323 Facebook friend... requests.

This may sound stupid to admit, but I literally have 323 Facebook friend requests collecting dust. Some of these thumbnail photos I recognize, while as with others, I do not. Yeah, I went to high school with you, but we’ve never talked. Sure, you and I cheered on the same squad. Okay, we had one class together, but did we ever communicate? Have you ever once said, “Hey, Eliza, how are you?” I don’t think so. And this, my dear friend request lingerer, is why you are still in my “I guess I’ll decide later” pile.

It’s not that I never hit the “confirm” or “not now” button, because I do quite frequently, but it’s just that I have a funny feeling that some of these requesters won’t ever actually communicate with me upon confirmation. Why do you want to be Facebook friends with someone, if you never leave an occasional comment or two? If we never talked in middle school, if we never talked in high school, then why would you request to be my friend years down the road if you know you won’t talk to me now?

I think that Facebook is a place for the 500 million users to communicate with the people they feel most comfortable sharing personal information with. I don’t think the girl in my math class that sat in the back right corner, who also never talked to me, needs or cares to know what I do on my free day from the college chaos.

So as it stands, my 323 friend requests will slowly start to diminish, for I realize that half of the requests are from peers from the past, not the present.

I express my emotions on paper, not on my face.

My poems and short stories are filled with rage, passion, lust, hatred and emotions that could make you just plain confused. I write so much about emotion, about the unknown and quite simply, I tend to write excessively about things that you can not see, but perhaps just feel.

It’s funny really, that I don’t vent much aloud, but when it comes time to put my pen to paper, I rant. I scribble. I just go at it. When I’m upset, I’ll use metaphors to show you how angry I am. When I’m ecstatic, I’ll use similes to instantly put smiles across your face.

When it comes to weather, scenery, or experiences, I can write about them all. But the difficulty lies at the get-go with those subjects. Even though they are all worthy of beautiful descriptions and details to make them original pieces of work, the passion behind those stories falls somewhat short due to my lack of love, hate, etc. If only seeing a movie so great moved me to the extent of “love”, I would probably be able to write a more moving movie review. But because I tend to surround myself with people, not abnormal places or moving pictures, my emotions are much more heightened when I am expressing my feelings toward other people.

Yeah, emotions drive me to do crazy things.

Emotions drive me to write crazy things.

Dare it, wear it.

To be quite blunt, I don’t give an effing hoot what people think about me and I honestly never have. I don’t feel like I have anything to prove to most people and that pretty much just allows me a whole bundle of freedom in my self-expression. Some blondes are afraid to wear yellow because they claim it may clash with their hair, some with “bigger bums” are hesitant to wear tight-fitting jeans and some gals may even stray away from headbands decorated with enormous feathers and flowers, but not me.

Ever since I was little, figuring out eccentric and unique ways to pin my clothes, I’ve managed to score looks that are somewhat unusual. It doesn’t hurt that I have many, many vintage items thanks to my step-mom, friends, ex-boyfriend’s family, and whoever else that comes to me claiming “I can’t pull this off, so here, it’s yours.” It’s not only flattering hearing “you’ve got what it takes to make this look”, but it’s also just another fun thing that I like to play with artistically.

I wear obvious shirts as dresses, toddler shoes due to my tiny foot, mix-matched colors (but never patterns) and I’m not afraid of a little blue eye shadow for the right occassion either.

You know, I may wear some things that people would never even dare to put on, but I thoroughly enjoy it. My fashion sense is a part of who I am, and I don’t plan on ever changing it, just updating it as time goes on!

I have a full supply of nervous energy

There are 60 pieces of gum in my purse at any given moment and I know this to be a fact. I have tons of nervous energy that I somehow can’t seem to simmer. So what do I do? I bite my lips, I chew gum, I twirl my hair and I talk. A lot.

But why do I do these things? Well, I’m sure I over-analyze just about anything and everything to the point where I need some type of outlet. And this is where my foot-shaking phenomenons begin.

This anxious energy doesn’t only progress during the day time. Laying in bed, I have the same problem, if not worse. It must take me somewhere between 1-2 hours to actually fall asleep due to the busy bustle of that day running around in my head.

“Why did my professor say that? What will I eat for breakfast? Did I complete my voice log for today?”

I really don’t have to worry about any of these questions because they will all be answered, but I just for whatever reason can’t help it.

The “What If” questions really roll through my head and make every situation look possible, which makes me more and more anxious.

I don’t know how people sit in silence, calm and collectively. I don’t know how people walk .234908 miles per hour and I don’t know how people have the patience to sustain a full conversation over and over again for the 10th time.

I don’t know how people do it and sometimes I wish I did.

I miss you, stage

Sometimes sitting in class feels completely pointless to me. I don’t get the rush of passion burning through my body when I’m reading the steps on logarithms or when I’m researching which vocal folds to open and close for the Irish dialect. Don’t get me wrong, it’s all extremely interesting, but do I live for this? Would I lose sleep over these subjects if they weren’t in my life? No. But the one subject that I took a break from this semester, stupidly and on purpose, I lose more sleep over than you could ever imagine.

Not acting this semester has put me in a funk. I have used other subjects as outlets, fillers almost, just to pass time until I can audition for the next play or get my hands on some type of stage work. When this semester started and auditions rolled around, I didn’t have my monologue prepared, I was frazzled and distracted with an 18 credit hour semester load, and I didn’t think much of taking a semester away from the stage... Until I actually did.

My passion is just to perform. I love to sing, to dance, I love being an on-air personality for WFCF 88.5 and I’m in true love, and possibly lust, with acting. As soon as I get my hands on a script, I indulge myself into that character and figure out exactly what makes them squirm, what makes them tick and what they’re really all about. You see, that’s what it’s all about and that’s what keeps me up night after night.

I'm happy. In the future.

It’s not really fair to say that I’m not satisfied in the present, but I’m strongly inclined to. I’m looking forward to my future so much that sometimes I by-pass days without even realizing that I’m doing so. I am so focused on who I will be, what I will doing, and where I will be, that sometimes I struggle with admitting happiness in the present day. And it’s not that I'm not happy, but I just know I will be much more satisfied when I can say that I am without a doubt... successful.

It’s always a worry of mine; not knowing what’s going to happen drives me crazy. And expectations are just another conflict in this whole “future-happiness” scenario. When I have expectations, nine times out of ten I don’t get what I expect and I am left highly disappointed. But when I don’t have expectations, I over-exceed.

Somehow I wish that I could just know what the future held. I mean, how much easier would it be to fast-forward and see your successes unfold? You wouldn't have self-doubt, you would have the right amount of self-discipline and you'd have the sure knowledge that you can just relax, and that everything will pay off in the end.

Procrastinate, you procrastinator.

Okay, okay. This has gone on for far too long. Procrastination is a serious cycle, people, and don’t even try to deny it. You see, this rushed type of lifestyle has unfortunately engulfed my calendar, and what’s left of my social life. And the worst part is that I honestly feel like I have a reason for procrastinating, not an excuse.

I procrastinate so heavily because I am always doing something else! It’s actually quite ridiculous.

Time crunches are the worst. The night before something is due, when you get that awful feeling in the pit of your worried tummy, it aches. The feeling that you know something is due, but still haven’t done it yet. The plan backfires and you end up feeling guilt-stricken after your not-so-hot grade is staring you straight in the face. And why do we all do it? Well, as the saying goes, “everyone has their reasons”.

I “procrastinate” (or if that’s what you like to call it) because I’m usually doing something else that needs to get done, when I should be doing something else that also needs to get done. One thing always seems to shuffle in right after the other, and before you know it, I’ve racked up some heavy inkage on my calendar. Some assignments just blur around other more important ones, and my time management seems to do swirls on my agenda.

But seriously, as in the words of my fellow peers, “If you get it done... whatever".