Relapse.

I know I wrote a post about feeling better, but something happened.
Two nights ago I had a dream that I was being stalked and then I was a little more morbid than usual the next day.
Last night I recounted the dream to my friend, got unbelievably scared and felt like I was being watched. I'm still scared.
Now I'm afraid I have schizophrenia.

Another Brief Thought.

Another short yet complicated thought.
I have extreme issues with both mortality and immortality.

I've Been Inspired.

There is something I have decided to do if it takes everything in me.
I am going to stop over-analyzing myself, humanity and existence before I become insane.
I am going to stop self-examing, worrying, obsessing over my health, my life and my mind.
I am going to accept the fact that maybe my mind isn't fully well, because I'm intelligent and even if I forget things or can't focus, there are always things I will never lose ability to do.
I am going to stop killing myself over things that I know don't matter, deep down.
I am going to attempt to reunite with the faith and spirituality I once had, that which was corrupted somewhere down the line. I might even start going to church. Smythe Street Cathedral, of course. Non-denominational.
I am going to start reading again.
I am going to take more pictures.
I am going to take another look at my list of goals.
I am going to cry when I want to without worrying about my mental health.
I am going to be more understanding of my friends.
I am going to trust what the doctor says rather than scare myself with self-diagnosis.
I am going to look at this whenever I forget.
I am going to remember what's important in life.

I am going to be happy.
I am going to live.

A Blunt Thought.

Lately, I miss you so much it's making me insane.

We're All Broken Enough to Be Humble.

I am not confident.
I know I am smart, but not in the ways that count.
I read people much better than books, but I never have the words to explain my findings.
I'm only as funny as I feel.
And I do not think I'm pretty.
I sometimes walk with my head down.
My posture is terrible.
I think my emotions get the best of me.
I'm really not as nice as I'd like to be, or as innocent as you'd think I am.
I am a contradiction to everything I want to stand for.
I'm a big dreamer with little motivation.
I'm really no good at all on my own, but I am analytical with myself.
And I don't understand how anyone could ever be cocky or proud, when they are aware of all the disgusting things they think and do, but no one knows.
We're all broken enough to be humble.
-Anna-Joy Reed.

I love this. I read it and I saw everything I feel sometimes. I think everyone feels it occasionally. It just expressed it so well. Especially the last line. The push and pull and contradictions and struggles we go through in our own minds every day to try and keep good prevaling over bad, to keep a balance in ourselves.

It's Been A Long Time.

It's been a very long time since I posted here. I have several things to talk about.

For the past month or so, I've been a little sick. I let a little anxiety take over and I convinced myself that I was extremely sick, mostly because of the fatigue and the headaches, which are most likely caused by the anxiety in the first place, not to mention lack of sleep and stress from production. Anyhow, I know deep down that I'm going to be alright, and when I really think about it, there are so many people that are worse off than me. So many. Millions of people suffer loss and heartbreak, and life goes on because it has to. People grieve to move on.

Speaking of production, theatre is my soul. I adore everything about a musical, and live theatre in general. I'm auditioning for 'Snow White' next week. There's a lot of people who are better than me, experience-wise, anyway, but I intend to give it everything I have. I've got a monologue picked out and every time I get a burst of energy, or my headache becomes manageable, I intend to practice! I'd love to get a part. When production is over I feel rather empty.

I have one more thing to mention.
I understand that I am not conventionally attractive or what have you, but is it necessary for people to voice their opinions on such matters? Allow me to explain:
Today in English class, we had to do a re-enactment of the courtroom scene from 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. I had to be Mayella Ewell. This guy in my class who is constantly asleep was chosen to be Tom Robinson. Now, I haven't spoken to him in a long time, all I remember is the two of us not getting along in elementary school, and nothing has happened since then. When the judge tells Mayella "You're a big girl", this clever young man playing Tom starts to snicker and whisper. Thank you, I am well aware of how I look. There are many people larger than me.

When Mayella is asked who raped her, she is supposed to point at Tom and he is supposed to stand up. According to MY script, he had no line at that point. However, when he stood up, he said "I must have been drunk."
He was absolutely not talking about Mayella in context to the book at all, and everyone knew it. Nobody laughed. I finished reading my part.
Things like this don't bother me as much as they used to, but I just wanted to mention it because, personally, I believe that every single person on this earth is beautiful and worthy in one way or another, and should never be made to feel like they aren't. I know some people really struggle with such things, and it isn't fair. I used to, I really did. I don't anymore. I'm perfectly happy with myself. The incident today made me wonder, however, how many people he's made to feel bad. Nobody can make you feel bad unless you let them, ever.

October.

October changed.
It lit me with passion, and extinguished it suddenly, without warning.
It left me no sign to explain or console.
No instruction.
It left no light on.
I stayed immobile, in the dark.
I didn't measure in time.
Only in feeling. Aches that told me to sleep, but fear that would have none of it.
And photos.
It's painfully easy to measure in photos.
A haircut, a suit, a surgical mask.
I used my units of time carelessly, and continued blindly.
No instruction, no light.

Burlesque Is Rather Interesting.

There's something I've been researching a little more lately. I've always been interested in it. I figure I might as well post about it. I haven't blogged in a long while.

Strippers are not always attractive. Many of them are really, really thin, and sickly looking. They put no effort into their hair, and the clothing is never spectacular. The routine is the same old thing. The pole, every time. And they come out nearly naked. There's no teasing, there's nothing about it that makes them stand out. Nothing makes them a performer, a seductress. And may I just mention again that they have no body? They always look sick.

But, have you ever seen a burlesque dancer? They're gorgeous. The routine is a performance. There's so much effort. The clothing is amazing. I absolutely adore vintage lingerie and swimsuits. It's like a moving pin-up girl with attitude. And the bodies. I have seen burlesque dancers in every single size. To see someone who represents something sexual that actually has a figure is refreshing. Some of them are tall, some are short. Some have tattoos and piercings. It's amazing.

I don't go to school dressed like a pin-up, obviously. I don't do my hair and if anything, I kind of dress like a burnout sometimes. Whenever I've had to do an essay or answer a question on my future, I've never mentioned burlesque, of course. However, it's been a secret aspiration of mine for a very long time. I've always especially admired Dita Von Teese. She's one of the smaller performers in the industry, but she's still fabulous. She always loved vintage fashion, and worked at a strip club when she was young. She was sorely dissapointed in the routines, and in how they dressed and acted. I feel the same. Some routines are better done than others, and in the end it is stripping, but it's the build up, the performance. It's admirable, it's really performing. Stripping is kind of sleazy, burlesque is an art.

A Short Post.

Alright.
Last week will go down in the history books as the worst week of all time. I decided not to post anything I'd regret. I've returned, however!

I am still not finished 'The Catcher In The Rye', but I'm getting closer. I don't know what I'll read after that. I've been thinking perhaps 'Bridget Jones' Diary'.
A good book can make me feel so much better. I'm still rather ill, although I don't feel as bad as I did. I'm in this sort of delicate state where everything really bothers me. For example, I just heard on tele that H1N1 has been killing people with no underlying conditions. Now I'll have to calm myself down all over again. Also, I woke up at four o'clock this morning and my television was still on. It was a documentary-type show about the beheading that happened on the Greyhound bus last summer. What a thing to wake up to. I'm more than a little paranoid.

Anyhow, lately I've gained quite a bit of respect for people I didn't really think much of before. For example, Pamela Anderson does quite a bit of work for animal rights, petitions against the seal hunt and has a line of beauty products that aren't tested on animals. Also, Anne Murray was on 'The Hour' today. When you look back on her career, she was really quite good. Also, John Lennon once told her that her cover of 'You Won't See Me' was his favorite cover of a Beatles song. Talk about amazing.

I suppose it'll be a short post, then. I haven't got too much to say at the moment.

Family Ties.

I have come to realize the importance of family. When I really reflect, I would be in an extremely bad way if I didn't have the family that I do.
I appreciate my family more now, as a teenager, than I did when I was younger. I can better see what they did for me, what they do for me still. I could never imagine what it is like for people who's families walk out on them. I don't know how they cope, or live day to day, for that matter.

My immediate family was divided in a rather bad divorce. I saw it coming for an extremely long time, yet that didn't soften the blow at all. Once the dust had settled, however, it was so much better. It was quieter, people were happier. When my mother started dating, however, I took it less than well. I had never seen my father often, even when my parents were married, so to see him with someone else didn't bother me much. I've always been very attached to my mother however, and I'll be the first to admit it. It took me a long time to accept anyone outside the sanctity and safety of what we had.

Once I did, I realized how fortunate I was. Nothing could have weakened love in our family. The seperation only strengthened loyalty and affection on both sides. I wouldn't wish the ordeal on anyone, of course. Since it's all happened I've developed trichotillomania and a mild anxiety disorder, but that, too, is aided and soothed by family.

Illness has strengthened our bond, too. I always loved my grandmother, but since she had breast cancer I realized just how strong-willed and determined she is, and I hope to be half as perseverant as her someday. I feel the same about my aunt since her thyroid cancer, not to mention the impressive amount of weight she's lost all on her own.

After my great-grandmothers death on my father's side, I remember how we all came together, even my family from B.C., for the funeral, and for dinner afterwards. I remember how strong I felt then, too. The love is everlasting.

Never take anyone who loves you unconditionally for granted.

The Fever.

I'm almost finished The Catcher In The Rye. It's one of those books where nothing of significance has happened yet, and I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen. It's all very entertaining, nonetheless. Afterwards I'll finish Jane Eyre, and move on to something else.

I'm kind of boring, aren't I?
I've caught some sort of virus. It's really unfortunate. I was having anxiety attacks in quick succession, and I think it wore my immune system down to the equivalent of an infant. I'm so out of it I have to try really hard to process what I'm writing right now. I've slept more than can be healthy in the past three days, and everything is exhausting me! I should eat. Since Monday afternoon I've eaten three pieces of toast and a banana. I've also had at least three times my weight in gingerale.

Lately, I've really wanted it to be Christmas. I was never a big fan of Halloween and it's looking like I'll be sick anyhow. Once when I was younger, eight or nine I think; I was sick on Halloween, and I had to stay home. My brother went out door to door with my cousins, and then they each gave me half their candy. I'll never forget that.
Christmas. I really would like it if it was closer to Christmas, or if there was more snow on the ground. It snowed once, and then it rained and ruined it. Christmas is probably my favorite time of year, and I believe if anyone really thought about it, they wouldn't actually have to stress about shopping and such. I really don't see the stress factor in it at all.

I have been listening to a great deal of Bob Dylan lately. There's always an amount of Dylan in my song transistions, but lately, more than usual. He is probably one of my favorite lyricists.
I think this post is jumping strangely from topic to topic, much unlike my usual style, but the fever is getting to me.

Believe

Anyone who reads this (all two of you) or who knows me in general, might possibly know of my strong affinity for making lists of things. A list can have power if it's interesting enough. I decided today to make a list of my personal beliefs. Now is as good a time as any.

2012 is not going to happen.
Marijuana is a gateway drug.
Religion is severely hypocritical.
Woody Allen is the greatest cinematic mind of all time.
Everybody has reasons behind being the way they are.
Men who find women that are unbelievably thin carbon copies of everyone else attractive for their looks have something really wrong with them. If the personality is there, I can agree with that.
Self-esteem is a delicate thing at any age.
Love is a delicate thing, too.
Early autumn is the most beautiful time of year.
Being in a musical is the greatest experience.
If you drink for the sole purpose of getting drunk, you're an alcoholic.
Counting calories is bad for the soul.
Animal testing has absolutely no purpose whatsoever.
Creative writing is the only way to learn.
Everyone is attractive in some way.
Everyone has a right to be happy.
Anyone can sing.
Anyone can write an amazing story.
It's okay to tell yourself you're attractive. You are.
Everyone will fall in love.
McDonalds is the work of demons.
Denim mini-skirts should not exist.
Nickelback should also not exist.
"The Great Gatsby" is the greatest book ever written.
Every woman should own a gypsy-inspired dress.
Taking self-portraits is not vanity. Bending over as far as you can to take your self-portrait in your push up bra, to ensure maximum amount of cleavage in the exact same picture seven hundred times all over Facebook, then editing it until your face looks like very dark plastic, is.
Trying very hard to hang on to and help something that is a lost cause is not good for you.
The Beatles will always be the greatest thing that happened to the universe.
High school is never over.
Cellphones are not taking over. Cellphones can be turned off, contrary to the popular belief of those who feel the need to send eight thousand text messages when you are attempting to converse.
Trying very hard not to conform is conforming.
People who do what they know is right, without influence from anyone, deserve The Nobel Prize.
Obama did not deserve the Nobel Peace Prize.
Dhani Harrison is an exact, molded replica of his father.
School dances were designed to make people sweaty and miserable.
Happiness absolutely has to start within.
There is nothing wrong with speaking your mind. About anything.
Kanye West is never going to let you finish.
Love exists.
Nuclear war is not likely to happen. It's a lose-lose situation.
The only reason good things come to and end is because something better is waiting.
The cycle of life is vicious, but necessary.
There is never really an end.

Much Too Vague.

When something you are passionate about seems to be becoming extremely political, it's more than dissappointing.
I don't feel the need to be specific on this topic. Vagueness is always something I've tried to acheive in everything anyhow.
This time, something is riding on it that makes it a much bigger deal than it's been in previous years. This is making people tense, and it's making authority figures political.
Some people, who are lovely people, but shall become the subject of my polite tyrade, have received positions that they don't necessarily deserve. They received these positions because of their connections, and I am very much aware of it. I have no connections. There is one person, in particular, who I really think is charming, but I feel I could do much better in their position. It sounds awful. I know. It's just how I feel. The person in question received this position, in part at least, because they are of relation to someone who has very high connections to this whole, horribly vague mess.
Besides that, it's become much less light-hearted than last time, which is very saddening. It used to be a very fulfilling experience, and now it seems to be stressing everyone to breaking point.
Awkward conclusion.
Vague enough?

Death and Empathy

Lately, death has been hanging over my head like an extremely inevitable cloud.
Am I going to die?
No. Not any time soon. I do have trouble shaking the feeling, however. I become this way every so often. I'm rather prone to anxiety attacks, which I have no problem controlling at this point. This doesn't make them any less unpleasant. These mixed with the inevitability of death shakes me.
I had better explain further:
I am afraid of death at the moment, slightly. There are many, many things I would still like to do. When the time does come, I won't be afraid for myself. I won't be able to feel anything, or watch it happen. I'm terrified for those who will. I believe part of why I feel so strongly is caused from an overwhelming sense of empathy I carry with me all the time. I want everyone to be happy. I really, really do. Which is why I can't do things that most people can like watch the news, or a particularily sad film. Knowing that I am going to cause sadness, and an overwhelming sense of loss of control in people I love especially, makes me insane.

Where I Go From Here.

I finished "The Great Gatsby".
It was the saddest, most magnificent book I have ever read. And now I'm almost finished "Jane Eyre". Change in plans about the Jane Austen books. It's on to "The Catcher In The Rye" after this.
In other equally enthralling news, I am pleased to announce my overall general happiness with life at the moment. It's genial, really. Although, it really doesn't take much to make me happy. I would say that can only be a good thing.
Also! I've decided I'd really like to be a writer. A journalist, perhaps. I haven't decided what field in which to write, but I'd really like to do it. I always felt like I had to strive so hard for music, and I'm really not that talented when it all comes down to it. I can sing, but anything instrumental comes awkwardly and unnaturally if it comes to me at all. Much unlike writing. Writing pours from me like it's been waiting there for the moment I decided to let it out. So, to add another goal to the wonderful list of "Soon-to-be Accomplishments", I will start writing things besides blog posts. More songs and poems, as usual, but I should also like to broaden my horizons into things like short stories. We'll see where I go from here.

The Great Gatsby.

Well, I've begun "The Great Gatsby."
It's very, very good so far. I think afterwards will be "Jane Eyre", and then all the Jane Austen novels that are on the list. I'd like to read them in sequence (even though they aren't sequels).

Otherwise I have nothing to report. School starts tomorrow. I should really make one of my goals to do with school but I probably won't. Most unfortunate.

Goals.

Well, hello.
Lately, I've been thinking much about goals, and what I would like to do with my life. Speaking in short and long terms, of course. I've decided I'd like to live in Europe. Maybe not for my whole life, but for a while, after university, for the experience. I've also begun saving my money to take a trip to England. I was looking at flights and the price of hostels last night. I could do it, most definitely. Besides that, I'd also like to save my money in general.
I've completed a few of these goals already, including to stop eating meat, to shop only vintage and secondhand, and to replace all the products I use to ones that aren't tested on animals. I have a list of some other smaller scale goals too, like getting a job, which really ties into the bigger ones, because of the whole money factor. Walking the dog every day, volunteering somewhere (that's a big one, I feel lately I should be doing more for others than I am at the moment)
But one that I decided yesterday, was to read BBC's list of the "100 Books to Read Before you Die." I've read a few of them, but definitely not the majority. The Bible is going to be a hard one for me, mostly because I have a few opinions on religion, that aren't necessarily pro-religion. Although sometimes I wonder about it. Maybe if I read the Bible I'll decide. Also, "Lolita" is on the list. Lolita is going to be virtually impossible to find. I'm determined to do it, however.
So, there you have it. I intend to accomplish all these goals. I haven't set a time limit for myself, because then I'll rush and do a half-ass job at everything. But everything will happen in my lifetime, I'll make sure of it.

What It Comes Down To.

I am beautiful the way I am.

Self Searching.

I am happy.
It used to be that when I went out for something as simple as a walk, I was trying to walk towards something. Something I wanted and needed. I didn't know what it was, but I would get up and leave what I was doing to walk and walk and walk with absolutely no enjoyment, until I stopped, sorely disappointed in not finding the nothing that I was looking for, and going back. It was the same way with dreams. Ever since I was young I had a recurring dream that I was looking for a dog for someone I barely knew. One day, recently, I had the dream and found the dog. And I haven't had it since. Maybe I didn't need to find anything, but if I did, whatever it was, I found it. I think what I needed to find most was myself. I needed to really see myself. I needed to stop having so many false ideals and just embrace what I am and learn to embrace what I will be.
Now, I'm just dreaming.
Now, I am just going for a walk.

Secrets

I've been checking the new PostSecrets every Sunday for a long time. And it has surprised me by being one of the most inspirational things I've discovered in a long while.

People mail in their secrets anonymously, on a postcard, to the man who operates the whole thing, Frank Warren. And the postcard is usually wonderfully creative. It's amazing to think that someone could put their trust in a total stranger, just so maybe for one moment they can connect with someone, share their pain with someone, make someone laugh, even though chances are they will never really know them. Some of them have genuinely made me cry. A short sentence, the secret of a complete stranger. Ones like "My mother killed my father long before he killed himself." That one will always stay with me. When you read something like that, you feel it. And the same goes with the ones coming from people who have realized they are in love or people who have finally realized what they are worth in this world.

Some of them are hilarious. I will never forget reading one that said "As a child, on my aunt and uncles farm, I fed a chicken nugget to a chicken. I still feel bad about it.

I've felt horrible about keeping secrets. I've come to realize that they're necessary. I strongly advise anyone who hasn't read PostSecret yet to do so. And those of you who do read it, mail in your secret, because you have one. We all do. Chances are you'll feel liberated.

You make me merry, make me very, very happy.

Looking back on previous posts, they haven't all been positive.
Actually, hardly any of them have been positive.
And really, my life has much more positivity than I make it out to have. I have an abudance of things to be happy about. I made a list, once, of things that make me happy. And I thought I'd dig it up. I thought I'd put it here. I write a lot of lists, but you have no idea of the chaos into which my life would descend without them. Heh. So, here it is.

THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY:
Old couples.
Pajama bottoms.
Folk singers.
Christmas specials.
Iced tea.
A really good movie.
Interesting people at coffee shops.
Seeing friends at the grocery store.
Weddings.
Family reunions.
A really good book.
Babies.
Comic books.
Floral prints.
Sleeping cats.
Finishing a song.
Coffee.
Paul McCartney's smile.
Waking up.
Flip-flops.
Really tall trees.
A white Christmas.
A calm lake in the summer.
Warm rain.
Carefree people.
Grandparents.
Pregnant women.
Snowstorms.
Sunsets.
Sunrises.
Perfect moments.
Nail polish.
Waking up on Sunday morning.
Gospel.
Acoustic guitar.
Vintage shops.
British accents.
Fruit baskets.
A good picture.
Little kid's finger paintings.
People who are confident.
Lipstick marks on coffee mugs.
Un-made beds.
Long hippie dresses.
Headscarves.
Fundraisers.
Cottages.
Old pianos.
Black labs.
The word "Hallelujah."
Holding the door for an elderly person.
Dancing.
Going for a drive to nowhere in particular.
Three A.M. drive thru runs.
Really good friends.
Musical theatre.
Saving money.
Looking at postcards.
When people smile at you as you pass them.
Friendly cashiers.
Toothbrushes.
Perfume samples.