Where's my prune juice?

I dunno, I’m starting to feel old.

Not in the sense of “Geez, my knees and joints hurt,” but more like the, “Shut it and grow up already.” I’m afraid I’m growing out of the college lifestyle more and more each day. I mean, that’s not a bad thing. I don’t want to be thirty, questioning if my (hypothetical) current situation is also my future and is what I want to be doing. I know what I want to do. I know what I want to do till then. I. Am. Enlightened. And I like it.

But. More than that, I’m getting irritated by the immaturity that comes with living on campus. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do in the building, I love my staff, I love creating the sense of a community and the working environment, and for the most part I love the residents; it’s the mentality from the select few, the “Oh, let’s do this to bother them,” and the “Let’s get drunk every night,” that really annoys me. Is there an true honest answer for why people do those things? To do things for the sake of doing things, for the rush, whatever: To jump out of an airplane is one thing; to intentionally cause chaos because “it’s cool” is another.

Hey kid, in your future, also known as the majority of your life, there is no such thing as “the cool kid.” You won’t be throwing parties forever, you won’t be playing beer pong every night, and you’ll be going to sleep and waking up at reasonable hours.

It bothers me that a lot of these younglings don’t have a shred of an idea of respect or an inkling of maturity; what bothers me more is that I don’t see a chance of them ever garnering that. This isn’t me being a pessimist; I’ve already seen loads of people with more degrees than me, more years than me, more talent than me, more money than me that act eight years younger than me. And they aren’t aware of it, but they are proud of the few, non-beneficial things that they’ve done. My brain and abilities, what I can and will do, are my prides and therein lies the difference.

GROWTH. EXPERIENCE. MATURITY. That is life. That is every day, even if you don’t feel it, even if you don’t want it. It’s not something that can be washed away or put aside. Embrace it. Recognize it. Learn from things; don’t feel that you have to fight it. Who knows, you might end up liking yourself a whole lot more.

Memphis: The Musical

Interracial relationship!? Cue the SCANDAL.

I got a chance to see Memphis (Tony winner!) last night (instead of Reel Big Fish, two doors down. Boo.) and boy, was I in for a surprise. Hock. A. Doo.

I think this is the first time I saw a Broadway show not knowing what to expect (Xanadu- I don't think anyone knew what to expect; my first time seeing Les Miserables, I was too young to grasp the concepts. Liked the music though). Something about rhythm and blues, rock and roll, integration, what have you? More specifically, a white man gets a radio job, begins to play "race music" on a predominantly white station (with an affinity for Roy Rogers), falls in love with a budding black singer, and fights for integration while rarely dealing with the consequences? Sure! I mean, I liked Hairspray.

Integration? Check. Love story? Check.
Jerome Robbins' inspired choreography? Check.

The music, the choreography (Sergio Trujillo has a bunch of Jerome Robbins' works under his belt) is amazing. It was enough to keep me happy for the entire night. It's fun, it's snazzy, it's modern yet classical Broadway. It was refreshing to see something 95% original. The costumes, something I rarely pay attention to, were to die for, particularly Felicia's dresses. And the set design was something I had never seen; one minute you're downstairs in the club with the sidewalk visible in the upper windows, the next, you're in a department store or radio station. That alone exceeded my expectations. Conceptually, visually, Memphis succeeded on every level.

"NOT" a nod to Little Richard. Or James Brown. Or anyone else.

It did fail in some areas though. The simple story was a bit weak and definitely fantasized- integration on the television and radio would definitely not be that easy. I know Hairspray made it look easy, but Hairspray didn't deny its comical nature and completely accepted that it was a happy-go-lucky. There was a murky balance between comedy and seriousness. It seemed like it didn't know where to go and was unconvinced in either aspect, and as a result, both sides were, well... half-assed. It was trying to be normal while trying to be Superman as well. As a result, I didn't care about the story so much as I cared about the next toe-tapping number; I didn't care for Huey as much as I cared for the supporting character of Gator; and I was more excited for the ensemble pieces than the solos. And I didn't know whether to love Huey or hate him; his ignorance was both sweet and irritating. I was satisfied with the ending, "Oh okay. That's nice"- but not in an overwhelming matter, rather thinking "This is a great song!" But was I looking for perfection? No. There's only so many times I can be absolutely blown away, like with Les Miserables or The Producers. I was looking for some feel-good entertainment. I got it.

More than anything, Memphis is FUN. It has memorable performances from all the characters, all of which require a mad amount of talent. We get to see Montego Glover and dozens of other performers at their finest. The music is really layered and rich and fits the time period perfectly. There's enough gospel to inspire and enough rhythm and blues to dance to. There's references to Michael Jackson, James Brown, Dick Clark. And the character of Mama, as she accepts that the world is getting a little smaller? Priceless.

Where Memphis wins is in its enthusiasm to perform its biggest and best numbers- where the dancers can really shine and the singers can belt. That was enough for me to thoroughly enjoy and even sing the end number on the ride back. Highly recommended, though I wouldn't say to get too invested in the story; just sit back and let your eyes and ears feast.

Don't be fooled. This guy can get BUSY.

Don't judge. There is such a thing as a logical, proper rebound.

Did you know that I apparently have a masculine mentality of a thirty two year old woman?

First things off: I'm not going to pretend I am a completely innocent woman; and my admittance of that and the following (as well as my super-classy presentation, might I say) sets me apart from the majority of peers/members of both sexes. Perhaps it is my unwavering, unfailing faith in that cliched phrase, "The facts speak for themselves"; or it could be attributed to my acknowledgment, not denial, of said-facts. Whatever the case, understand that I attempt to be as logical and as reasonable as possible; in 75% of situations, I believe that personal emotions can actually hamper sympathy and detract form the truth.

Not this kind.

Back to the title: Contrary to popular belief, rebounds are not entirely useless; in fact, they are more helpful than people give them credit for. They are often misunderstood, misused devices, mostly when it is not realized or acknowledged as such. A rebound can be used to one's advantage; but it needs to be recognized and not denied for its full effect to work.

Yes, I had one recently (not a "full" one by some standards), and it was needed. I will try to explain as much as I can so some people do not get the wrong impression of me (i.e. judge me as something I am not because they do not truly know me or the circumstances which surround said-rebound). I am aware that people will always judge; it is a natural instinct I cannot prevent. However, what I can do is explain myself as honestly as possible so that, for the right people, the quality of human understanding (that I believe so strongly in) can take precedence over the urge to jump to conclusions (something I also like to call "stirring the pot).

If you have been following this blog (I know, it's hard when I update so little), you would know that 2011 and I aren't BFF. Forever clouding over the more important subjects I should be worrying about is the victimization of my personal life, better known as four years of romantic hell that suddenly decides to rampage my life when I think I'm in the clear. When my semester ended, I boarded a plane for Rome and proceeded to have the best month of my life.

My ultimate goal on the trip was to enjoy life and other people, on my own, as I have for so long- however, I had forgotten how. Prior to this, I had been forced to experience how someone can bring my entire morale down and my subsequent attitude towards life and others was incredibly negative. Any sort of learning and experience I prided myself on was suddenly shattered.

We, as people, base our lives on our connections to one another, always desire for feel needed and wanted, the constant pressure of companionship (not necessarily romantic). I feel that over the past few years and in my maturity into a woman, I have become reasonably (an much more swiftly than others) independent, confident, patient, motivated, ambitious, and straightforward in my emotions and relationships. In finding myself in the unfamiliar state of vulnerability, I admit, I welcomed that feeling of being needed and wanted. Enter rebound.

I knew what it was. I took it for what it was. I was not looking to completely fill a void, because (despite what Cosmo tells you) people never really heal. I did not search for something more. I did not look to replace, but rather substitute.

Is it what I needed? Yes. However, by no means did I want to keep it: the rebound-relationship did its job though it was nothing terribly special and there was nothing about it that I would feel compelled to explore further. Though it may not have been spectacularly, intellectually ideal or interesting, the superficial and purely physical (ahem, not that physical, you pervs) and ridiculously frivolous distracted me for a good amount of days which was what I was looking for.

I understand it is this exact admittance of meaninglessness and lacking purpose is what people may find confusing and wrong; but it would be worse of me to claim that I was searching for something long-lasting and that I had found it, when I definitely had not. List of given circumstances: my wrecked state of mind, a quite uncomfortable age gap (of mostly mental integrity and maturity), and the most unreasonable of distances. It would be blasphemy if suddenly, I were willing to look over these things; I never have and I never will make exceptions: if the signs in the jungle point to a tiger, I'd rather take the time to find the ones that point to a village. To hope for perfect companionship would have been entirely unreasonable and unfair. Truthfully, I am grateful for the many imperfections this particular person had because it was much easier to let go than had I become attached.

For short bursts, I forgot about the previous relationships; and when I now look upon it, it does hurt less. Why? Through my adventures and meetings of new people, I was reminded of my belief of the human race's nonstop search for companionship with each other, paired with my firm disbelief in soul mates. My happiness, my misery, does not depend on just one entity. My feminine mentality and my independence was finally returned to me and I am happy for it. I was able to regain my womanly integrity and strength that I have worked to hard to build. My motivation to find what I want in and from people has returned.

In admitting my reasons, actions, and after-effects of a rebound, what does that make me? It is so hard to judge a good explanation, though it seems to happen often.

For the person who did judge me as "like that," (which I'm sure most of us know the connotations): you clearly do not know me. What did you think I was like then? You do not know my philosophies and theories, my firm hand on my own morals and values and why I have them. You cannot ignorantly judge those who you do not even try to know; this is a treason against logic and what makes us human. I have tried as often as possible to get to know people without judging them; but this is difficult when it is not reciprocated, especially by the rudest and most obscene of people. Nevertheless, I find myself sometimes defending those who have most wrongly offended me; perhaps I put too much faith in the simplest of people, which only further demonstrates patience and willingness to learn over stupidity. It is situations like these that show people's true colors. Those who unfairly judge will never be considered our true friends simply because they do not attempt to understand a person's core at it's most honest and vulnerable state; but this only does an injustice to themselves as they are detached from the compassionate essence of humanity.

Space Filler

A brief summery of my trip aka THE BEST MONTH OF MY LIFE. Yes, this is a space filler until I have something more interesting to put.

No kidding, I have a Tumblr?

Wow. I forgot I already set one of these up. I've taken a huge break from blogging, but am trying to come back. Mostly, I've been over at here (sparingly, as you can see) because they let me just write and write without getting caught up in too much else. Plus, they have easy set ups and layout changes. But I'll give Tumblr a decent, fair whirl around this time as well.

What have I been up to? Touring across the pond. Working. Attempting to watch all seasons of The Ultimate Fighter, including the past two (that's a total of thirteen). Rejoicing over the comeback of the NFL. (With those last two points, still not a lesbian. Sorry. Here's some girly stuff:) Telling myself not to go shopping. Being really excited for my cousin's wedding and the heels I have for it. Trying to mentally prepare myself for the shit-ton of work that's coming up in the fall. My master's degree is ever looming before me. We'll see how that goes.

On top of all that, I FEEL WICKED OLD. I'll end this with two quotes from the ever-wise Bilbo Baggins, that I may or may not elaborate on in the near future.

"I'm old, Gandalf. I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart. I feel... thin. Sort of stretched, like... butter scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday. A very long holiday."

"Age, it seems, has finally caught up with me."

Mid-life crisis already? Bring it on, biznatches.