Thursday, February 25, 2010

I Am A Revisionist. Life Was Never Different Than This. Life Was Never Better

[3/6]Once upon a time a man who had become invisible arrived in America. He'd spent three and a half years hiding, mostly in trees, but also in cracks, cellars, holes. Then it was over. The Russian tanks rolled in. For six months he lived in a Displaced Persons camp. He got word to his cousin who was a locksmith in America. In his head, he practiced over and over the only words he knew in English. Knee. Elbow. Ear. Finally his papers came through. He took a train to a boat, and after a week he arrived in New York Harbor. A cool day in November. Folded in his hand was the address of the girl. That night he lay awake on the floor of his cousin's room. The radiator clanged and hissed, but he was grateful for the warmth. In the morning his cousin explained to him three times how to take the subway to Brooklyn. He bought a bunch of roses but they wilted because though his cousin had explained the way three times he still got lost. At last he found the place. Only as his finger pressed the doorbell did the thought cross his mind that perhaps he should have called. She opened the door. She wore a blue scarf over her hair. He could hear the broadcast of a ball game through the neighbour's wall...

Last night was the kind of night that if I were at home in Toronto, I would have comforted myself with wine and Walter Matthau.I'm very happy with the environment and home I've created for myself in Toronto, and I miss it already.

I let things fall apart last night. It was the kind of night where the only person I needed was Joe Kanee but felt too ashamed to reach out. I broke down a little bit. Breakdowns are necessary once in a while. For those moments, however long they may be, everything comes to a halt. You pick apart your life, piece by piece and break everything you have in your mind to the smallest fragments possible. Maybe you go absolutely nuts. You're allowed to do this! You know why? Because after a breakdown there's nothing left to do but build it back up again.

You put the pieces back together. Maybe in a different order than they were before, but regardless, they come together. Maybe upon review you find there were some extra unnecessary pieces that you didn't need, so you leave them out. Maybe you find some other ones to join the structure for support and stability. Maybe for extra color and aesthetics.

Its possible I cried. Whats the difference. For every little thing possible. Just to get it all out, all in one teary, head pounding, heart racing, raspy throated, shot. For how far away I am. For how frustrating packing is. For the extra pounds of stuff I have to bring back from moving out of my room in Edmonton. For the frustration of having nowhere to put said stuff in Toronto. For the feelings I haven't put a name to for moving out of my bedroom where I grew up and how its being demolished and turned into office space. For how sleep deprived I am and its my own fault. For going back to school and the irony of feeling like an actress, pretending (for the most part) to like what I'm doing when what I really want to be doing is working and attending auditions.
Want to know how it ended? Abruptly. Like an ADD moment.
"Holy shit when was the last time I got lost in some Pablo Neruda words?"
So then I googled Pablo Neruda (my favorite poet), read his work, calmed down, and fell asleep with my laptop.


I went to visit my highschool yesterday. I sat down with my old guidance counselor. I began seeing her in grade 11 when I had anxiety issues with math class, and it grew into a relationship where we'd talk about anything and everything. I sat down in her office just like old times, and although we were just catching up, I felt like she was analyzing me as she used to. I loved it. She put things I was feeling into words I couldn't come up with on my own.

We talked about my new life and new home in Toronto. My new friends, my new circle, and how it took me so long- even though I am an outgoing person- to open up to them. It was my way of protecting myself, because I've learned that the more of yourself that you give away, the more there is to be used against you. I realize this isn't a good way to look at potential friendships, but there are some things I just can't avoid. These are the ways I cope.

This is one of my favorite pictures in the whole world. It brings back so many memories. There's a whole dream in this one image. One hazy, wonderful dream. This is me and my cousin at our grandparents' farm. Whispering secrets. Confiding in each other. Talking about things that wouldn't possibly make sense to anyone else. This is how we always were.
I get to see her today :)

Today's Entertainment News
  • New Britney Spears album released in June
  • Charlie Sheen has checked into rehab for "preventative measures" and will be taking a break from the filming of "Two and a Half Men"
  • John Mayer pulled an 11 year old fan on stage who had a sign saying "Please let me play 'Belief' with you". The boy played the guitar with John Mayer for the whole song and at the end, Mayer told the boy to keep the guitar
  • Conan O'Brien has joined twitter: "Today I interviewed a squirrel in my backyard and then threw to commercial. Somebody help me"

1 comment:

  1. lauren Girrrrrrrrl ;)February 25, 2010 at 6:31 PM

    also neruda is my favorite poet. obviously. we've probably talked about this already. have you read alot of ondaatje? i assume so, because he is a big piece of my heart. heart twin.