I blame no sleep, and life being in an incredibly confusing time at the moment. Nothing is set anymore. I'm not clearly defined as what I want to do, and what I'll be studying next year is highly dependent on Saturday's outcomes.
I have been miserable, and have no inclination at all to start and finish my final paper of the year for ENGL by Friday. My initiative is gone. I need to find a job. I need to get a resume together. I need to get going with life.
I'm at murky period with where I want to take my creative ideals. Do I wish to interpret words, and scripts, into a flesh and blood character? Or would I rather bring words to life through direction?
They seem like big questions, but I just don't know where to pour my creative integrity.
What mediums do I want to explore? Is Improv for me? Just doing callbacks for the Impromaniacs was stressful enough for some reason. I don't really like doing short scenes. They are really painful for me. I just love stories and longform. Hopefully, Mr. Morris' workshops will pay off.
And then, I'm lonely again. And for a brief moment today, I felt what many people do. I just needed to connect with someone physically and intimately. A quick thing to patch the hole. A quick fuck. A connection was all I craved, and I know what others feel. I understand, but I don't want to give into it. It's running. Hiding.
And I'm too scared to hide.
I'm too scared to search.
So I stand there.
Whistling an awkward tune.
Whistling an awkward tune.
Doo. Doo. Doo.
Where do we go from here?
