Buy a Ticket Next Time
I should be in bed. I should be asleep. I am so tired. I feel like crud. But my mind is spinning.
I'm halfway through my second school week without a roommate. In case you aren't aware, Brianne has been doing many fantastic theater things so far this semester. She's doing what she loves with people she loves, and I am a fan of that. The room has been very lonely at night, but she'll be back next week for the long haul and we will be able to catch up on life. I'm pretty pumped for that, too.
While sitting in my once-a-week Sound Design theater class today, I felt dead. I love the professor and I enjoy my classmates, but physically, I felt terrible and that affected how I interacted with others. As I sat in a fog and fought to keep up with the banter, I realized how ridiculous I felt. My mental process went a bit like this:
"They're laughing. You should at least smile. What he said was funny."
"But I just can't. My head hurts. I want to go home and lay down now."
"Too bad. You've got stuff to do lat--agh, there's another funny thing that you just missed. Come on, Justine. Pull it together."
"Fine. I'll try. But do I have to laugh?"
"I suppose not. But really, make a bit of an effort."
Doubt me if you wish, but I promise I actually had a conversation with myself about this for the first five minutes of class. Even when sitting with two of my closest friends, I still hated existence at that moment and wanted to be anywhere else. When we moved to a different location to work with sound equipment, I pushed myself to function, but it was miserable.
At one point, I looked around the room and laughed at myself. The reality is that I am the only non-theater kid in a theater class. While my four closest friends at school are all theater kids, that doesn't mean I always "fit" well. A fair amount of the time, I have a dialogue in my head about what it would be like to fit. I've never figured out what it looked like.
I'm not saying that I am dissatisfied with my life here. Quite the opposite. But I'll be honest with you...standing outside of a box called a stereotype and watching everyone else interact inside the box can be painful. I am not a theater kid. I never will be one. That's fine. It's frightening to be boxed out, though. That space I have been occupying is getting rather lonely. My roommate loves theater. My best friends love theater. My brother is heading in that direction. And then there's me.
Just sitting at the bus stop, waiting for a bus to pick me up and carry me away from this insecurity.
Too bad I forgot to buy a ticket before the station closed for good.
The bus isn't coming tomorrow, kids. Have fun learning on your own.
I'm halfway through my second school week without a roommate. In case you aren't aware, Brianne has been doing many fantastic theater things so far this semester. She's doing what she loves with people she loves, and I am a fan of that. The room has been very lonely at night, but she'll be back next week for the long haul and we will be able to catch up on life. I'm pretty pumped for that, too.
While sitting in my once-a-week Sound Design theater class today, I felt dead. I love the professor and I enjoy my classmates, but physically, I felt terrible and that affected how I interacted with others. As I sat in a fog and fought to keep up with the banter, I realized how ridiculous I felt. My mental process went a bit like this:
"They're laughing. You should at least smile. What he said was funny."
"But I just can't. My head hurts. I want to go home and lay down now."
"Too bad. You've got stuff to do lat--agh, there's another funny thing that you just missed. Come on, Justine. Pull it together."
"Fine. I'll try. But do I have to laugh?"
"I suppose not. But really, make a bit of an effort."
Doubt me if you wish, but I promise I actually had a conversation with myself about this for the first five minutes of class. Even when sitting with two of my closest friends, I still hated existence at that moment and wanted to be anywhere else. When we moved to a different location to work with sound equipment, I pushed myself to function, but it was miserable.
At one point, I looked around the room and laughed at myself. The reality is that I am the only non-theater kid in a theater class. While my four closest friends at school are all theater kids, that doesn't mean I always "fit" well. A fair amount of the time, I have a dialogue in my head about what it would be like to fit. I've never figured out what it looked like.
I'm not saying that I am dissatisfied with my life here. Quite the opposite. But I'll be honest with you...standing outside of a box called a stereotype and watching everyone else interact inside the box can be painful. I am not a theater kid. I never will be one. That's fine. It's frightening to be boxed out, though. That space I have been occupying is getting rather lonely. My roommate loves theater. My best friends love theater. My brother is heading in that direction. And then there's me.
Just sitting at the bus stop, waiting for a bus to pick me up and carry me away from this insecurity.
Too bad I forgot to buy a ticket before the station closed for good.
The bus isn't coming tomorrow, kids. Have fun learning on your own.
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