THE LIFE UNCOMMON.

I sat within the walls of a church this morning, something I have neglected to do for quite some time now. It is absolutely astounding to me how strong the call to service still is within me. I wouldn't have believed it if you had told me that over the past few months, still harbored within me is this genuine urgency to do something remotely humanitarian, and at the very least, substantial with my life.
I wanted to be a priest so, so badly. Not even a priest for what was required by the Catholic faith and teachings, but for the incentives of human interaction. By that, I mean to say, the opportunity to work with so many different individuals hands-on and in a very personal, legitimate, spiritual sense. To immerse myself in the strife and joy of human beings on a very frequent basis, and to allow them to find some sort of solace and companionship in my presence.

Basically, I just want to "do good."

I guess that was a bit of my secret in high school- here's a crazy teenage girl who wants to enter the seminary. Not realistically, seeing as the Catholic church still offers very little for women who choose a religious life (Not entirely true, though. I merely speak of the pastoral responsibilities as something more engaging than life as a sister or a seminary-trained female. I wanted to be more prominent than that, I suppose. Selfish of me? Perhaps, but I've always felt as though women deserve more responsibility in the church. Hopefully, someday, that will come about.).

I think what influenced that drive the most was growing up around these men who were so very devoted to the people they served in almost every imaginable capacity. I know more priests than I can count, a large number of whom I managed to chat with again this morning. At a very young age, they became for me not only friends, but models for what I wanted to be, well-springs of the goodness I believed was within each individual and merely waiting to surface.

Over the years, that concept has been betrayed a few times, as I am sure happens with every bit of the "stuff dreams are made of." Some of these men, I feel, cheated others out of some of the joys and responsibilities they should have enjoyed. Some found heavily weighing voices more important than those whom they were supposedly responsible for serving. Some, dare I say it, simply changed, as though help and compassion simply weren't enough motivation for them any longer. I have watched these men progress, and regardless of their own transformations, I, too, have grown. I know more about myself, about the tolerances I allow around me, and how willing and open I have become to things I might have forever closed myself to. I have learned to be hurt. I have fallen in love. I have made wrong decisions, and I have ultimately learned to shape myself as the human being I desire to be. Along that path, somewhere, I found a bit of the capability and drive to be all of those things I hoped to encompass without the aide of the church. Not literally, of course, but without the legitimate sacramental notation that I once deemed essential and necessary in preserving the essence of what I wanted to be as an individual who is decent, compassionate, and eternally giving.

I continue to strive toward that, regardless of what life requires of me in order to do so.

"FAMOUS." WHATEVER THAT MEANS.

There is an over-abundance of media exposure that has led me to the belief that celebrity status in the universe is not only attainable, but relatively happenstance.
Not necessarily- but in the last few days, I've been reading Live From New York, an "uncensored" pseudo-biography of Saturday Night Live from its conception to its eventual established niche in popular culture, written by Tom Shales and James Andrew Miller. I'm fascinated for obvious reasons, the primary being the establishment of the notorious seven original Not-Ready-For-Prime-Time Players, some of whom remain my greatest improvisational heroes to date.

What continues to eat at me, page after page, is how intensely easeless some of these performers made their work history out to be. That last sentence probably makes no sense, but what I'm trying to say is that there seems to be this collective of innately talented individuals who simply showed up and watched this wonderful and exclusive world build up around them. I am not saying that they did not have the talent, ambition, or work ethic to be there- hardly. What I have difficulty understanding is how all of these vastly illuminate individuals managed to find each other so perfectly and with such immense precision; how, at twenty-one years of age, these people were writing for a nationally syndicated program or doing absolutely incredible work that surpasses some of my more creative fantasies. I remain legitimately baffled.

And honestly, it's not just the book that has brought all of this rapid-fire deduction on: I feel absolutely bombarded with the concept of "mediazation" of an individual(In my own words, the intense and repeated inundation of individuals in society by means of television, internet, movies, media of other sources, etcetera. Naked Chronicles defines it as "the way in which symbolic forms in modern society have become increasingly mediated by mechanisms and institutions of mass communication") to the degree where they have no course but to become "famous" by whatever social public exists.

I have no difficulty with these levels of "fame" that might as well be attained on a day-to-day basis. The fact is, I desire very little of that sort of public identification. What I so desperately seek is the kind of artistically-driven atmosphere that seemed to exist in this SNL reality within the late seventies, a world that housed some notoriously incredible minds with what seemed to be great ease. I simply cannot imagine the abundance of talent that appeared to merely gravitate towards one another. It seems a rather impossible feat, to be honest. But, good heavens, how I would kill for it.

I have a considerable envy for those with whom everything appears to merely fall into place. I am sure that the situations are certainly skewed from that sort of simplicity, but there are so many instances where everything looks as though an individual with some sort of god-given talent just met the right people at the right time and managed to get what they needed with so little extraneous effort. Seamless goal accomplishment, if you will.

All of this just seems to drive home the fact that I need to continue to work unceasingly and unwaveringly in my efforts towards whatever it is I so desperately desire. I have to work and work and work. But I'm not really concerned with that. I just need it. More than anything. And therefore, it is my responsibility to make it happen. Period. Simple as that.
Good.

IT'S BEEN A LONG DAY.

Back in Dunedin at last after a good two hours of flight delay.
Tired as all get-out.
Sad to be away from a loved one, but that's just the way it goes.

Stupid human beings continue to leave me comments on just how atrocious a fellow human being I happen to be. Just another reminder of why I despise people, and certain individuals on top of that.
It's nice not to care what people think, at least for the moment.
[Editor's Note: I'm on summer vacation- if someone wants to give me crap, let them attack me long-distance so that they remain safe and protected. Regardless, they appear to be little girly-girls with a lack of gonads and a perpetually high-school mentality. Fun.]

On another note, I'm so very illiterate tonight. This morning. Whatever. I've lost all ability to be cognitive at this point, so it's not really worth typing too much more. I'll find some way to make sense of everything in the morning.

SNOOPY ROCKS MY SOCKS.

Delay in updates?
You better freaking believe it.

Monday, we were lazy. Get over it.
Tuesday was an all-day-palooza at the Shawnee Playhouse. I read a book, and it was lovely. The end.
Wednesday, praise Jesus, was lazy. Deal, be-otches.
Thursday we had yet another all-day-palooza at the Shawnee Playhouse. I hung and sorted and cleared to my heart's content, and then I did not. 'Tis as simple as that.
Friday led me into the grand land of Harrisburg, where I attended a college graduation and ate crappy food with my dearest love, Annie. And then, of course, a little drinking.
Yesterday was spent tromping around Dorney Park (which, luckily for me, is basically Snoopy-dominated). It was easily one of the best days I've had here in PA, despite the fact that I am completely devoid of energy and/or funding from here on out in my stay.
Today was time spent in The City. "Time spent" does not exactly constitute "time well spent," but that's simply my burden to deal with. And then, there was a little drinking.
In remaining ambiguous, I hold power. Tee hee.
And tonight, I sleep for hours and hours on end. Possibly days. Maybe months.
Actually, just hours. That works.

"I ALWAYS KNEW JESUS WAS ASIAN."

Broadway Double Header = Freaking Amazing.

The 25th Annual Putnum County Spelling Bee
Aside from a bit too much audience participation, this was an immense amount of fun. Met Jesse Tyler Ferguson, sat close enough to have Barfee spit come flying at me, and genuinely enjoyed finally seeing the production live. Environmental staff kicks ass.

Sweeny Todd
Easily the nicest production I have ever seen. A few little quirky details ran amiss, but Michael Cerveris is now my homeboy. Met He, Patty LuPone, Alex G., and several others. It basically made my life.

I promise of more details to come, but I'm way too exhausted to stay up any longer.

HUH?

I am currently lounging around in East Stroudsburg, PA.
When did that happen, you ask?
Just about a week ago.
In the midst of cramming my hapless brain for exams and other such wonderful fun, I managed to sneak my way into another state.
Not exactly the truth, but I don't have time to type.
Later, internet.

CLASSWORK.

This morning held excitement in the realm of a visiting writer who was to speak to our English class. I was hopeful, merely because she prolonged the due date of a rough draft, but also because she happened to be Canadian.
And you know how "I love me some" Canadians.
She had us work on an individual assignment- a "to do" list of sorts, with either concrete or whimsical foundations. The basic absurdity of sitting in the classroom led me to what you see below.

How To Make Sense Of Somewhat (Read: Entirely) Ridiculous Course Content:

1. Breathe. You only have three more years.
2. Breathe again. You will never have to take another English course again unless so desired.
3. These people have doctorates, right?
4. Obviously, you, too, can hold your own doctorate someday.
5. “Words, words, words,” said William Shakespeare.
6. Fucking artist.
7. Management positions typically do not require the writing of research papers, right?
8. At least Stanislavski thinks you’re cool.
9. You can always make the entire experience sound okay when you edit the facts in your blog.
10. Hemming-who?
11. Prose: huh? What is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Say it again, now.
12. You have never looked good in ink stains.
13. You have a minor in Business Administration. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. (Squared.) Bitches.

IT'S NO LONGER MARCH, BE-OTCH.

Seventy billion things have happened in the last month, and I, being as irresponsible as people can get, have hardly taken the time to address them with the maturity or gravity that they should obviously be subject to. For this reason, among many others, I shall attempt to recapture the last few weeks of activity in a nutshell.

Thirty-one statements for thirty-one days? I think it's a fair trade-off.

1. My time has been non-existent.
2. Brigadoon is completed to everyone's great joy and enthusiasm.
3. Conflicts have ensued in various fashions, like they do.
4. I was tapped as a pledge for Alpha Psi Omega.
5. I'm doing considerably well in Business Math.
6. My movie collection has expanded exponentially.
7. Michael and I are wonderful.
8. (And at five months to date.)
9. I wrote a paper on Celebrity Worship Syndrome, only to discover that I suffer from the disease myself.
10. I've been to Dunedin.
11. I've been to Orlando.
12. Directing shows are two days out.
13. Conservatory shows are a week and three days out.
14. I'm considerably excited about both.
15. Rachel and I should be rooming together next semester if we ever find two minutes to talk to Student Services.
16. I'll be spending the first two weeks out of school in PA, and then heading back for work at home.
17. I've discovered that I have difficulty sleeping without a sleep mask of some sort. I suppose that makes me sufficiently wimpy.
18. My room has been relatively clean for the past month.
19. I have been living by myself for the past month.
20. The combination of #18 and #19 is rather remarkable.
21. Frasier is the cutest dog alive, but is also Satan incarnate.
22. I make a kick-ass pot of Macaroni & Cheese.
23. I am continually roped into amazing Theatre Party pictures, and I'm loving every minute of it.
24. For probably the first time in my life, I forgot about April Fool's Day.
25. I love my weekends in St. Augustine.
26. After a six-hour conversation with Michael, I've concluded that I want more than anything to direct.
27. I love pie.
28. Poker Nights have been some of my favorite times this semester.
29. I finally feel as though I have a base of people who care about me and respect me for who I am.
30. I have to be up really soon.
31. And I think it's time for bed.

That should satisfy, I hope.
If not, deal with it.

BEDTIME.

Ugh. I can't believe that it takes me such a horrifically long time to muster up the time and/or energy to write a mere update on the goings-on of daily life.
Perhaps it's because I don't think I could reasonably depict each and every detail of my daily life.
Because it's too boring- perhaps.
Because it's too invigorating- Ha.
Maybe it's because I just don't want to have to relive everything. Or make anyone else do so. It's not that life is awful- in fact, sometimes, it's beyond amazing. But, the fact of the matter is, I want to live it, experience it, and then move on.
I'm lying.
I want it all here, detail by detail, ready to glance through at my disposal.
I'll have to be better about that in the future.
In other news, life is good. Really nice. I'm exhausted, but there's absolutely nothing new about that statement.
And I've been up typing for a full hour since I came to bed.
I wonder how I could possibly be tired...

Alright. Sleep. For the moment, anyway.
And some good stories to follow, I hope.

WEEKEND.

Easily the most fun and relaxation I've had in the past few months. I needed time to be away and alone, far from the prying eyes of people and things who simply don't matter to me.
Ahh.
It absolutely "sucks" to be back in town, but at least I managed to get from this weekend the kind of replenishment that I desperately needed.
Pictures to follow, of course.

HUGH LAURIE IS CRYING.

I have missed the last five episodes of House, M.D.
I am such an unbelievable disappointment.

BRIG-A-WHAT-WHAT.

IT IS FINISHED.
DONE.
OVER.
I could not be more overjoyed to have my evenings to myself, even to the slightest degree. Life has been eternally frustrating for the past few weeks, but now, it's over and done with and things can move forward.
I am so beyond excited.
Can you tell?

SILLY LITTLE FOOL.

This is just my two-week span of insanity, I guess.
I don't know exactly how much I've been through in the last few days (seeing as I feel relatively removed from myself for the time being), but I can estimate that it adds up to a grand total of More Than I Have Ever Dealt With In My Life Excluding A Few Solitary Occasions.
Fun!
Life sits as a tediously balanced item, weighted on either end and ready to plummet without a moment's notice. I'm certainly alright with that. After all, without the tension, where would life's excitement spring from?
It just so happens that the same tension that engages and inspires me also threatens to, in most eloquent terms, make me vomit. My stomach sits in a hushed disdain that looms with the fear of erupting at any second. Food has, once again, become a thing to be reviled, if only for the fact that it will not stay down. I feel myself weakening in both physical and mental capacities to say the least. These last few weeks have proven some of the most emotional in my life, and I daresay, I never want such a thing to occur again. I feel so very little, so easily threatened, and so very, very weak.
Not a good thing, I can assure you.
Feeling infantile is probably one of the most painful experiences I've ever faced. I do not want to feel as though I am not in control of the world around me. I do not want to feel as though my body will not obey my simple requests to take in the nutrients necessary to sustain function. I do not want to spend the rest of my life in tears like a silly little fool.
I have never felt like a fool, but every time my eyes threaten to well up, I am nothing short of swimming in foolishness.
Silly. That's what life is right now.
Silly.

BEST DAY EVER.

I just spent the most relaxing afternoon/evening ever with three amazing people.
Oh, and a puppy. He was cute, too.
Gerard, Michael, and Rachel make my life. They're amazing, and each in some crazy, unique sense. I would be absolutely lost without their friendship right now.
A bout of playtime sans-Brigadoon was exactly what we all needed so that there was a lack of tension and anxiety in the air. And there was. It was literally the perfect, relaxing expedition I could have hoped for.
Pictures later. I promise.

GOOD DAY.

It's Michael's 21st birthday, but beyond that, today is going to be so much better than any other day this week has been.
I can tell.
I have (some) renewed energy, I had a lovely time with my dearest of friends last night, and best of all, I know that I have people around me who care about me.
And that, above all, is huge.
Okay. It might be nap time. We'll have to see.

[Editor's Note: The above post seemed horribly amiss by the time Brigadoon rolled around this evening, then quickly progressed back to the level of fantastic-ness I could have hoped for. I have rectified several different things on emotional and professional levels, allowed myself some form of relaxation, and have opportune ability to sleep until call at noon tomorrow. Good day, indeed.]

MOMENT.

I feel totally and utterly crushed.
Zombie-like.
I have so little stamina left to deal with everything around me.
At this moment in my life, I want nothing more than someone just to hold me, and yet, I am isolated and alone and it is all of my own doing.
I'm a disappointment, but not just for all of those other people.
I'm a disappointment to myself.

If anyone else is going to step on whatever happens to be left of me, please, do it now. I don't want to feel like this for the rest of my life.

TALKING POINTS.

This has been my week for disappointing people, I guess.

I have no roommates.
I have friends who seem enjoy their distance.
I have parents who wish I would do more.
I have peers who wish I would keep my mouth shut.
I have a boyfriend who wishes I would open up.
I have instructors who want me to work.
I have a voice in my head that demands more from me than I think I have to give.

I am exhausted. I wish the things I did were not so detrimental to those around me, but, apparently, they are. I don't even know what I'm doing.
Sleep cannot come too quickly.

FRASIER IS MY HOMEDOG.

The apartment was given a puppy.
He is officially Michael's; that means he's mine, too.
His name is Frasier. And I could not be happier.

I WISH IT WERE NAP TIME.

There is nothing but genuine insanity that can depict the goings-on of this past week. I've had little time to rest, more time to drive myself crazy, and even more of the ambition to just sleep my way through the end of time. I've been running relatively non-stop (as I'm sure just about everyone else has done, as well), and I'm more than ready to just collapse and take a few moments at my own discretion. I would love to take a nap, I would kill for a teensy bit of slack when it comes to my college workload, and I would love for Brigadoon to disappear off the map for another hundred years.
Fun.

BECAUSE I TEND TO FOLLOW THE LEADER.

The Johari Window was invented by Joseph Luft and Harrington Ingram in the 1950s as a model for mapping personality awareness. By describing yourself from a fixed list of adjectives, then asking your friends and colleagues to describe you from the same list, a grid of overlap and difference can be built up.

It simply involves selecting 5 or 6 adjectives to describe yourself/others you know to create a personality map of sorts that is organized according to what you think of yourself and what others think of you.

Pick adjectives to describe me and add to my map here:
http://kevan.org/johari?name=Kellereno

Build your own here so I can visit it and pick adjectives for you:
http://kevan.org/johari