the choreographing musicals part.) The fact that living in New York City is ridiculously difficult only made me want it more. I was all set with a basic pathway.

Now I don't know where I'm going anymore. I'm wondering if I really will end up in New York. Recently, my mind has drifted off to wondering about going abroad instead. To London, Edinburgh, or Dublin. (Probably London or Edinburgh if anything, since I have basic knowledge of the arts scene there...whereas I don't know much about the scene in Dublin. I just know that I LOVE IRELAND.)

But there are problems with moving abroad. For one thing, I can't really fathom the logistics of an international, transatlantic move. I was having enough trouble figuring out how I was going to move across the country, let alone how to move to a completely different continent. I emailed an acquaintance of mine who recently moved to London and asked her to share her experience moving abroad. Based on her reply, I realized that I'd have to sell or give away basically everything I own and start over. Figure out visas and insurance and bank accounts and cell phone plans. And I have absolutely no idea how my kitty would fare on a long flight to Europe. But that will definitely be figured out, because there's no way I'm not taking him with me.

The fact that I'm honestly not sure if I even want to choreograph musicals anymore or if I'm cut out for it also complicates things significantly. But that's a whole other topic, I guess.

Not knowing where I'm going is causing me so much anxiety. While my future plans have definitely evolved over the years--I've cycled through wanting to own a dance company, to travel and study dance around the world, to be a freelance contemporary choreographer, to choreograph musicals--I've always had a basic idea of where I would go. This is probably the first time in many years that I have absolutely NO plans, and no idea what the future holds. I really, really hate that.

But at least Rory Gilmore felt the same way.

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......

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.

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.)

Am I Awake?

I've been asleep so much over the past week or so (at least?) that I've actually lost track of how much I slept. Everything is just a blur. And I'm having trouble remembering which things happened and which things were dreams. It's really freaking me out.

Late Night Internetz.

Since I withdrew from my classes and don't have to wake up early, I've of course completely effed up my sleep schedule by sleeping in. Now I'm like a vampire, staying up all night and sleeping all day. I took some NyQuil tonight to try and break through that, buuut it's not strong enough. I may have to resort to staying up all night, then forcing myself to stay awake all day in order to get back on a normal sleep schedule. Blahhh. I hate doing that.

I wish I could spend these sleepless nights doing something productive, like cleaning my room, but I'm inexplicably incapable of productivity this time of night. I'm just in a daze. I spend part of my time watching episodes of various TV shows over and over again, even if I've seen them a million times already. The other half is spent online. Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, LJ, various blogs I read. I refresh the page over and over again, as if people actually update these things in the middle of the night.

Here's what I've discovered in tonight's waste of time internetting:

“After all, I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.”

--Anne of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery

Even though I never read the Anne of Green Gables books (I've always wanted to...need to add that to my reading list), I grew up on that TV miniseries with adorable redhead Megan Follows as Anne. My Mom had them on VHS. Both Green Gables and Avonlea were like four hours long but I watched them constantly growing up. I loved every second. I stumbled on the above quote on a Tumblr I follow called BookLover. It's the only blog that posts in the middle of the night since the author is from Turkey and on a different time zone. Anyway, I really liked that quote, and I think it's so true. I love simple pleasures. I try to keep a list of my favorite ones in hopes of starting a blog, but always forget them once I open up the list. Bah. And now I really want to watch the miniseries.

Another thing that BookLover posted tonight was a text/image thing that said: You know those nights when you can't fall asleep? Well, maybe it's because you are awake, in someone else's dream. Hmm. Innnnteresting.

Another find was a fiery LJ entry I wrote something like four years ago, about buying jeans. Some things never change, because I still feel like that every time I shop for jeans! But it was funny to read that entry, because I totally forget some things I say/write, such as refer to a pair of jeans that fit perfectly everywhere except the waist by saying that "I very nearly set the little cocktease on fire." I get very angry when I shop for jeans.

And of course I'm starting to get tired now, at 4:45 in the fucking morning. Blah.