"Old News": Yanga-tastic?

I can't take this anymore. I just got drafted into the play (I have 3 weeks to memorize my lines) because people aren't showing up. People spent 15 minutes bitching about how we only have three weeks until the show and lines aren't memorized, and now they've wasted over an hour playing Character building games that should have been done about 3 months ago. I can't do my work becasue I can't focus, and I can't find anyone else who wants to work on Tuesday at the theatre (my boss asked me to look). GrrrRRrr.

I guess that kinda makes my next "Old News" irrelivant. It's funny: in class, we talked about how fate is a wheel. It appears that what goes up, really must come down.

Yanga…works? - Written Feb 17/05

Well, that's interesting…

Turns out that the Forensic Psych test I'm supposed to have on Tuesday is actually not until NEXT Tuesday. Interesting, because now I have another entire week to study for it.

My Computer's exam isn't looking to be as hard as I thought it would be.

My parents are actually letting me move into my friend's house, if I want to.

I'm feeling much more calm and relaxed… And until this morning, I couldn't figure out why.

Turns out, some whiney wench psedo-spammer on Xforums.net cast a "Yanga" spell on those forumites she deemed to having "penis-sized grey cells" (which is supposed to be an insult to the size of our grey matter/brain cells). I wasn't sure what it meant, but one of the mods posted the definition of a Yanga spell a fire-sacrifice "bringing good fortune"…

Bright kid, that one.

Anyways… Yeah. Spring break has been very good to me so far. I needed this. To be at home, and not really do anything substantial for a while. It has given me time to think about things (life stuff), read, and basically hang out. Also, I seem to be shoring up my creative juices. Before I left, I was pretty sure that well was now permanently dry… I just felt that every story I was forcing down for prose was complete rubbish, and Prof. Stoke's little speech on academic slacking didn't help matters… now I’m here and I feel… things are coming back. I just have to pace myself. I can't keep forcing the issue like I was. I need to get back to the roots of where I was: the place I was when I was most creative. I need to re-find the girl I was in high school.

I don't know if it was my independence/social-phobia, my belief in the white arts, or my innocence… It was something I've lost now. Ambition? I used to do things for the community when I was younger. Internal communication, maybe? I used to come up with some really deep philosophical questions. Maybe, just maybe, it's the subject matter. Back then, I would write about running away, with a deep regret for leaving. Now, I write about the need to run away, and a resentment for staying… I don't think it's a need to remove self from place anymore, which adds to the new-ness, but a need to remove self from self… pick out the parts of me, the bad habits, that I can't have anymore (for sake of my sanity), and finally convincing myself to let go.

Letting Go.

I've never been able to let go. Things that guilted me back in the first grade still haunt me. Things that weren't even my fault follow me, nagging me, whispering "you screwed up then, you'll screw up now"… I can't even relax. I never learned how. The pressure on me since I was young… some times, I can see how unbearable it would have been. Hindsight is 20/20. I'm terrified. I'm not sure if it's reasonable or not… I'm terrified that if I start letting go: of guilt, of anxiety, of [cough] specific people [/cough], that I"ll start losing them. I can't stand the idea of letting go of hope that certain people will shape up, and not wind up on the streets. I can't imagine what would happen if I let go of… well, you know who, and he finds someone else. Or I do. I don't want to lose him, or what we have. He says we won't, but I’m not sure. Sometimes I feel like I'm on a cliff, and I'm hanging from the edge, watching my grip loosen. Sometimes I wonder if there's much left, or what would happen if I just let myself fall away.

Sometimes I wonder where a gal like me could get some cheap valium, no questions asked.