Well, I figured I should probably update my journal, since it's been a few weeks.

I'm no longer a part of "Our Town", the fairly famous play by Thornton Wilder. And you know what? I'm even more stoked about that. Through a series of humiliations and unprofessional acts put on especially by the "professional" people I was working with, specifically the director and producer, I decided not to put up with their shit any longer. And it was about damn time, too; I'd been putting up with their version of flamboyance for nearly six years. Sure, I gave up an opportunity to be on stage and learn more about acting. But am I dead yet? Are all my chances of furthering my performance experience gone? I hope not. If all my chances are gone, well, then that wouldn't have been the way to go out anyway, to do this "show". I made the right choice, regardless of anything anyone would say to contradict it. I'm sick of being the community doormat. And if I'm ever going to make something of myself, it's not going to be by "taking it for the team". It's going to come with hard work, determination, and an unwillingness to just take what I can get.

I want more from life than the white flag we're all provided with.

I'm in the process of coming up with some original songs at the moment. I'd like to have enough good material together that sometime next year, I can polish some things and mix some demos. Hopefully then I'll be able to lure some unsuspecting musicians into my melodic trap. I want to start a band. And a good one at that.

So until then, I've got a part in "Our Town", a fairly famous play that I'm very stoked to be a part of. I'll be playing the Stage Manager, who is really a narrator for the story. I'm also still taking voice lessons, preparing for a performance on Christmas Eve, and obsessing over good bands that I have been fortunate enough to find inspiration from.

But tonight, I'm simply relaxing with my best friend. Playing cribbage, drinking vodka, and hopefully getting in the hot tub sometime soon.

So with that, I'm going to go take my clothes off in exchange for my bikini.

Cheers.

Ville Valo is amazing. Basically, I'm obsessed. In a good way, not a creepy-stalker-want-to-have-his-babies-and-name-them-all-Ville-way. Although, now that I mention it....

Well, I figure, since there isn't anything of real interest or excitement going on in my immediate life, I might as well indulge my fantasy/dream life, right?

I'm real excited to go back to school next year. So I'm saving moolah so I can snag myself a decent apartment, not just a piece of crap. I'd rather have a place to myself, but I realize I might have to have a room-ate (har har) in order to keep up with rent. Blah, I just see myself getting stuck with a girl named Stacey who likes to listen to Justin Timberlake and practice her sorority acceptance speech. I hope that doesn't happen, because I'd really like to get my homework done for one thing... not to mention, I'd like to set up a little photography studio and be able to listen to Black Sabbath without having to worry about who might be offended.

Meh, oh well. It'll come round the way it will. I can't do anything to stop the inevitable (not to say that Stacey is inevitable... but you know).

Time to go nurse my throat. My voice is completely kaput. Maybe this means I'll be able to get out of work tonight... fuck yes, I hope so. I need some sleep for once.

I'm singing this afternoon at a local Creche Fest. Anxiety's kicking me in the bum rather roughly, but anyway.

Sorry for my depressive moods lately. But it's been going on for the last 4 months, so it was bound to come out somehow, I suppose. I hope I haven't rubbed any of you the wrong way. It's just nice to have "someone", even a cyber someone, to confide in.

Have a good day, all. Keep your toes crossed for me... if you happen to think of it.

yeah, whatever.

am I doing the right thing? I feel stuck in this shady mentality. But I've been writing lately, so I guess that's good.

I make no sense right now, I know this. But that's the beauty of a journal: it isn't required to make sense of anything. at least not mine.

I wish I could tell you all what I was really feeling, but I usually just save that for my real journal. it would just be nice to have someone to talk to. none of you can really talk to me, though. none but a few. maybe that's better.

Why aren't we more honest, as humans? Why are we so afraid of the truth of our sexuality, opinions, beliefs, thoughts, nightmares, inspirations, emotions, etc? Why the fuck do we feel like we have to keep things on the fucking D.L. all the god-damned time? why do I have to feel guilty for spouting profanity in my journal just now? Fuck it all. what the fuck, you know? I'm sick and shit-fucking tired of this stupid ass world. And I'm tired of editing myself for the sake of etiquette. Fuck etiquette. Fuck this fucking fucked up world.

Fuck.

...'scuse me.