Pet peeve #43.

You know what's really annoying? When people dislike you for a stupid reason or for no apparent reason.

There's this girl. I was friends with her in eighth grade, we were tight, but we grew apart. Okay, it happens, no big deal, right?

So from seventh to eighth grade I went through a crazy radical transformation. Not my inner self, who I am, the essence of my Kaitlin-ness, but my outer appearance. Sometimes I like to change what I look like. I don't think there's anything wrong with that.

But apparently, when someone changes their appearance, they change everything about themselves. (According to this girl.) So when I lost weight or lost/got glasses or dyed my hair red or chopped it all off, I was changing who I was.

Sorry, but no, that's bullshit.

Just because I get tired of my outward appearance, doesn't mean I get tired of who I am. I don't. It took me a while to create and piece together this person I am now, and I like myself. It's just annoying and obnoxious when people like to tell me that changing my outside changes me inside.

Maybe I just like trying new things. Ever think of that?

You are the exception that breaks the rule.

Staring at the computer screen, I feel relaxed, detached, seperate from this world.

But I know this is not true.

The near silent hum of hard drive fans is surrounding me, swaddling me in it's familiar resonance. I just saw you again. Perhaps this is why I'm feeling so at peace with my world. "My" world, not "the" world. In "the" world there are bad things. Children are used and broken and killed by adults who forget what it's like to be young and innocent. People kill for God. Heritage is a deciding factor for hate. "The" world is full of imperfections.

"My" world has little imperfections, save for the ones I allow. "Perfection" is a bizarre term. How can there be a word for something that doesn't exist? Perfection is also relative. To the boy sitting next to me, judging my his web browser, he finds Arabic scripts and pictures with funny captions to be perfectly in balance with his world.

In "my" world, a few things are perfect. Iced raspberry lattes in the summer, hot caramel lattes in the winter. Softly spoken affections, hidden under covers, lost within our own secret world where no one else matters and nothing is imperfect. Fresh baked cookies, a blank canvas, unopened watercolours. A movie that makes you cry for good reasons. An animal that's so soft you can't stop petting it. Hair dye, black nail polish, ten dollar cardigans. A song that makes you forget everything you knew about music.

And you. Always you.

"Why yes, that is my frontal lobe on your shirt."

Tonight, finally, the hard work of my friends and "co-workers" and fellow students all comes together in a glorious apex of live theatre. There willl be lights, sounds, set pieces, techies running hither and thither, and occasionally, there will be acting. But nobody goes to plays to see actors.

Overall, I can honestly say that I'm nervous about tonight, considering this is my first time in a managerial position during an actual live performance... Meep. Not to mention that some other people in the same position may or may not be bringing their best to the table... particularly people who hang out stage left and wear headsets... but I'm not implying anyone in particular. *cough*

Mostly, I'm just anxious because I'm afraid either I or somebody backstage (or in house, for that matter) will finally burst a blood vessel in their brain. Or maybe my brain will just explode, flying everywhere. I've been seeing it in my head for days. Everything's going well, until suddenly there is some disasterous set malfunction or someone breaks the fourth wall. I can hear a certain PSM's voice in my head even now. "Kaitlin... Why did the shoe not drop? Did you hear my cue? Why can I see so-and-so? You missed your spikes, you're a horrible person." But these are just my anxieties and pre-show jitters acting up.

Come show time, I can confidently say that I'm going to perform well - behind the scenes, that is. I'm going to show this set who's boss. Kickin' ass and takin' names, all in honour of overworked techies everywhere.

Is anyone there? It's me, scared and confused.

It's been close to two months since I've posted, and this is only because my home computer can barely be considered functional. It's so degrading, being a tech nerd and having to deal with such faulty equipment in my own home. But alas, I'm only a teenager and whether or not we get a new computer is not up to me. It's all up the the higher powers.
The reason I haven't been posting is not that I have nothing to say. (There were a lot of negatives in that sentence.) I have an abundance of things I would like to say, and many many things I would like to talk about. But sadly, seeing as I'm in a third block study hall with 30 minutes or so left until lunch, I have neither the means, time, or opportunity to get it all out there.
Lately, my personality/mood has been on a bizarre balancing act. On one hand, I've got really good friends, a great romantic relationship (for once) and good grades. On the other, my sister has been growing increasingly suicidal and it's Tech Week. My parents are constantly at each other's throats, and I suppose you can see, dear reader, why that would not help. And then there's the mounting collegiate pressure. "So-and-so is applying to X university and these schools, where are you going?" "What are you gonna do with your life?" "I'm already looking at colleges in the Boston area." "So the difference between a BA and a BFA is..."
I don't want to know. I'm too intimidated to find out. There are so many people who look boldly into the cauldron of the world, call out, waiting for a response - a call to arms, an adventure, something. I call out and run away, because I'm afraid of what I might find.
I'm being pulled in so many directions, I feel like I'm being ripped apart at the seams. There are only one or two things holding me together, though I still feel like I may burst.