Fifteen

I wish I was fifteen again. Remember being fifteen? (Maybe not; for all I know, you might be younger than fifteen or have memory loss) Fifteen was crazy.

I don't actually want to be fifteen again. I was miserable at fifteen. It was the end of the freaking world almost every day. I was hopelessly in love, and I was never going to love anyone else. My first and last love, I swore. And I was definitely going to flunk out of school, end up on the streets, and starve to death. My parents were going to kick me out because they just didn't understand me. My friends all secretly hated me and were conspiring against me, and I knew it. I'm onto you!

Like most fifteen-year-olds, I was a melodramatic twat. I did stupid things every single day, and I knew it. At fifteen, I knew I was inherently evil. I was Hitler. I'd apply to art school and get rejected over and over until I at last gave up and killed all the Catholics for raising me to feel guilty. The world would hate me forever. Internet arguments would degrade into calling each other Elizabeth-Nazis. Good thing that I'm German.

Fifteen was insane. I was living fast and dying young. My life would end in majestic flames, and that's exactly what I wanted. I had no desire to die a boring, slow, cancerous death; I was going to die living. I felt no shame in filling my body with crap I knew was terrible for it. I was like a drug addict, though I never dared touch anything illegal. For all my recklessness at fifteen, I never came close to even smoking a cigarette. But I chugged down multiple energy drinks in minutes, blew money on candy and sugar and caffeine and everything I could find that would give me the energy to live fast and die young.

And, boy, was I a slut. I mean, I kissed three different people in a year! And I wasn't even married to any of them! I'm definitely going to hell now.

I know, I know, you're rolling your eyes. My fifteen-year-old self makes yours look like the Devil Incarnate. But my fifteen-year-old self makes my eighteen-year-old self look like a dried up old hag. A lonely old hag. Those are the worst. I drink water and eat nothing but meat, vegetables, and fruit. I think sweetened drinks, cookies, and candy all taste gross. Coffee is gross. Hell, I don't even like cheese. Staying out past ten makes me feel scandalous. And the last time I kissed anyone was nearly three years ago. Cooties, gross. I don't have any cats, but that's only because I'm so lame that I live at home with my parents who refuse to have cats.

The idea of doing anything reckless just makes my boring self lecture me on why it's a terrible idea. There are consequences. I'll regret it later. I have students who look up to me, a brother who mimics me, people who want to be like me. I'm responsible for others. I've worked my butt off to get where I am today, to get paid to write and direct and lead others, and recklessness could blow it. I've fought for the respect I've finally started to earn, and doing something stupid could lose me that respect. And I've still got so many battles to fight; I can't afford to lose any right now.

I miss the psychological freedom of fifteen. It's not like I'm all that responsible, really. In fact, I'm immature and irresponsible every day, the past few weeks as clear evidence of that. But my irresponsibility tends to be scandalously not sticking to a good sleep schedule all the time or going on Facebook more than I should. My "partying" is going out to dinner with my family Friday nights.

I wish I was as fearless as I was at fifteen.

Anxiety

Last night was one of those nights. I just couldn't focus. My head was all over the place. I couldn't play guitar during rehearsal. I wrote blog post after blog post of incomplete ideas, never actually finishing.

I'm a mess. It's "last night" as I write this, and I've just given up on writing anything meaningful. I'm too anxious. And it's not even for auditions tomorrow. I could care less. Tomorrow could have already gone by, and I wouldn't even notice. I'm just senselessly anxious.

Actually, I'm just anxious to have my degree already. I want to be done with college, done with worrying about my grades. I hate worrying about grades. I want to worry about my learning and my impact on the world, not pointless validation through percentages. I think I'm going to fail all of my classes this semester. Maybe I should just go join the circus. Or the army.

Part of me wants to just skip the college because, hey, who needs it? I'm a freelance awesome person! But the idea of any of my students blowing off college like I'd sure love to scares me. A lot. I don't want them thinking being a lazy bum is the way to go. And if I ever want to be a doctor or vet or lawyer or teacher or just about anything other than a freelance awesome person, I need my degree.

And that's the problem. I need it. I'm terrified to fail because failing isn't an option. I hate that. Failing should be a requirement; you learn from failure. Oh boy, do you learn from failure! But the way GPAs and admissions work, failure might as well be the end of the world and the end of your hope to get into any kind of decent university. There is NO WAY that USC is ever going to accept me after they see the terrible grades I'm doomed to get this semester.

I can't function without a car. I haven't done any homework since having a car. It's horrible. I just need a car, and then I can beg my teachers to let me make up for sucking so much the past two weeks.

I have a headache. Oh, anxiety.

Liberation Day

I always feel so arrogant when I sit down to write these "Things I've Learned" posts. It seems ridiculous that I, some mixed-up and fatally flawed eighteen-year-old kid, should have "lessons" to share with others. Who am I to think I can teach total strangers?

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." — from A Return to Love by Marianne Williamson

This is a tough lesson to learn. It's something I know in words, but don't understand, as my old Physics teacher always asked us to, deep in my gut. It's not intuitive in our culture. We thrive on self-depreciation and shrinking. Confidence is arrogance and egotism. To love oneself is to be selfish.

Who am I to think I am so great that others may learn from me? Who am I to believe I possess any desirable qualities?

Lately, I've been getting a lot more views a day. It was exciting for one day, and then it started becoming scary. Who am I to have so many people read what I write? Who am I to believe that I deserve the attention? I've been feeling a bit paranoid. Like maybe this is just some prank. Or maybe people will figure out that my blog is not worth reading, and my views will drop back down.

Our culture perpetuates this problem. Our culture embraces and encourages fear. We live in a world full of terror and immobilising fear. And I don't like it. I don't want the world my children grow up in to be one governed by fear. I want my children unafraid of their own greatness. "And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

You know what? Who am I not to teach? Who am I not to share my thoughts, my ideas, the things I learn and find valuable? I let go of my fear, started this blog, and made it as easy to find as I could. And you know what happened? Other friends of mine started to do the same. As I was liberated from my fear, so were those around me.

I want to liberate the whole world from fear. Help me? All you have to do is liberate yourself.

Grabbed a Wild Beast by the Horns

Oh, the pressure is on now. Life lesson? Have I learned anything cool enough?

Um, ACTUALLY, I had a pretty awesome Thursday which was a very good learning experience: I auditioned to be the lead singer of a band.

Let me first say that I got in contact with this band over craigslist. Oh, craigslist, how you make me feel as if I'm covered in a very thin, mildly sticky, and definitely disconcerting film! But I won't deny that craigslist, despite some weirdos, creeps, and scammers, can be good. It's just matter of being careful. So yes, I am careful about who I meet on craigslist.

I saw an ad looking for a female lead singer of a band with a litany of influences. I skimmed the list, and, lo and behold, there were bands like New Order, U2, Joy Division, The Cure, The Smiths, Depeche Mode, etc. Combined with proper English and a very clear and professional-seeming ad (not professional spam; just thought-out), I gathered up the courage to send an email.

The email I got back came from a human being, hurrah! But it turned out the band was two guys: one who was 32, and one who described himself as "older" which could mean anything! They couldn't possibly want an 18-year-old college student, could they? I replied mentioned that I was only a college student, and could understand if they didn't want to work with someone so young, but assured them that I felt ready to handle being a band like an adult rather than a flaky teenager.

The guitarist (the "older" guy) and I arranged to meet at a nearby coffee shop Thursday. I was nervous, of course, but was soon talking with him almost as if I wasn't meeting some guy off craigslist. Very nice guy, and after awhile of talking I felt pretty sure that I really wanted to be part of the band, and he seemed pretty sure that, at least personality-wise, I would be a good fit. Except there was one major problem: he hadn't heard me sing yet. And I was endlessly nervous about singing.

Let me make this clear: I do not audition. Ever. Especially not singing. I probably haven't had an audition for anything since I was 11. And singing? HELL NO. I am a shower singer, a car singer, and only sometimes a choir singer. But I wanted this; I was not going to mess this up. I could do it, I assured myself.

We went to his house a few blocks away (I took my own car, of course, duh. Warning kids: don't go to strangers houses in their cars. BAD IDEA.) where I'd be able to sing with the rough tracks he had already laid out. Their old vocalist could hit notes, and I listened to the rough tracks with her singing a few times before trying to remember the words and sing myself. As I got ready to sing, I looked at my hands: shaking, of course. Heart? Racing. Palms? Sweating profusely. Boy was I nervous. Who was I kidding, trying to audition to be a lead singer when I couldn't sing? My scratchy voice against their old vocalist? No way.

And then I was singing. I was improvising stuff because I forgot the words. I was jamming vocally. I let my voice do what it felt like. And I could hear it back, amplified and echoing. Holy crap, was that my voice? Joe, the guitarist, had this look like, "Wow. We found our vocalist." My heart soared. I sang some more, he recorded it, and then I got to listen to my singing played back, guitars and drums included.

And then it hit me: I wasn't just passable, I was better than the old vocalist. My voice may not have been prettier, but my voice had something hers lacked: emotion. Mind you, hearing your own voice is always just a weird feeling, but in the matter of a few minutes, I went from sure I couldn't sing, to sure I couldn't NOT sing.

I looked my fear and self-doubt straight in the eyes, grabbed that irritating little voice in the back of my head which tells me I can't, and I said no. I took that fear and anxiety and, instead of letting it rule me, I ruled it. Like my acting coach once taught me, I channeled my energy. And I discovered once again that I wasn't giving myself enough credit.

So the lesson? To grab fear by the horns, and ride that wild beast until you are master. That's what I learned today.

One Hit Wonder

I should do this daily. Blog, that is.

I have this ridiculous fear that someone will figure out that I'm not actually as great as my 130 fans on Facebook seem to think I am (What?? 130??? When did THAT happen??). They'll tell someone else, and then it'll spread like wildfire that I'm just average and everyone will move on. Ever since I miraculously managed to write, direct, produce, and star in Without Direction, it's been about 100 times better and 100 times worse.

I accomplished something. I really did something! And no one can deny it, not even my self-depreciating, highly critical self. Without Direction is not something an average person could have done; it took someone incredible!

Somehow, the fear comes back, just as powerful as ever. It hits me with a profound, "So???" So Without Direction was cool, so what?. Is that all you've got? Peaked at seventeen? One hit wonder.

It's like a virus, mutating and adapting. Fear. It's everywhere. As I complete another script and begin production, I can feel the fear lurking in the back of my head, already mutating and adapting. It knows what I'm going to say. "See? I'm not just a one hit wonder! I did TWO plays!" It's spent months informing me that I'll never be able to come close to Without Direction, and, worse, that no number of plays at my old high school will make me anything more than a loser, a one hit wonder.

So I mutate and adapt. It's a never ending battle. Some days, it looks like I'm going to crush fear, and some days it looks like fear will crush me. I'm not sure I want to destroy fear though; for all the knocking down it does, fear, or overcoming fear, is what pushes me beyond my limits. Without fear, I'd probably just go take a nap.