Fantasy

I have a fantasy. Have always had the same one, since I was a child. Whenever I have a moment of identity crisis, wondering what I'm doing with myself in terms of meeting people and romance, I use this fantasy as evidence that I do, indeed, want what I have told the world I want. Screamed it at the world, even. Embarrassingly so, at times, like I'm playing a broken record of "I really am gay, I can prove it!" despite the physical urgings waxing and waning in a constant flux of confusion. It really removes any sense of balance 'discovering myself' might have afforded me, but the fantasy remains.

An older man, not too much older, with only enough problems to be average in a very attractive, boy-next-door way, with all the dumb luck of the plucky hero. He rescues me, an often less-than-savory younger male who finds himself in a damsel-in-distress situation. There's nothing sexual about the many scenarios I've played out in my head about basically any man that enters my life, no matter the capacity and sometimes I don't even have to find him attractive. His fitting into my fantasy world of being rescued makes him alluring. His helping me fight in a do-or-die brawl with an evil, slasher-type third party figure, where the tension is always building and someone else has the knife every second... There's other kinds of rescue fantasies, but lately his becoming more than my savior, but also my partner whom I sometimes save myself, gives me hope. Realistically, I will never live my fantasy. Unless my life turns into a neverending horror thriller, my rescue fantasy will never be manifested. I don't really know how to take that, because I don't dream about cuddling or kissing or walks in the rain. Those things... cursory to me, mostly. Pointless shows of affection to post a status update about, to rub in other peoples' faces that yes, I am in a relationship that is better than your's.

That's what terrifies me. Am I only romantically inclined toward a person for the chance that they might fit into my protection fantasies at some point? And until then, I just have to muddle through all the gushy romance stuff? It sickens me to hit all of these locked doors in my life, all of them with an engraved plaque that reads "Oh look, another complication for your confused identity." Just when I think an out, a way to live life like SOME group, even if that group turned out to paint me as firstly, just quirky (singers, women) nerdy (outcasts, video game enthusiasts) and then eventually, what I thought was my final trial to entering normalcy, sexually deviant (homosexuals). But no, I've just gotta take as many shady detours as I can. I am not doing this. My body is literally effing with me. All the time.

I don't want to be normal. That's too much to ask for at this point and I'm not sure I could ever really adapt to that lifestyle. I want to fit somewhere, not in the sense that I'm joining a group of people, but in the sense that I can feel like what I'm thinking and feeling and experiencing can be explained by something. Instead of what has become a running joke in my life, "Are you gay?" and then my subconscious reply "No I just like a bunch of different strange things about men, and sometimes I feel like I'm overcompensating for not fitting in with guys to begin with, and sometimes I wonder if I've become so enraptured with being different that I just think I am, and sometimes I just don't care." It isn't even about homosexuality. It's about being sure of something in my life, being certain that what it seems like is what it is, no questions asked. Anything.

I'm searching for a certainty, not another stupid idea of how things should be that suddenly gets thwarted by that thing called life, which, by the way, reassures you it's NOTHING like the movies as soon as you start thinking you've seen something you're going through at a theater once.

Noticing Ends

It's been 7 months since my last entry. I don't know where my life is. I'm incredibly lost and feel like I'm drowning lately, I overthink any event that happens in my life, no matter how minute, the world is always out to get me (that's what it seems like) and I can't help but be pitiable. I don't feel creative or fun or exciting or likable. I'm a real douchebag for leaving every person I've ever known out in the dark while this joyride spirals down a long hole with seemingly no end. I'm actually seeing a specialist but I'm not sure how things are going on that end. I find myself to be a completely different person in counseling than in my daily life. Sometimes, I walk out of a session and think: "Wow, I'm completely normal," and believe it or not, as redundant and stupid as it seems, I usually follow it up with, "What gives? Why do I feel plagued all the time and then suddenly feel like I have nothing to complain about?" I almost feel gypped, that life can feel so strange and awful one moment, but the second I enter a place where I can get my feelings out... I don't know, they come out, and I feel better, but I always feel like I haven't gotten my point across, that there's something I'm not remembering. On that end, my memory is shit and my attention is shit and I'm apparently borderline ADHD and self-medicating with caffeine (I'm practically an addict by this point)

I read my last entries and I know there is something more than who I show in counseling. I'm going to have to actually trick myself. Hey, you from 7 months ago... Got ya! You're gonna prove to me that I do have more I need to say! Who would of thought I created such an awesome source of my emotions, over an extended period of time, when I posted those ravings. I believed it to be therapeutic then and I hope it pays off now.

Life update: The writing went nowhere. There is no career for me that I can see. College is something I'm still pushing away, work is something I'm still pushing away, there's practically nothing in my life I haven't shoved off once or twice. I know that it would be in my best interest to start thinking positively but... It's a lot harder than it looks and I have this insatiable urge to constantly get my stresses and problems out, and most of these deal with some serious negativity within me. I don't know if it's more therapeutic to admit to myself I have issues or mask them by giving myself compliments and admiring the things I do right. And would it be worth it to actually sit down and try to come up with some? I would be reaching, for sure. I don't do a lot of good and I don't know if I want to or maybe even how. It's like I'm drowning but, somehow, I'm content with that, on some abstract level of consciousness. I've known forever I'm a whore for pity but... I don't know, I don't think I like it enough to derail my entire existence. I mean, who have I kept around to pity me? Even just making small talk with people, I feel like I have some pityphobia. If I mention that negative event, the other person is going to mentally roll their eyes at my grabs for attention, at my fishes for compliments... For a while now, before I became a hermit, I think one of the big problems I have with communication was always worrying that what I said would make someone irritated, make someone see that I'm trying to suck all the attention out of them that I can. I walked into every conversation assuming the other person wanted out the second I said a word. And it sickened me when people would try to complain about their life and get my pity. Like, I hide all this from you to make sure you don't feel the way I do!

I'm actually starting to get angry about how many measures I've taken against pity-partying and how often it ends up happening with me on the receiving end, like I'm being punished for ever identifying as a person who really enjoys pity. I feel like people are always trying to catch me slipping or point out a mistake or accuse me of being an attention-whore, emotionless, feelingless, uncaring. And these kinds of thoughts don't happen all the time so I'm glad I could get it recorded here.

I'm linking my therapist to this blog, maybe she can shed some light. Plenty of talking points here.

No Complete Thoughts

Sometimes I get in these moods where I literally cannot complete a thought. I just get like so overcome by some emotion, be it guilt, apathy, excitement, etc. that I cannot continue thinking about what I was before. It is during these times that I can only do ANYTHING spontaneously, and so I usually end up taking the most risk and making the most mistakes. Today, I've had the mood for a while, and if I fight it, I pretty much turn into a rock and can't take action at all. I start to feel restless at the same time, but I feel like I'm stuck in one place and can't do anything and that there is no point in doing anything anyways and I would like to know why I feel this way.

I desperately want to see a specialist so I can let all my thoughts just run free and be told why I have them, why I think so much, and what about me makes me so messed up. As humans, we are all "messed up" but I have the most difficult time hiding it with the various labels we choose to hide behind. I think that our personalities are just cover-ups for the mixed emotions and constantly fluctuating motives that truly guide our lives, allowing us to retain a semblance of ordinary action, but all the while reminding someone like me just how fake people are.

See, I'm not sure if it's the mood that makes me overanalyze things this way, or if it's just regular me, and I'm so flustered that I can't stop myself from just venting any thought that comes to the forefront of my mind. I've been wanting to start writing more frequently, but I immediately dismiss it every time it crosses my mind today because of how poorly I felt my writing was yesterday. The only thing I can think to do is to never leave something with a bad feeling about it, because that feeling is going to be the only lasting impression you have of it when you think back later on. I don't even want to face the scene I wrote last night because I'm so convinced it's absolute crap that I don't have the effort to try to fix it. And oh my lord, I don't know how people can just move on and do something else ahead of it, not just in writing, but in anything. I CANNOT just skip something and come back to it, because I will always be thinking about the part I skipped, and in terms of writing, my entire vision of the future of the plot might change depending on what I skipped. So, it all feels like a waste of time.

It feels like this strange mental drowning and I can't remedy it with soothing or quiet activities, like reading or writing, because I'm so on-edge, and I can't go do adrenaline-fueled activities because I never have. And I wonder if that is part of my problem; I build up all this physical energy and have no outlet, or else deny myself an outlet, to let it all out. Because I tell myself I am not sporty. Maybe I just need to go take a run. I wonder if that would fix things... I don't know.

Re-Entering the Real World

So I'm trying to take steps to re-entering the real world. Of course, I'll never know when my Elsa phase is truly over until long after (hence the title of this blog) and I might honestly miss it. Having so much time to myself have been so freeing, and it saddens me to know that life's obligations, usually things you have literally no control over, are going to steal away any form of contentment you can muster up. If I don't return, I will be perceived as insensitive, but ultimately I think I'll be less happy to return. The world is not a good place to undergo any sort of personal changes, because they WILL affect others and reflect negatively back on you. This is sad, that I must throw away where I found comfort in order to return, only to satisfy others?

Sacrifice, sacrifice, I know. Everyone loves to talk about how you should always put others before yourself, but sometimes, I JUST WANT TO DO THINGS FOR ME. And I don't honestly care if that's "selfish," because everyone is selfish. There are a million things during the day that you could do to help others, and by failing to do them, we are all being selfish. As generalized and far-fetched as I made that sound, there must be some truth to it, or I wouldn't feel so insanely in the right. But, all fun rides have an end, and I just hope the picture taken of me comes out okay. I have a feeling it won't, but I won't know until later, when people are comfortable enough with me again to tell me what they think.

And for what am I doing this? I'm not sure. To leave a good reputation when I'm gone? I'll be gone, why do I care? I'm leaving so that I won't have to bother with reputation at all, so why do I care so damn much? I never have any idea about anything lately. It isn't until later, as per the theme of my life, that I notice how stupid my decisions were. I want to be able to look back a few months into my past, at any point in my life, and be satisfied, but it is so rare for me to be proud of who I have been.

And that, children, is sad. 

Which College?

So, I was accepted to the University of Georgia a while back, under an intended theatre major. However, upon closer inspection, I'm starting to worry that the theatre program at UGA is too general. When I was college hunting initially, I searched for Georgia colleges that offered Dramatic Writing degrees specifically, since I want to write, and not act. I'm worried that it is a little late to start re-thinking something like this, and I wish it had dawned on me sooner, but I honestly should have applied to SCAD despite how expensive it was.

People always talk about students making late college plans, and I wondered how that was possible when everything was so accessible back in October. Now, I think I know that students do this kind of thing late because they undergo this weird "I'm graduating, what do I REALLY want to do?" phase. We, as beings who enjoy stability, cannot blindly go to a nice college, and tell ourselves we will figure things out when we get there. We have to enter with some semblance of a plan, and my plan to pursue dramatic writing might be quashed if I go to UGA. I will be able to take the courses, but there don't appear to be many, and I do not want to be bogged down working in a field I enjoy, but STILL not focusing on my career (a la, a more colorful, theatre-filled repeat of high school).

I don't know if it is too late to start looking again, but it probably doesn't matter. SCAD and Emory, my original two choices, are the only Georgia schools I can find that offer specialized degrees in playwriting. A side of me refuses to accept the fact that I will just go to UGA, studying theatre generally without having what I WANT to be talented in expanded on, but some other terrifying monster of apathy is telling me just to go with it, and I'm afraid that as I grow older, I listen to this "do-nothing" attitude voice too often. I need to start being active in my life, which sounds like I'm trying to justify not attending a college I know wants me there, but... I don't know, something feels wrong about all of this. I will see, I suppose. Maybe I'll consult school guidance.

Prophet Needed, Cheap Rates

I've decided to stop worrying about all the "Selves" people can be, because its obviously natural and normal to experience such a confusing disarray of personality if everyone is doing it. I'm just going to go on assuming that the only reason no one cares and it doesn't affect them is that no one bothers to think about it, which is such a good idea. But new concepts have a way of invading your every thought once they've finally popped into being, and I'll never get away, but maybe I can convince myself I don't care. Anyways, to the topic of today:

The future is an interesting paradox. It is something that encompasses our entire being, a constant, ambiguous goal that we are always working toward, yet pay very little attention to. Or, even if we pay attention, we haven't been there and seen what it will be like, so all we can do is assume a bunch, try to train ourselves to be prepared, and hope for the best. Ever since I decided I wanted to be in chorus, I guess it was kind of set in stone that music would have SOMETHING to do with my future. I sent it to the back-burner after my first musical, deciding that acting was a better choice. So far, I have no security ahead of me, but I'm a child and I need to have dreams, it doesn't matter whether that these dreams might not come true. It was far ahead of me, so I didn't care too much. I knew I'd have to work hard to be successful in either music or theatre, but again, the time in which I would be faced with doing such hard work was so far ahead of me that it didn't seem to matter. Eventually, I took to writing. Now I was really confused, and after middle school and the beginning of high school, I just kind of mashed them altogether and decided I would write musicals. Why the heck not? I still had a few years to learn how, and college would send me into the real world completely ready for everything, right?

Well, now I'm not so sure. Of course the concept of music, plays, novels, composition, acting, and all the things related to creating musicals are deeply interesting. However, the execution of one big body of work incorporating all these concepts... will I ever finish one? And then, will it be good? And even if it is good to me, will people buy in on it? And even if people buy in on it, will everyone who needs to buy in on it to ensure profit and recognition BUY IN ON IT? Who knows? I say that I love to write, but I never do it. I try to sit there and hash out ideas, but I find myself constantly coming up with new vague concepts, starting them, and then throwing them out. The process could take months, just for the idea to be put on hold indefinitely. Is this what I want to do for a living, or what I want to want to do? Here comes the title:

I need a prophet to come out and give me a hazy vision of the future. Where, generally, will I be, and what will I be doing? Who knows? So if you're out there, gimme a call. We all worry about our futures, and isn't it so interesting that most of that worry is derived from our personal abilities? A myriad of outside circumstances could derail my future, even if I turn out to be a great composer/writer, but those things aren't important or worrying to me. I only care about whether I have the ability. Why? Maybe because these are the only things we can change? Then why do I do nothing to help myself? Why do we push the future even farther ahead of us, giving us the illusion that it will never come? It's always right around the corner, but how do I prepare for it? Should I write more? I just don't know. Can creativity be forced? I don't know. Oh well. Our futures are all unknown, and I guess that's what makes life exciting. But it would totally suck if the one thing I feel I can do, that gives me so many sensations of excitement and child-like wonder, turns out to be false.

Be Yourself, Or At Least One of Them

As I've mentioned before, I strongly believe we all play different roles in our daily lives. We seamlessly switch from one version of ourselves to another, utilizing the "self" that best fits the task at hand. Outgoing friend wants to hang out? Here comes Outgoing Tanner. School? Here comes Semi-Sarcastic, Mostly Apathetic, Slightly Depressed Tanner. When I try to think about who I really am, what it really means to be myself, I usually imagine the version of me that I admire at the time. Which changes. If I value "fun", I imagine that the self I want to show everyone is Outgoing Tanner. If I value "intellect", I choose School Tanner, although that one has become a rowdy little biotch lately who just gives no sharts about anything and would rather sit at home all day doing nothing than... well, do anything. Especially school. So what does it mean to be yourself? Is it short for, be the you you want to be at the moment? Because I'm seriously confused. I act different around a certain few people, and they would never know it because they only see that self. I'll find myself consciously saying and doing things out of my character, typically to either please them, or appease them (if they are scary people who take offense to everything)

Why can't I just be the all-encompassing awesome Tanner I know is in there somewhere when I feel like it. I want to just channel what "Myself" is, the true "Myself"; not the one that acts a certain way to get what he wants, like all my other selves. The one that has all the traits I value and is pretty roundabout efficient in social situations, and doesn't require a stimulant to succeed at everything. I guess asking questions is a step on the way to figuring just who the heck I am, which is the ultimate goal, but I usually just end up getting wrapped up in newer, more complex questions and find myself farther away from any answers. Life is confusing, and even more than that, it's exhausting. Something is always nagging on you, and if nothing is actually nagging on you, it's like you make your own problems. I look for things to whine about. Am I really that self-deprecatory, or is hating things just a crappy habit I've picked up. This apathy is also killing, but I will persevere at least until graduation. I hope that college has Self-Discovery 101 because I'ma need it.

Being With "Without"

It's a lot easier than it sounds, actually. The whole "doing without" concept is way underrated. You think a lot more, and sometimes you get so bored that you honestly can't help but do the "right" thing. Which is subjective of course, very much person to person. In my case, I sometimes find myself voluntarily reading. Which is strange to hear, or.. read, I guess, since most people have this huge misconception of me that I'm just this big ol' bookworm that basically drinks novels, eats whole a whole trilogy for breakfast, and then dumps out whole chapters when I do the do in the b-room. Well, it isn't true, and that's not something I'm proud to admit. I don't read nearly as much as I used to, and sometimes I have these things I like to call "novelty urges" where I get this intense craving to do something I consider a novelty, a rare pastime that some people do but I usually don't (like read or commit myself to a bath) and I get a few pages in.. Then I either just feel so insanely tired that I couldn't possibly go on, or I get bored. Thus sates the novelty urge, and it retires to its den for a few weeks.

So aside from reading, I've been searching for ways to find internet. I spent part of one day walking around my house, trying to find a signal from some unlocked network near my house (FAILED), then I walked down to the laundromat for about an hour before my mother's laptop started going out on me (FAILED), and now I typically just bum off my friend's interwebs. It's strange to know that my internet time is limited. I don't know exactly what to do when it's available, but I find my mind subconsciously coming up with a list of "Things That Interest Me That I Would Search Google For If I Could" when I'm lazing around at home. This list magically vanishes as I cross the threshold of my front door, which is ironically more of a side-back-side door thing, and then internet really doesn't serve me a lot of purpose. I think it's humorous/interesting how we will torture with "things that could be" until we have acquired the means to use them. "As soon as I get a job, I'll save for college." or "Now that school is back in, I'll do all my homework on time and take notes like crazy." or "Once I get out of prison, I promise I'll never drive, smoke weed, and tote my expensive Asian prostitute around like my sickly old grandmother every time I leave the house." It never lasts. You save a fifty here and there the first month. You take your notes diligently for the first week. That hooker basically lives in your car, taunting you with alcohol and weed. It's a lot easier to say you'll do (good) things when you have no real way of doing them. And that's my wisdom for today! Good night y'all, I'll post again someday soon.

Train + Train =

I think I'm something of a wreck lately. I don't know if I'm breaking any Blog Society rules by posting twice in one day, but I just feel like I really need to vent here for a minute. My emotional swings hit me like a damn train and then, we'll say I'm a train for the example, I (as a train) hit that train and then bam: I'm a wreck. Just scattered metal chunks and a whole lot of fire. On these days, I turn sullen. Everything looks different to me, like I'm a different person looking at things and have a whole different history that has led me to see everyday things differently and different different different, let's say different some more. That's another thing... I place so much importance behind "being different" and involuntarily make myself another sheeple. There is truly no winning.

I used to think the meaning of life was to experience things no else had, or maybe just experience them in a different way, feel differently about them, approach them DIFFERENTLY, and act differently, and vow to be different. But now, with the threat of senioritis on the verge and a strong sense of apathy washing over me, I can't bring myself to do anything out of the ordinary. Not that doing out of the ordinary things classified me as different in my book... I just mean, I can't break the routine. And the scary part is, I honestly don't want to. I find myself unnervingly content with coasting through day-to-day life, playing video games, eating, going to sleep at 7 in the morning and setting my alarm for 12, but then just ignoring the alarm. Sometimes I even reset it for 1, but then my body is like "OH HELL NAH, YOU ALREADY MADE THE MISTAKE BY GOING BACK TO SLEEP" and there I am bleary-eyed at 6 PM cursing myself. And what do I do? I go and play video games. And what would I have done with my extra time gained from waking up at 12? Play video games. Or go on the computer. I tell myself I'll go write and be productive and try to actually do what I want to do for a career (which happens to be writing plays) but then I just stop after scene 1 and can't bring myself to write anymore. Everything seems to take more effort than it should. And I just feel empty all the while. People are terrifying, school is terrifying, I quit my job because all the time it used up, no matter how little, felt like years of my life, which was terrifying... but all this childhood I'm trying to save up, I know I'll just use unproductively. I'm just a mess lately, and my usual thing is to go take on someone else's problems and figure it out for them, because I can always seem to help people that aren't myself... I feel even more empty after that. And when people ask what's wrong... I dunno, telling them just feels selfish. Like, "Hey you're invited to my party. PS. It's a pity-party and there is no cake, sorry kthxbye." 

Well, I've blabbered enough and I don't feel much better, which is sad, but I guess I'll go back to trying to write. 

Starting Agains

Once in a while I get the crazed notion to "start anew", which really just translates to, "find a new medium to vent about your feelings until you feel satisfied enough to get bored and move on to your regular old boring life". Well, here I am at "Blogger" with a totally anti-sexy somewhat pin-uppy profile pic and a hipster-speech edition of a first post riddled with exotic punctuation and general sass. For anyone searching the depths of this (what I assume to be) relatively unused form of social networking, I'm an 18 year old male, and I'm in high school. Which is the perfect foundation for a unique, interesting character in any novel or movie. I like to think of myself as more of a supporting character in a bunch of different movies than the main character of mine. That last statement definitely fits the whole hispter theme I've got going on here.

I'm here to make another (probably) failed attempt at getting my thoughts straight and down on (virtual) paper, with the sole goal of determining who exactly the hell I am supposed to be. I have a lot of images of myself, and though I definitely support the theory that the people in your life might know you better than you do, I honestly believe that I'm at least acquaintances with all the different people I play. And because of that, I am aware that each person likely only sees one of these acquaintances, and therefore, collectively, I know myself better! HA. Or, I'm at least on my way to knowing myself better... So, tune in for storytime taken straight from the fairytale book of Tanner Hall's life. I don't know how frequently I'll post, but... enjoy, I guess. Despite that this is for me, I don't mind someone making it for them too. Maybe I can help. Feedback requested. Affection accepted. Judgement denied. :)