oxford: it's 5:36 am right now and i have not slept yet

we are such stuff
as dreams are made on, and our little life
is rounded with a sleep.
— shakespeare, the tempest

mom, i promise i haven't been doing this every night. it's just, tonight, i couldn't sleep.

i was all set to tuck myself into bed at 8:30 pm, but then i started watching a movie, and then at 10:45 pm i desperately needed to go for a run, and then i kept running into my friends on the streets (who were all going out to or coming home from a night out), and then i ran for 45 minutes, and then i decided to hang out with a friend (whom i'd been too busy for earlier because i was apparently going to sleep), and then i called mike, and then mike called me, and then i talked to tori.

and now it's 5:40 am.

and the sun is coming up.

and it's really cold outside.

and i'm sitting on a damp bench next to the deer park. which is literally a park filled with deer.

but i have my pink sweater and a red rain coat and i kind of feel like paddington bear, except his coat is navy.

i wrote in my last post extensively about how i wasn't missing all of the places i missed my friends from. but then yesterday, i started to miss home quite terribly. each one of my homes. (i have many)

i've often been impatient this week, and i can't tell if its because the food at the dining hall is still terrible and i am still only eating tomatoes and potatoes and i am dizzy because of it, or because i genuinely miss being home.

isn't there something said about how quickly the romantic feeling in a relationship wears off determines the quality and longevity of the relationship? maybe not officially, but it's definitely something people panic about. like, if you have your first fight within the first month of your relationship, or something, then it's not going to last?

i don't think england and i have had our first fight, but i think my need for the comfort of home is greater than my need for romance. i think i ran away from home too quickly to this program, and i put a lot of pressure on it to heal something that cannot be healed by escape alone. escape is a fair prescription when the illness is a rough week, or a bad business call. but i think whatever i'm trying to fix i much larger than that (and i know it is).

*mom and dad-- i'm fine. i'm just musing.**

being 21 is very strange, because it's a romantic age that has a lot of pressure put onto it. i'm on the cusp of coming from being naively young, to just being young. i'm supposed to be an adult and manage myself, but my dad still pays my rent and helps me when i need it. i don't think i should ever feel that i need to be without my parents-- because i definitely never will be able too-- but i do know there comes a time when calling them too much for the wrong reasons is frowned upon, even if my dad never gets sick of the sound of my voice.

i want so much to be my own adult, and pay my own bills, and buy my own horse, and do everything for myself. howver, this program has taught me one big thing: i know very little.

i don't panic about auditioning and getting jobs and supporting myself, because i know i can do all of those things.

i will have the career i want to have, because i have no option but to; if i don't, all of this will have been for naught, and i'm not one to waste time. the aesthetic of my headshot and the expansiveness of my resumé are the least of my worries when i walk into an audition, because if that's when i'm most concerned about in that moment, then i shouldn't be auditioning in the first place.

my shakespeare teacher-- who is one of the wisest, most empowering women i know-- told us this week: when you say yes to a character, you birth yourself into the part; you automatically become enough for it.

my biggest fear is not getting the part, but being enough for it once it's given to me. i'm working on miranda from the tempest right now, and i constantly do not feel substantial enough for her. when i was assigned the scene, i was filled to the brim with joy-- my cup was overflowing. i attacked the scene, full force.

but, miranda is perfect. she's wild, and curious, and simply complex. she has a life inside of her that burns so bright, that you cannot help but fall in love with her. she hasn't touched anything bad in the world, because she's been hidden from it, like a treasure, her whole conscious life. she's uninhibited in everything, and scared of nothing. she doesn't know what a miracle she is. she doesn't understand other people, because she has only ever truly known herself.

that's terrifying.

i'm not too smart to play her, but i know too much to understand her. poetry spouts out of her, because she speaks from her heart. i don't understand what that feels like.

i wish i did. 

it's 5:59 am.

this is an abrupt ending.

it's cold outside (51 degrees) and i'm starting to feel tired.

the porter was out, bright and early, smoking a cigarette. i told him before he could even ask that i was up so early to write, and not because i was doing the walk of shame.

the bells are starting to go off, so i think i'd better sign off.

6:12 am.

cheers

now playing: 'sigh no more' by mumford and sons