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It's a Perfect Day For Bananafish... [entries|friends|calendar]
The Artist Currently Known as Kay

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(1 | Bananafish)

[29 Dec 2007|04:40pm]
i don't want to be on medication anymore.

effexor is the ultimate evil.

i was off of it for 2.5 days, and i had brain shivers, nausea, dizziness, disorientation, and worse depression than i've ever felt in my life.

i spent the morning with my head in the toilet.

i hate this. i want to get off of it but if i do, i end up sick.


(2 | Bananafish)

[26 Dec 2007|08:34am]
dave barry is so right.


[21 Dec 2007|07:35am]
i'm utterly disgusted with our politicians.

(2 | Bananafish)

[12 Dec 2007|08:42pm]
the choking anxiety started coming back today.
i was on the last batch of banana walnut muffins when suddenly i realized that i couldn't breathe. i still can't.
i feel like i'm crumbling from the inside out.
it's a heavy feeling in my stomach that's pulling me apart.
i don't want to go back to school.
i don't care about college anymore.
i just want to sit in this corner of my kitchen and cook and not eat and pretend that the only important things in the world are connected to meal times and oven timers.

i need a hug.
(not necessarily a romantic one, but not necessarily a not romantic one.)
(is there anyway to have a relationship built solely on hugs?)


[10 Dec 2007|08:17pm]
i have spent the last 3 days in the kitchen, and it's made me ridiculously happy.
i want nothing but to cook all day...

since i've been home, i've made chocolate chip cinnamon muffins, chocolate cinnamon cookies, sufganiot, banana pumpkin nut bread, and dinner tonight, which consisted of lemon rosemary chicken, spaghetti with garlic rosemary sauce, and handmade foccaccia bread.

tomorrow's mexican, i think.

fuck depression medication. bring on the all-purpose flour!

(1 | Bananafish)

[05 Dec 2007|06:26pm]
whatever happened to going steady? the 1950's "getting pinned" redefined.

(1 | Bananafish)

[02 Dec 2007|10:59pm]
on the up side, i came in third place overall in a 5 k this morning.
on the down side, my roommates hate me so much that i'm afraid to go to sleep in my apartment.


[30 Nov 2007|03:52pm]
you know what's really kind of funny, in a not really all that funny but rather peculiar sort of way?

i chopped 3.5 inches off of my hair and dyed it brown, and no one noticed.
well, one kid in my english class said something, but no one else, and none of my closer friends.
it's very weird.
i dyed it darker.
still no one noticed.

so there's that.
it kind of bothers me.
not in a end of the world sort of way, but it's still bothersome nonetheless.

i should be writing a paper on masturbation in film right now, but i just don't want to.
i'm burnt out.

(2 | Bananafish)

[28 Nov 2007|06:55am]
to top it all off, one of my majorca pearls went down the drain.

(3 | Bananafish)

[23 Nov 2007|09:44pm]
just a hint: the worst thing you can say to an anorexic is, "wow, you look great."

this is the worst birthday ever, by the way.


[19 Nov 2007|07:29am]
this is what's wrong with the world today. seriously....stop trying to inoculate children from reality. it's going to make it that much worse when they finally get here.

(1 | Bananafish)

[17 Nov 2007|05:32pm]
well fuck.

anyone know a theatre company who wants a play to take to fringe?

why the fuck is NOTHING working out?
i have to stop getting my damned hopes up.

...i feel like shit.

(1 | Bananafish)

[12 Nov 2007|07:32pm]
yeah, definitely won the weekend genius challenge at mental_floss.

and i'm definitely getting the best shirt ever as a prize.

i heart mental_floss.

(3 | Bananafish)

[11 Nov 2007|08:41pm]
my mother bought me a puppy for my birthday.
she said that it would be cheaper in the long run than a prescription for zoloft.
she's right.

that being said,
i'm not ready to be 21.

november 23rd is officially my re-8th birthday.

8 was a good year:
stacey was my best friend.
make believe was still cool.
mrs. petillo's class was the best, and it made me fall even more in love with learning.
i was still in love with robbie, and life was good because he and i would take the bus home together.
we got beau, one of the best golden retrievers on the earth.
liz and i made the ahhh! real monsters magazine after school.
my dog jesse and i went on a walk every day after school, and she always played along when i wrote her into my imaginary world, where she was my magical dog.

and so on.

my puppy's name is frida, by the way. frida kahlo.
now we have
georgia (o'keefe)
jackson (pollock)
(samuel) beckett
frda (kahlo)

and sara and roxie and baby doll and strider.


(1 | Bananafish)

[27 Oct 2007|07:51am]
That would explain things....


(3 | Bananafish)

[24 Oct 2007|10:50pm]
i did it.

today i finished the play i've been incubating for a year.

it's my first full length play.

all 92 pages of it.

this is the best feeling in the entire world.


[22 Oct 2007|08:30am]
writing is such a strange process.

i blocked off yesterday for working on my play. instead, i did everything but.
i read every blog i know, followed every link on fark, and refreshed my facebook at least 60 times.
i cleaned, dusted, sanitized and organized my room, a process that begs the question: how long is it going to take me to mess it all up again?
i worked on some dramaturgy stuff, but nothing that couldn't have been done today. in fact, i have to go back and make copies of the stuff i did yesterday, which will require my going back over all of the material again anyway.
i went to the gym, i talked to my mother, i listened to standup on internet radio...everything except work on my play.

...and then, at 9:30 pm--BAM! i wrote until 12:30 am. 20 pages. Act II is 1/3 done. How the hell does that happen?
I don't even think it's very good, but the fact of the matter is, i'm getting material on paper. my dad jokes about how writer's block is like having a hole in your elbow: the ideas are in your head, but they trickle out the hole in your elbow before they can make it down your arm to your pen and paper.
the hole in my elbow is very selective. it makes my life erratic. but when it closes up, those three hours of clarity are worth it.

i really hope this play is good. i really hope i'm not deluding myself and wasting a year of my life.
and it has been a year since i first had the idea for this play. had i not taken that shakespeare class last fall, i never would have rediscovered shakespeare or stumbled upon christopher marlowe, who is currently staring at me from the corpus christi portrait, which i've mounted on my wall.
this play is making me crazy.
i'm almost afraid to finish it...once i do, this semester is as good as over. minus one more paper for my english class.
once my play is done, i have to edit it. i have to have a reading. i have to have others judge it, grade it, read it, act it....

i'm...not scared, per se. just nervous. anxious.
i am blocking off today to work on my play.

writing is such a strange process.

(1 | Bananafish)

[15 Oct 2007|10:56pm]
i have such doubt.

the play reading tonight was wonderful, but it scares me because they playwright did what i'm trying to do, only he did it much better.

why does writing have to be such a labor (of love)? I must be a masochist; i shouldn't enjoy putting myself through this anguish, but a finished draft is the only thing that makes me happy these days, and a finished draft means lots of self-torture.

why can't i get the ideas to look on paper they way they appear in my head?

my writer's block hurts.

(1 | Bananafish)

[14 Oct 2007|10:12am]
please elect this man president.

or al gore.

...he he.

ohhh the world is going to hell in a handbasket.

i'd be upset, but i just watched an entire season of the office. american version. maybe i do need a tv. then i can just sit on my ass all day and forget that the future's looming. like al gore.*

*see article.


[12 Oct 2007|10:27pm]
fucking useless.

i wake up and read blogs and listen to the news. i go to the gym. i shower. i listen to the news and check the blogs for updates.
i write for maybe ten minutes.
i eat everything in the house.
i check my blogs again. and then the countdown begins until bedtime.
then i get up and do it again.

i have to get out of here.

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