Time.

One thing I'm finally starting to realize is that we as people need lots of time. We always complain that there just isn't enough hours in the day to get what we need done. And whenever someone starts to whine on and on about all the things they have to do, this gets me thinking. Why don't we stop taking on so many things if we know we will not be able to keep up with it all? And more importantly, what do we think time is?

For me, I'll admit that time is just another frivolous thing. I overload myself with things to do, so much that I never care what time it is, I just keep going until I'm exhausted. Then I nap and get back up and keep going. I haven't had a moment in the past two months where I could truthfully say that I have nothing to do. There's music to practice, homework to do, a brother to watch, a room to unpack. The list never ends, honestly.

I have No Concept of Time.
It means Nothing to Me.

But Deep Down I know that this isn't the way I want to live life. How could anyone want to be like this? I want there to be a little time that's stress free, but I don't see that anywhere in the near future. I want to be a Normal Teenager.

So I present the question to you, bloggers. What's your concept of time? What's it to you? But more importantly, How do you Spend your Time? Do you take it easy, like we should? Or abuse it like myself.

Arguing and Manipulation.

Oh hi, it's been a while. Let's talk about the last acting class, shall we?

It's odd to think about how we only talk to get things out of people. It's our only purpose for communicating, we just want something out of the other people we are talking to. Manipulation has a bad reputation, so when Luke brought this up I immediately (as always) tried to think of ways to fix this bad aspect about me. Then Luke mentioned that everyone is doing this to each other, and that's it inevitable. You can't help yourself when it comes to this, unless you just don't talk. So, I got over it and moved on.

Then Came the Arguing.

Oh, the arguing. There's a moment when you're sitting there with your best friend, screaming at her about the weather, that you realize it stopped being about the weather when the two of you sat down. The Arguing becomes a battle in which you want to prove that jerk opposite you wrong. In your head, their opinion is wrong, it's complete rubbish to you. YOU'RE RIGHT, obviously, not them! It makes sense to argue about the weather, I guess, seeing as it does exist.

But when the two of you start screaming at each other about something that Never even Happened? That's when it gets Freaky.

I could not believe the things I was saying about the Planet of the Vampires, and the past explorations there. How we were better than the past explorers, how we weren't going to get our heads torn off. Or how we needed to hightail it out of there because we had not a chance in Hell of surviving there. Where in the world was my mind coming up with this crap? More importantly, why was I so passionate about both sides of the story when I was arguing them? It's fair to say that by the end of this acting class, I was throughly freaked out by what's going on up in my head. But then again, when am I not?

Fear Is Just Another Boundary.

 I was Walking home the other Night, It's kind of late. But my parents Know I'm on my way home, no worries, yeah?

I Wish.

It's dark, and like any other paranoid teenage girl, I worry something is going to happen. Something bad. I've never been afraid of the dark, but it's different outside when you're alone. I went to call a friend, to have the comfort of a voice, a presence.

That's when my phone dies.

How could I be so forgetful to charge it the night before? Whatever, at this point I just want to get home. My pace quickens along with my heart beat. With nothing to Distract me, I'm trying to reassure myself nothing will happen. I will get home, finish up the loose ends of homework, and go to bed. Just like always, when it isn't so dark. I'll be fine. Then the worst thing possible happens.

The Streetlight Above Me Goes Out.

I make a run for it. What a simple, trivial thing. A streetlight? No one really has control over the faulty wiring or the dying bulb inside there. Why did I feel as if someone did? I keep running.

I walk in the door, nothing short of being relieved. I head upstairs, thinking about what just happened. I wasn't going to get hurt. My subconscious knew that. So why didn't my conscious realize this, like any rational person? I'm still racking my brain for an answer.

So how does this relate back to the arts?

Truth is, I hoped typing this out would make the answer clearer. It's there, but still not quite polished. I think that there are blockades with any type of art, and to get over them, you need to step back, take a deep breath, and do everything you can to overcome them. Doesn't work? Try it again, maybe slightly alter your solution. As one of the pieces of DADA art said, "It takes a few failures to reach success."
So I will be walking home in the dark again. Preforming different tactics to comfort myself. And overcome the Paranoia that is instilled within me.

I can do This.

Walking Got to the Best of Me.

Walk around the stage, and think of the last time someone got you really pissed, to the point where you just couldn't stand their presence you were so livid.

This is more or less what Luke told us to do today. This was the easy part.

"Tell me what you where you were going, what made you so angry."

      This is what I couldn't handle. I was so taken aback when Luke threw this curveball at me. Why couldn't I manage to be a sane person, reign in my emotions, and give him an answer without bursting into tears? The combination of the question and the memory sought after my heart and made sure to tear it apart was the most disturbing thing about it.
      Tommy wasn't there, screaming obscenities in my face. So what made it feel like he was? Why, hours later, I'm still thinking about how real it was and that it's making me squirm in my seat as I type this.

Why was the Hurt so Real?

Overwhelmed By Nothing.

Well, we're now well into our second week of school.

My second week of high school, my second week of STAC, and I'm more overwhelmed than when I first peered into the STAC room that faithful first day of school. Of High School.

How can that possibly be? Why am I so frightened by all of this? Chances are, it's because my future keeps inching closer and closer to present day, and I can't bear the thought of having to decide what I want to do once I graduate from college. I Want to do Everything and Anything, to experience many different career paths because of the curiosity that festers inside of me. And the fact that I can hardly decide what I want to eat for dinner is not helpful in the least. I feel as if these decisions need to be made at this very moment.

But they don't, I have years and years ahead of me. I need to stop being afraid right now.

I need to leap off the cliff with faith, and hopefully land somewhere that I'll love.

Chain Reactions.

     This is my third day of sitting in front of the computer, trying to think of something witty and coherent to write on this blog. But today is different, seeing as I finally have something to write here.
So let's go.

     Today's STAC adventure was different. We didn't sit at those wooden tables for just about three periods and listen to amazing stories from Luke, but we got up. We had to think about the things we hold near and dear to our hearts, examine them closer than ever. Find out why we like them, and then continue on as to why we like the "why" of the original item.

And this got me thinking.

Not only about why I love books and other miscellaneous items so much, but how everything you love ties together. In my case, I like things to be peaceful, to be simple. And as I looked at the other webs of personality around me, I really got the feel of whoever constructed them. Some had things that tied back to organization, others like spontaneity.
People made webs of themselves today. Whether it was an intricate pattern of words and lines, or designed like a simple flow chart, they put who they are on that wall.

And every inch of it leaves me speechless.