Building the lies, that you make up for all that you lack...
So much for the updating monthly thing...
About two-ish hours ago, I turned 25 years old. I've lived a quarter of a century. I've survived bird-flu, SARS, Mad Cow Disease, Y2K, a trip overseas to the home country of my great great grandfather, 20 years of living with Conservative Evangelical Christians as a pagan/atheist, 9/11, Grissom Band Camp, being an honorary member of a fraternity, the rise of Apple and the iEverything, and every other crazy curve-ball this planet has had to throw for 25 years.
I've actually given it a lot of thought... not in the depressed way. I know I'm not old by any sane standard. It just... made me introspective.
Sometimes I feel like I should have more to show for it.
Sometimes I feel like -I- show it... not in a physical sense but just in the way I approach the world and those around me.
Sometimes I wonder where it all went.
Sometimes I wonder how I look out from under all the years that I irresistibly define by my failures to no one but myself, and still remain optimistic.
But always I feel like I've always been this way.
People tell me that I'm an old soul... that as a child I thought like an adult long before I ever should. Well now I should... and I wonder how I feel about it. 25 was always the real-adult mark to me. That paradox where you're supposed to have your life figured out, but everyone knows that you really don't. And I sometimes still really don't. Really really don't.
And I've been OK with that up until now. And I'm not suddenly and magically not OK with it just because of a date on the calendar... I more just wonder if I should still be OK with it.
I'm not angsting. I'm not having a quarter life crisis.
Y'know how when you lose your virginity and you lay back after it's all over and wonder if you should feel different... if anyone else ever felt different... Because you're not sure if you feel different?
I'm sort of there.
I've been doing a lot more reading lately.
And by a lot I mean I've read more books in the last 3 months than probably in the last 3 years put together. I've just dived into these books... consumed them in single sittings sometimes. I haven't done that... in I don't know how long. Years. Maybe even a decade. Just sat and read a book cover to cover.
And not my usual fare either. A fair bit of non-fiction, especially lately. I got kicked off on my binge by picking up Anderson Cooper's Dispatches from the Edge. It was a whim. I'm not even sure why I got booklust over it. I don't even watch his show on CNN... or at least I didn't until I read the book.
Which now sits resolutely in my top 5 books. Maybe even in the top 3.
Read it.
Don't blather excuses about not being interested in politics, or the media or anything like that. It's not about that. It's about comparisons of human suffering and responses to said suffering and how we as human beings can't help but draw comparisons between our state and that of those we see around us. Everyone should read it.
I've been teased about my love of the book being because I have a crush on Anderson Cooper, but frankly speaking, if that's all you're reading the book for or all you think I read it for then that's really pretty sad honestly. As sad as him being a sex icon the way he is. The man is smart... a Yale grad for fuck's sake. Is he sexy? Absolutely. But just go read the book after you've put all your assumptions aside, and read what amazing things he has to say. I walked around in a haze for a couple of days after finishing it. It made me question my decision to avoid getting into journalism, because he's going to save the industry, or be its last bastion of sanity.
I also read a book that's been sitting on my shelf for something like two years called A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah... it's about child soldiers in the militias fighting in Africa. It was amazing... and dark... I was fascinated by the fact that Beah tells his story so matter-of-fact-ly and I keep thinking he's building up to some great overarching point... but he never does. He's just telling his story for all to hear... here is just how it is in some parts of the world. Teenage boys barely over puberty are hopped up on drugs and handed a gun. It was really pretty stunning and surreal.
And in lighter fare, I have started reading Laurell K. Hamilton's Meredith Gentry series. It's such fluff... but I needed it to cut the weight of the other stuff I've been reading. They're fun and fantastical... a good escape and that's a quality I'm very fond of.
I'm going to start a book called "Salt" which is about how the salt trade shaped the ancient world... that one has been on my shelf collecting dust for awhile too.
But long story short, I'm reading again. And it's been a mixed blessing. On the one hand I'm glad for it... the escapism and the betterment of my own mind are certainly worthy pursuits. The non-fiction especially doesn't leave me with that feeling that mentally I just ate an entire box of chocolate.
But I fear something that hasn't been a problem in a long time... I feel myself falling back into my own head. I've had such a rich social life the last few months before Italy... I haven't had time to spend alone with my own thoughts. I've always been running and doing and thinking outside of myself but books are the bait for me to retreat within myself and think. I'm used to it, but I fear everyone around me finds it offputting.
Drood was amazing. Life-changing. Affirming.
All those things and more.
I had meant to do a post when it was over... but I didn't know what to say. I still have a hard time believing that was me. I ran a musical. Me. I did it. I held it together.
And at the end of it all, I was begging David Harwell, with tears running down my face, for a chance to do this again.
He told me, "Of course! I will keep you until I have to send you off to do bigger and better things."
He told me, "Birdie, your greatest strength is being brave enough to seize opportunities when they arise."
He told me, "I gave this group a stage, but you made it home."
He told me, "Isn't it wonderful when you finally find your calling."
He told me, "I didn't know what I was going to do about running this show, but we were sent an angel."
And he did email me and wants me to work with him this 2010-2011 season. I don't know doing what... I didn't even ask. I couldn't type 'YES PLEASE!' in reply fast enough.
I was always told growing up, that I was made for the stage. This wasn't what I had in mind, but I'll take it.
School carries on.
My group of friends isn't what it was, but nothing ever stays constant except change. It was fun while it lasted and I don't think it will ever be quite the same again. I've made peace with that the way I always have. Friends come and go in my life and I've just had to deal with that.
Italy was amazing.
I really can't sum it up in any way that does it any justice. It was just too amazing for words. The food... smells... sights... I could have only asked for one thing and that was more time.
Charlie and I are moving in the direction of getting a house.
Moving will suck but what can you do. It will be worth it.
I think that's all for me this time. Maybe I'll try to get on here and ramble more often. There are somethings that you can only talk to the empty air about, because your thoughts are equally as insubstantial.
I don't think my life or my youth is over. I'm just getting started. The road does indeed go ever on and on.
Happy birthday to me...
About two-ish hours ago, I turned 25 years old. I've lived a quarter of a century. I've survived bird-flu, SARS, Mad Cow Disease, Y2K, a trip overseas to the home country of my great great grandfather, 20 years of living with Conservative Evangelical Christians as a pagan/atheist, 9/11, Grissom Band Camp, being an honorary member of a fraternity, the rise of Apple and the iEverything, and every other crazy curve-ball this planet has had to throw for 25 years.
I've actually given it a lot of thought... not in the depressed way. I know I'm not old by any sane standard. It just... made me introspective.
Sometimes I feel like I should have more to show for it.
Sometimes I feel like -I- show it... not in a physical sense but just in the way I approach the world and those around me.
Sometimes I wonder where it all went.
Sometimes I wonder how I look out from under all the years that I irresistibly define by my failures to no one but myself, and still remain optimistic.
But always I feel like I've always been this way.
People tell me that I'm an old soul... that as a child I thought like an adult long before I ever should. Well now I should... and I wonder how I feel about it. 25 was always the real-adult mark to me. That paradox where you're supposed to have your life figured out, but everyone knows that you really don't. And I sometimes still really don't. Really really don't.
And I've been OK with that up until now. And I'm not suddenly and magically not OK with it just because of a date on the calendar... I more just wonder if I should still be OK with it.
I'm not angsting. I'm not having a quarter life crisis.
Y'know how when you lose your virginity and you lay back after it's all over and wonder if you should feel different... if anyone else ever felt different... Because you're not sure if you feel different?
I'm sort of there.
I've been doing a lot more reading lately.
And by a lot I mean I've read more books in the last 3 months than probably in the last 3 years put together. I've just dived into these books... consumed them in single sittings sometimes. I haven't done that... in I don't know how long. Years. Maybe even a decade. Just sat and read a book cover to cover.
And not my usual fare either. A fair bit of non-fiction, especially lately. I got kicked off on my binge by picking up Anderson Cooper's Dispatches from the Edge. It was a whim. I'm not even sure why I got booklust over it. I don't even watch his show on CNN... or at least I didn't until I read the book.
Which now sits resolutely in my top 5 books. Maybe even in the top 3.
Read it.
Don't blather excuses about not being interested in politics, or the media or anything like that. It's not about that. It's about comparisons of human suffering and responses to said suffering and how we as human beings can't help but draw comparisons between our state and that of those we see around us. Everyone should read it.
I've been teased about my love of the book being because I have a crush on Anderson Cooper, but frankly speaking, if that's all you're reading the book for or all you think I read it for then that's really pretty sad honestly. As sad as him being a sex icon the way he is. The man is smart... a Yale grad for fuck's sake. Is he sexy? Absolutely. But just go read the book after you've put all your assumptions aside, and read what amazing things he has to say. I walked around in a haze for a couple of days after finishing it. It made me question my decision to avoid getting into journalism, because he's going to save the industry, or be its last bastion of sanity.
I also read a book that's been sitting on my shelf for something like two years called A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah... it's about child soldiers in the militias fighting in Africa. It was amazing... and dark... I was fascinated by the fact that Beah tells his story so matter-of-fact-ly and I keep thinking he's building up to some great overarching point... but he never does. He's just telling his story for all to hear... here is just how it is in some parts of the world. Teenage boys barely over puberty are hopped up on drugs and handed a gun. It was really pretty stunning and surreal.
And in lighter fare, I have started reading Laurell K. Hamilton's Meredith Gentry series. It's such fluff... but I needed it to cut the weight of the other stuff I've been reading. They're fun and fantastical... a good escape and that's a quality I'm very fond of.
I'm going to start a book called "Salt" which is about how the salt trade shaped the ancient world... that one has been on my shelf collecting dust for awhile too.
But long story short, I'm reading again. And it's been a mixed blessing. On the one hand I'm glad for it... the escapism and the betterment of my own mind are certainly worthy pursuits. The non-fiction especially doesn't leave me with that feeling that mentally I just ate an entire box of chocolate.
But I fear something that hasn't been a problem in a long time... I feel myself falling back into my own head. I've had such a rich social life the last few months before Italy... I haven't had time to spend alone with my own thoughts. I've always been running and doing and thinking outside of myself but books are the bait for me to retreat within myself and think. I'm used to it, but I fear everyone around me finds it offputting.
Drood was amazing. Life-changing. Affirming.
All those things and more.
I had meant to do a post when it was over... but I didn't know what to say. I still have a hard time believing that was me. I ran a musical. Me. I did it. I held it together.
And at the end of it all, I was begging David Harwell, with tears running down my face, for a chance to do this again.
He told me, "Of course! I will keep you until I have to send you off to do bigger and better things."
He told me, "Birdie, your greatest strength is being brave enough to seize opportunities when they arise."
He told me, "I gave this group a stage, but you made it home."
He told me, "Isn't it wonderful when you finally find your calling."
He told me, "I didn't know what I was going to do about running this show, but we were sent an angel."
And he did email me and wants me to work with him this 2010-2011 season. I don't know doing what... I didn't even ask. I couldn't type 'YES PLEASE!' in reply fast enough.
I was always told growing up, that I was made for the stage. This wasn't what I had in mind, but I'll take it.
School carries on.
My group of friends isn't what it was, but nothing ever stays constant except change. It was fun while it lasted and I don't think it will ever be quite the same again. I've made peace with that the way I always have. Friends come and go in my life and I've just had to deal with that.
Italy was amazing.
I really can't sum it up in any way that does it any justice. It was just too amazing for words. The food... smells... sights... I could have only asked for one thing and that was more time.
Charlie and I are moving in the direction of getting a house.
Moving will suck but what can you do. It will be worth it.
I think that's all for me this time. Maybe I'll try to get on here and ramble more often. There are somethings that you can only talk to the empty air about, because your thoughts are equally as insubstantial.
I don't think my life or my youth is over. I'm just getting started. The road does indeed go ever on and on.
Happy birthday to me...