Responsibility

My life in isolation in Scheissburg drove me over the edge, but I think it is fair to say that I had been pushed to the edge by the previous semester.  Long story and confidential events shortened, I became Mark from the musical Rent.  I watched my best buddy Roger get his heart torn apart by Mimi (or perhaps he would be Benny by now), and dealt with Maureen's craziness on the side.  I watched my world and my friends sink into hell, and there was not a damn thing I could do about it, not even make a stupid movie.  Mark is a really sucky character to be.  He doesn't actually do anything.  Just stands around and mopes while everyone deals with crap.  He doesn't even affect anything.  He doesn't end up with a lover.  FML.

The play neglects to mention, however, just how much it hurts to be in that situation.  To simultaneously be certain there is nothing you can do and still have the urge to fix everything.  Torn apart, much?

In summary, my two resolutions for this year are:  1.  Stop being afraid of things that won't kill me (did I mention that already?) and 2.  Don't make things my problem that aren't.  Because I came to the realization that I can't take care of anyone else if I can't take care of myself.

So now that we're in the second act, Maureen is having trouble with Joanne, and I can tell him what we all know he needs to do.  I can assure him a thousand times over that yes, people are going to be upset with him, but we as his friends will never abandon him.  But when it comes right down to it, this is something he can only do himself.

Last fall got to the point where I wanted to confront Mimi/Benny and have a very frank conversation with him about my take on what was going on.  That did not happen until after it was essentially too late.  Now, I'm choking off the impulse to do the same with Joanne.  She barely knows me.  And yet...I know she's about to go through hell.  A part of me thinks I could say something, do something, to make it easier.  So where do I draw the line?  Is she my problem, or isn't she?  Do I keep from getting involved, or am I already involved?

What is going to happen is that I won't say anything unless she approaches me.  Then all bets are off.  This is a very delicate situation, and any direct interference from me could very easily swing things the wrong way.  So Mark, get thee behind thy camera where you belong.  The best thing I can do now is call encouragement as the actors play their parts.  For I am an actor too, and I have my own parts to play.

How did we get here?  How the hell - ?
Pan left.  Close on the steeple of the church...

Why are entire years strewn on the cutting room floor
Of memory?
When single frames from one magic night
Forever flicker in close up
Of the 3D Imax of my mind?...

Why am I the witness?
And when I capture it on film?
Will it mean that it's the end, and I'm alone?

Well, I'm Still Alive

Life has just been rushing by so fast, I hardly have time to sit down and catch my breath.  Classes have started up, and I just dropped a class for the first time.  Yay!  Semantics and Pragmatics is exactly as dry and pointless as it sounds.  So now I can concentrate on "Why the hell am I taking Racquetball?"  and "Why the hell am I reading these pretentious artsy plays?"

There's a temporary lull, just before all the orgs start up.  Since I dropped English, I might do German Club after all (might, mind you).  But since I'm coaching fencing, and technically have some sort of officer position in Outloud (the LGBTQA oh screw political correctness, the gay group on campus), I really don't want to stretch myself too thin like I did last fall. 

Fortunately, drama has so far been kept at a minimum.  There is a minor issue with a Jesus-freak who is in and out of the closet like a jack-in-the-box, but he is not my problem, and I will not let him become my problem.  I have two resolutions for this year.  One is to not make things my problem that aren't, because it doesn't help and just stresses me out.  The other is to stop being afraid of things that won't kill me, namely (I finally thought of name, aren't I special) page fright.

I haven't been writing a lot lately.  I don't know why.  I don't really feel inspired.  To keep in shape, I've been writing a page a day of whatever comes into my head (and no, you can't see any, yes that means you).  Perhaps if I feel daring I might post some of the better samples.  Some of them seem to be connected, leading to intriguing possibilities.  I'll probably have something ready to go for NaNoWriMo in November.  It's like my normal mood swings (not my 8-month depressive stint) where I know I'll swing back eventually. Sooner or later another story will come.