10:15 p.m. - 06/06/02
i wish the world ran on monopoly money. or good intentions.
so as soon as I hit "send" I will have officially declined denise's workshop for this summer. technically, I should have done this weeks ago (how long have I known that I could not afford it and was not willing to beg for a second consecutive scholarship?), but I haven't been able to. I think I'd be ok with not getting the feedback; other than Denise, I don't usually get much help with my work...but I so adore *giving* feedback. if I weren't so bad at public speaking/ babysitting, I might end up an english teacher after all.
erm...no. but still. I get a major high commenting on others' work and searching for a sticker to put at the end with a younger kid.
I know I have to decline. I don't have a job, I have no source of income, and I have major medical debt to think of (well, technically, my parents do...but still...) it's just kind of painful. it's an uppity poor kid soreness: the one that says, "I might not even want this, but the fact that I *can't* have this, makes me feel mistreated all the same." it isn't about the quality of the workshop; it's about my inability to participate no matter what the quality.
yeah. self-pity is a many-splendoured thing...
I'm kind of afraid that my e-mail sounds like I'm subtly begging for a scholarship, but I don't know what to do about that. maybe I am. I'll admit that I want to be a part of it, that I would happily participate without any of my own work shown just to work with the others, and I'll admit that I felt manipulative writing it. but honestly, I don't want to go back and edit it (I can't think about it that long, and as bad as I feel possibly "manipulating"- I'd feel worse pretending it doesn't affect me that I can't attend)...and I think I'll be ok, when she writes back and says, "darn. well, have a great summer!" because...I have other opportunities on my horizon, right? I need to not too quickly throw my time to, even the most enticing, lions.
I've been ill all day. which means I consumed caffeine. which means that an hour ago I looked like an ad for ritalin, or at the very least like I had taken a much more illegal drug. now I look like someone withdrawing from a street drug, and I'm starting to feel sick again.
I should see a doctor. this really is to chronic to ignore. at the very least, I should mention this to the doctor I *do* see. but what is there to say? if I would just suck it up and set an alarm, it wouldn't happen.
I ate my pre-bed crackers last night and the coma happened anyway. I wonder how you know if you're diabetic. it's so sugar-related, I'm really scared it's an insulin thing. I can't turn into my dad; not to mention, I hate needles.
erm.
we didn't make the workshop in upstate ny. apparently, it's for theater professionals (this being our first company piece has us on the amateur level), and they just couldn't bump their big names for us little people. all the same, we were apparently the last group cut (in a professional-status NY workshop) and people on their board were pushing that we stay on instead of the big-name-professionals. which is really exciting. they want us to take the student workshop (which, damn it all, costs money) and they basically believe that, in three years or so, we will be the big names they beg to attend.
so that's cool. as far as rejection goes. they're not complete bitches.
alright. I'm hitting send. I don't want to have to think about this one thing anymore. I don't care if I'm being passive-agressive, I don't care if I'm feeling neglected, and I don't care if I'll wish tomorrow morning that I hadn't sent it. I'm taking the fact that I know I'm not being completely honest as a sign of progress and screwing recovery for one little moment.
or perfection at least. it's ok to be less than recovered now and then.
there. sent. hotmail says so, and though hotmail is lately reminiscent of a certain lauren slater memoir, I think I believe it this time.
I remembered what other dr. r things happened, but I don't really feel like discussing them right now. I feel like listening to my third eye blind cd (check) and feeling tired and self-piteous. (also check.)
jenna always borrowed my third eye blind cd. I can't listen to it without thinking of her, but that isn't a bad thing, and I don't think I listen in order to have the memory. I think it's just a damn good album for the moment.
I'm looking forward to talking about myself with dr. r. as opposed to myself in regards to my parents. it feels like being in a new relationship. "oh how I loved everybody else/ when I finally got to talk/ so much about myself..." yes, once again dar understands. I feel blessed to have a place other than this journal and my sara phone calls (dammit! I must bite the bullet and call the girl) to mention names my parents do not know.
hm.
I cleaned my room today. it's the tidiest in the house now. ever since I finished, I've been relating that fact, and then welcoming my audience to the twilight zone, because let's face it- that little tidbit of truth is just *weird.*
as is
chord
*love*
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