Finale

"December 24, 10 p.m. Eastern Standard Time,
Can't believe a year went by so fast...
Time to see,
What we have time to see!
Turn the projector on!"

RENT of course. From the finale.

Fitting, because it is the finale of my freshman year of college.

WHERE THE HELL DID IT GO?! Didn't I just get here? Time goes SO fast. Especially because I did a fairly decent job of wishing it all away in the end part of first semester. Never, Ever wish away time. Because no matter how hard you try, you'll never get it back.

Someone told me that years go faster as you get older because each year is a smaller fraction of your life. I don't know if it's that or something else, but I can vouch for the fact that everything is so fleeting.

I'm going to be a sophomore. Wasn't it like a week ago that I was crying every night, freaking out about where I was going, how I was going to be there, what was going to happen next?

I still can't answer any of those questions. But I guess I'm not as worried about it anymore. It's hard to be worried when I just finished finals and I have three clear months ahead of me to just enjoy my friends and my home.

No, this year wasn't at ALL what I expected. But I wouldn't change anything. Even the stuff that sucked will make a good memory someday. And the stuff that was great was really really great.

So long freshman year! Summer, do your worst. I'll be back in Boston in the fall <3

Brendan

I knew a pic had to exist of this. Still thinking of you kiddo.

Are there no Shadows where you are?

Dear Brendan,

I've been thinking about you a lot tonight for some reason. I remember little things like that time you and Sofi stole my shoe and put it on top of a flat that I could possibly reach the top of, and how after Mary Girard won Regionals, you literally jumped off the stage into my arms and for a brief second I held all of your weight.

It's so surreal. I look through old pictures on Facebook and, without warning, there you are. On the edge of some frame, always smiling, always on the edge. You were on the edges of my memories, but you were there. It's even stranger now that you were on the edge. I will start to tell a story now and stop, all of a sudden, because I remember that you were there.

I tell a joke, one of my favorites (Where does the King keep his army? In his sleevey!), and recall as soon as I've done so that it was you who first shared it with me. People around me laugh, because I've made the kind of friends who like corny jokes, and I smile, but feel strange inside.

I miss you. I hadn't seen you in a year, and probably would not have seen you for a long time to come, but I miss you. I think a lot about you, now that you are gone. You are the first person I know who is my own age who died. The first funeral I went to where I cried.

The emotions inside of me when I think of you are so...strange, to use the word yet again. But it applies. I'm sad, but there's more to it. There's the thought that I barely knew you, so why am I so very sad? As I mentioned, you were just a peripheral character. I think that makes it even harder. You were someone I didn't give much of a thought when you were there, so it's now odd that you have become the focus of my thoughts.

I don't know Brendan. But I hope that wherever you are, there are no shadows, and that you see everything as day (those are adapted Anberlin lyrics by the way, "Are there no shadows where you are?/ I can see everything as day"). I truly hope that you have found your peace, and I hope you know that you are so very missed, even by people of whom you might not expect it. You were such an amazing addition to the world and it is such a loss that your sun doesn't shine on us anymore. But the memories will always be there kid. And every time I see you flitting around the edge of some story I tell of wonderful times at home, I will stop, and I will remember what an incredible hugger you were, and how special you could make anyone feel.

I love you Brendan. And I hope you know that.

Dreaming

Recently I've had two very similar dreams. They were both about my dad, but he was dead. I was addressing him as though he was visiting for a brief time, but as though he had missed a lot.

In the first dream, I took him driving with me. I told him (and this is absolutely true) that I think a lot about all of the things he will never get to see me do, and one of the bigger things was that he will never have to deal with the pride/terror involved in teaching a teenage daughter how to drive. So I took him for a drive
(nevermind that in the dream I was a TERRIBLE driver, like, seriously, I almost took out someone in a toll booth).

The next dream was a tour of Brandeis. I showed him all my places, all the things that I do. Then we were laying down and I put my head on his chest (as I did so often as a baby and a child). I was about to tell him about Robbie, but we were interrupted by something inconsequential that involved a debate between the theatre clubs and BTV (no doubt my subconscious warring about whether I want to be a cliquey stage actor or a friendly film actor).

I woke up thinking..."Damn I wish that was real."

Well, why wasn't it? Just because it took place within the realm of my dreams, does that mean that it's fake? That out there, in some realm of existence, some ethereal form of my father isn't interested in my life, in what I do, where I go, who I am becoming?Is it truly just an image my subconscious dredged up to humor my wandering thoughts and reminiscences?

Or have I, in some sense, been visited by my father twice this week?

Now that I think of it, I have had dreams of my father before. Dreams where he is dead, but I question the legitimacy of his presence. In past dreams, I have been hung up on the fact that everyone thought he was dead, so how could he be before me? I think my acceptance of the current situation in these most recent dreams shows a kind of maturation. I have finally accepted the fact that my father is dead, never coming back.

But still watching over me. Do the dead ever truly leave us?

My father in life would never have left me to live without him for 7 years. Even during his most prolonged absences, there were cards. I think these are his cards. His way of telling me that, although he is not here to hug me, to tell me that he loves me and my brother more than anything else in the world, that he is still here.

Daddy, I love you. And I will miss you forever, but I can get used to these dreams if it means you are still with me.

Anyone but You

So World, Mother, and whoever else happens to be reading, this is an example of what I write when I have no intention of sharing. But apparently I need to OPEN UP more. So, here it is.

You say you're sorry,
You know you've been a bad friend
It kills me, but I say okay, it's fine
If it was
Anyone but you,
I would have given up long ago.

I know this is how you work,
That it's NOT just me you treat this way,
It's everyone.
And if it was
Anyone but you
I wouldn't care half so much
Because that's just how some people are

But it isn't
Anyone but you
It's You.
You who I care so very much about
In a way that has not for many years been reciprocated
You who haunt my dreams,
Asleep and awake,
I never see
Anyone but you

Anyone but you
Could not hurt me so badly
Time and time again.
But you can.
You have that power.
I handed it to you
And I never took it back.

I wonder now
As I think of your eyes
Your smile
Your self
If I will ever be able to see
Anyone but you.

**It doesn't have a resolution. Because that's the way that works. Make of it what you will.

How do You Know?

Your whole body is shaking.
Every muscle in your entire body is quivering.
Your legs threaten to stop their ever present support of you,
Your fingers are beyond your conscious control,
Even your voice, your tool, your skill,
Has been given over to a much quieter, more tremulous, weaker version of itself
Than the one you rehearsed with.

Yes, everything shakes.

You stand there, on your miniature stage in front of the smallest, yet somehow most consequential audience you have ever before faced,
And you begin to speak the lines you have carefully prepared.
They rush out,
Sounding nothing like anything you've said before,
Nothing like the strong, confident-sounding monologue you spent hours working over.
Your breath continues to catch in the strangest ways as your muscles still refuse your command.

You finish speaking,
Your last syllable petering off into silence.
Your face muscles relax, move downward.

Downward?
This means they were up once.
Up, smiling, even during the prose that should have brought tears...
But it did.
You wipe the tears from your face, left over from the character in whose shoes you spent the last few moments.
Tears.
Yet..a lifted, smiling face.
Smiling, though you shook.
Smiling, though you cried.
Smiling, though you feared this judge worse than any before.
Smiling.

That's how you know you belong up there.
On that stage, facing that director at that audition,
The director who will tell you in a few fleeting words whether or not you are good enough.
And your face pulls itself into a smile, without you even realizing it.
A smile that blends perfectly to look like tears, anger, or ecstasy.
No matter what role you become,
What emotion plays across your soul,
You smile.

That's how you know.

The Castle!

So, through a terribly overwhelming process known as the Housing Lottery, I was assigned a living space for next year. I'll take a second to outline the Lottery for your viewing pleasure.

Mid-February I recieved an e-mail telling me that my number was 425. This basically translates to...well...no one really knows. Not even the Dept. of Community Living can tell you. It's a fair number. I mean, the numbers went down to like 1000 something. The housing areas for sophomores are thus (in order of desirability): The Village (AC, and they clean your bathroom for you), Rosenthal (suite style living, close to lots of things, but you have to clean your own bathroom-traditionally party living), East (at the bottom of a large hill, doubles or singles, no suites-but traditionally more social than), The Castle (a Hogwarts-esque building that is supposed to be super anti-social but really, who cares. IT'S. A. FREAKING. CASTLE.), a single in North or Massell( freshman quads. yes, living with freshman as a sophomore. Not. Fun.), or, like, a trash can on the Great Lawn.

So with my number I was also assigned a housing appointment time. My appointment was sheer hell. I literally sat in a room full of nervous people for 3 hours. Everyone was nervous because we were all watching the projector screen which displayed the list of rooms still available. By the time we got to the 400s, people were sweating. Rosie and the Village were closed completely, East was rapidly closing. Things got super tense.

But then...sigh. It was over. The end of the world was averted as people were finally assigned their rooms, mostly the ones they originally wanted. It just all seemed to work out okay.

And I got my Castle room. SCORE!!!! I'm going to be at freaking Hogwarts next year. Suck on that. Yeah!!!! It's lovely. Google image search the Brandeis Castle. She's a beaut.