Wait, so....?

The word here is awkward. And one may see awkwardness as uncomfortable, undesirable, unpleasant. But let's compare.


Awkward > Afraid > Ashamed

I've made progress. To be in this situation, this lovely awkward place, is wonderful. Relatively.

And I'm not even angry. Again. And I have no homework tonight.


P.S. Auditions on Friday
P.P.S. I, Keira, shall never again place my trust in anyone.
P.P.P.S. I'm really glad I can trust you.

Not hell or high water, but something else.

I changed my blog.

So here's what I learned from that. Or what happened.

I had one of the old templates. And I guess I really liked it, more than the new ones. Even though I didn't take the time to really look through them. I also had a picture that I really, really liked. But. I made a mistake when I was looking through the new ones. I accidentally saved. I have no way of getting the old template back. And the picture thing doesn't work to my taste on the backgrounds of the new ones.

Guess what?

I changed.
I was too attached to the freaking template. In my head, it perfectly represented all I've been through since the first day of freshman year. But like. It's still here, with me. That sounds stupid. But. I do like the way my blog looks right now. It's late, and I may change it until I find exactly what I want, but the important thing is that I don't feel like I need to hold on to the old one. Come hell or high water, I have changed. I'm different from the kid who started this blog. So I need a new template.

I hope that all is well in heaven,

Cause it's all shot to hell down here.


This has never happened to me before. And it sounds like something out of a movie.
Hm hm hm hm hmmmmmm, hm hm hm hm hmm

Just. She was dying for a long time. I thought it would just stay that way.

I miss you. I think of you when I sing every day. Every day.




In loving memory,
Our very own Christmas Spirit.
 
  God, keep her safe and happy. And please let her have her hair back. Thank you. Love, Keira.

Let me ask AGAIN.

Why do I do this?
Am I a masochist?

Really?

Two girls sitting at a table, stage right. Single spot (quiet light this time) on them, otherwise dark stage. One holds a bottle of what seems to be some sort of alcoholic beverage and looks tired, but pleased. The other sits ramrod straight, livid and scared, pale as a ghost.  

Myself: YOU DID WHAT?

Me: (Sheepishly) I know, I know. But it's not like a really big deal or anything.

Myself: How is this not a big deal. Why do you always do this?

Me: Because. I just do it, that's all.

Myself: That's an awful excuse, Keira.

Me: But you say the same thing! That's not fair.

Myself: (Harshly) Life isn't fair. That's how it works.

Me: That's dumb. It's not even a big problem. Nothing will happen.
Myself: But here's the issue. You expect something to happen. (Bringing her hands up to rest her chin upon.) If you didn't think something would work in your favor, you wouldn't have done it.
Me: No! I just did it, just because. I know nothing will happen. 
Myself: Why take the chance, Keira? Why put yourself in a position for things to go wrong?
Me: Nothing's wrong!
Myself: Not yet it's not. 
Me: (Leans back in chair, crossed arms defensively) This is why you wanted a boyfriend, isn't it. So I wouldn't do this kind of thing.
Myself: Please don't be angry with me. I'm only-
Me: Just stop. You always think you're right! You always do. Don't pretend like you don't.
Myself: We both think that. 
(Silence. For a moment they both sit there, one leaning back, arms crossed, the other resting her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her intertwined fingers. At the same time, one relaxes and sits back toward the table, the other letting her hands fall to her lap.)
Myself: (quietly) I just worry, you know?
Me: Yeah. I know. 
Myself: (With a small smile) You're pretty pleased with yourself, huh?
Me: (Also smiling) ... yeah.
Myself: But... (Looking down at her hands in her lap) how can you be sure nothing bad will happen? How do you know?
Me: (As if just realizing her answer) I don't. Not really. I just don't let myself dwell on it. Just... just do it and be done. I said what needed to be said, and that's that. Simple really.
Myself: You sound so sure.
Me: It'll be fine. I promise. 
Myself: But what if it's not?
Me: It will be. Maybe there will be a bit of an adventure before it gets to being alright, but it will get there. I know it.
(Momentary silence, length at the discretion of the actress)
Myself: (looking up) What did you say?
Me: (slowly)  What would you have said?
Myself: ...(!) Oh. (smiles)
     
scene


  

Well. This is uncomfortable.

I would like to make a point.
Just because you just got into your first real relationship, you think you can tell me I need one too?
Oh my god Keira. You're a junior. 
Yeah. So.
A JUNIOR.

here's my issue with that. and my issue with you.
I don't care.
That's a lie.
I don't mind. 
I really don't. It's not a priority. It's not something I'm going to chase. And this is why.
Love leads to happiness.
Want, on the other hand, leads to misery.
It's neither here nor there, until it strolls into my life.

(haha.)

This song evokes a sensation I haven't a way to explain.

It's like they put everything that ever happened to me and condensed it to five minutes and sixteen seconds. That's why I can't find a picture.

It's my first trip to Disneyland.
It's the inside of my room.
The Mira Costa stage, and the seats and the aisles and the lobby. And every show and concert I've ever seen there.
It's the Christmas lights I have hanging on my bed.
My ring.
The only good belt I own.
It's the stack of home videos sitting in the next room.
It's the house on fifteenth street.
My squeaky saddle shoes, and donuts on Sunday, and getting locked in the bathroom at church, and bread-and-buttering with Mom and Daddy on the way to school.

I can't
I mean. It's difficult to... describe...?
And the chords, like.
Okay.
It's just this, this something. That every time I try to describe it, I lose every good word in my vocabulary.
Like.
Do you understand what I'm trying to say? Just listen to it one day, when it's really quiet.
Just

I had a dream that I couldn't get to Neverland.
I could fly, with enough dust. My thoughts were happy enough that I could have cast a Patronous. I just couldn't get there. My flight pattern was inconsistent. Sometimes, I couldn't even get to the beach from my house. And when I did, I got to the point where I could see the island, I was so close. And I would fall.
Like, plummet. It was terrifying. And the thing is, if I had been a few inches closer, I would have fallen onto the island. I didn't even get to see Captain Hook.
Does that mean my childhood fears are gone? Or just hiding.

And you were giving me the dust. We had sent Tink ahead, but we had a rope covered in it. And you were the one that shook some onto me. We were smiling.

I don't know right now. But I also don't feel the urgent need to know.
So... I guess things are good.

I would normally use words.

I haven't any really good ones at the moment.
Just.
In June, I wrote out like, a whole four pages of acknowledgement. It's sitting on my bed.
It was important. But I don't need to say anything else about it.

But. School.
Well. Wind Ensemble is great. Because we're it now. It's mostly us. It's not scary anymore.
And drama is interesting. I don't have enough to make the call yet.

Choir is supposed to the hour we want every day.
And the thing is, it actually is.

We played the walk across the room game. I mean.

Home games.
It's the moment where we're all in the dark and all you can hear is Mirada and car alarms. That's the why for being there.

Drum Major Battle Scars

Well. This is new.

It's a crush, which is ridiculous. I say crush only when I talk to people who won't get my definition of the word.
But this one is actual. By my own definition, a purely physical reaction to a person. And you know what? That's just not fair. Because I need to stay professional. And for all intensive purposes, this specific human being is taken.
So...... yeah. Whatever.

(On a side note, guess whose name is written like, three times on the stand in front of me as I sang today?
You betcha.)

And let's take it back to you.
Here it is.
... It's yours.
You're thinking of my heart. I'm thinking that's a given. You're going to have to look elsewhere for what I'm talking about.
But then again, let's be patient. Very patient.
And, well.

It's because you make me smile, I think.