Having a livejournal moment
Many things are pissing me off today. I also understand I'm just in a shit mood at the moment and nothing could actually not piss me off- like I just told Ian, waiting to feel better about your life feels like the definition of wasting time.
A few things. Max (you remember, from high school? from the cellars of my shattered adolescent heart) reached out to me a few weeks back. He wanted me back in his life, naturally. Harping on about how he'll always love me on some level, that he knows now we'll never be together but wants me to be included in his life even though his girlfriend hates me already, apparently. After he apologizes for all his pubescent bullshit and talks my ear off a couple times, I texted him when I was drunk. Don't worry, it's not what you're thinking:
"I'm drunk and you're kind of the worst."
Because he is, isn't he. He's the worst kind of person, who only wants YOU to be in THEIR lives because you serve a purpose. The fuck has he done for me lately? What could he possibly do for me, even if he would? All I wanted to do was tell him off for being such a fickle dickhead, the normal 'you can't just walk back in here' kinda talk. Maybe I wanted to see if he even cared enough to try and serve a purpose in my life. The point's moot though, because he didn't text back.
Pretty over it.
Oh, speaking of unwelcome texts, my sister ~*~BUNNY QUOTES~*~ reached out ~*~CLOSE BUNNY QUOTES~*~ the other day while I was getting wine drunk with Molly. She was at the Queens of the Stone Age concert at Coachella (spoiled little brat) and said she only knew them because of me, and she hopes I'm well, heart emoji.
Me: Okay you kids have fun bye
Her: Aight fuck you too
Me: Wow, borderline much?
Of course it only got worse from there. She spouted off some abusive shit about how I'm not worth caring for and she's not the first to figure that out, that I'm her sister and "at least im trying" so obviously it's my fault that she tried to kill me and now it's my fault that I don't want a relationship. My parents are incessantly acting as messengers, diplomats. I'm sick of it. I know she'll be living in my house this summer, which is why I plan on spending as little time at home as possible. There is no way to make them understand, or at least I haven't found it, that I DO NOT WANT A RELATIONSHIP WITH MY SISTER RIGHT NOW. I wish they would see how reasonable that is, how maybe if things changed I'd come around, but I'm not going to make the umpteenth fucking effort just because I'm the sane one. Being sane and responsible when she is neither of those things does not make our relationship my responsibility, or her mental illness my problem.
Unfortunately this whole thing with my sister is having a weird effect on Ian and I. When I move in with him (and however many other friends we'll live with) I want it to be because I want to live with them in that house, not because I don't want to live with my batshit sister. That's probably just affecting me, not him...
Oh, and we had a fight. That entry I made about boys ruining everything? I was in the middle of a drunk diva tantrum. It was a doozy of a fight and there was lots of drinking and crying, at least on my end. Honeymoon phase is over. Things are better now, but they're not the same. They're steadier, not as ecstatic, which is probably good. But there's no more butterflies, no more fairy tales. Neither of us are perfect anymore. It's a relief, but also a bummer.
At least I put a great show on this weekend, right? Damn skippy I did, I knocked that shit right out of the park. Saturday night we had the black box packed to the rafters, there were kids in the cat walks above the audience, and not a single dry eye in the house. My poor mom put herself through that show and was so thoroughly impressed with me. Everyone I've talked to has complimented me on it somehow, though it's Portland, so they'd probably do that anyway. My professors however, are another story. The two I've spoken to were concerned that my character was a caricature, not real enough, that they didn't ever believe I could persuade my daughter not to kill herself. Imagine my professor's reaction when I told her my director told me to only ever play three actions... through the rest of that discussion we both realized how reductive my director was of my character, how it wasn't ever the goal to have my character be real in the first place. Because at first glance, the show's all about my daughter, and I was the only one in the show who noticed otherwise.
Effectively, I was benched by my director. She could have used me so much better, capitalized on my range, trusted me to make some of my own decisions because as my professor Rebecca put it, "it's not just Hannah's thesis..." but then what was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to go tattle because I disagreed with something my director said? Actors take the notes, whether they agree or not. Rebecca actually conceded that it was powerful how well I was able to take that note despite my resistance, so that's got to count for something... but I am just fucking furious with Hannah about this. This was my thesis too, and I let her just boil me down to three actions because she was the director and I was the actor. What was she even thinking? Why couldn't she have just let me do my own actor thing and build an entire character? How could I have prevented this?
As Ian and Rebecca have both told me today, no one's ever 100% satisfied with creative work, there's always more to be done. Still, I could have done more (and should have done more) and I wasn't given the room. I was denied that space for growth. In my own thesis. By a subpar reductive director. I'll have to be mad about that for a little while.
I was reading this thing earlier, one of those stupid dime-a-dozen internet articles about what to do when you're mad. One of the first steps was just to accept it. That you're not feeling anything wrong, and that you might not want to act on any of these feelings, but that you're not experiencing anything unreasonable, so sit with it. Be angry. Feel the angry. Another step was to write about it, so voila.
I'm so sick of people wanting things from me, and I'm so sick of other people managing me. What if no one managed my shit for a whole day? I'd probably slough off a few layers of resentment and start managing my own self. As for people who want things from me, what am I, chop liver? How was my day? How am I feeling?
Jesus, is it so hard to just find contentment for one godforsaken moment? Sober?
A few things. Max (you remember, from high school? from the cellars of my shattered adolescent heart) reached out to me a few weeks back. He wanted me back in his life, naturally. Harping on about how he'll always love me on some level, that he knows now we'll never be together but wants me to be included in his life even though his girlfriend hates me already, apparently. After he apologizes for all his pubescent bullshit and talks my ear off a couple times, I texted him when I was drunk. Don't worry, it's not what you're thinking:
"I'm drunk and you're kind of the worst."
Because he is, isn't he. He's the worst kind of person, who only wants YOU to be in THEIR lives because you serve a purpose. The fuck has he done for me lately? What could he possibly do for me, even if he would? All I wanted to do was tell him off for being such a fickle dickhead, the normal 'you can't just walk back in here' kinda talk. Maybe I wanted to see if he even cared enough to try and serve a purpose in my life. The point's moot though, because he didn't text back.
Pretty over it.
Oh, speaking of unwelcome texts, my sister ~*~BUNNY QUOTES~*~ reached out ~*~CLOSE BUNNY QUOTES~*~ the other day while I was getting wine drunk with Molly. She was at the Queens of the Stone Age concert at Coachella (spoiled little brat) and said she only knew them because of me, and she hopes I'm well, heart emoji.
Me: Okay you kids have fun bye
Her: Aight fuck you too
Me: Wow, borderline much?
Of course it only got worse from there. She spouted off some abusive shit about how I'm not worth caring for and she's not the first to figure that out, that I'm her sister and "at least im trying" so obviously it's my fault that she tried to kill me and now it's my fault that I don't want a relationship. My parents are incessantly acting as messengers, diplomats. I'm sick of it. I know she'll be living in my house this summer, which is why I plan on spending as little time at home as possible. There is no way to make them understand, or at least I haven't found it, that I DO NOT WANT A RELATIONSHIP WITH MY SISTER RIGHT NOW. I wish they would see how reasonable that is, how maybe if things changed I'd come around, but I'm not going to make the umpteenth fucking effort just because I'm the sane one. Being sane and responsible when she is neither of those things does not make our relationship my responsibility, or her mental illness my problem.
Unfortunately this whole thing with my sister is having a weird effect on Ian and I. When I move in with him (and however many other friends we'll live with) I want it to be because I want to live with them in that house, not because I don't want to live with my batshit sister. That's probably just affecting me, not him...
Oh, and we had a fight. That entry I made about boys ruining everything? I was in the middle of a drunk diva tantrum. It was a doozy of a fight and there was lots of drinking and crying, at least on my end. Honeymoon phase is over. Things are better now, but they're not the same. They're steadier, not as ecstatic, which is probably good. But there's no more butterflies, no more fairy tales. Neither of us are perfect anymore. It's a relief, but also a bummer.
At least I put a great show on this weekend, right? Damn skippy I did, I knocked that shit right out of the park. Saturday night we had the black box packed to the rafters, there were kids in the cat walks above the audience, and not a single dry eye in the house. My poor mom put herself through that show and was so thoroughly impressed with me. Everyone I've talked to has complimented me on it somehow, though it's Portland, so they'd probably do that anyway. My professors however, are another story. The two I've spoken to were concerned that my character was a caricature, not real enough, that they didn't ever believe I could persuade my daughter not to kill herself. Imagine my professor's reaction when I told her my director told me to only ever play three actions... through the rest of that discussion we both realized how reductive my director was of my character, how it wasn't ever the goal to have my character be real in the first place. Because at first glance, the show's all about my daughter, and I was the only one in the show who noticed otherwise.
Effectively, I was benched by my director. She could have used me so much better, capitalized on my range, trusted me to make some of my own decisions because as my professor Rebecca put it, "it's not just Hannah's thesis..." but then what was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to go tattle because I disagreed with something my director said? Actors take the notes, whether they agree or not. Rebecca actually conceded that it was powerful how well I was able to take that note despite my resistance, so that's got to count for something... but I am just fucking furious with Hannah about this. This was my thesis too, and I let her just boil me down to three actions because she was the director and I was the actor. What was she even thinking? Why couldn't she have just let me do my own actor thing and build an entire character? How could I have prevented this?
As Ian and Rebecca have both told me today, no one's ever 100% satisfied with creative work, there's always more to be done. Still, I could have done more (and should have done more) and I wasn't given the room. I was denied that space for growth. In my own thesis. By a subpar reductive director. I'll have to be mad about that for a little while.
I was reading this thing earlier, one of those stupid dime-a-dozen internet articles about what to do when you're mad. One of the first steps was just to accept it. That you're not feeling anything wrong, and that you might not want to act on any of these feelings, but that you're not experiencing anything unreasonable, so sit with it. Be angry. Feel the angry. Another step was to write about it, so voila.
I'm so sick of people wanting things from me, and I'm so sick of other people managing me. What if no one managed my shit for a whole day? I'd probably slough off a few layers of resentment and start managing my own self. As for people who want things from me, what am I, chop liver? How was my day? How am I feeling?
Jesus, is it so hard to just find contentment for one godforsaken moment? Sober?