The thought of you and where you've gone...And the world spins madly on.

For those of you who are in Sewickley, I'm sure you've already heard. Robby, Brian's older brother, died on Friday the 24th of cardiomyopathy. He was 24.

It was very sudden, and unexpected, and awful, and I was in Baltimore when I got the call on Friday night, and am now back in Pittsburgh as of this afternoon. I bought a bus ticket out as soon as I could. Brian is one of my best friends, and Robby and Lauren were close, and I KNEW this person. I SAW him my last week in Pittsburgh this past May. It's surreal and absurd and so utterly unreal.

There isn't anything to say except that we're all grieving. God, bless and be with Brian and his family. Heal their hearts.

I'll be here 'til Wednesday--if you're in town, give me a call.

-Alyssa

That Sinking Feeling, or These Things Come In Threes

I've had a surfeit of helplessness since I got home.

Not just in me--I've been seeing it everywhere. From talking about a cement-trapped patient in Grey's Anatomy to helping Lauren illustrate a boy who can't tie his shoes, it's coming at my from all sides.

And the weirdest thing is how STRONGLY I'm reacting.

I burst into tears talking about Grey's Anatomy--Lauren was properly embarassed of me--I got overwhelmed by the image of a trapped, panicked person and I started to cry--and not just cry, SOB. I dry-sobbed for twenty seconds before getting a hold of myself. I've always had a fear of being confined (claustrophobia and all that). Lauren brought it up in front of Brian again tonight and I teared up. I'm starting to freak out now.

Moving on.

My own illustrations even made me upset--the helpless expression I drew on the little boy broke my heart.

Watching Veronica Mars trapped in an old refrigerator tightened a fist around my heart, just for a moment.

This will be my tenth post tagged "Helplessness".

Why do I feel helpless? Trapped? Is it because I have no job prospects and $500 of rent is due June 1st? That's part of it, I'm sure. Is it because I have a thesis proposal to write and no fucking clue what I want to do? Is it because I know I'm going to sink under my workload next year? Is it because I'm not sure my art is good enough?

UGH. I'm disgusted with myself! I want to be able to say to myself, like Mom and Melissa can say, "God is handling it, it will be fine", but I don't think God will be dropping off an envelope full of money for me, or give me any more ease with my interpersonal relationships or learning how to sell myself and my art. I know He's got me, but I also know I've got this controlling part of me for a reason--it motivates me to want more than to step off. But, I can have all the aggression in the world, but with no outlet or opportunity, that means nothing.

I know I'll be taken care of, even if I have to ask for help (number one brand of shame for me--it's a long story why, maybe I'll tell it one day), and I know opportunities will pop up, but I'd just rather be DOING something then waiting here with no control.

It's like with Robin and Marla--I'm inert, ready to move forward in both situations, but I have to wait until I GET there, SEE them, be ACTIVE. I'm oddly lazy in that way--I want to move forward with Robin and Marla and be friends, and I want to be working and earning money for rent, etc. BUT, I'm only too eager to forgo the part where I have to take a risk--talking to employers, talking to Marla (not so much Robin). The place where I'm in danger of rejection. My least favorite place of all time, saving the place of shame. Although I guess shame comes with both.

I am happy--I had a really good night with Brian and Lauren, and I got to see Abby and Joey this past weekend and that was AWESOME.

I am happy, but I am not secure. I won't be until I have enough money for two months of rent in the bank.

Sheesh. I need to take a chill pill and go to SLEEP. It's 4 AM for goodness' sake.

See you all in the morning--love, love, love--

-A.

Happy Valentine's Day!

[The nurse] doesn't know that I'm strangely euphoric, sitting here thinking about how lucky I am to have so much to lose — my rock, my mystery, the love of my life — that I'm sitting here thinking 'in sickness and in health'. 'I will,' I think. 'I do.' But all I can say is yes. "Yes. That's my husband." (From this article.)

Happy Valentine's Day to everyone! Can I start by saying Robin is cute and he designed me an adorable, thoughtful Valentine. :)

I'm actually having a fairly shit day. The Godspell production was canceled, and I didn't find out until I got to the church and heard about the canceled audition, then the canceled show entirely. They're moving it to September.

I'm really, really, incredibly disappointed. I was looking so forward to this, and it was so perfectly timed. Now I'm not sure why I heard about it in the first place--as far as a Plan is concerned. To teach me about disappointment? (I think I know all about that one, thanks.) Something bigger and better coming down the line (which I can hope for, but I can't know)?

I don't know if I ever indicated this to any of you, but you know how most people, when something bad happens, try to reward themselves? Buy Ben and Jerry's, go out, stay in and do something fun? I'm the opposite of that. When something good happens, I reward myself, but when something bad happens, I tend to want to punish myself, even if it wasn't my fault. And I don't mean self-harm or anything like that, I just mean I want to let myself wallow. I deny myself anything that might make me feel better--it's perfect timing that my roommates aren't here to try and cheer me up.

Maybe I'll try and break that bad habit and buy myself some shoes. And gelato. And stay in and work on art for the night.

Are you guys doing anything special? Going out? Staying in?

I love you all--you're all my Valentines! :D

-A.

:(

I can't say I've been enjoying myself thus far. My luggage is missing, and I was locked out of my apartment last night (thankfully I was with Melissa and we knew where some classmates lived so we could ask to stay--although it's illegal to have overnight guests due to anti-terrorist laws. SRSLY.)

My apartment is actually very nice--we have a spiral staircase. Unfortunately I haven't been able to enjoy it because of my stress over my luggage. I feel like I'm constantly crying, which is horribly embarrassing, because I know I should be enjoying this despite the problems.

Also, no wireless in my apartment, which means no Skype until we make a specific date. If anyone has a day/time, I'd be happy to work around it.

Wish me luck with everything working itself out. I'll try and update soon.

I miss you guys very, very much.

Love,
A.

Open mouth, insert gun.

This morning was beyond dreadful.

Waking up with Robin was great, and getting yet ANOTHER set of passport photos wasn't that fun, but not a hassle, and securing postage was easy.

Even going to the wrong address at first was fine--we had plenty of time, and Robin knows his way around the city.

I admit, I was a little nervous that I wouldn't have precisely the proof of insurance they needed, but I was prepared to beg. So, we got there, and took the elevator to the ninth floor. This gorgeous girl at the front desk helped us out, and after looking over my information (the insurance card was enough), told me that I needed my MOM's original bank statement instead of my own (which they didn't specify when I asked for a full list of necessary documents earlier in the week), and a new current enrollment letter from MICA, AND a notarized copy of an affidavit signed by my mother (basically ANOTHER notarized financial support letter aside from the one I already had) with a notarized photocopy of her driver's license.

Basically, I was too shocked and trying to stay businesslike to freak out right away, but as soon as I got all of the information and turned to leave the office, my voice broke and I stood sobbing into Robin's shoulder in the hallway while we waited for the elevator. So I basically cried all the way back to campus, then pulled myself together for about three minutes to request an enrollment letter, then collapsed in tears in the seating area, then pulled myself together again to get the Sewickley Library to accept and hold a fax of the affidavit for my mom, then cried on the phone to my mom, then got my letter, sent the fax, and came home to cry at Betsy.

I've sent the fax, and I am now waiting to recieve the signed-and-notarized packet back in the mail from my mother so I can go spend $30 to get it overnighted to Philadelphia so I don't miss my flight.

I'm better now--still raw-nerved, but better. I'm just incredibly overwhelmed. I'm cutting it close as it is, but at this point I'll just be wishing against wish that I get the stamp back in time for my flight.

Dear God, it's been mostly smooth sailing thus far, and I know I needed a challenge to prove that I really want this and that I appreciate all the obstacles you've removed, but did the challege really have to come on the second day of my most painful period ever? REALLY?

God. I just. URG.

I just need a nap. God dammit.

Love you all,

A

WashingTON, WashingTON.

I went to Washington, DC today with hopes of applying for my student visa. It was a pleasant trip, but let me elaborate:

I woke up at 9:40, and lazed in bed 'til 10, having stayed up until four with Robin at the desk. I finally rallied and dressed, then checked MARC train times and DC maps to make sure of where I was going (Embassy Row in Dupont Circle).

I got to Penn Station to catch the 11:40am train, and two girls about my age asked me if I was part of the Johns Hopkins Pre-Law DC visit to GW and Georgetown. I, obviously, was not, and they were distraught that they wouldn't find any more members of their group. I introduced myself to Kim and Leah, and managed to embarrass myself quickly by knocking the gorgeous iPhone out of Leah's hand trying to give her a handshake. UGH.

We walked down to the train together, and they waited outside of it for any potential stragglers. (Or perhaps to avoid my iPhone-Destroying Hands of Crazy.) I ended up sitting across the aisle from two nerdy but nice-looking guys who looked like law school-types. I asked, and they were, and we struck up a conversation about MICA and Italy. The boys, Alex (with really pretty blue eyes and a big Greek-style nose, although he's Romanian) and Nick (tall and lean with the signiture "dork" haircut) were shortly joined by Elias, who had, coincidentally, spent the semester before in Italy.

Also coincidentally, Alex and Nick were from PA, and Nick was from Mount Lebanon, and the three of us have November birthdays, and Alex's birthday is the same as Lauren's! It was very weird but really cool. We talked a lot about Pittsburghese and art and art school (which they found incredibly curious--it was very funny), Alex was chatting me up BIG time. It was really sweet.

We separated once the train pulled in, without exchanging last names, but I figured Elias was an unusual enough name to find on Facebook without to much trouble (I was right). I did end up running into Nick on the Metro though, and he missed his stop because we were talking about the Pens. :) It was very cool.

On to the frustrating part. I got to Dupont Circle and got a little lost, but with the help of a nice bank teller, got turned around and back on track. I found Embassy Row, but ended up walking probably a mile and a half to the Italian Embassy. I felt SO GROSS, but I didn't want to take my coat off and carry it.

SO, I finally get there, and the guy at the gate, an older Italian guy, asks my why I'm there. It goes a little like this:

Him: Alo, what can I do a-for you?
Me: I'm here to fill out a visa application.
Him: You are a-too late. (It's one-thirty pm, by the way.) The office is open Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from a-10AM to 12:30pm.
Me: REALLY. Is there ANYTHING you can do?
Him: No. You a-live in Washington?
Me: No, Baltimore.
Him: Oh. You will a-have to come back, then.
Me: *frustrated tears* Oh, okay. Thanks anyway.

WORST EVER. It just stressed me out a lot, and it's That Time, so I'm even more emotional than usual. SO, I walked the mile and a half BACK to Dupont Circle, and decided to stop for coffee and something to eat. I spotted a Books-A-Million store, and walked in to find two of my favorite things: books (who'd've thunk it?) and coffee. So I grabbed New Moon off the shelf and got a coffee and piece of caramel coffee cake from the really nice guy at the register, who, coincidentally, heads out to Rome next week to sing at the Vatican, because he's in some men's choir.

I read until almost 4, which was SO unbelievably relaxing, then decided to head back to Baltimore, so I bought the book, which I was about half-done with (the check-out guy was ALSO really sweet, which was SO nice), and got back on the Metro to Union Station, bought another ticket to the MARC train, which ended up being so packed with commuters that I had to stand for the first 20 minutes of the ride.

Robin called me as they called my stop (he's in New York to see an Andrew WK show), which was a nice 'Welcome Home'-type greeting, even if he's not in Baltimore. I got home just in time to see Betsy ice a brownie cake for a classmate's birthday, then fly out the door to a Post-Bac dinner, and Marla called to ask me to model the corset she made (Jen was supposed to, but Marla made it too big--also, the photoshoot calls for me to be the character of a "Showhorse" [Corset=saddle] and Robin is my "Groom". God has a sense of humor. :P).

NOW, I'm going to finish this entry, take off my shoes and NAP until Marla calls me to watch a movie.

Whew, and then I have a grave shift, then I take a shower and meet my Illustration Concepts class at the bus at 8:15 AM to go to the Brandywine Museum, then get back at six or seven, THEN go to my 9-12 at the Commons, then it's my birthday! :) Damn, eventful weekend! But I'm looking forward to it. I won't be a teenager anymore.

(Also, I didn't get to mention the LOVELY birthday gift I got from Brandon, the new Chris Ware book. Don't know Chris Ware? Google is your friend. Thanks, Brandon. :D)

Seven weeks 'til Florence. Wow.

Love you all,

Alyssa

P.S. This entry has SO MANY tags.

ETA: P.P.S. "I remember wishing [he] were my brother. I realized now that all I really wanted was a claim on him. It didn't feel brotherly when he held me like this. It just felt nice--warm and comforting and familiar. Safe. [He] was a safe harbor."

-New Moon, page 375

...

Well. There it is.

:(

I Dreamed A Dream (I originally typed "I dread")

'Dread' is a more accurate description of the dream I had last night. Or, well, today, actually, as I went to sleep at around 6:30 AM.

It was mostly about the guy I liked freshman year, Ian--he showed me a lot of notes and papers and journals he wrote, most of them concerning his current girlfriend, who he'd nicknamed "Singles" in the letters, which is an intensely Ian thing to do.

One paper was dated August 6, 2008 (it may've been 2007 though), and it said that 'Singles' had gotten pregnant, and they'd had an abortion. :( There was literally a frown face. Then it went on to address the child, saying that Ian would always love him or her, and I lost it in the dream--I put my arms around Ian's middle and sobbed, saying "I'm so sorry for your baby. I'm so sorry" over and over.

And then I woke up in the midst of dry sobs. I haven't awoken in actual sobs for almost four years.

The thing is, I'd heard that they'd aborted a baby. I'd heard it somewhere before, distinctly. I thought maybe Ian had said it. I had a slightly fuzzy image in my mind of Ian, sitting on Robin's couch and telling us that Eileen had gotten pregnant, but they'd had it aborted.

But I don't think that was real. I think I dreamed that too. Why am I dreaming about Ian's not-real aborted baby? Why more than once? And why August 6th?

Weird.

Also, more roommate drama has unfolded--Jen and Ryan have stopped hooking up because Jen is emotionally attached (that's what sex will do, moron), and now Betsy is flirting like hell and Jen is mega-jealous. Robin and I feel this would be best settled by me making out with Ryan and him making out with Jen. :P

Okay, love you guys. Hope you're all doing awesomely. :)

Ouch.

Chase broke up with me last night.

We hadn't been talking as regularly, on the phone or in texts, but I supposed we were both busy. I called him on Friday because Betsy, Jen, Robin, and Ryan may be going to New York this coming weekend (the weekend Chase was supposed to visit), and they wanted us to come with them, so I asked him about it, and he was being dodgy and uncomfortable and evasive on the phone. I was uneasy, but I tried to shake it off, but Robin and I started thinking that maybe he wasn't coming after all. It sort of lingered in the back of my mind over the weekend, but then I texted him yesterday at 4:15, and he finally got back around to me at 6:15. We texted about his sister and work for an hour or so until he finally called me.

He started by apologizing for not calling as much, and I shouldered some of the blame (the phone works both ways, after all). Then he started in with those words I hate:

"I'm just going to get right to it. This isn't working out."

"Oh. Okay."

"It's just, it's hard to not have you here. I need someone here."

"Okay."

"I was going to write a letter, but I thought you might want to say something right away, and I want to give you that chance."

"Yeah. What...When did you decide this? What brought this on?"

He paused. I had a psychic moment, It's someone else.

"I'm in love with Alli."

(For those of you who don't know, Alli is Chase's coworker. He liked her for a while, and they finally started making out/dating in May. He said 'I love you' to her, too. She didn't say it back. A few weeks later, he noticed this other guy had started hanging around Alli more and more, and when he talked to the guy, he found out that this guy and Alli had been dating for a month, at the same time she was seeing Chase. Chase was pretty upset, naturally, and he talked about it with me a lot, but I always thought that the tone of our conversations were that he had learned a lesson, that he was over it. I guess he wasn't.)

"Oh. I see. Okay."

"She told me the other day that I looked different to her, and I asked if it was because she couldn't have me. (At this point I stopped listening because it was unbelievable to me.)"

"Mmhm. And does she feel the same way?"

"I think she does. We talked a few days ago."

"Okay. Then, why did you say you loved me?"

"I felt like I did." Stab. "I shouldn't have said it." Twist.

"No, you shouldn't have."

"I felt like I owed it to you to explain all this. I didn't want to pretend it just wasn't working out."

"You're right, you do owe it to me."

So, we talked a little more. Or, rather, he talked and I listened, or half-listened. I knew it was coming, but it was still a shock, you know? It's like, when you get scared, and then a few seconds pass, and the load of adrenaline hits your bloodstream.

He tried to tell me that it wasn't about my age, or my mom's rules. Which was fine, and I believe him. He said I wasn't a distraction to him, and that things would be different if I were close by. Maybe they would be for a little while, but if he's really in love with someone else, then it would have interfered eventually.

"Look, I really care about you. You're so special. And beautiful. And the most supportive woman I've ever met. And you're so understanding."

"Yeah. Thanks. Well, I guess that's that."

"You can call me if you have anymore questions or concerns or anything like that."

"Sure. Maybe I'll see you around. Good luck with Alli. Keep going with law school, too."

"Thanks, I will."

"Goodbye, Chase."

"Bye."

And that was that.

My roommates and Robin were exceedingly supportive, which was lovely. I called Drea, who was properly scandalized for my sake, and I called Lauren--I thought it might be better if she told Mom instead. The conversation went sort of like this:

Me: Chase dumped me.
Lauren: *GASP* WHAT?
Me: *surprised* Erm, yeah.
Lauren: *Insensitive*
Me: *Less surprised*
Lauren: Do you want me to tell Mom?
Me: What do you think she'd say if I told her?
Lauren: ...maybe I should tell her.

So, she did, and I spoke to Marla, who was very comforting. She told me I was dignified and handling it so well and un-hysterically. When I got home, my Mom called, and was offended that I hadn't gone to her first. She said mostly what I expected ("I'm sorry you're sad." vs. "I'm sorry Chase dumped you."), and I sort of put her in her place when she asked why I didn't call her first:

Me; You can't be surprised that you weren't the first person I called.
Mom: Actually, I was. I figured you know that I love you even f I wasn't into the Chase thing.
Me: Remember how you felt about telling your parents when Tim bugged out? When Brian bugged out? (My mom's two fiancee's that my grandparents' weren't thrilled about.)
Mom: Okay. YES. I'm completely with you. No, I totally get it. You're right.

Ha. So, me and my roommates and Marla and Robin watched A Knight's Tale (Gah, dreadful female lead) and talked. I wrote Chase a letter, and after the movie was over, Robin made me cry, but from laughing this time. :)

I'm feeling better today, but it still hurts. I mean, it's not like he said "I made out with someone else". It was "I'm in love with someone else." With a girl who already used him and threw him away like a tissue. Who only wants him because she can't have him. Or, well, I guess she CAN have him. I'm so angry with him. But I know it's for the best if he's not going to see me as someone worthy. I want someone who loves me 150%, and he wants someone familiar that he can see and touch.

A case of irreconcilable differences if I ever saw one.

My friend Brandon kept my chin up a little with this story:

Brandon: "I was showing a coworker my facebook and how it works
And then I used your page as an example of how you can see friends, etc. (you just made a status update or something)...

Sean: Who's that?
Brandon: (clicking on your profile picture) That's my friend Alyssa
Sean: She's kinda hot.
Brandon: ......yeah.
Both smiling.
That's all."

Thank you guys ahead of time for the support that I know you'll provide, I miss you guys. And Emily--please blog up a storm so I know how you are!

Love you all,

Alyssa

Panic.

I just had a fist of panic clench my heart. It's what happens every time I think about money and rent and school.

I still haven't paid my remaining installment for the Spring '08 semester (although I expect my mom is in the midst of taking care of that), and I only have about six hundred dollars saved so far this summer. It's already July seventh. I haven't been working nearly as hard as I should be. Last summer I had two jobs and made upwards of three thousand dollars and I STILL didn't cover a year of rent.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

WHEW. Exhale. I've got to take this as it comes. I let myself get overwhelmed. Dammit.

Dear God, help me to have the work ethic and the opportunity to take care of these finances for MICA and rent (especially rent), and if, for some reason, that's not your will, give me the strength to accept that I may have to face a serious struggle, even if it may not be what I want to do (obviously).

God, I wish you guys (Drea, Em, Bri, Abby) were here. (You should probably know that at this point 'you guys' means you four.)

Repressure: A Symphony of Ridiculous Metaphors about Concert Halls.

I'm angry. I don't know how not to be (nor should I be un-angry--I'm fully right in my anger), and I don't know how to express it. I feel like I can't.

This is not the first time I've sacrificed my own feelings for the sake of someone else's, and it won't be the last. But it really, really sucks.

Maybe I'm being too hard on the subject of my anger. But I don't think I am. I think I'm ONE of their pity-parties away from yelling and yelling and not stopping until I've reached some core piece and snapped it back into place. Whether that core piece is in me as well as in them is still out with the jury.

I want to be everything I know I am/have been--understanding, helpful, a good listener, a problem solver, an advisor, a comfort. But, well, imagine this.

Imagine a concert pianist, who is staring at a piano. You know they can play it--they played it for years, but one day they stopped, and they claimed they didn't know how anymore. You know they know how, but they ask you for your help instead. You don;t know much about their piano, but in an attempt to jog their memory, you try to teach them the scales. But instead of watching and listening, they plug their ears and hum their own tune instead. Then when you ask them to play it for themselves, they start snapping the strings under the piano's hood, almost irretrievably damaging it's ability to be played. Then they turn to you and ask for help again, but again refuse to take it. Over and over.

Okay, that was a complicated metaphor, but maybe you've gleaned something of what I mean. The point is, it's impossible to help someone who refuses to be helped. It seems simple, but once you put in the mechanics of chemicals and feelings and obligation and abandonment, it's an almost impossible puzzle.

Maybe it's not about the piano, but about that new conductor they're thinking about hiring. The conductor is a good one, and they'll definitely be good at their job, but they still refuse to make a decision about hiring them, and instead of just choosing, they call you, someone ignorant in concert hall matters, to interview the conductor and consult with the pianist. You offer your best guidance, but the pianist deliberates for so long that the conductor gets frustrated and withdraws to take an offer elsewhere. And so the pianist takes pity on the poor orchestra that was deprived of such a grand conductor by such a dreadful pianist, and instead of being proactive and giring another conductor, decides instead to allow the orchestra to fall into discord and slink off to wallow.

Well, this second fiddle isn't about to allow that.

Sheeze. I'm not sure whether to delete this metaphor or be proud of myself for being introspective for once in a long while.