Kick Drum Heart


Voulez vous cocher avec moi, c’est soi

Being angry and frustrated and sad about my own inadequacy is all peaches and cream, until I get bored with the routine. I am honestly very glad that I can feel miserable about it, because otherwise I’d worry that I was broken or something. The little stabby pains that trouble me whenever I think about how much I suck at life are really reassuring sometimes.

However, it gets old.

Yes, I know, I’m not as small or cute or (apparently) amusing as she is. And that rankles, just a lot. But what does it do to muse endlessly on it?

Maybe “engaging” is the word I’m looking for. She’s engaging all of the time. I only am when I feel like it.

But I’m done comparing myself. If I ever need a reassurance I’m human, I can think about them and feel the pang and then go back to normal life… but it’s like an addiction, you feel it once and get a little hooked. “Oooh (shudder), aren’t I pathetic? I’m so pretty and confident and intriguing and no one likes meeee!” is not the slogan I aim to present to the world.

So, fine. A kid I like I’m interested in has another girl in mind who I’m not going to bother openly competing against. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself being all seductive and acting differently because… because he likes someone else? We were getting along pretty well before I knew about her, we’ll get along fine for the rest of the time. No worries, no stress, and only occasionally with a little pinch of remorse at the lost chances.



No Answer Yet

I had a sad dream this morning. I can’t remember or understand what made it so sad, but it made me angry, too, because I don’t think I should have to wake up and drown in melancholy. I have no control over my dreams when I’m in such a deep sleep, and I’ve been so busy lately that that’s the only kind of sleep I get. I hate being out of my own control: having my emotions manipulated while I’m not in an aware state of consciousness drives me nuts.

The “in control” train of thought dragged me to the question, “What would I like to do with the rest of my life?”

Early mornings do that to me: push me in front of difficult, almost out-of-the-blue questions that steamroll over me and leave me desperate for another cup of strong coffee. (Nine seemed early, I was exhausted and dad had just woken me up to say he was leaving and that I should go back to sleep… yeah, sure.) 

Well, I honestly don’t think I’d mind so much being a teacher. A high school English teacher, who directed the school musical. Ha, it’s realistic enough thinking, isn’t it?

Then I hear the crashing of my dreams as they fall to the ground, and the ominous clank of doors shutting all around me– opportunities wasted if I go into teaching instead of performing.

After Broadway, I tell myself. After I’m starring on Broadway, I can think about what to do with the rest of my life. How to make it a life I would treasure, how to make every minute sparkle with the joy of being alive.

That happens now, the sparkliness. After all that happened last year, I’ve figured out how to make everything glitter and gleam and glow with optimism (or if not optimism, at least a positive kind of enjoyment in my negativity– i.e., I’m glad I’m alive to be pessimistic, instead of dead and, well, dead). I’m pleased to say I’ve learned how to put a lighthearted twist on almost everything, instead of dwelling on an immense amount of ridiculous notions that I don’t have any control over.

But the rest of my life? My future? College and a job? I have control over that, I just have no idea as to how I should go about exercising that control. There are an infinite amount of colleges to choose from, and branching from there spiral limitless choices: what major, what minor, on- or off-campus? Good food or good professors? Instant fame in a tiny little school or be a small fish in a big pond?

How am I supposed to make these decisions?! They will affect me for the rest of my life!

Microphone and stage makeup or SmartBoard marker and Wal-Mart shoes!?