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.