There is Always a Man

I have been absent from writing, this is due to enjoying life. The fall begins and for the first time I don't have to worry about college. I picked up my degree the other day and it's official! I am a college graduate! I graduated Cum Laude too, which I didn't even realize was an honor.

I am working the U.S. Open for the next two weeks. I still don't know if I'm working tomorrow, but we shall see. It will be an experience to say the least.

All These Blank and Tranquil Years . . .

Moving, moving, moving along.

After two breakdowns this week and endless discussing of my graduation. I am putting that one to rest. Done!

I have been going to therapy and enjoying this little adventure of exploding emotionally once a week. The support group is back too. I joined the GMHC and will soon be getting free lunches every time I am in Chelsea. Oh to be poor and in a system.

I'm getting over the fact that I feel like I'm using the system. I am poor and unemployed. The government has systems for me. I will use them. I am slowly applying to jobs, nothing serious yet. I have an interview.

This is a plus. A possible job so quickly. I know how to survive this jungle. Tra-la! So much to do and the Tony Awards are coming up. Oh hurrah, they have become more sad than ever.

Post College Afterglow

Nineteen, a hot day in August. My parents move me to Brooklyn in a hurry, but with enough downtime for my father to make annoying commentary. This makes me wonder if his soul purpose in life is to annoy me. My mother is sobbing and my father wants to get home. Unlike other parents, they are not planning on spending the weekend of my orientation with me. I am not aware of it at the time, but my parents expect me to return home in a couple months. Defeated and upset about the way I am treated in this harsh city. There is no reason to prolong this goodbye, when we will be reuniting in a couple of months. My hair is much blonder back then.

Twenty, a cold day in January. I'm in my second year at Pratt and just discovering all I can about myself. I am losing focus in computer graphics and feeling suffocated from having lived in such a small town my entire life. I have met a boy who is introducing me to a new world--sexually. It's all so thrilling and exciting. I wonder how much of it I can explore and how I never really discovered any of this before. I want to have sex with as many different people as I can and I want to try as many drugs that I can get my hands on. I have lived such a sheltered life up to this point and I have this urge. I feel I am so behind everyone else, I need to catch up as quickly as possible. My pants were much baggier in those days.

Twenty-one, a cool afternoon in September. I am a theater major at Brooklyn College. I have part-time job and make good money. I am a mild drug addict. I am a big time sex object. This is the life I wanted to achieve and I could do it all in balance. I was doing it all. The thoughts I had then, seemed so logical. Yet, when I rethink them, they all seem so insane. I went through homelessness, scabies, HIV scares, etc. I had to survive by laughing and realizing how insane it all was. My life was a joke and that was the beginning of the problem. I began to find it more funny than serious. I found a lover who allowed me to be wild, but gave me the support I wanted. My glasses were rather thick back then.

Twenty-Two, a warm day in February. I am becoming a functional stoner. Life is good in so many ways. I've seen the other side of the world and I am almost through with school. I am seeing someone who is less ambiguous than the last man who broke my heart for a little while. I am clean off from drugs. Things are in a solid and comfortable place. My hair was much shaggier and unkempt.

I am on my way to Come Back Little Sheba and I get a phone call. Time changes and I lose focus. The days pass and more information is gained. The certainty of life begins to decieve. The relationship ends. I have no time to reflect on any of the events that have happened in the past few months. I breakdown and lose motivation. I want to sink into nothing. I want to get through because I have to. I don't give up, but my body begins to go into auto-pilot. I cry and brood. I don't know of a day when I can tell I will ever fully trust life again.

Twenty-Three, a hot day in May. I am sitting here in my room. I finished my last final in a record of 30 minutes, I think I did well. All the answers just came to me. I am lost in thoughts of the last five years. The ups and downs. I cannot help it, it had to happen eventually. It's been five years and what is five years in a life that is supposed to last at least fifty? At least fifty, probably more.

How did I develop into this person? I know everyone changes. For better or for worse. It's a journey we all take. Do other people have this simple story? Five paragraphs (maybe six) that you can draw key points, but skip on all the other stuff. There's so much more that happened. Yet, I can't remember it all. I will hold the things worth remembering and I will forget the stuff I wish to forget.

Keep on moving along. Nothing to see here.

On This Eve Before My Last Day

Tonight is the last full day I was a student, if you will. After tomorrow I will be through with college. For the time being.

To sit back and think of the ups and downs of the last five years would be enough to cause mental collapse. Last night I had the film professor spend the night and it was a dire mistake. I freaked out again. I feel bad, it was a fault on both sides. What was nice was I went to therapy and actually just talked about it and it was done.

I will send him an email telling him that I am emotionally retarded. I am torn down the middle. Go to LA and leave me here to heal myself. When you return perhaps I shall be a different person, but let's keep the short time that we had together as memories. Memories of what could have been. Let's not try and make it into something that cannot be.

Then it will be more poetic that way and less upsetting.

Onto other things. Like that of the end of college. It's over . . .I was told I need to pick the right exit music. What do I leave the campus, as my last thought? Rose's Turn? I'm Going Back? I can't decide. It'll come to me tomorrow after the final. I will find it. Probably something Nina Simone. It must be appropriate though. Just must.

Now some stream-of-conscience —
I see a door, it's a plain brown square with a single knob. It's nothing frightening aside from the large imposing shadow it casts towards me. Beyond the door is unknown, which is the terrifying part of it all. I know I need to go beyond this door, but I am afraid. Nervous. People say it's silly and that I look around and see everyone else has survived. Yet, this door has been something I've been working towards for years, weeks days and months. I will go through the door, but I am still nervous.

The Day Approaches

Two more finals. Then it's through! I have nothing to report.

Tonight is the first night actually being home in almost a week or so. Just going to sit in tonight and relax. I need that, to relax.

I missed the gayest day yesterday. The AIDS walk and the Pro-Gay Marriage Equality Walk where Audra McDonald did this:




I would have love to have been there. She's such a beautiful songstress. I'm glad she's on our side, but why wouldn't she be?

My roommate returns from Florida soon. That's exciting. I go to the Poconos sooner than that. I graduate college soonest of all. Now I'm finally going to sit down and watch Volver and increase my love for Penelope Cruz. Oh have I mentioned this yet and how excited I am . . .

As These Days Of Collegiate Experience Wane On. . .

The vicious cycle begins one last time. For one last semester. I'm writing this to keep my mind off other issues. I need to just type for a bit. Endless banter, as it were. I awoke early this mourning in a coughing fit. I couldn't breath and gasped for air, my eyes began to water. I could not tell where I was, the haze from the TheraFlu made sure of that. It could have been the end.

The choking fit pulled me from a nightmare I was having. A reoccurring one in which I am involved with a production of some kind. Usually it is a musical, this time was no different. I was in the lighting booth at my college. The show was opening tonight and I was to run the light board. Unfortunate as it is, the light board is broken. I can't communicate with anyone and the show goes on. Surprisingly, the performance is good. I sit there watching helplessly and hoping no one will notice that there are absolutely no light cues. No one does and they tell me how well they thought the show was . . . I feel guilty of taking the praise for doing nothing.

To have that dream and then to wake up in a coughing fit. It would put the shake on your day too? So I have been a little weary of everything, feeling doubtful of the future. The movie business is shaky right now, issues with production being organized. I have no power and tomorrow classes begin. It takes us full circle, no?

Class will be a welcome reminder. . . Oh and the Support Group! I am giving myself a pep talk right now, because this being positive thing is difficult. I am doing pretty well with it. It puts me to bed early.

One More Semester

Who managed to get all As this semester and securing a 3.9 GPA? I did. Yet, don't cheer for me, it was nothing. I'm just going through the motions until I graduate, which shall be happening in June of 2009. I've secured all my classes, now I need to file for graduation and it shall almost be done.

Oh. My. It's almost done. Excuse me while I reflect for a moment. . .

I saw Hedda Gabler the other night. Starring my favorite lady: Mary Louise Parker. She was solid, but the production was not a memorable one.

On Sunday, it's coming three-fold as I will be seeing Patti LuPone's final Gypsy performance. I have never seen a show live as many times as I have seen Patti LuPone in Gypsy. I suppose she will be that memory, like so many other gay men since 1980, who have the one show they remember Patti in. Evita, Les Miserable, Anything Goes, Sweeney Todd. The list goes on and on. I love her in Gypsy! Hearing her sing three of best power house numbers in musical history. Playing the role she was born to play. People may say she's hammy and awful, but I will always respect her!

Harring travels. He goes on trips all the time. I met him right as he arrived in from France and yesterday he flew off to Mexico for two weeks. Interesting twist, barely home and he leaves again. It gives me time to balance out and enjoy myself. I have been, spending time with good friends and keeping it local [in Brooklyn yo!]. Doing a little work in the warehouse, the possibilities it may lead to, but I dare not speak of it now.

I have recently fallen in love with Jacque Brel and his Belgian gurgle. He's not exactly like Edith Piaf, but. . .

If that mug looked at you and started singing in a different language. You would swoon a little, I am sure.

Endings and Beginnings

I am home from New Orleans.

I am working on that tale. Now begins the final three weeks of insanity that teachers like to pretend is "normal". The projects, on top of tests, on top of presentations, on top of first and final drafts, on top of biology labs, on top of scheduling for classes.

It is hell these next few weeks. I will be living off the money I don't have anymore. I will be doing final projects until I bleed. And I WILL bleed, trust me.

I am exhausted and I need to sleep. Tomorrow is the beginning of a marathon I don't wish to run in. Finals have never been my forte, but finals without financial stability is even worse.

I am taking an Ambien, falling into a sleepless haze and hoping that all the answers come to me in a grand dream.

I will return in full mind.

To Anyone Who Has Gone To College

To Anyone Who Has Gone To College:

What the fuck? I start off by asking you a simple and plain statement. What the fuck? I was led to believe that college would be the carefree years of my life. That I wouldn't have to worry about real issues until I had graduated. Whoever told me, told us, these things, lied.

Perhaps it's because I went to school in New York City. I exposed myself to soon, I became to involved. Whenever, I sit back and think about my life, it's a wonder to even myself how I did it. I didn't get four years in the middle of nowhere. It's just been on continuous journey. The friends I have now, I will not lose once I graduate. I will be in the same place I am once I graduate. I will need to find a job and see what happens from there.

There was only two years of dorm life, and two years of unadjusted "real life" living. I still get motion sickness when I think about those days. In June, there will be no packing up. There won't be any graduation parties or Senior Formals. It'll be working for a diploma and a continuation of a program already in process.

So I ask you, I ask you people who have gone to college. What the fuck? I am told all the time, "Stay in school! Stay as long as you can!"

Seriously? For real? I can't even get a loan to live comfortably. Perhaps when you went to school in the mid-90s, when they were giving out loans left and right, yes it was an easy life! I want to work with my wardrobe shop, but my college has deemed that I cant' do that by not allowing me the proper loans, because my parents are rich. It's an eternal paradox I can't seem to grasp my head around.

Oh, the complaints go on and on and on. I am okay, it's just one small thing amongst many other things.

I want normalcy. I would like some regularity, a source of income. No part time work, but focusing on a future. Call me old fashioned. I don't want AWOL apartment situations, scabies or sadness. I don't want insecurity and confusion all the time. I would like a little order. God, I am trying for order.

To those who have gone to college. Was I to hasty in my decision to come to the city? Did I cheat myself out of some experience later in life? If I had gone to school in a smaller town and learned life's lessons in simpler ways, then moved here and understood it all, would it have been easier at all?

Alas, worrying about the past cannot happen. It promotes nothing! You lived as you have lived and there's nothing that can change it! No time machine, no magic incantation, nothing!

Tonight I had dinner with a guy my age, but with less knowledge of life than I. In the ways of life, as it were. He's a sweet person to have around and makes me smile. We listened to music and I cooked for him. I told him things and he actually enjoyed hearing them.

I am in love with the idea of this guy, but I know he is far outside of my reach. I could never appreciate his naivety to it's fullest extent, I would always be tainting it somehow. He enjoys my company though, I make him laugh. I refresh him, or so he tells me.

He's so innocent and young. How am I refreshing? My character is refreshing? I sometimes don't understand what people mean? I don't view my life in terms of comedy, I see it terms of struggle more or less. When you laugh at my life, I see it for a moment as refreshing. I am making someone smile, for a moment. Then I see it only as sadness. My struggle is startling enough to make people chuckle? I don't remember laughing when I was bleeding from all that scratching. There was no fit of giggles that came when I was trapped in a sling? I wish I had heard the applause when I was packing my suitcase and being kicked out of my apartment.

Oh I am losing my point. I am tired and beginning to feel weak. This was just a moment to vent. It's confusion and not in a particular kind of order.

I have finished reading, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and Wings. We're moving onto On The Road. I need to read/listen to happier things.

In short. To anyone who has gone to college. What the fuck?

The Weekend Returns

I'm using it like a student. That counts for something.

When I'm not killing cockroaches, I am seeing horrible plays like To Be Or Not To Be. Or going to brunch and having decent food. Or doing homework assignment after assignment.

That's all.

Speaking My Mind

I wrote this for the new Department Chair in my Program. It may seem a little harsh, but it's been a rough three years. Has it not?

Being a Theatre B.A. at Brooklyn College
By E.Iguana

I transfered to Brooklyn College three years ago with all intents and purpose to be a Theatre B.A. I didn’t want to be a Theatre B.F.A. I find this important to state first because it would show that there is no resentment to a program that I landed in because I was rejected from the other. I transfered from Pratt Institute, where I was a Computer Graphics major, so I was entering from a private college into a CUNY School. Though there is Bureaucracy in both schools, they have both been vastly different.

The lack of Academic Adviser was a big shock when I first came to this school. The Chair of the Department should not be the Academic Adviser! A personal example would be that in my three years of being here I have had Rose _____, Tom ______, Christina _______ and now you (Laura _______) as my “Academic Adviser.” I haven’t had a moment where I felt like anyone necessarily cared if I graduated or how I am doing in my progression through the program.

The lack of Academic Adviser really shocked my roommate who is a recent alumni of the SUNY University of Buffalo in the Musical Theatre Program. She told me that one of her Godsends was having an Academic Adviser who was a resource for her classes and degree progression.

My only response to my roommate is that I have to keep track of my classes and am never sure if I am on the right path. Especially since the Theatre B.A. requirements changed (My Degree Progress is my only “form” of Academic Adviser and it too changed with the new requirements). Since finding this out I haven’t been sure if I am close to graduating or not. Last semester I planned my schedule out for this year before I realized the degree progress I’d been using had changed. Since no one in our department informed me that this was happening, I almost took several classes that I didn’t need to graduate.

Additional to all of this, whenever I did need to see the Chair for permissions, I found it incredibly difficult. I have always believed that a professor posts office hours for the students, so they know when they should visit. Never once in my three years here has the Department Chair ever been “free” during their office hours. They were in meetings with other professors or not there at all. Not to mention that when time for scheduling for the next semester came around I could clearly see the list Rose _______ posted on her door for the B.F.A. students to meet with her for permissions. I often wondered why this way of conducting business was never passed onto the B.A. students.

I was going to bring up the Theatre B.A. requirement classes, but I think with the new requirements you have addressed some of theses issues. My only wish is that I had had the chance to focus more on a particular field. I realized recently I am interested in Costumes, but since I was required only to take two classes of it, it seems to have ended there. Not to mention that despite taking four drafting classes (Stagecraft, Scenographic Techniques, Scenic Design and Lighting Design) I still have come to the conclusion that designing sets and lights will never be for me.

I know that the program strives to expose us the several options of career paths in the theatre. However, students should be given the option to focus on a specific concentration after taking intro classes. The B.F.A. students obviously focus on acting, why can’t I pick a path I enjoy and go further with that?

In the last three years whenever anyone asks me what I want to do, my only answer has been: I don’t know. This was not for lack of effort on my part, I just felt like the vastly diverse classes weren’t helping me to narrow down my decision.

I hope that these issues can be dealt with because they are fixable, but important for any student’s well being in college. I have met students who are going on their 5th year without ever taking a break! Though their issues are their own, I just believe that being a B.A. student does not mean you have to be put to the back burner. The last three years Brooklyn College has shown me that perhaps that has been the case. I thank you for giving me a chance to speak my mind and hope this can be of some help.

I Will Admit

I skipped class. After the week of continuous motion, I needed to not leave my apartment. I also needed to work on my Scenic Design Project. In my opinion it's nothing short of awful, I can't build models. It's not a "skill" I am just going to suddenly pick up. Also, the lack of time just didn't help either.

I sat on the floor of my living room and looked off into space. There was a few minutes in the evening, I'd say around 4:37. I looked around the living room and felt alone again. The way the lights passed through the window, turning the room into a golden hue. There was silence as my laptop changed from one song to the next. I felt like I could see the particles in the air.

I looked down at my model, let out a huge sigh, and continued on "building" What went through my mind at that moment was a feeling of confusion and calmness. It seemed as if time had stopped for a longer than it should have.

I can't wait for this seasonal depression to just pass by. I've been recommended to speak with the New Chair of my College as my experience as a B.A. I declined the offer, but told the woman I would send her an essay. It's a cunning move on my part, it'll let me articulate my issues with the last three years. Which aren't that many, but are severe enough to merit a letter.

It's time to watch Oz. Perhaps that will pass the depression out of me. A Prison Drama with Broadway Divas will surely help.

Tired, but Restless

I am going to try for bed now. This will be short. I wish to get to the gym tomorrow.

I am restless as usual. School is rushing my life and the play will be done soon! I feel like I'm always falling behind. I've realized it's an issue I've been feeling since I was a kid. Sadly depressing. I always felt like I've been behind.

Held back in Kindergarten because of my emotional stunted behaviors. I was emotionally disturbed. Isn't that humorous to realize. Since I've been six I've always felt behind.

I feel so comfortable with the debauch world. Drag Queens and Poly-Amorous Pride Days. They've been filling my life and that feels normal.

I've been sleeping with The Escort. I'm not in love, I can't feel love. I'm just very interested in his life. He's been doing it since he was 18. How interesting. He tells me these tricks of the trade.

Then I stop and think about how possibly he could just be working me. I'm not paying him, and I'm having sex. So I suppose I'm not losing out. He likes that everyone loves him, that's why he escorts. He has like four older men who he sees weekly and they give me at least $250 a visit.

He makes $1,000 a week by just having sex with men. The pros are in my favor. What could you possibly say to change my mind? That I'm a lily that has only been touched by the morning dew?

About 20 minutes into his little stories it clicked. It was when he was telling me about what he does when he meets a John. He always goes to the bathroom to regroup and wash his butt.

It snapped, like a gear going into place. I was Community Service Escorting. I suddenly knew his game because I played it. Except I never got paid for it. Major bummer, right? So I ask you. What could you tell me that would weigh the cons against the pros? I have a pretty solid list of pros so far.

School, school, school

It's begun, for the next 8 weeks I will be a hapless and unpaid slave to my college. Dog Sees God isn't a bad play, it's cynical and dark. It's basically the Peanuts gang in high school and how fucked up they've become. Lucy is a pyro, Linus is a pothead, Pigpen is a germaphobe. It's interesting.

I have been getting into Oz, the HBO show. I'm in season one (two episodes away from done) and it's so amazing. I love the drama, the sex, the drugs. Oh it's so exciting. Beecher just did PCP and threw a chair and hurt Schillinger's eye! I can't wait for Chris Keller to get on the scene. Oh then I'm gonna really love this show. Hubba, hubba!

I took today to catch up on my homework. I feel behind, still am hardly ahead. I am trying to take this final year of college gracefully. Things to remember and I'm constantly forgetting. I did find my glasses and I suppose that's a good thing. I couldn't run at the gym today. Odd because I love to run. Yet, my mind was being gnawed by little worries. Small mundane things:

Will I ever get the toothbrush out of the toilet?

The End of Summer

The summer has ended again, which has come and gone without my really knowing it. It's been different and entertaining. To realizing who I am. Standing in so much darkness. How long and short it's all been.

There was a moment in fire island. Followed by several BBQs with beloved friends. Hold onto those moments. Then there were the darker nights, that aren't necessarily memorable. The constant cold that's followed you through it. The false meetings and quick goodbyes. I'll remember the happier times.

You'll continue on another year. College. The place people never want to leave. I'll be melodramatic, but I want to get out so badly. This year will be about me. About who I am. How can I be happy. How can I become more than I expect.

Ribbons down my back.

Let's Look At It All

I woke up this morning from a nightmare. The answers probably lie in the meaning of the dream. Let's look shall we:

My wardrobe supervisor and I are in a dungeon in the cellar of the school. We are folding laundry and she brings up how someone was talking about how much I have changed. She then gives weird examples, one including when I "drank wine coolers backstage while dressing a show." I immediately felt guilty (re: Trip Home) because I know this, I just didn't know it was every one's number one concern.

That was the gist of it and I have been down since. I ran at the gym, hoping I would get an Endorphin high. Not being able to have a cigarette until September 1st, I feel just like a junkie going through withdrawal. I haven't tried clawing out my roommates eye's out because she won't give me a 10-spot to buy my next pack, but I'll keep it in the back of my mind.

Then, school...college...classes. What do we call them nowadays? Anyhow, that starts soon. This one is the final lap before the checkered flag of life. What's that tense feeling in my chest? It's been a week since I've been to work and the beginning of several months of this trend.

My brain seems to finally be waking up and I'm getting that chance to think about myself. What I've been doing for the last couple of years and the choices I have made. It all really feels odd and embarrassing at times. It's a very uniquely grotesque feeling. I'll evolve from this all I am sure. A better person for it? That I'm not sure.

Sip Some Bubbly...

I finished my final incredibly quick. Like almost to quickly. I knew what I knew and I guessed on what I didn't know. I think I got a B. I've never been good with finals. It's my lack of ambition that gets me down.

We all know the fable of the little boy held back in school. Since his parents never told him it was cause he was socially retarded he grew up lying about his age, thinking he was stupid and never bothered to work on the social disorders. Well I am that boy and we ALL know how that turned out.

Since returning from China my ambition level has lowered more than I expected. I hate those transformations you go through in life. I-left-China-a-boy-and returned-a-Communist kind of change.

What's thrilling for tonight is that I will be able to stay up and play FFXII, until I beat that Elder Wyrm.Yes, that's me rediscovering my inner geek and then spraying it all over your face. Like cats do when they're in heat.

I'm feeling odd, as if the whole world is against me. I know it's just my paranoid mind. People attack or contend so easily. I want to disappear from humanity for a moment and resurface later. I think I'll save these moments and write something with more substance.

Another Lap Around the Track

Today marks the last day of my finals. Onward to lap five! Starting this game 4 years ago, the curves were not easily predictable in the least. I'm holding up and intend on finishing this marathon someday.

That concludes the metaphor portion of our entry this morning.

I will allow myself a moment to brag as it were. Life is changing drastically in the coming days and nights. I leave my job of two years at the end of this week probably forever. A job that has been both the bane and savior of my existence. It helped destroy all the illusions I built up of my time in college being part of the real world. Which explains my lack of sympathy for people who complain about petty college issues. Granted, I will admit I complain about college issues.

My soul never seems to stir when someone is in so much stress over all the projects they have due. Oh and their job they have through the school, you know the one thats from 10-6, two days a week, is just not allowing them the time they need to complete their projects!

Oh, is that harsh? Well I have a surprise for you. Welcome to the real world.

I start my internship for the summer. I am excited for a change and a resume builder. If it's fruitful then terrific! If it's pointless I will appreciate it for escaping the mundane summer repeat I had last year.

My friends and I are throwing about the idea of creating an all gay theater company. Which they've labeled The Sausage Factory. I'm all for it, but everyone keeps asking me what my role will be in it. Which causes me to laugh hysterically in my head. They all seem to have secured their own position as director or actor or set designer. But what will YOU do. Run the box office? Despite the fact that the theater company was my suggestion in the first place (but as a post-college plan since right now it's impossible), next thing I know the choices were made immediately. What play we were doing, who was doing what. But then they look at me and ask, "What will you do?"

It's exciting I do admit, but when you ask me what I am going to do in the company. I feel odd because its like I'm tagging along on my own idea that was purloined from my head. I think I'll just watch this one develop and hope I see an opening, I'll jump in. As of right now I don't see that.

I think my friends forget I'm behind them by at least 5-7 years of experience.

My aunt has surprised me with a visit tomorrow. She's the good aunt and it will be fun to spend the day with her. We want to go to a museum and get a nice dinner. In such hard times as these it's hard to feel truly excited, except for the smaller things like seeing family.

Oh and in less than two months I'll be 23. How did that happen? The ODD numbered years are always less disappointing than the EVEN. At the time though it'll always be the reverse.

Jewish Fairy Godmother

I believe I have a Jewish Fairy Godmother at Brooklyn College. Well let me explain:

It's a Cinderella story, really.

In a desperate attempt to get into a science class this semester I wrote a letter to the powers that be. I found the email addresses of two Bio department heads (Stepsisters), begging to have an override into the Core Bio class. So I could still believe that I would be graduating next spring. I may be dirty, but I'd like to go to the ball too.

I sent the email out and immediately received an auto-email from one stepsister who wasn't in her office. Telling me, "Come back this fall and perhaps I'll fit you in." That was of no help, I quickly figured how the next email would be received.

So I went about my day. Going out and doing chores and spending my stimulus package on plays. Paula Vogel, William Inge, Sarah Kane and Tracy Letts. I'm gonna have lots to discuss pretty soon one I begin reading.

Later in the day I got a strange email. Not from the other stepsister, but from someone else. Someone I'd never emailed before and she bore the last name: Steinberg. My fairy Godmother, Luna Steinberg (as I have started calling her) was a Godsend! She didn't explain why she was involved, but just wrote:

Hi: I see from your transcript, that you are a lower senior and I can give you an overtally in one of the fall cores; anything but 0458, 0459, 1914, and 1915. please check your schedule and let me know which code #.

Who are you magic lady? Where did you appear from? How did you get into my file without my SS#? How did you know what I wanted? Being the skeptic I am I humorously replied with the class I'd like to take. Figuring there was no hurt in trying.

Later that night the other Stepsister wrote to me telling me, "Take summer classes, if not take it next spring!" I went to bed, knowing that I would never graduate until 2010. Making that six years of straight undergraduate living.

Then this morning I awoke to a gift from my Godmother:

Hi; your permission is now in for 0456, and you can now registerJ

Do you believe in magic? I do. She signed her name as a smiley face! And like that, I am taking Biology next semester!

Thank you Fairy Godmother. I hope this isn't the only time you'll be helping me.

The Story of the Red Umbrella

The last few days have been upsetting to my emotional state. I am doing what I do best, which is holding up those barriers that get shakier every month. I mean come on people! Each month has posed a new little stress on this wall. And while the barrier can withstand one or two, it can't take a barrage of them! I know it's all relative and it's all on varying degrees. You have the long-term issues. Then you have the short term issues. The story of the Red Umbrella is a mixture of the two.

The red umbrella is the only physical item I have of The Tall Man's. And it's sat in my room for several months since he first let me borrow is on a rainy day. After the beginning of the end I tried to ignore using it. It's strange how physical objects that really are just that, physical. Can be charged with emotional sentiment. I walked in the rain most days after this all happened, I didn't want to give my body reason to gasp and tear up. A little fall of rain won't hurt me now.

Then came the day when it rained so hard that I had no choice but to use it. I'd open it and as if I'd opened a box of mementos I'd become prone to thoughts I don't wish to happen. Yet, in the rain I admired it's way of keeping me completely dry. Talk about metaphors.

So onto the short-term issues. Some people call college the most informative years of your life. I disagree. College has caused me angst, financial nervousness, insomnia and stress. And now it's adding onto that with registration for next year. I don't want to go into issues, but the officials are being rather difficult. In ways they shouldn't necessarily be.

Since I have my past stories of trouble with college authority, I have these moments where I'm like, "Fuck it, I'm done!" I call my mother and scream to her. Not at her, that's very important to take note of. I merely say it to hear it so I can let it mill about in my mind. Then I can remember that it's pointless to stop now because I'll have the rest of my LONG LIFE to not be in college.

I am keeping myself pretty put together these days, but I have moments. Of pure mental release (a break if you will) and I had one yesterday. So after the frustration of registering and that distant thought of going to college for 6 years. I was walking home muttering swears and phrases of anger to no one in particular. I was giving life as it really is free to anyone's ears. I was carrying the red umbrella on a muggy overcast day. Oh and it felt heavy in my hands at that moment, so heavy indeed.

What is this? The third month of these upsetting news items. One after the next. That's all I could think in my head. In this exact moment all three of these issues in my life were together. The tainted liquid in my veins, the registration book in my bag and the umbrella I was holding...

And without warning I just started shouting and slamming the umbrella against a streetlight.

Slamming. Swinging. Shouting. Screaming.

If there was an ending to this story, I'd write it. There is not.