 | Why Georgia Why?
Current mood:  anxious "I am so broken out.. I don't know what's going on with my face."
"Don't you have a clay mask to put on it?" Lindsay asked.
"Yeah, I still have the one your mom gave me, but I left it in..."
And then I had to think about it. Did I bring it with me to Grand Junction? Did I leave it in Jersey? Was it still with my crapload of stuff in Portland? I didn't have the slightest clue.
I used my five-hour drive to Colorado Springs yesterday to catch up on phone calls. (Shhhh, don't tell my mom; I'm 23 years-old and still feel guilty for breaking her rules such as "no talking on the phone while driving") I called Elizabeth, who I have known since I walked into Valley Catholic's first Music Man rehearsal in my St. Pius uniform. She has been working with her auditing team out of Denver since January. I haven't seen her since Christmas and thought maybe she'd like to get coffee or an early lunch on Tuesday when I passed through on my way back to the Junc.
"Ohhhh I would love to, but I'm not in Denver anymore!" She squealed.
"Wow, that shows how good we are at keeping in touch. Where are you now?"
"I'm in San Francisco! Well, and I have to go to Houston like four days out of the month. And then at the end of the summer I switch to this small town outside LA."
In two years, I have seen her bounce among San Antonio, Atlanta, LA, Portland, Denver, and now San Francisco -- and I'm probably missing a couple. So I made some stupid joke about when was she going to finally give up this vagabond lifestyle and live in one spot. I don't know why I made that joke. It wasn't funny. And who am I to tease anyone about a lifestyle, really - particularly one that bounces you from city to city? If anyone should understand that, it's me. I don't even know where my clay mask is.
I have my winter clothes in Jersey, my summer clothes in Oregon, and my workout clothes in Colorado. I have my theater in Grand Junction, my restaurant in Manhattan, and my next audition in Seattle. I have my best friends scattered everywhere from San Francisco to Charleston. I have my roommate in North Bergen, my sister in Inwood, my hermano in Barrio San Pablo, my parents in Raleigh Hills, and my boyfriend in Portland.
And thus the crisis known as "I'm 23 and I've been out of school for a year... what am I doing???" ensues.
Ever since I got back from Argentina, I have been trying to think of something I can write that can accurately describe the experience and how it affected me. I can't do it. I have attempted many times, but I think words will just cheapen it. Not only that, I think the effects of that week are still in motion. I'm still being shaped by it. So now that I have returned to my temporary life of curling irons and platform shoes and afro wigs, I have had ample time to myself to try to sift things out.
I've started running. I run four miles four or five times a week and it's actually a tolerable experience. My shin splints from the old days of volleyball daily doubles are coming back to haunt me, but my lungs feel incredible. This all began because of a deal I struck with the Doctor about three weeks ago. He agreed to attend a yoga class with me if I'd go on a six mile run with him when I'm in Portland. I'd like to say I said yes because I wanted to spend time with my boyfriend doing something that's inexpensive and healthy, but really I said yes because I'm so damn competitive - even with the Doc I feel like I have something to prove.
But regardless of the initial reason, I'm running now. I don't even take my iPod with me - I just let my mind wander. I breathe in the fresh air and I sing the songs from my show in my head. But mostly, I pray and I ask questions. These are the same questions that have made me cry at night when writing in my journal, but when I'm running they don't seem so frightening. When the questions come into my head, I turn them over and look at them - but I don't let them pierce me and I don't panic that an answer isn't there yet. It brings me peace.
I also use Yoni - mi hermano - as motivation. When I start feeling whiny about something, when something feels too difficult and I want to quit, I think about my Yoni and I keep going. I can't go to Argentina and spend a week with the kids in Barrio San Pablo and feel justified making any excuses for myself anymore.
I spent three years of middle school prepping for high school. I spent four years of high school prepping for college. I spent four years of college prepping for a career in musical theatre. Now I'm finding that my life is really being carved and defined as I make decisions I hadn't been prepped for. As I prioritize and I make sacrifices and I venture quite blindly into my post-school life. I'm hanging in there. And I'm taking it very slowly, one step ball-change at a time. |
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