Where I Am

The Hashtag Hope booth at Pitch this year.

So I've started several entries, but never finished them because I kind of suck like that. To be honest, there's a good chance this post will end the same way, but c'est la vie.

Anyway, my friend Nick posted this video today, and it got me thinking. Nick and I talked during Pitch and Praise, and I remember reflecting on this feeling of okayness. It was surreal, looking back and reflecting on the fact that I hadn't had a mental breakdown, anxiety or panic attack, any major depressive episode, or even thoughts of suicide since college had ended a month prior. I thought about writing about it, then I got hired at McDonalds, and my endless free time was suddenly constricted around a crazy schedule of shift work. Work filled my days and nights, and when I wasn't working I was likely catching up on sleep, spending the little time I got with one of my roommates, or just watching Netflix because I'm lazy.

You can't even see him in the picture, but I attempted to get a shot of
Andrew running around the Amphitheatre.

That brings me to today when Staci and I went to Toronto to see Panic! at the Disco. We were watching Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness and Andrew starts running around the audience during Synesthesia, singing and hugging fans. There was a guy sitting by us who clearly was a fan-- dancing in the aisle, knew every word to every song, even had a Wilderness sweater on in the 32C heat. Seeing the look on his face when Andrew went up and sang to him was priceless. It was like his whole world had just been completed by this thin blonde dude with a microphone. As Andrew moved through the GA seating in the back of the Amphitheatre, this look of euphoria followed him everywhere he went. It was such a lovely scene to behold. All these smiling teenagers playing under a parachute, the sun setting on one of the most beautiful and diverse cities on a planet, with the lake shining behind us, and a plane rising to the sky right behind the trees.

I'm super stupid and really only got shots of Panic! at the Disco. Sorry
fam.

The concert played on through a flawless P!atD set, and a great nostalgia trip care of Weezer, and as I fell into the music, emotions within myself began to sort and slide, falling into little boxes like happy little marbles. Which brings me back to Nick's video. As I watched the video after the concert, the little labels of the boxes became clear, legible, understandable. For the first time in years, the marbles were in the right places. The blue marbles were tucked away in a sad, little box; the happy yellow marbles and loving red marbles were spread into lots of little boxes; the awful black marbles which used to cover and destroy everything were finally all gathered into a little box, taped up and tucked away. 

Despite the challenges I'm dealing with now, and trust me, there are plenty, I still feel clear. Like my head is finally above water. I may still be far away from shore, but the lifeguard coming to save me, my head is above the waves, and I can feel the light, see the beach and breathe again. My lungs can expand again, the sun is warming me up. Things are beautiful again.

Brendon talked a little bit tonight about what touring with Weezer meant to him. He talked about learning guitar and drums to songs from Pinkerton, how when Panic! was starting, he was asked who he wanted to tour with and was laughed at when he said Weezer because "Panic! would never be that good," yet there he was, playing with his heroes. That in particular really spoke to me, because in my head, I could see this skinny 17-year-old kid in leather and smudged eye liner, signing a record deal, dreaming of playing with his idols. 12 years later, still wearing leather pants, he's playing to a packed stadium of 16 000 people singing back to him, with Weezer headlining the tour. It was a beautiful moment, seeing that look in his joy-filled eyes, when he shared that with the crowd.

This has been a very weird post, full of tangents, but there's a point in here somewhere. To put it plainly, it would be just "hope". Hope got America their first black president. Hope (and ramen) fueled the dreams of a 17-year-old, and got him to Toronto. Hope got Andrew McMahon through cancer, and here to fill the wildest dreams of a lot of people tonight. For many people, hope is what keeps them here to see the sun rise again tomorrow. Hope kept Nick alive, to bring me what I needed to stay alive. Hope brings many things, and for the first time in a very, very long time, I can say that hope has brought me peace.

Where Do We Go From Here...?

So Prep is over, and I've graduated, and I just have this very strange feeling of where do I go from here? I don't want to abandon this blog, I put a lot of effort into it, and I still get periodic hits from people in other countries checking to see if I've updated lately. 

So for the summer I'm just going to journal/blog freely, and come September, we'll see what happens. I have a few things I never wrote about that I wanted to do (including a survival guide for next years Preps) so we'll see where this goes.

But for now, this blog will be free as a bird. 

Hi Mark & Chantel!

So for everyone not aware, all these posts have been for 3 profs, the dance journals were for Stephanie, and everything else is for Mark and Chantel.

If you would like to read everything in reverse chronological order, start right here and scroll down. If you want to read everything in chronological order, scroll to the bottom of the page, and click the "Back" button till it disappears. It should take you to the entry called "Home". 

I hope you enjoy this, and thank you again for allowing me to break convention for this. :)

A Little Update

So this blog has been really quiet this semester because I've been journaling with pen and paper. There are some thoughts that need to stay private.

I've spent the last couple weeks hardcore journaling and I've gotten weirdly introspective. I keep thinking about prep, and the future. This program is like Game of Thrones. They bring us in, get us all friendly, then have us compete against each other for a handful of spots in theatre programs at Sheridan next year.

I came in with the mindset of wanting one of those spots, no matter what, whatever it took. And I got one for Production next year. I thought I'd feel victorious, or complete, but I don't. I feel lonely and scared. I'm alone next year. 

I came in knowing the odds were slim, terrified that I'd be rejected. I never took into account what would happen if I somehow got in.

Other People

Before you read: I wrote this at 2am after an unbelievably stressful few weeks, and an emotionally draining day. This rantings likely isn't going to be eloquent or logical, but I need to get them out of my head.

It alway happens to other people.

Someone else's brother gets sick; someone else's mom has a heart attack; christ, someone else's friend gets hit by a friggen bus, . It's always someone else.

You see the post on Facebook one morning from someone who used to be a friend who's sick, or a post by an acquaintance, who's family member was hurt in an accident. No matter who you are, these generic situations are probably triggering memories of people from your life. Whether we grew up in Elmira together and this reminds you of about 10 different people, or you're a stranger from Australia, whose eyes prickle at the memory of posting about your own family member, it's an experience relevant to everyone.

It always happens the same way too. You see the post, and your heart skips a beat. You feel awful for them! You pray that they get better, heal quickly, or find peace soon; you might comment or share the post; you may bring food, donate money, or send a card; but all the while, in the back of your head you think Thank God it wasn't me.

But eventually, maybe after a day, a week or even a month, your life returns to normal. You get back in the swing of your own business. You text your friend every day to see how their family's doing, you message your aunt to see if her friend wants more lasagna, you stop by Mrs. Down-The-Block to see how she's healing after surgery, and for you, life moves on; but all the while, in the back of your head you think Thank God it's never my family.

And you start to get older. You see other people creating families, as you continue on your life. You see people have lost a family member, as you scroll Facebook on the bus, you sit in class and hear that the girl four desks over went home to bury her best friend; but all the while, in the back of your head you think Thank God it isn't my friends.

And then one day the clock freezes. Your friend calls you during bible study to tell you that your friend hung himself. You check your phone during rehearsal to find that the neighbour boy is in a coma. You're sitting in class when your friend messages you and says one of the guys in your squad has cancer.

And finally, you wake up and realise that this time, it's not someone else's people. This time, it's your people, and now your world has stopped.

Holidays III

I'm not to sure what exactly I'm doing. I
am so attractive...

So this week has basically been about last chances. 

Last chances to sleep, to spend time with my parents, to play with my hamster, to go for coffee, to watch Netflix, you get the drill.

I also went to Niagara Falls with an old friend on a whim and met one of his childhood friends. It was fun, and I froze. That said, we also played Cards Against Humanity: Canadian Edition and I met a bunch of guinea pigs and cats, which was super fun. 

OH! I'm dumb! I also applied to school. Which is terrifying, and really REALLY expensive. Plus, most schools charge for an audition which is going to make this even worse, but so far, my rough estimate for application and audition costs is $860, PLUS some things need to be couriered to schools ahead of time, along with, for sure, 5 trips to Toronto to audition. So I'm basically paying $1 000 in the hopes that somewhere, a panel of adjudicators thinks that I have enough potential to invest 4 years of effort into. 

I think I need a drink...

(On that note, if you want to donate to Brittany's Audition Fund or the Brittany Needs a Drink Trust you can usually find me crying in my dorm, or in class.)