Yes I Am!

Even though I know that people not liking me is simply an inevitable part of life, I'm having trouble dealing with the fact that someone out there hates every part of my existence. And for such a fucking stupid reason that could've easily been resolved had it not been so wildly blown out of proportion.

I can't help thinking about him and it's driving me crazy. There's this episode of Scrubs where JD has a girl on his mind, and Turk calls him out on it. JD denies that he's thinking of her, but then we go into his daydream and he's imagining her jumping on his back saying, "YES I AM!" (I wish I could find a clip of it on YouTube, buuut I couldn't. Sighh.) But anyway...That's how it feels. I deny that he's on my mind, and then it's like he's jumping on my back screaming, "YES I AM!"

He's always....there. Jumping on my back, walking past me on campus, sitting near me. I wish he would stop haunting me.

Maybe if he didn't hate me so much this all would be easier.

Closure

I had written a letter to him earlier this week. Today I edited it and handwrote it out; it covered six pages. Everything that went unsaid. A final goodbye.

Tonight I delivered it to him.

Then I drove to our usual hang out by myself, had a glass of cabernet sauvignon, and said goodbye to him in my heart.

Our friendship is over.
I know it's best for us in the long run, but right now my heart is broken.

I'll love you forever.
Goodbye.

Land Mine

I fucking hate you.

I hate everything you've done to me.

I wish that I could rip your guts out, tear you apart--in hopes that you might feel even an ounce of what I'm feeling.

You were a bomb that went off, a land mine I stepped on, leaving nothing behind of me but mist and flecks of viscera.

I was finally somewhat ok. And you walked in--I thought there was only more good to come. But then you tossed me aside like it was nothing, like I was nothing. And that's all I am now. I'm worth nothing, I am nothing. My days are now filled with blood and vomit and tears, all attempts to feel like I'm alive. Because ever since you laid eyes on me, I've slowly faded away.

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry I'm weak.
I'm sorry I don't have my life together.
I'm sorry my apartment is messy.
I'm sorry that my refrigerator was invaded by fruit flies and is basically unusable.
I'm sorry that I haven't cleaned it out yet.
I'm sorry about the piles of dirty laundry in my room.
I'm sorry I'm still in school.
I'm sorry I'm a bad student.
I'm sorry that my job is stupid and trivial.
I'm sorry that I'm terrible with money.
I'm sorry my credit card bill is so high.
I'm sorry I'm lazy.
I'm sorry I'm perpetually late.
I'm sorry I'm not thin like her.
I'm sorry I'm a bad dancer.
I'm sorry I haven't choreographed anything in almost a year.
I'm sorry I'm too sensitive, that I take things personally and hold grudges.
I'm sorry that I get jealous.
I'm sorry that I have so much repressed rage.
I'm sorry that I get clingy and codependent sometimes.
I'm sorry that I love with my whole self.
I'm sorry I allow people to affect me so deeply.

I'm sorry I'm not what you want.
I'm sorry you didn't fight for me like I would have fought for you.
And I'm sorry you couldn't see past these things and love me anyway.

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......

Okay, then.

Wellllll I went ahead and botched my audition today. Nerves, completely blanking, my mind somewhere else. I've never been so humiliated at an audition. But I got through it and learned from it. I guess. It's not like I really had a chance of getting cast in anything there to begin with, but still...making a complete idiot of yourself is NOT fun.

More details later. Maybe. I kind of just want to curl up in a ball.

Annnnd good night.

P.S. Finding out last night that my ex-boyfriend is in town for the weekend didn't really do wonders for my concentration. But that's a whole other story. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I was going to go curl up in a ball.

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.

Love of my LIFE

I was introduced to Bill T. Jones and his work when I was 15, and have been hooked ever since. As someone who loves to create solos, his solo work blows me away every time. And the pieces he creates for his company are just as visceral and captivating. His choreography for Spring Awakening completely changed the way I approached creating dances for musicals. He's fiercely elegant, well-spoken, and hypnotizing.

Oh, and he's in residency with ASU Gammage for the next three years. So...YEAH. Freaking out a little. He'll also be doing a lot of lectures and whatnot with the School of Dance while he's here.

He gave a lecture/demonstration with his company on Tuesday that I planned on going to. Except I was so tired that I couldn't drag myself out of bed, even for BILLTFUCKINGJONES. I also missed a lecture by Claudia La Rocco that I've been looking forward to; she's a NY Times writer currently in residency with the School of Dance. Seriously, I can't stand myself anymore. BUT I'm very happy that I was able to make it to his lecture today, where he talked about the process of putting together Fondly Do We Hope...Fervently Do We Pray, which will be at Gammage this Saturday. (Got my tickets today, cha-ching!) Also, I'm hoping to talk in person with Claudia La Rocco before she leaves; I had one of my teachers introduce us and she gave me her email address. Somebody please smack the shyness out of me so I can hurry up and arrange a coffee date before her residency ends....

Anyway. It was overwhelming to sit fifteen feet away from one of my idols and listen to him speak. I really can't describe exactly how I'm feeling yet. I do know how frustrated I am, though. Just with myself. I hate that I'm not in classes right now, missing out on the opportunities to work directly with these artists in addition to getting to watch them give lectures. I hate that I couldn't get out of bed on Tuesday. I'm just really sick of this. I wish Bill T. Jones and Claudia La Rocco could have been here during my first semester, before my life fell apart. :/ Meh.

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.)

But I still have to face the hours, don't I?

"I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself, 'So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more.' It never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then."
--The Hours

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.

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.

What a legacy.

What about me and my life right now made it seem like I could possibly handle any more problems?? Can't you see that I am BARELY HANGING ON HERE???? Barely hanging on. I mean, is this some kind of joke? Because I've had enough of these fucking cosmic jokes. I'm so tired of having everything go wrong at once and feeling like it can't possibly get any worse, only to wake up to another huge bombshell or three or four. And why NOW? Why do I get to deal with yet another problem when I'm already at my lowest emotional point?? I'm so completely drained and I have nothing more to give so just STOP PILING IT ALL ON. I'm drowning and I have no more fight left in me. None. I'm not even sure I have the strength to fix anything that's gone wrong. I just want one damn thing to fix itself. Somebody to just give me a fucking break. I'm sure anyone else could be strong enough to be an adult and take care of things. But I can't.

And I'm sorry that I can't go into more detail about what's happening.