"how are you?"

Is "How are you?" really an appropriate question to follow "Hello"?

Seriously. Consider the following exchange of greetings:

"Hello. How are you?"
"I'm fine. How are you?"
"I'm fine, as well. Thank you for asking."

Harmless, right? But it's not real. It's true, that often we might be fine but how often are we truly concerned about the state of the other person. And if we are truly concerned, can we just assume that they want to share?

I mean, I'm not saying that all our contact with people is superficial. I feel very free to tell many people how horrible I feel. But it is impossible to engage in real introspective conversation every time you run into someone. In fact, I find when I really care how someone is, I'm a little more cautious to ask the question - I make sure I have the time and listening energy before I proceed.

For the most part, I think the "How are you?" routine is just a way to lengthen the greeting - a way to make us feel like we're making contact and do you know what? It is much more pleasant than singular hellos from either end. And to be honest, I don't usually answer the question truly. I usually say I'm fine even if I might not feel fine. Sometimes I say I'm fine before even thinking about it, because the question has lost meaning.

In fact, I think we can argue that the "How are you?" routine is like the secret handshake of civilized society. We expect people to know how the script goes, and when they follow through, we list them in our Nice People Club.

promiscuous girl

For the record, I'm not promiscuous. I'm pretty afraid of things like that. That being said, I think I can really understand it. I can understand why people would go too far physically to be close to someone or to many people.

I think I kind of do that, emotionally rather than physically. Sometimes when I want someone to be close to me or when I want someone to like me, I'll start telling them things that are maybe too personal for the current level of relationship. I mean, if I start pushing that comfort line, maybe it'll actually move. I think it's emotional promiscuity. I'm revealing myself to anyone and everyone.

I mean, because after a while, maybe too many of my feelings will lose their sacredness, and they'll instead become showy.

On the flipside, maybe this is just an elaborate excuse to keep to myself. I'm not so good at balance.

acting emotions

Acting is weird. I've never taken an acting class before coming to Sheridan and I'm only now beginning to realize that there's something dangerous about it.

I remember at theatre camp last summer (so I guess I lied - that was a sort of acting class), I did a monologue where I cried in it. It was about puppies dying. Mary Francis Moore told me that it was good that I was "feeling it" but that it just wasn't practical to put yourself through those crazy emotions every time you run the show. Since then, I haven't heard very much about actors protecting their emotional lives. If we are breaking down and on the edge of sanity, we're not supposed to take a break - we're supposed to use it in the scene. That's CRAZY, man.

So, let's say something bad happens to me. Do I use it then? Do I find a scene that requires me to be really upset? Will that be helpful to me? Will it be cathartic or will it just get me confused about my emotional state? If it helps my acting, do I go looking for bad things to happen to me? Do I make okay things into super emotional ones to feed my creative power?

I'm sure there are answers to all these questions, but none of them are probably very definite. Answers to real questions are usually "Yes, but..." or "No, unless..."

People go to the theatre to watch people have big emotions - so big that they can't find them in their lives everyday. How are people to pretend that?

hardeep gave me the gift of time

At 7:25 I was driven to the GO train station for the 7:55 train that would put me in Oakville by 8:15, then I went on another bus to Sheridan. I arrived there at 8:45. Morning travel time: 50 minutes.

After school, I went to go visit my super cool friend in Hamilton, so I left school at 15:30 and went to the bus stop. After waiting for 15 minutes, I realized I didn't have a ticket and would have to walk to the Oakville GO station. I got there for the 16:09 train, which was late by 7 minutes, but I was able to land in Hamilton for 17:03. Afternoon travel time: 1 hour and 33 minutes.

After my delightful dinner with my super cool friend, I went to the bus stop for 19:11. After waiting for about 40 minutes for my proper bus, I asked the bus driver of another bus where I could catch it. She said that I should just keep on waiting, but when I expressed my unwillingness to do so, she suggested that I just hop on that bus and transfer downtown. Eventually I arrived home at 21:01. Evening travel time: 1 hour and 50 minutes.

In summary, today I travelled on two different trains, five busses, and one automobile, for a grand total of four (4) hours and thirteen (13) minutes. That's right. Over four hours of transit time today.

I miss Hardeep.

"i never meant to hurt you"

Mark today in your calendars, people. I made history. Today, I got in my very first car accident.

It's okay, everyone. I'm fine. Hardeep*, however, is definitely not. I was driving behind another car and then he braked hard and I couldn't brake fast enough. I rear-ended him on the Skyway bridge. His rear bumper is a bit unhinged and Hardeep is very hurt. The hood is bent. You can see his insides with a mere tilt of the head.

I'm upset. Hardeep and I have really bonded over the last couple months. He took me to my first day of school, he listened to me practise, he took me to dates and hosted serious conversations. I know he's just a car and that even giving a car a name is ridiculous. But I'm sad. It's really upsetting to see him so bent.

I feel so stupid for getting into an accident. On one hand I don't know what else I could have done. I wasn't tailgating and I braked as hard as I could. On the other hand, I know I do some stupid things when I'm driving - like change CDs or eat or try and dry my hair. But I wasn't doing that then. I don't know. Like, if the car in front of me could brake that fast, why couldn't I? Was I zoned out?

I'm going to have to take a GO train tomorrow. Which means I'll have to leave my house at about 6:30. Oy vey.

Poor Hardeep.




*Hardeep is the name of my car. He is named after the very abrasive, very funny man who sold him to us.

top 40

Since Hardeep* has become a major presence in my life, I have put all of my CDs within reaching distance of the drivers seat. This will ensure that I'll always have something to listen to. Oddly enough, I still find myself listening to the radio.

I'm not really a Top 40 kind of person, nor do I really listen to the traffic or weather. The only reason I turn on the radio is because I don't want to bother to choose my music. If I don't like my music, I'm stuck with the consequences of my choices, but if it's the radio and I don't like it, it's not my fault.

Isn't that weird?




*Hardeep, of course, is the name of my car.

the first lap

I have completed one school week, and it's exhausting to think that this is just the first in a series of repeating units. I have twelve more tap dancing classes, twelve more Shakespeare lectures, twelve more singing tutorials... it feels like a lot. And, of course, it's not like I'm counting down - it's just interesting to begin a routine. To think, every Monday morning, I'll start off the week with jazz dancing. Does this seem totally absurd to anyone else but me?

It's like running laps. The first one's all cool because it's your first one, but then you start to worry because that one lap wasn't extremely easy and you've already decided to do ten more. So you start the second one but with a little bit of panic because you're kind of already out of breath. "Can I really do ten?!" you say to yourself and you run around. "Maybe I'll just do five. No! I can't just give up like that. I've done this before. Was it always this hard? Should my legs be cramping this much this soon? Maybe I'm being too ambitious. I'm so tired. I hate running. No wait, I'm almost half-done my second lap. You can do it. I hope. Otherwise, you're pathetic." Running is mentally exhausting for me.

Anyway, here is the concern. One week of school and I'm tired. I've done EngSci. Does that mean anything in this totally different context? I often think that I can do anything - but, often (especially when it comes to running), that's not totally honest.

I also have this fear that as I am able to be more creative in real life, my blog will no longer be necessary as a creative outlet. So, I might post, but on top of it being depressing*, it'll be boring, too. How ridiculous is this? "Oh no! My creative expression is in real life rather than in my BLOG!" Being irrational is funny.




*That's right, everyone. I'm aware that my blog's depressing. Deal with it. It's supposed to be honest, jerks. I think I'll go turn off the lights and cry because I'm so misunderstood. I might even write an emo song.

eskited

Today went well and I am PSYCHED. I kinda get a similar feeling to when I started Eng Sci. All the professors were talking about The Next Four Years, and how it would change our lives and all the great people we would meet. They were right, of course. Eng Sci was difficult, and it did change my life and I met so many great people.

But for this, I'm actually really looking forward to the classes. I going to learn how to sing and dance and act! Not that classical mechanics wasn't fun (It was. I'm not being facetious.), but it's not like it was ever my dream to be able to do it. It was never my deep desire to be able to find a wave function for a finite potential well, unlike singing or acting well.

Boo yeah!

I'm really tired.

meet your fellow hot-air ballooners

This is a conversation that happened on Sunday:
"Guess what I'm doing three days from now!"
"Umm... You're going on a hot-air balloon ride?"
Pause. "Not a literal one."

Yesterday, I met a few of the other Music Theatre students. Now, I've posted before about how weird it is to meet a new group of people, except in this case, I'm not scoping out for good-looking boys, because 1. I'm going to be in a class with these people for a while; and 2. It's musical theatre, people. The boys are all very gay or very vain*. There is a very different feeling in this group than other groups I've met. They are all very talented, many of them are very young, and many of them are very experienced (in theatre). This feeling, I think, is a new type of intimidation. I've talked about how very blessed I was to get in, and now, I am comparing myself to all the people that very reasonably got in without as much divine intervention. So one hand, I'm thankful, but on the other hand, I'm FREAKED.

I'm putting my heart out there. This is something I really want to be good at, unlike engineering. We all want to be good, but I want to be good at this. Here goes nothing.





*The very vain straight boys in musical theatre is to be expected, and they can hardly be blamed. After all, being in a place where there are so many girls, they are bound to be desired and hooked up as much as they want, logically leading to vanity.

trying to lean forward

"The Selection Committee was most impressed with your achievements to date and with your potential for success at Sheridan. We wish you every success!"

I moved back to Stoney Creek yesterday and had this letter waiting for me. Thoughts:
1. Yay! I'm being looked after.
2. Yay! I have a room and drawers.
3. Ooh, wait. I'm not in Toronto, anymore...

The Almighty Selection Committee (to whom I am very grateful) was "most impressed" with what I've done so far. What have I done so far? I wrote a neat little essay to them a few months ago telling them how awesome I was, but I failed to convince myself.

A friend gave me a quote from On the Road.

"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? It's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."