Final Group

The group sessions are done for 7 weeks. I left pensively, but life is where it is at this moment. I will find order in my life eventually. That's what I said I'd like to work on and it's true. These are the small steps we take.

The Aria for the Night

I am home and going to sleep soon. Soon being a relative term. I rolled out of bed today with all the ill intentions of a villain committing a crime. Instead, I saw a recital and had dinner with new friends who have come into my life.

I reflected on issues in my head about the ShyGuy and what happened earlier this week. I put the problems of his, ahead of my own. I don't know what that means, except that I am growing up. Such childish reasons to be an adult, because a REAL adult won't get his act together. 31-years-old and relapsing. I can't even cry about my petty issues for a moment.

As I said, I'm growing up.

Growing, growing. We advance in maturity and I mistake life lessons for passing moments. Only to stumble upon them later, discarded like stickers than fell to the floor. Still sticky with growth, but slightly used.

I want to prove that I'm growing. That I'm progressing. It's terrifying. Let's see. . .

This week I went to an interview and I held myself at bay. I didn't freak out at the cattle call of it all. How people were ushered in and out. It was merely a barbacking gig. Minus the E and with all the respect too. If I procure this, I will count my blessings. Who knows, who truly knows.

As you can see, I am trying to prove my growth to you, for this is the only documentation I have of it. I am finished with school, mentally.

Spring break begins this Wednesday. My support group ends this Monday. I am visiting my parents this Saturday. There are so many days to do things, when will I rest? Yet, I am at rest now.

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.