once my director gave the best advice

telling his cast “hard things should be hard to say”

it was always an acting tip

when you’re delivering an emotional line

you need to be emotional

somewhere along the line it became a life tip

that it’s okay for your voice to catch

when you’re saying something hard

or for it to shake

because you’re fighting through tears

and you don’t know if you can get through

he blurred the line between acting and life

and it became apparent

why both were equally important 

I know.

Two years ago I did a thing: I got pissed and I started a blog. And over the past two years I've gotten pissed more times than I can count, but never again did I feel the need to start an entire blog to complain about it.

I started this blog when I was thirteen. Stupid. Naive. Scared. In three weeks I'll be sixteen. Still more than a little bit stupid. Not so naive. Terrified.

Eleven days ago I hugged my oldest and best friend outside of an airport. I sat at the terminals of my new friends until, one by one, they all left and I was alone at my own. Those are things I don't think I would have been able to do two years ago. I'm so much stronger now that I could have ever imagined myself to be at thirteen.

In the last year I stage managed two shows, I met my best friends, I made it through my first (real) year of high school. I cut off all of my hair. I did things I never thought I would ever do, not as a scared freshman, not ever. I have better friends than I could ever ask for, people who live near me and people who live entire states away. In sixteen days I'm going to Greece.

I will never be the person I was two years ago. I don't want to be the person I was two years ago, because now I am a better version of myself. Not the best version of myself. But I'm getting there.

Things I Want to Say But (probably) Never Will

To the theatre:
I was looking through my sister's old yearbook today. 2008. It was the last year before Adam started teaching. I looked at a lot of things, but I gravitated towards the Theatre Society and Improv and Debate pages. And there were these people I had heard stories about but had never met, names that were familiar from when my sister was my age. And I realized that it was stories of these people and the people who came the year after them that made me want to do theatre. They all looked so happy, their smiles and enthusiasm and excitement forever preserved on glossy, 11" x 8.5" paper. I looked at all of their smiling faces and all I could think was, "When did theatre stop being FUN?" When did this small, tight-knit group of people become so big and hateful and judgmental. Why do I not get to experience the theatre as a friendly, happy place to spend my time. What changed.

To a teacher:
I know that you have your shining star, your stage manager, and that you and her have your routine. I also know that I will never live up to her, but I need you to give me the chance to be great. Give me the same credit that you give her and know that I won't let you down. Know that I am as reliable and good as she is and even though I will never be her, that doesn't mean I am inadequate.

To a boy:
You're kind of a douche bag, but you know that. I kind of hate you sometimes, but you know that too. What you don't know is that you're better than you think you are. Because I know that, under that confident, douchey bravado, sometimes you're insecure. But I know that you are talented and intelligent and decent. And I'd kind of like to kiss your face.

To my favorite senior:
I don't know if I could have made it through the final weeks of Peter Pan without you there to listen to my rants and always take my side whether or not you knew the whole story. I became friends with you faster than I had become friends with anyone before and I can honestly say that you are one of my favorite people. I think I'm going to miss you desperately when you graduate in less than a month. I honestly believe that you will do great things, even if you don't believe it yourself. I love you a whole lot.

To the juniors:
Part of me doesn't want to do Tarzan next year because I know that doing that show means saying goodbye and I'm not sure I'm ready to do that yet. In fact, I'm sure I'm not ready for that. You are the ones who have kept me sane and have given me a reason to go into the theatre. You've been there to hug me without question when I'm crying and you've taught me so much about life and myself and theatre in general. I don't know where I would be without all of you and I don't want to know. I love you all so much. You'll be great.

To a friend:
Thank you and I'm sorry.

UGH DESI'S WRITING AGAIN ISN'T SHE

I yearn for another time
With my hair a shade lighter,
Uncontrolled, spilling over my shoulders
My skin a shade darker,
Tan lines that all but glow in the light of the moon
Feet perpetually caked in dirt
My life stained with the scent of chlorine

I wish for long nights
In sweatshirts and short shorts
Spent with the people I love most in the world
The smell of sunscreen and bug spray
That always seem to fail,
No matter how hard they try

I long for a girl
Who's a lot like me
But happier
Kinder
More carefree
And much, much less afraid

I want for summer
Late night conversations
Silly decisions,
Easily undone by the morning
Best friends
Doing what I love
Simply because I love it

2012 Playlist

I don't want to do a 2012 wrap up thing because frankly 2012 blows so here's the playlist that's getting me to the end of the year in no particular order

Holding On- Alex Day

Don't Look Back- Alex Day

(The entirety of Alex Day's Parrot Stories, basically)

This Is Me- Charlie McDonnell

Holiday Club- Jim and the Povolos

Asleep- The Smiths

Holland, 1945- Neutral Milk Hotel

I Must Belong Somewhere- Bright Eyes

Love Love Love- The Mountain Goats

Stay (I Missed You)- New Found Glory

The First Day of My Life- Bright Eyes

The Gambler- Fun

To Have a Home- Starkid (Darren Criss)

Jealousy- Darren Criss

Human- Darren Criss

I'm going to end up writing a 2012 wrap up post aren't I.

Whateves

xx D

I like you.
At this point, I'm not sure what else to say
Or how I can say it
But
I like you
I could write about it in perfect iambic pentameter
Or in a sonnet
Or a song
I could do all of those things
But
It would all come back to those three words
I like you
Because you call me out when I'm being particularly stupid
And you're smart
Not like genius smart
But you can hold your own in a conversation
And last year
When you read my essay in English class
You were particularly, genuinely impressed
In a way no one has ever been in my writing
All of these things and more
But it all comes back to
I like you

I'm Scared

I'm scared.
I'm absolutely terrified.
And I'm terrified of being terrified.

I write a lot. I'm rarely not writing. But for whatever reason, I can count the amount of people I've personally shared my writing with on one hand. Because writing is personal, and if someone judges the things I write they're judging me, but a more vulnerable me. And to me, vulnerability is weakness. As much as I know that that isn't true, it still seems to be in my mind. It's part of being scared. I don't want people to know me, because I'm afraid that if they do they won't want to. And that's the most terrifying thing of all time.

I hide a lot of myself from other people because, even though I wouldn't like to admit it, I'm afraid of how they'll feel about me. I'm antisocial because I can't stand the idea of spending time around people who don't like me, or people who are constantly judging me. I actively realize how stupid this is, but the fact that I can't change it is scary too. I'm afraid of myself.

I rarely share my feelings with other people. I'm afraid to fall in love because I'm afraid of commitment and I'm afraid of trust and I'm afraid. I'm afraid to admit my feelings because, again, I'm afraid of showing any weakness that accompanies it. I'm afraid of getting too close because I feel like if I do it's going to end with me getting hurt. So I constantly push away and I suppress my feelings and I hide until they go away.

I think this can all be chalked up to the fact that my biggest fear is failure. I'm afraid of failing classes, I'm afraid of failing auditions, I'm afraid of failing expectations. I'm afraid of setting goals for myself because I know that if I don't reach them I will hate myself. And so I'm afraid of what I'll do to myself. I'm scared of my own potential. I'm so scared of what I can do, and what I know I might do.

But of course I wouldn't share this with anyone because I'm too terrified.
And I'm so terrified of being terrified