How far (Holding on to something that isn't there)

Questions seem to be what continue running through your head whenever you're trying to escape.  Escape the fact you have NO answers to them.

Why is it that when you close your eyes, in attempt to concentrate on change, nothing does?  And when you open those same eyes, everything is passing?  Except your own thoughts.

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How far would you dare to go
Before you realized you could not swim?

How fast would you tread
Knowing the waves would not stop pushing?

Would that even matter?
If the place you wanted to go was below?

Underneath the surface of your own
Being?  Trapped, screaming with inflamed lungs

Witnessing no panic
But glimmering eyes of passed sadness

Could you take in every bit of your hoped for life?
 As you sensed the frigid shock of water crashing?

Stop in mid shiver to wonder about the deep?
Forget ALL and greet the unknown?

How far would you dare to go
Before you realized you never needed to swim?

Just fall and let go
Of everything that weighed you down, above

Open your eyes, heart and lungs to
A world with NO plagued memories

Just a clean path
Far beneath the surface

Self Faith (short story)

Sitting here with a belt around my neck . . . Not figuratively.  But literally.  Listening to songs that put me in a mood that should not cause pain.  But forge thoughts of them.
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She sat there, with her belt tightly gripping her throat.  Waiting:  for the impact of its snap; or the squeeze of her shaking hand.  She needed to feel something, so she tested her strength, tugging to one side the leather belt loop.  She fastened the buckle and sat back.  Pacing her breaths.  Looking at the door hook, and concentrating.  "There were options . . . " she wondered.  But even she couldn't believe her own thoughts anymore.  It was better for all options to lead to one outcome:  peace.  Jumping from atop the highest point she could reach:  another choice.  There, she would float, gently above, as she waited to come back down.  Down to her new world.

Originality, where have you gone?

I've been away from "pop culture" for awhile now.  I do not own a television, and haven't for a few months.  I also do not listen to the radio, unless it's on when I'm out in public.  So, when logging onto my Facebook, it seems like being bombarded with images and posts of what the world has been up to, and I've blocked myself away from.  Not that it's a bad thing.  But in this day and age, not knowing what's going on, besides checking the news sites and newspaper is like taking yourself away from the real world.  Not originally my interpretation.  But I'm sure it's being said somewhere.

I log onto Facebook, and there's a song/video, which apparently has been number one on some list(s) for a few weeks or so.  Nothing new there . . . And I take a listen/watch the video just to see what the hype is.  It's found here, http://music-mix.ew.com/2013/11/20/christina-aguilera-great-big-world-say-something-video/

I think the song is okay.  However the visuals?  The scenes in the video just got me thinking.  Why is it that whenever there is a song that just so happens to have ballad-like chords, ie. a piano or guitar, there is either a sappy couple, a sad looking animal, a distraught child and/or an elderly couple -- likely married -- where one is on the brink of death?  I only ask this question, because in the day and age of millions of music videos that seemingly rip off each others concepts, there truly isn't a force of originality out there.

Again, not saying the song is bad.  Or that this doesn't work . . .  But let's take away Christina Aguilera's sauntering into the room, while a piano is played.  Let's also take away the piano playing male singer, and strictly focus on the story through images.  What is being told?  What is new, which we haven't already seen?  Is there a reason why duplicating said images in most videos is done ONLY to pressure a feeling that constantly happens when people are pushed towards emotional recall?  And if that's the case, why not just let the song speak for itself?  After all, interpretation is what ties each listener to a specific song or lyric.

I love music videos -- artistic ones, and even some which I've seen done numerous times.  But when are these templates at the point of overly used?  Can't we as artists, directors, writers (also artistically driven) think beyond that same template?  Don't we have the courage to think outside the proverbial box and make our own standard.

They say "imitation is the greatest form of flattery," but I would like to think creation, coinciding with originality is where the greatest form shall lie.  I've seen it done before.  Just lately not as much.

Or maybe I should dive back into the world of social media . . . find another video, and cry along with its imagery.  Besides, that is what the director intended.  Right?
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**Yes, I do understand we've all duplicated something once.  And that there are templates for a reason.  And yes, I also understand their need and also ours when creating for the masses.  Alas, I too, have fell victim of those same practices before (in other material).  But I know when NOT to use them.  Or do I?**

Confused Much?

Sometimes we are at the top of our game -- riding these amazing adventures, and not looking down.  Other times, we are just trying to grab onto something.  Anything.  But we just can't.

It is as though we feel we aren't good enough.  Not worthy enough to make ourselves happy.  Or possibly not good enough to take in that happiness.  I know many people who feel that way.  Heck, I do, on some occasions.  And many of my past posts have been an indication of that.

But still, we keep going.  Some of us.  We keep pressing on.  Because we don't REALLY want to give up.  To not reach our potential.  Yet, those moments when nothing seems feasible, we think we can't.  Can't make it.  Can't survive what we've just gone through, or constantly been enduring.

To those people:  (as "Hallmark" as it sounds) you have to keep going.  And I know this contradicts my own thoughts.  Especially when they continue to change.  One moment I'm happy.  Thrilled to be here.  Other times?  I feel as though EVERYTHING is coming down, crashing all around me.  I don't want to be a burden with my words.  This is MY blog, so, I just thought I'd describe myself.

It's confusing.  I know.  These moments confuse me too.  Just earlier, I was happy, smiling and thinking of the future.  And then . . . out of nowhere, something clicked.  Like an autopilot switch.  One that constantly is in between, but more so on the off position.

You become entranced in thoughts.  But those thoughts are blank.  Weird, eh?  Blank thoughts, which then turn into memories.  Ones that are in fact actually you -- in that moment -- in that space -- as though time were standing still, and you were just observing.  But it's not an observation.  It's you.  It's me.

We are the same.  We are what forces one another to not give in to our forced wants.  Because quick fixes are indeed not the solution.  We are the same.  Pushing one to fight until we cannot stand to go any further.

And then -- click.  We're back in the same situation.

Glue

It's another Friday, and I'm sitting inside my room.  Nice weather.  It's mid afternoon.  And the blinds remain closed.  I want to travel outside, and feel the air.  But instead, I sit here, beside my three fans.  And let the modified breeze take over.  I don't think of things to do -- fun, exciting, young adult, or 20 something things to do -- because that's just not who I am.  Although, I could be wrong.  I could be that person, wanting to dance the night away.  Going for a drink in a sports bar, while cheering on my favorite team.  I don't know . . . I never really knew, because I let myself stay in too much.  I've become accustomed to taking chances, professionally, and educationally -- more so than personally.  Not that I think of myself as afraid to try.  Just afraid of failure.  And what's to be afraid of, anyway?  

Each day continues to play out the same way.  And I'm drained each morning, thinking of the never changing cycle.  At times though, my focus changes, but not on the positive.  Not on going out and trying something new.  No, instead, my focus switches to daydreaming about a new life.  A new journey.  One that's not on this earth.  You see, I can force myself to think ahead -- way  ahead -- as if nothing matters.  But that's only when EVERYTHING matters.  And when everything is drowning me.  

I'm stuck.  I'm at the point in my life where either I should be out exploring (especially in the city I live in), and having fun.  But I can't.  I don't know why.  I don't understand how I can feel the need for a change, but just can't do it.  

I work hard.  I stay focused.  Big deal -- most people do.  And I put extreme amounts of perfectionist pressure on myself.  Big deal -- again, most people do.  I've had the same mentality of never feeling good enough, ever since I was young.  That, I know, will never go away.  So, I push it aside, not thinking about it, and stay focused.  I continue working hard, never letting myself think of what I could be doing.

And then I take a break -- because someone says, "relax, you've been working too hard.  You need sleep, or to just get away from what you're doing for a little while.  Then go back to it."  So I take their advice, and breathe.  But that's when I feel my throat closing.  When I feel I'm losing control.  Each time I take a break, I'm never really relaxed.  I remain focused on what still hasn't been done.  What needs to be accomplished.  What I haven't gotten right.  And what I know I messed up on.  I can't take the break.

The only break, which comes from me, hyperventilating, is what sends me to cringe.  I break.  This isn't something new.  Or fascinating.  Most people reach their boiling point.  And I do the same.  I control it, to the point nobody knows.  So that I can't make them worry.  You see, I worry about other people reacting to what I'm doing.  

Perfectionist.  That's me.  Always wanting the best -- especially for others.  And when I feel pressure piling up, I hide it.  "No worries," I tell people, who ask how I'm doing.  "Everything's great," I push out of my typing, to those who send me a message to check in.  I don't like speaking on what I'm going through.  Unless it's positive.  Not that I don't think people would want to know, and help.  But, I've always found it difficult to ask for that.  To proclaim I cannot do something.  That I'm not adequate enough.  Even when I do think that, most times -- I can't say it to someone else.  

And as the time continues to change, I continue to sit.  In the same spot I was when I woke up.  I'm taking a break.  A mental break.  And one I'm too familiar with, which breaks me even more.  

It's not every day.  But most days, when I feel drained.  Yet I keep going.  But in the back of my mind, I know I want to stop.  Stop it all.  So, I pretend (to myself) I'm alright.  My self knows better, but it goes with it, anyhow.  On those days, when all I can see is taking another route -- a one way journey, I force myself to continue.  

I don't know how long I'll be able to keep it up.  But for now, I'm still trying.  And although my mind drifts back and forth, between being up and down, I remain upbeat for those I love.  Even when at times, I can't feel the same towards myself.  I'm stuck.  Wanting to get away from it all, on most days.  And feeling nothing, on others.  

I'll take this break, and then I'll get back to being focused.  I need this break, and yet when I'm on it, I'm not really.  But, I'll try and keep going.  I'll try, because I know I'm working towards something I want.  And the perfectionist side of me, won't stop until I make it.  So, I have to make it.  I have to force myself to NOT break.  

Because if I do, I'll never get to feel the real breeze.   

Nathan Bransford, Author: How to Know You're a Writer (In GIF Form)

Nathan Bransford, Author: How to Know You're a Writer (In GIF Form): Any time you're not writing your novel you're still thinking about your novel: When people ask you for your thoughts on their...

Just Do It . . .

You can sit inside a coffee shop -- where you're going to begin to reek of coffee beans.  You can constantly make lists -- which slowly get checked off.  Or, you can just get back to work.  Now, I'm not totally speaking of procrastination.  I'm talking about that little urge one gets when they're half focused and half perturbed at not being completely there.  I'm talking about the minute when you're working on something and then you lose your work, before hitting SAVE.  I'm discussing the moment when your deadline hits and it's already the next day.  Nike has a motto for continuance.  Right?  Well, that crap doesn't always work.  "Just do it . . ."  That only works when complete concentration is there.  It only works when you want it badly.

Getting work done, means putting in the work.  It means sucking it up, and just doing it.  When your recording a song, it means -- take after take, keep going until it's where it needs to be.  If you're working on a blog post (hey there), it means to continue writing until you hit, "publish," and you're fine with the outcome.  Although for some of us writers, you're never really all that happy with the outcome -- not entirely.  And lastly, for those of us that write larger pieces -- it's about starting, no matter how early or late, and continuing until you feel that click inside -- that part that says, YOU'VE GOT IT . . . KEEP GOING.  When you make it to that moment, that's when no time frame, no smell of coffee beans, and no abundantly insane lists make you cringe.  That's when you know you can do it.  That's when Nike makes a valid point.  That's the moment in where you can't think of anything else, but to keep writing.  And you do.  You Just Do It.

This . . . this is why I LOVE Mariska!

Watch the video below, and you'll see yet another reason why I LOVE Mariska Hargitay!

Stopping to save lives?

So, what happened to me today? 

I guess there is a reason behind being in the right place at the right time.  Less than one hour ago (around 6:45pm or 7:00pm), while biking back -- taking my normal route -- I spotted something strange happening.  No, the immovable traffic was not that . . .  Well, not entirely.  No, I witnessed stopped traffic, because there was a guy behind the wheel of a KIA, trying to go onto the freeway, from the exit ramp.  Yes, bizarre, I know.  But that wasn't the weirdest part.  The most surreal part was, get this, no one wanted to help.  Instead, everyone's first reaction was to just blow their horns and proceed to scream at the unaware, elderly gentleman.

Not me, however -- I didn't know it before my bike trip, but I guess I was ready for anything.  I jumped off my bike, once I crossed the intersection -- and walked up to the mans car.  Fortunately his passenger window was slightly down, so I could get my words to him.  I stayed with him, trying to calm him down.  He didn't have to show it, but I knew he had to be terrified:  everyone staring at him, mostly because he was going onto ongoing exit ramp freeway traffic, but also because this was out of the norm.  I spoke ever so gently, trying to ease his mind.  While also keeping an eye on the cars that were unsure what was going on.  I asked questions, just as if my American Red Cross training kicked in -- just in time.  Yes, I knew how to check if someone was incoherent, and no, just because he was trying to enter an exit ramp, did not justify my assessment.  I continued to ask him question after question.  I made sure to assure the other drivers that I was doing something to hopefully prevent him from crashing into ANYONE. 

Well, lets just say the questions were answered in a round-about way, where everything was done with a "yes," and head nod.  Obviously he wasn't okay.  And neither was the situation.  Even some of the stopped traffic goers -- the non douchebag ones (who yelled at the guy, and myself) offered and did call the Police.  I called too.  Hey, the more officers, the better.  Because I had been there for such a long time, I guess people began to think I was part of the situation.  And partially that was correct.  I was trying to prevent any harmful ordeal. 

After about 10 minutes of getting the elderly gentleman to look at me, and stop his car -- leading into him putting his car back in drive and inching up ever so frighteningly, I had had enough of my own bartering.  I had to make a defensive choice.  And this was completely imposing to him -- but I had to enter his vehicle (good thing it was unlocked) without his permission.  I had asked him to either put his car in Reverse, or Park -- but with his mental state, he'd just go back into Drive every few moments.

So, I asked one more time, and then I just went in.  I opened his door, realized his car was an Automatic -- I quickly put his car in Park and took his keys out of the ignition.  After that, I knew it would be okay -- for the other cars.  But for him, I was still unsure.  Officer Baldwin of the FHPD arrived on the scene in a good amount of time, and that's when I could release my first breath of fresh air.  A trained person had shown up.  Officer Baldwin came over, and I told him what happened (what I just told you guys), and then I gave him the keys.  He told me what I wasn't even thinking at that moment:  that I might have saved someones life.  Especially since it looked as if nobody else wanted to step up and do the right thing.  That by comforting the elderly man, and quickly taking action, I made sure no damage occurred. 

I didn't leave once the officer arrived.  I made sure to stay with the gentleman until the combined Fire Rescue and Ambulance showed up.  And even after that, I waited with him, right up until they loaded him onto a stretcher and into the EMS.  If he didn't think he had anyone, he had me. 

Gawkers . . . It amazes me how many times we see gawkers and get mad that they're holding up the flow of traffic, yet we never think about why it's happening.  Or whether the people halting the traffic are trying to make a difference . . . It's just fascinating.  Don't you think? 

On the way back from biking another 12 miles . . . I was just in the right place at the right time. 

I guess that's the good thing about taking a bike, instead of a car . . .

Layered

 

This is what most people think of, when they think of children:  an open space; a jungle gym; a peaceful day.  And yet it's empty.  There are no inhabitants.  Nothing but wildlife to run a muck   The way that it was originally intended to be.  A preserve for those who were here prior to the construction of pieced land.  Animals sneaking their way into the grass, flying so low, so that they can have what humans have made theirs.  Almost as if that small patch is their journey home.  Like Dorothy, just hoping to find their way back.  Back into their reality:  nature.  Untouched by human hand or machine.  Preserved, and still reserved for their rights.  To roam, jump, fly, or climb, just like any other human (minus the flying -- unless on a swing  :-p).

Fighting To Die (an original song)

**Disclaimer:  This is just a song!  The lyrics are meaningful, but in this time period, it's just a song.**

Fighting to Die (5:02)

Written by Kyra "Kacee/Klayster" Clay

(Guitar and Vocals-Kyra)

I can't take it anymore

Tried to break it down to it's core

Living proof, death still lives

Fighting down inside, fighting down inside

Fighting down inside

So, kill me quick

Make it sick

Fill your regret with remorse

Let me quit the fight, I'm ready to die

I wanted reality

But people played with me

I wanted a way from you

You kept showing up

Little by little

My breath slipped away, from you

So kill me quick

Make it sick

Fill your regret with remorse

Let me quit the fight, I'm ready to die

Ready, ready to die

Ready, ready to

Ready, ready, ready to die

Ready to die

I'm ready, ready ready

I wanted freedom, in my religion

By the time it happened, I was gone

I wanted my life, you weren't inside

By the time you showed up, it was at my gravestone

So grab me

Shake me

Still can't wake me up

I've fallen into  the other side

It was quick

I felt sick

No regret or remorse

Quit the fight

I was ready to die

To die, die, die

To die, to die, to die

I was ready, I was ready

To die, to die, to die

I was ready to die

I was ready to die

I was ready to die

I was ready...to..die

Goodbye

**Disclaimer:  This is strictly a poem.  In this moment, it is just words that need to be said . . . **

I need to scream
I don't know my wants
Maybe I want to leave . . .
Maybe I want to suffer . . .
Whatever it is, I want to do it alone

I have to get out
Before I strangle my only positive voice into submission
Force myself to give into my own demise
Just to get away from those who try and break me

I won't let them do it --
It's my life

If I want to escape, I shall
It's only when . . . 
When my melancholy dredges up, and I have only one option . . .

GOODBYE

Inspiration comes from Dedication

Wow, I can honestly say, this Act II revision is going insane.  And definitely in a good way.  I am scraping so many of my original material, and starting fresh -- just in time to hit SEND and submit my very last assignment for my Third MFA semester.  I have been given such a huge push of motivation, after hearing of my Mentor's Writing Binge.  I'm guessing that's the way I'm going to attack my Fall Residency manuscripts -- which are soon approaching.  Two new files to send, and then it's back to reading hundreds and hundreds of pages of scripts, prose and whatnot.  AWESOME.  I'm beyond stoked.  In exactly five weeks I'll be on another adventure.  One that I've been waiting for, for such a long time.  Now, back to work.  Because I get my cues from my Mentor -- I'm only taking this short break, and then it's back to finishing this assignment, even stronger than I started!

Leaving

Shutting down.  Running away.  Where?  I don't know.  Sometimes it's just that easy:  just to get on a bike and go.  Go anywhere.  And anywhere but here is where you want.  It can take any amount of frustration to push you towards a limit.  I've hit many limits, and at times I just wanted to quit.  But then I look into the skies, and see a few birds fly by.  And then there's that one lonesome looking bird, passionately soaring into another direction . . . That's where I want to be.  That's where I see myself.  Not following other peoples ideas as to what they think I should be doing. Or who I should be.  Not breathing in their unwanted energy.  Just going it alone.  Blissfully floating.  Immersed in my own fascination.  However bizarre -- mine at least.


I dream about escapism.  Traveling so far, no one can catch me.  Being away for so long, no one remembers me.  And yet I do want to be remembered:  for taking a chance; for letting my feelings melt away; for trying; for leaving.  Damaged thoughts, huh?  But that's what I mildly contemplate:  leaving.

 

Even when there are amazingly happy moments, I'm still not all there.  I'm thinking of another place.  Any place.  Surrounded by nothing but nature.  And maybe it sounds isolated.  Maybe anti-social.  Who cares!  That's where I'm at.  Forcing myself to snap out of it.  But hoping no one notices, so that I can feel free.  Away from it all.  Away from them all.

For Good

Sometimes disappearing and getting away, is meant for good . . . Sometimes the only way to handle something, is to wander off into nothingness . . . To make NO apologies for letting go . . .

Pushing the Pedal(s)

Another day of Insanity.  Another day with a new-ish workout regiment, including supplements.  And another day of pushing myself to the limit, by including way more cardio than I should have ever thought of doing.  Not that I can't get it done.  But, after already doing one hour of Insanity and extra exercises that I've created, I decide to go for a 15 mile bike ride.  Granted the morning workouts give me so much needed energy to get through the day -- biking in heat with the sun baring down on me . . . Not the smartest thing to do.  Still, I feel great.  That is until I reach those HILLS.  The capitalization is what I feel when I lay eyes on them:  the death incline.  :-o  It's as if I begin to lose my energy just by glancing at the steepness.  At points I sit up higher, and push down even harder on the pedals.  Going.  Moving.  Getting a distance.  But then something happens.  I realize the wind is beginning to blow -- right at me.  So, I push harder.  Until I feel my tendons arguing with me.  Yes, my muscles talk.  Maybe I should listen?  :-p

I continue, but at a different pace.  I decide to move one pedal at a time.  This time, not overly exerting myself.  Yet in the process, I have absolutely NO speed, therefore I am almost at the point of going backwards down the incline.  So instead of making the partial trek almost unbearable, I just get off and walk the half way uphill, until I reach the top.  And after I get there, it's downhill AWESOMENESS.  That is, until I get to a driveway or blind spot area, where I know I'll have to quickly slow down, losing my speed, cut my thrill, and STOP.  Hoping my brakes get the memo, and do just that.  15 miles to accomplish, and I know on the way back, it's another set of hills.  And maybe even more sun.  Maybe I should have opted to just bike to the gym and do indoor cycling.  But there's just something about being out on the open road (minus the cars), iPod of bikeable tunes, and a clear mind.  There's something about losing yourself in the knowledge that you're just going for a ride.  Even if you've traveled that same path many times before, there's still a possibility of something new.  And who knows, you might just discover a new path.

So, you keep going.  Letting the road, wind, and music take you where you feel like going.  And after those 15 miles and early morning workouts, you feel like going, once more.

Out with the Old

I guess my high school reunion is going to be happening soon . . . Well, relatively soon, as in a few years.  I use to be under the impression one was to think about going to these things.  Like we were all waiting to see one another and catch up.  However, because of multiple social networking sites, there's really no need to go to one.  Granted it's a personal and face-to-face connection versus online communication -- still, hasn't one learned enough from the people they are waiting to meet up with?  Older people use to speak of how they hadn't seen their classmates for over 10+ years and how excited they were to be in the same room, again.  And that got me thinking:  Do I really want to waste my time being there?  Not that I wouldn't gain anything from attending.  I'm sure if I worked hard at trying, I could get something out of being there.  But unfortunately, there are no mysteries of reuniting with people whom you already know most things about.  Again, not that I'm saying everyone discusses EVERYTHING about themselves, and then posts that online -- but the majority of people who might attend, you've already been filled in with their life journey:  children, married, married with children, school, working, graduating, getting close to graduating, etc.  There aren't really that many other options, besides the human inevitable; ceasing to exist.

Welp, I guess that's my venting for now.  I'm going to go ahead and retreat from this blog, and get back to what I need to focus on:  Revisions and Submissions.  Oh, and hitting SEND.  I promise that in  the next blog, I'll be more forgiving . . .  :-p

Happy for Jinkx

I just had to post a video I found on YouTube, pertaining to my favorite Drag Superstar (besides RuPaul), whom just recently took the title of the newest Drag Superstar from RuPaul's Drag Race.  I have been a fan of Jinkx Monsoon's for so long, so watching these videos (I'm only including one -- go watch the others too :-p) gave me another reason to smile for her win!  Yay, Jinkx!  :-)

Submissions

There's just one major assignment left to SEND . . .

Where'd that come from?

I've been doing Insanity for a few weeks now, and I can honestly say I'm seeing results. Not only have I become even more energetic (if that is at all possible), but I've also realized bruising on my arms (I don't like tanning, so it's extremely noticeable). Now, with the inclusion of my newest workout, diet and overall fitness changes, I'm a bit confused as to how these bruises are forming, especially when I don't feel them . . . I MUST figure this out, before my arm turns into one giant red bruise.

What am I up to these days?

Almost a year has passed . . .

 

Almost a year has passed since I posted a video on any social networking site.  Not that I have stopped making music -- I have just been preoccupied.  But not to worry (listeners of mine), I still write music and perform, so be on the look out for new material within the next few weeks.  This is going to be a very productive few months, all leading up to another MAJOR journey, which I am beyond excited for.  And yes, I will post about it, at a later date.  So for now, PLEASE enjoy my music, "Revising The Days," which is what I wrote after my last June Residency in Cambridge, MA.  Geez, just hearing it again, takes me back to the emotion I felt when writing/performing it.  I hope you all enjoy. 

 

P.S.  Listen with you ears AND your heart.  :-)

 

Much Love,

 

~Kyra C.

 

 

Weeks away from another change

It's April already, and it doesn't seem to be slowing down.  Unimaginably every semester seems to speed by.  Faster than each Residency.  Weird.  This semester has gone by SO fast, and in a mere few weeks it will come to a close.  I just cannot believe I've almost made it through my third semester of Grad school.  I say "almost," just because I have one major thing left to do:  finish Act II of my Full Length play.  Well, I guess I have more than one -- since if the second act turns out better than the first, I'll be rewriting Act I.  So, yeah, I've almost made it.  But that darn countdown to fourth semester is giving me a steady push to "get er done."  I just wish this semester wasn't ending so fast.  But, you can't have it both ways: a continuation of third semester (for a few more weeks) and the beginning of my final full semester as an MFA grad student.

The weeks will soon be blending into days, and with that change, gives me a reason to blissfully smile.  In a few weeks I'll be with my buddies, again.  I'll be in an environment where I can take in literary-awesomeness at its best.  I'll be able to push myself farther than I've done in the past.  Take chances.  Interact more.  Speak.  Show what I've learned.  And learn even more.  These changes are what I'm looking forward to making.  It's the end of April, and soon it will be the end of third semester -- the beginning of a fourth semester/residency . . . This will be my moment to make it happen.  No more shying away from things.  There's not much time, and change IS coming.  Hopefully within these last few weeks,  I'll feel that accomplishment and charge inside of me. 

Insanity and Hills

Today was another day of Insanity, and whoa, it's beyond intense! I'll elaborate further, but since I'm also coming back from the craziness of the outdoors: biking for 5+ miles in a rain/snow (yes, there was sleet) mixture, I'm going to refuel on some nutrients and H2O.

Speak soon.

Insanity, it's just that . . .

Shaun T.  is putting me through the wire with "Insanity."  Not that I wasn't aware of the craziness before I began the program, but, WOW.  I'm only a few days in and I can totally see how much this is kicking my butt.  I'm looking forward to completing the 60 days, especially since I changed my already Vegetarian diet, to a more intense one.  Let's just say I was happy with just eating Tofu, Tempeh, and Soy based food, and mostly once or twice a day was my food intake.  But now, I have to consume 5 meals a day.  Needless to say, this is bizarre for me.  I don't really enjoy food to begin with.  But because of the results I want to attain, I MUST eat.  Boo.  I guess it's not going to be easy (besides the fact it's called "Insanity.") 

Don't worry, I'll be posting short messages about what is going on.  Not all posts will be about "Insanity," but this week most will be.  Counting down the days until my final full Residency, which leads into my final full semester of MFA life -- which I've also managed to lump with this insane program.  I cannot wait for the moment where I can be where I need to be.  Progress, eh?  It's still happening. 

NEED YOU NOW (How Many Times) by Plumb (official lyric video)

After all the events that have transpired through the week, this song (below) seems right.

Unreal Connections

Have you ever met someone that you wished you could be close to?  Nothing too intimate -- just great friends?  Or better yet, have you ever become friends with someone you never in your mind imagined forming a connection with?  It's amazing how many great buddies you can make when you stop focusing on what you think you already know.  When you realize closed minded characteristics are what can cause a possibly good thing from happening.

Through my many travels, here and there -- mostly there, I've had many encounters with new faces, and by giving those people a chance, was able to form new friendships.  The strangely frightening moment of meeting someone new is when you're standing within distance of them and you feel the urge to make conversation, but have no idea as to what to say.  I mean, is there a commonality?  You know, besides you both being in the same place at the same time?

In the Midst of Two Homes

**Picture taken from the "Down with Detroit" Facebook page.**

Words in Time . . .

Emotional Make-Under

People wear many masks.  Some wear a mask that makes them seem in touch with reality.  Some wear ones that distances them from what surrounds them.  And there are others who wear a mask in which it's as confusing on the inside as they are viewed on the outside.  Although masks can be needed, it often can create self doubt.  Doubt as to which face is truly the real one.  Believe me, it can be strange at times trying to understand who you are.

For most of my life, I've worn a mask.  I can't tell you to which person that face became faceless.  I cannot even fathom why a particular mask was created.  It's as if I was born to recreate images -- distracting myself from what I was:  a person lost.  Now, not every inch of me has been created out of false pretense.  But there were times when I had to "fake it to make it."  Some might say it's necessary.  But when you suddenly don't know which identity is real, you begin to freak out even yourself.  Sucks!

Year after year, relationship after relationship -- mostly friendships, I find it difficult trying to decipher my real self.  I know who I want to be.  Right?  And if I know who I want to be, why not just be that person?  It's sad, really.  I've become a good actress:  a fabricated person.  I need to learn who I am.  I need to dissect my personality and see where I started to pretend.  I need to try and be someone else.  Me.  Whomever that person is.  Wherever she is, I need to find her.

I need to try.

The old mask is beginning to crack.  Even to me it's quickly shattering.  More frequently than before, I'm wanting to escape.  Wanting to get away.  Simply running and going for a walk isn't cutting it anymore.  The playlists aren't distracting enough.  Racing thoughts and banging heads aren't relieving my mind.  I need more!  More pain!  More intense feeling!  I feel that, but I keep it inside.  Internally I'm breaking, and it's becoming apparent people are starting to notice.

So, I get away.  I leave them.  I turn off my phone.  I avoid all contact.  I avoid my own contact.  I scream.  I punch.  I slap.  Nobody's around to take the brunt -- that's what I'm use to.  I would never intentionally hurt someone else.

After a while I emerge.  All smiles.  Happy thoughts?  Positive statements.  Pleasing demeanor.  All is well.  Everything's great!  My mind rattled from earlier, and yet all I feel is the sting of former frustration.  Reoccurring moments that I often long for -- as if I need them like water.  A mask of substance; making me feel whole; less lost; more normal.  But that mask is shattering.  I can't even trick my mind to feel okay.

Head banging to feel the thoughts disappear.  Everything goes.  All my thoughts are now gone.  I lie, waiting for the constant stream of colors to stop pushing through my closed eyes.  The colors circle until I slowly open those same eyes.  I don't make any marks, but the quickly hidden lumps give me the reliability I need to breathe.  It's a way to remember.

When that mask is gone, what I felt will last.  And it can't be spotted.  I'm the same as before.  I'm happy, again.  Not before -- but I am now.  I have a new mask, and this time it's being crafted more delicately -- so that no one can see the lines.  No one can tell when I'm not fully put together.

"Look Away"

Look Away, is a poem that I wrote. It was written to the one person that I have most struggled to accept and love: Myself. I have yet to come to full terms with doing this (love). Even at this moment I'm going back and forth with why I should even care to do so. It's not a cry for help, it's a confession.  At times I feel as if my feelings seem to only serve purpose when I write them out in poetic or musical form.  At least that's my thought.  

These moments of cluttered frustration and questioning often appear in my mind.  Some days they aren't as extreme as the day before.  Other days they are bitterly constant.  But, hey, it's just life . . .  My life -- which I'm learning to discuss -- by just living for today.  Each day is different, but I am still here.  Even when I don't want to be -- I am still here.  And there has to be a reason.   *So, enjoy my words.  Take them in. *


LOOK AWAY

I won't leave, in front of you - I'll wait for you to turn around.

Is this the day I say goodbye?
Is this the day I leave it all behind?
Is this the day I refuse to cry?
Is this the day I cut so deep, my arm runs dry?


Is this the last step in recovering?
Is this forcing my own self help?
Is this the only way out?
Is this my final regret?

Is it okay to go?
Is it okay to smile, knowing I'm making you sad?
Is it okay to leave this way?
Is it okay to step outside, leaving you hidden, behind the tears?

Why does my mind hate me?
Why does feeling happy hurt me?
Why does the placement of shock, not shock me?
Why does holding on, hurt?

Do I scream too loudly?
Do I forget to say I Love You?
Do I occasionally switch perceptions - feel I don't deserve happiness, yet force myself to find it?
Do I force myself to withhold my own breath - secretly hoping I'd phase out . . . Disappear?

Can you let me go?
Can you let me deal?
Can you break away and let me float off?
Can you not hate me, for FINALLY giving up?

~Kyra Renee' Clay

Tom Izzo: “I Think It’s Illegal To Cheer For Your Rival” « CBS Detroit

Tom Izzo: “I Think It’s Illegal To Cheer For Your Rival” « CBS Detroit

Cringing

It took so much not to over think my decision with picking my Thesis Mentor and Readers.  As if I could take all the credit . . . It's done.  I made a much needed choice, as much as I would have wanted to stretch the decision out.  I went ahead, thought about -- thought some more, and then submitted the list.  Officially I am paper ready for my last full semester as an MFA student.  Mentally, officially, I am nowhere near prepared.  Not that that has anything to do with my previous instructors (it doesn't), but it's all in my head.  I hope.  And on the second thought, I hope it has nothing to do with my mind, but that it's a small glitch that is creating second guessing techniques.

Coming to terms with thinking of a new Mentor is draining, yet I imagine it's worse for the Mentor deciding who to work with.  Let's just hope my staggering disbelief in myself isn't showing up in the thoughts of others.

L[ink]ed

This is part one of my newest history lesson . . . Part two will be done in a month or so. I just felt the need to incorporate more of what I love, including what makes me, me.  So, enjoy the pictures, dudes!  And FYI, yes, this is my arm (left to be precise.) 

Music can speak truth . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1sa9qeV6T0o

Almost Finished . . .

If it weren't bad enough this semester was going by way too fast, today I officially registered for my last full semester as an MFA student.  The e-mail had plagued my mailbox for a small amount of days, but as I continued to scan it, leading up to today, it crossed my mind that once the class schedule was in the system, I would be just that much closer to the end.  Maybe it's a tad bit over dramatic, but still. With the thought of forming a graduating seminar, a thesis, and finally a few more plays -- all crowding my mind, I went ahead and submit.  Not "giving up," but, I made it official.  In less than two months I will be finishing my third semester of Grad school.  In less than three months I'll be beginning my fourth semester.  Geez!  And in, oh, only nine more months, I'll be, hopefully, a new graduate with a Master of Fine Arts degree.  But that couldn't have taken place if I didn't first register for my last full semester.  Now, I'm not complaining (too much), but I am indeed excited to get to that next step.  With that in mind, I am extremely wanting to also stay in this moment of IS courses, Craft Essays, and working on new ideas and plays (not that that will change in the future) -- the terror of the finite is what is taking my mind on this insane roller coaster of doom-atic thoughts.  I'm almost finished . . . Well, I don't want to be.  And yet, I can't wait to graduate, and prove to myself I had what it took to make it, again.  I want my own personal gratification of completion -- completing one of the toughest feats I could have done: Grad school.

Easter Sunday

HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY RESURRECTION SUNDAY!  

Equality: For ALL

Spring? I guess it's finally here . . .

Favorites: Musicals and Operas

Les Misérables, Rent, Rigoletto, Wicked, etc. -- each story tends to evoke so much emotion for me.  It doesn't matter if the singers are singers, or just actors who sing -- the story mixed with the right composition and lyrics is truly what brings me back.  Time and again, after many viewings of each musical (not an extensive list? There's more), the story never dulls itself; it becomes even better.  The story continues to deepen, and so does my loyalty to said story.

   

*Pictures uploaded from Google Images*

Crafting my writing - part one

Coffee . . . Check.  Laptop . . . Check.  Recently revised material . . .  Check.  Strong WiFi . . . Check.  Counting down the pages as I hit SAVE . . . Check.  This evening just continues to get better.  So, here's to making this evening last a bit longer.

Day 1 of Tunnel

Today was day one of Tunnel's 2013 show, and I must say, it was a good show.  I'll elaborate soon - breaking down each scene.

Detroit: Managing an Ongoing Emergency Part 1

DETROIT . . .

I have tried to refrain from creating posts that are politically based, although I, along with many friends and colleagues know my political side.  But, unfortunately after reading and watching the constant reminders of how badly Detroit has been "progressing," I have decided to break my imaginary rule and speak on it (this post will serve as part one).  Seems fit, especially since those same politicians who have sat back and done nothing for their city have spoken, too much.

Detroit, to some is a large metropolitan city.  Home to others, myself included.  Detroit, a mostly urban populated city, who goes by a plethora of nicknames:  D-Town, The Motor City, 313, Motown, "Murder Capital" (not a legit name for this place, as many others have seen their fair share of crime).  Whichever name it goes by, the people who have lived there or still reside here, need to respond to the constant reminders of the economy, but more importantly Detroit's economy.

For many years Detroit has been the laughing stock of several news sources around the country, and mostly to the suburban  counties and cities that surround the states largest city.  And although some have come up with plausible solutions to changing the image of Detroit, it has still been going under financially.

If we must discuss the school solution, that would take another post (which guaranteed I will do). 

As it stands with managing a city of such a large proportion, a government would need to step out of their own bubble and decide what is best for its citizens and the growth of its place.

At one point Detroit was a major metropolitan city with so many opportunities:  the auto industry, Motown, etc -- but those examples have dwindled and some have relocated -- except for the auto industry, which like the forward moving people of Detroit, they bounce back and continue to think of fresh ideas.  Here's a New idea:  Make way for the new Emergency Financial Manager (EFM), Kevyn Orr.  As much as it disturbs others that this one person is in place to "control" Detroit, what should be most ridiculous is how many other people could not handle their own positions in helping the city stay afloat.  Many years have passed with an abundance of politicians taking office;  city counsel, mayors, governors and such, yet still Detroit continued to fall by the wayside.  Not too mention the lack of support in the school systems -- be it the children suffering because a lack of literacy or the promising teachers who fight to provide a great education for their students, only to be given constant pink slips at the end of each year -- reminding them their job of ensuring a bright future for the youth is NOT valued.

Yes, Detroit has managed, somehow, for all those years.  But that does not mean it was or is in decent shape.  Yes the state of Michigan -- Lansing to be specific owes the city of Detroit, Millions of dollars, which seems unlikely to be paid out anytime soon.  And yes, some of the more asinine citizens voted for a corrupt mayor (once, and twice, again) to take office -- and FINALLY he is receiving the punishment he deserves.  But with all of it, should Detroit have managed for all those years?  Or should its focus been to thrive?


Detroit needs A change.  Detroit needs TO change.  Detroit must FINALLY focus on its future -- people included.

March IS Madness

Betting on NCAA Tournament futures reflects wide-open college basketball season


Even I get carried away during March.  And no, I'm not Irish, so it's not because of St. Patrick's Day.  It's possibly the cause of going to and graduating from a Big Ten university -- Yes, March Madness is major for me. I've never bet actual money, but I do enjoy the occasional bracket(s). And after reading a post from the above site, I now can sit back and watch as the "betters" go wild trying to decide which school they want to place money on.  Not that I'm opposed to gambling, but I do know that with all the money that comes from Vegas and other places, in regards to lotteries and other bets, education could be better funded.  Just thinking of the cross contamination of education and gambling, makes me turn my focus onto Michigan -- being that I'm originally from here and grew up here as well.

It makes me think of the state of Michigan and how the Michigan Lottery claims they give a portion of the funds to education in its state (http://michigan.gov/lottery/0,1607,7-110-888-3454--,00.html).  Maybe it's a lie.  Or, maybe they do.    And if that is the case (some truth), why not just give money to the schools firsthand?

Geez I've gone from a light post about basketball, right back into a much needed post about political mishaps.  Let me go back to what I started with.  And don't worry, I'll resume the other  topic relatively soon.

March Madness -- It's great to relax and be with friends who either cheer for your favorite team and/or Alma mater, or even friends that have another team to root for.  Competition is key!  This month = extreme basketball. It's almost humorous how in March, most people concentrate on college hoops than their beloved pro teams. But that doesn't really matter. All that means anything for March Madness -- for me anyway -- is your loyalty to a team. When comprising a bracket, many of us choose to make our favorite team to win the title. Even if they don't stand a chance (in the standings), we still pick them. But I was happy to see that in the NCAA tourney link, they were strongly going with my team -- MSU.  Not that their opinion would make me revise my bracket, but still, it's March and the more people that side with your favorite team -- that makes each game even more exciting.  So my bracket stands, the same as it has for the past few years -- even if each teams rankings/standings continue to flop, my number #1 team will ALWAYS be the Michigan State University Spartans!

     

                                                                Go Green!

                                                                Go White!

                                                                Go State! 

*Photos from Bing and MSU Website*

What is an Anxiety Disorder? Anxiety Disorder Definition - HealthyPlace

What is an Anxiety Disorder? Anxiety Disorder Definition - HealthyPlace

Something to learn about . . .

Tunnel Of Oppression 2013

This is the poster (courtesy of Zain Shamoon -- the main director for the show) for 2013's showcase of Tunnel Of Oppression, which takes place at Michigan State University.  This is my fourth year working with Tunnel.  In the past I've acted, co-directed, co-produced, wrote and co-wrote for the showcase.  This semester I'm excited, again, because I should be able to see the showing -- the last time I was far away . . .

I'll post an in depth blog on next week, about the program.  The shows take place on both Monday, March 18, 2013 and Tuesday, March 19, 2013 inside the MSU Union.  There are three shows on each night, 6pm, 7pm and 8pm.  If anyone in the Greater Lansing, Metro Detroit or MSU community want to attend, it's FREE, so come see what is guaranteed to be a memorable experience!

If you'd like to know more about Tunnel, click below:  http://statenews.com/index.php/article/2012/03/tunnel_enlightens_students

My View

When I set out to write, this is the picture that I like to think of (a friend of mine posted this picture a while ago -- not sure the actual source, so my apologies to that person).  I like to imagine an open, bright, safe, clean, artistic atmosphere, in where I can just drift off into my writing -- focusing on making worlds appear and characters lives possible.  This is the picture that I envision.  This is my focal point, whenever I feel a literary struggle, or artistic block coming along.  I look at this photo and relax.  Although this is not my actual view, it still does the trick!  Imagery, imagination and creativity can bridge any aloof mentality towards concentrating on ones destiny.  So, I opt for this one!  What a great space for clarity! 

Decisions sometimes have to be made

After much pondering, packing and listing of arrangements, I had to make a difficult decision.  Decisions . . . I wish it weren't that I was having to choose between gaining practical experience for my future, and focusing on what is already in front of me.  Either way, I had to make that decision.  I had to opt for not going to something which I had planned on attending almost two months ago.  Alas, I will not be with my comrades at the Hyatt for the next few days.  Although I am still somewhat bummed -- scratch that, totally bummed -- I have to factor in what I am preparing for within this semester.  This, being my third semester as an MFA student of Lesley University; studying in the Creative Writing platform, but focusing on Writing for Stage & Screen, and Nonfiction, I am preparing for when the inevitable happens:  graduation in less than a year.  When I have to go out into the real world, without my mentor/advisor safety nets.  Such a terrifying thought!

Third semester equals Titanic sized assignments, multiple revisions, new ideas and the writing of new material.  I have gained valuable life/writing experience with each semester, but somehow with this one, I am learning even more than I thought I would.  I am learning how to understand my characters, while breathing both clarity and intensity into their worlds.  With this blog, I am learning to just be a writer:  telling a story, no matter how insane it might feel to reveal.  This entire semester thus far has been a decision, which I have had to make.  I had to focus on deadlines, even when my mind is drawing a blank on what to purge onto the page.  I have had to clear persistent thoughts that have seemed to try and creep its way into throwing my focus off.  I am determined with all my writing, to give a voice:  to my characters, to my readers and to myself. 

MFA life is not normal, but it's not bad either.  It's the right amount of intensity, insanity, and enjoyment.  I have always heard how "high school is the best years of your life," which I never bought.  And it wasn't the case.  College has been the best times of my life (undergrad and now grad).  If I never went through having to make a choice of what to do, I would never be in the position I am in to make the above choice.  Like I said, I am not thrilled with missing my writing family and buddies which I have not seen since undergrad at Michigan State University, but I am in the type of mindset now, in where everything happens for a reason.  Maybe that reason of not attending, will mean I can truly breathe, without feeling pressured to put just anything on the page and hit send.  The time won't seem too crowded with plausible adventures, that I would neglect my own writers journey (here I go, thinking of my Craft Books  :-p) in order to partake.

I am looking forward to writing more.  I am indeed looking forward to being with my writing buddies once more.  And although it might mean a few more months until that happens, that time I will stay even longer.  This time I will be even more prepared, not for what can go wrong, but what I envision with turn out wonderfully.  In a mere few months, after this semester has ended and submissions have been sent in and evaluated, I will be edging toward another decision:  Which full length play do I put up?  I am thrilled this decision does not have to be made just yet.  But when that time gets closer, I am sure I will be prepared.  Third semester has and will continue to kick my butt, and I am thankful for that.  It is definitely not a lie when people say, "preparation meets opportunity."  And I am totally becoming prepared for what will come into frution. 

Conferences

To go or not to go . . . And if so, when?