31 May 2005 [11:33am]
Playlist: The CureI was looking through old journals. I found this.
Beautiful By Kristen BartlettSo tell me. Do you hate me? Do you not want to be my friend? I never asked you for any of that. In fact, all I did was love you, and I really wouldn't say that's a crime, unless of course, you would. It was always about you; you know that? Always. And I can't for the love of God decide whether I wanted you or who you are. Although I do know that whatever I wanted, I wanted it with a passion. Do you not love me because I'm ugly? Is that it? Because I know I am. God just didn't give me beauty; and for one thing, I don't care. I can't help not having innocent eyes and a perfect figure just as you can't help being the asshole that you are. Born that way, I guess. You hurt my feelings today. And I'm fairly sure that you didn't even realize it. Just something you said on impulse that was forgotten about a second later. But when I got in the car to go home, I still hadn't forgotten it. It's the way you are. I never gave a damn about what anyone thought about me, and then you go around changing it. It's like . . . well let me just say that I'm looking forward to the day you leave. And I can't wait for the rest of my life when I never see you or hear your voice. Because I'm going to be something. And now, you see me, and think I'm no special person. You see me and make your judgements . . . your decisions. But it won't always be that way. Because tomorrow you'll see that I may not be pretty . . . but I will be beautiful.
This is the contemporary monologue that help me get accepted into theater programs and scholarships for various universities, that is if I had wanted to major in theater. Only, I didn't accept any of them because I didn't really see myself as a theater major. And so, I went off to a community college because I lost direction. And I hoped I wouldnt ever wonder what could have been.
I just remember the anticipation of waiting to enter that room full of represntatives from university all over the east coast. I remember preforming my monologues and the recations and feedback of the reps and how thrilled I was to find out they liked me. I remember anxiety of waiting to see which of the schools called me back and how many of the school offered me up front money to join their program. Maybe now, I am wondering, what if I had said yes, even for a semester, just to try it out?
All those trips to UMBC and all the different auditions. All the nervous sweat breaking through my skin and all the tears I had to cry and all the emotions those audition forced me to resurrect. (I'm cold bitches, since post10th grade!) Truth be told, Ms Snowden (9th/10th grade theater coach) had nothing on Ms M (11th/12th grade coach). See Ms Snowden was too soft, Ms M was the shedevil on earth. Ms M, as much as I possess a strong dislike towards her, was constantly pushing her students to strive for better. Ms Snowden taught me nothing, not blocking, not emotions, or how to better relate to characters.
Theater was good times in japan because of the people and the travel. Theater was good time in MD because I actually learned something.
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