This week has been unparalleled in terribleness. Not even kidding. I don’t even know where to start, other than to say that thank god I’m feeling strong, since if I were experiencing this same shit during a worse time, I might drive off a fucking bridge, in all seriousness.
Ughhhh. I’m just so tired of things turning into shit. So fucking tired.
So first of all, my mum announces to me on Monday that she’s got coronary disease. Highly progressed coronary disease. This means that her heart is having to work way too hard and is all strained, and that she could pretty much have a heart attack at any time. So her only option really is to have bypass surgery, which is VERY risky, and isn’t guaranteed to permanently fix the problem. So basically, for the first time in my life, I’ve seriously feared losing my mother. If she died… if she died I don’t know what I would do. She’s been my strength and the one who’s held me close when everyone else treated me like shit. She’s given me her unconditional love since I was a baby, and there’s no one in the world I adore more than her. To think she might never be able to see me sing as a professional, or see my children, or their children, or meet my husband… I don’t want to think negatively, but there’s this dismal reality looming in front of me that my days with her might be numbered, and that scares me more than I could ever say. To think I’d taken so much time with her for granted, complained about her, etc… I wish I could take it all back…
Then, on Tuesday, things got worse. Much worse. I found out, in short, that not only did the theatre director (who I thought of as a second father) at my school not cast me in the winter production of Metamorphoses, which I had been DYING to participate in, but he hates me and has been badmouthing me to other students, of all things. I worked my ass off for him — I gave up debate, the discovery program, chorus and ensemble, and really EVERYTHING for him and the theatre department. I thought this year would be my year as a senior, since I’ve given him every year of all plays plus each summer at his stupid theatre intensive camp. I thought it was made. But I had some trouble last year around February, when we were doing Rumours, and I had to miss some practises since I was generally in a really bad place. My parents had gotten divorced, I had just been diagnosed bipolar, etc. It sucked. I thought he understood, but it turns out, he thinks I’m a basket case. And because of that breakdown, I had to drop a second semester course and therefore finish it up in summer school. And that meant I couldn’t go to his godforsaken beloved camp. I told him why I couldn’t go, but I guess he didn’t care. Then, when Ragtime was casted, he gave me a choral part, which he hasn’t given me since FRESHMAN YEAR, basically blatantly insulting me. (Sophomores and freshmen had better parts than I did.) I talked to my college counselor, my mother, the dean of girls, and we all agreed it would be best for me to drop the part, since it wasn’t worth having such strenuous practises when I had to do college applications and had been given such an insultingly pathetic role. So I wrote him a very thoughtful letter, telling him about how I felt, and explaining why I had to drop the part. And it all seemed cool… Or so I thought.
So auditions the other day went well, and I thought I had given a great performance. My fellow actors had even told me that my reading as Alcyone, during which I cried, was beautiful. I thought I’d at least get cast in the rather small cast, since both seniority and my talent as an actor would hopefully reserve me a spot. Well, not so. I was shocked to find out the next day that I hadn’t made the play. And not only that, but people who I particularly loathed who were much less talented than I am DID make it. I was shocked. That coupled with the news about my mother was enough to make me have to go cry in the bathroom during my first period. And this girl I can’t stand came in to “comfort me,” though apparently she went and told the theatre director that I had been weeping it up in the bathroom. he later told some other actor kids that he thought I was a pathetic idiot for crying when I was getting what I deserved for dropping my Ragtime part, and that I should never try out for a play again. Those words hurt more than I can even say. I thought he was like a father to me, and yet, I guess I meant nothing. Not as an actor or anything. I was expendable. And so he’d rather have a bunch of juniors in the play, who still had another year to go and weren’t as mature actors as I am, instead of giving me a chance, because he’s decided I don’t deserve anything. The fact that we can’t try out for the play, but have to try out for HIM is sickening. The dean of girls hates it, and she wants to do something about it. But what can you do, when it comes down to it? It’s just that feeling of betrayal from someone I’ve sacrificed everything for and held in such ridiculously high regard… It’s crushed me.
And so hopefully you guys can understand why I was in no mood to fight with people this week. Having been defeated and having realized that a.) life can be dangerously cut short at any point and b.) there’s enough hate and anger in the world already, so why add to it, I just wanted to wipe the slate blank. I wanted to start over. I’m sorry, to my friends, who were just sticking up for the mess I had started. I’m not saying you did anything wrong. You just had my back, and I love you guys. I just can’t do it. I can’t fight. Do you understand? I’m done. I’m finished. I have hardly any energy left, and the energy I have, I can’t dedicate to negativity. I feel like part of me has died this week, and with all my energy sapped away gradually by all the work I’ve had and going to college and deciding my future, plus dealing with the eventuality that my brother and father are moving to Oregon, and how it’s going to kill my mother to find out… I can’t do it. I can’t.
There is so much drama and heartbreak in my every day life, that I can’t afford to have it online. I can’t deal with instigating so I get called a bitch. Do you understand? I need love and support right now. I need understanding. I’m dying. I swear. I’m so close to just saying “fuck it” and doing something drastic, maybe running away, driving somewhere far where no one can find me.
I don’t know. I just know that I need my friends right now more than ever. And I’m sorry for letting you down. I never meant to. I never ever meant to. I’m just a broken shell of a person right now.
Can you understand? Can you at least try?
I give up. Happy Thanksgiving everyone. Enjoy your time with your family — you never know when it may end.
The man I love loves me back. He’s coming over tomorrow. These next two weeks are going to be some of the best of my life.
I had this dream last night that really shook me up.
It was set in some sort of chic hotel that apparently someone in my family owned. Think like super modern with a lot of glass and wood detailing. Save for the part of my dream which had a weird video game quality to it (it was like zelda on crack basically), it took place in that bizarre hotel. And most of which was in my hotel room — the standard white beds and minimalistic furniture. (And NO it was not a sex dream kthxbai)
Well, basically there was a male (who will not be named) who decided to ask me to prom, which is weird since we’re not even the same year or anything (yeah bizarre) but somehow in asking me to prom, he confessed his love to me and told me that I was the only one who had truly ever loved him and that he had always taken me for granted. From that point on, we were dating in the dream. I just remember walking through some mall place, hand-in-hand, and then being thrust into some real-life version of half life or something, zombies included. We slayed zombies together. You know that means true love.
It was so odd, though. Because in the dream, I was referring to him as my boyfriend, and in our group of mutual friends, it was just common knowledge that the two of us were practically married. So the dream wasn’t about sex or even mushiness or anything. It was just this glimpse into the structure of our relationship. (One that doesn’t exist at all in real life.) God, how bizarre. Seriously.
The thing that gets me, though, is that I don’t often dream about him. And every time I do, it seems to be some sort of precursor as to what’s to come in our relationship. For example, one time I thought we’d end up together, but I kept dreaming that he was treating me coldly, and it turned out later that he basically mirrored that behavior when we did see each other. The dream was some sort of warning. And this time, this dream seems like a good omen. It seems like it’s urging me forward or something.
And that’s strange, because I’m in a situation now where I feel as though I’ve got to make a decision. But it’s a stupid situation I’ve put myself into, and I know there’s no realistically good outcome. I mean, we live so far away… But still. He and I have changed a lot. We’ve grown. We’re not the people we were two years ago. And at this point, maybe we’re finally able to be together. Maybe the previous heartbreak was just part of the necessary trials and tribulations en route to happiness.
It’s just… the point that he made in my dream. That I was the only one who loved him. I know that at this point in life, he’s feeling rather discouraged as far as relationships go. I know he’s been hurt like I have. He’s sort of sworn off love for a while, apparently. I consulted a friend we both know recently and she told me that he’d need to hear that I still couldn’t get him out of my head. That I was still in love with him. But part of me fears that I’ll just be an annoyance like I was two years ago. That I’ll put myself on the line only to have him feel nothing for me in return. And I don’t know if I could handle the same heartbreak twice. Part of me says I’d be a fool to put myself through that again. Or even run the risk.
But it’s crazy, since for him it seems worth it. My god, the slight possibility of being with him makes any slight risk of heartbreak seem obsolete. Nevertheless, I still don’t feel a hundred percent confident. And if I break anything to him, I want it to be gradually. Or at least in person, since so much is said on the phone and online that can often have no meaning later. Words are just words, after all.
God, if he only knew how many nights I’ve lost sleep over him. And the funny thing is, he once accused me of not truly being in love with him, of not knowing what love is. I’m pretty sure I know. I’m sure that love is something you can’t fall out of overnight and that even after a few years, I still realize that I’d give him everything I have if he asked. And I mean everything: my pride, my loyalty, my whole self.
So, I suppose the status hasn’t changed any. I’m just not hiding from it anymore. My name is Rachel “Faye” Anne Weiser, and I am (still) in love.
I am finally becoming a full-fledged vegetarian. I keep making these excuses like “well I would be a vegetarian, but I’ve been raised all my life eating meat and that wouldn’t be an easy transfer and I hate vegetables anyway” blah blah blah. Enough of this. Last night I did more research and realized the problems are worse than I could have imagined. Yeah, KFC is an outstandingly bad case. But the norm in the ENTIRE slaughter industry is disgusting mistreatment of the animals. They figure, “hey, we’re going to kill them anyway, so who cares if they’re suffering fates worse than death until that point?” It makes me sick.
I understand that me not eating meat anymore won’t suddenly bring the slaughter industry to its knees. One person has no effect on the supply and demand curves that dictate how many animals are killed. I’ll be realistic about this. But as for me personally, I have always felt uncomfortable eating animals. I’ve justified that I’m higher up on the food chain and that it’s natural to eat animals, but I forget that indigenous peoples hunting buffalo and whatnot didn’t waste any of the animals, nor did they horribly mistreat them before killing them.
Now a solution might just be to only consume free range animals. But that comes back to my other point. Despite my personal decision not to support the slaughter industry myself by not consuming animal products, I also feel a moral compulsion not to eat meat. Some people try to argue that if we’re going to justify not eating animals, we shouldn’t eat plants either or really anything alive. But I’ll draw the line there. I’ll consume plants, sure. It’s the animal kingdom I won’t touch. Just the feeling of looking into an animal’s eyes and then imagining eating it… It’s rather horrifying. It feels like I’m eating some helpless baby or something. (All dead baby jokes aside.)
But in all seriousness, I’ve made the decision to gradually switch to complete vegetarianism over the next month or so. I think it’ll do my diet good, and I’ll finally be able to sleep soundly at night. So laugh all you want. I’m finally doing something I’ve always wanted to do, but never stepped up to the plate. No more excuses, now.
Come the end of the month, when my body’s finally weaned from reliance on meat, I hope to never eat another animal again.
Okay. To-do list time.
-Take TOP Pictures
-Put out TOP
-Revise LR chapters 3/4
-Put out LR 2
-Clean Room LOL
I’ve got one thing I’m not sure about regarding TOP. I’ve got over 37 pages in Word, and I’m not sure that’s going to fit in two parts. So… that leaves the possibility of redividing it into three parts, or releasing another chapter and soon thereafter releasing a two-part story arc conclusion. Would you guys mind waiting another week or two (slash possibly more, depending on how long I work on the season finale) between 13 and the two part 14? I know it’s annoying, since I made this huge to-do about how 13 was going to be super huge and super awesome, but that’s just the way things are looking with the length being what it is.
I swear it will be worth it! (At least, I hope so. ;D) This is my favourite TOP part EVER, so hopefully you’ll feel it worth waiting for. =D We shall see what happens.
PS: I’ve calmed down since the last post, needless to say. A nice twelve-hour sleep totally refreshed me.
