  "She looks at me with those... huge, vulnerable eyes, and all I'm thinking is : God - ... I can't reach her, Outside looking in and ... I must say - I think I'm in love, The colourful Sundays and the sad Tuesdays, I want to have all that with her, Sucking popsicles on a swing, watching grass grow, ...God - I can't reach her, I am her lapdog, one look - one glance and I sink to the highest high. or float to the deepest depths She doesn't see me, the window only lets you look in, but the sign on the door says "closed", and - God -I can't reach her. I can't reach her. " it's funny how people hold on to things...i pulled a 'taylor' thing and switched monologues because smart-ass keith has my notes in the trunk of his car from beach, tennis and cast meet the other night but anyway, it's this rather ironic, flipped out, bite-in-the-ass piece by cheryl west and i was working on it last night and this morning and it's significance just hit me.
it's weird how monologues are itsy-bitsy threads of who you are inside and it takes certain things in you to pull it off. in any case, here's to hoping i do good anyway. speaking in which, the theater auditions are up again next week for the fall and spring term of 2003. i hell yeah better get well soon because i need to pull off a serious monologue and a song. not quite sure what i'm doing yet, just throwing a couple of things in random air. we'll see. :P hm.
i talked to hung over curly sue earlier today too while switching locker things and getting my dress and shoes back. it's scary how alcohol is almost a staple of collegiate life. to a certain extent, pathetic too...but seeing as i'm equally in the same boat and escaping reality or extending altered perceptions are nice once in a while...it's all good i suppose. hey, in all defense, you only live once eh? i've been having glimpses of amnesia. i start to say something but i forget halfway, or i mean to do something then it slips my mind.
i must be going old, or i'm on so many things my limited brain cells can only muster enough of strength to get my ass up. hm...the hormones or raging. the crazy bitch hides beneath the surface and the happy girl comes out to play. the childish one, not the brat, just the playful silly girl. and it's cute a while...you bask in her glory, you dance in the melody her voice carries...and she lets you in a while. invites you to play with her.
things are drastically changing, drastically improving in her life, so many new things on her plate to sort through, so many exciting things to look forward to. love is universal where ever you are, where ever you may be. and to others, she's seen heaven in their innocence before, the cherubic faces she cannot wait to get back to...yet death waits patiently close by, constantly reminding things aren't forever but hope shields her. so long as there's hope, she's safe...no matter which world she is in. no matter what state. no matter who she becomes.
she's emerging, and sheddding. and she has many to thank, the old man says begin with him, barker says what about me, puck says me too, me too, but then again, she chooses them all, but stops to look within herself. selfishly, she twirls around alone for a while, then thanks herself. she did good this time. she gave in to continuity. she gave in to her voices.
she'll make it. her brother laughs, mocks her and says, "oh here we go again," she never liked playing by the rules anyway. :P 
