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The Autobiography of Russell
Life from a different perspective
zimzat
zimzat
Acting Journal
Sense Memory #1: I'm sitting in a hard but not really uncomfortable vehicle seat. It reminds me of driving for hours on end from St. Petersburg, Florida back to Gonzales, Louisiana. The vehicle is parked in front of a relatively large ditch dilled a good ways up with murky brown water and connected to a larger river. I never liked fishing, or even fish. The vehicle is a little stuffy and warm. It helps warm my thin cold-blooded body, although not as quickly as I might prefer. The radio is playing some upbeat tune as I write this. I like a mosaaic of music and don't rule out much.

Sense Memory #2: It's about four-thirty in the afternoon and I'm watching a movie called Big Fish. It's playing on my computer screen about a yard away, as the TV is unreliable and sometimes shows a negative picture. I'm lying on my bed, snuggled next to a guy named Matt. His presense is very soothing, and I enjoy having him next to me. Our position reminds me of the night we spent together only a few days before. His body is pleasantly warm and his hair feels soft as I ruffle it a little.

Sense Memory #3: The night is very dark, although not quiet, as I'm standing outside of a store. The night air is a little cold to me but my jacket keeps me relatively warm. I'm a little nervous as I stand around the closed exit of the store, waiting. I pace occasionally to keep occupied as I watch the customers come and go in spurts of a couple and a few, sometimes mistaking the entraance I stand in front of as open. I occasionally start to mistake someone for the one I'm waiting for, but save myself in time. A guy with dark blonde hair, a few inches shorter than myself, walks around the corner behind me. He looks at me and says "Hey"." He doesn't look a lot like the person I thought I was waiting for so I pose the question, "Matthew?" to which he responds affirmatively.

Sense Memory #4: The air around me is humid and warm, even a little inviting, but I feel cold, small, and vulnerable. I don't know why I feel like this nor do I know how to stop it. I remember all the times I've felt depressed or like a moecule of water in the ocean and nothing quite compares to it. All I know is that I want to curl up into a tiny ball and disappear. I carry on what I'm doing but as soon as I stop thinking about it the feeling returns. I don't feel alone, but I don't feel like there is anyone there either. It's like a void that consumes.

Sense Memory #5: I watch the crowd as I pass by, looking at each person but at the same time trying to make it look like I'm not looking. I don't want to embarrass myself or look foolish, but I can't help myself. On reflection, I look stuck-up like that. I don't mind the girls because it doesn't feel like they're out to get me, but the guys make me feel like I want to run away & hide and at the same time like I want to get closer, to be next to them. I try to stay calm and act natural but I always fear I lost it and they know anyway. It's this longing that I've felt for many years and it rushses up on me at the sight of a guy near my age.

Sense Memory #6: I'm only here for three hours and it usually feels like nothing, but tonight it feels like everything. I've been tired all day even though I got enough sleep and it's starting to really affect me now. I try to pay attention to the lecture and write notes about it, but I know I doze off a few times and lost bits and pieces of the information. If I had any money I would get a soda to try and stay awake, but I don't. I don't feel embarrassed to be falling asleep, but this hasn't been like me at all this semester. My head droops as I doze off again and I awake to the teacher in a slightly different train of thought. I pinch myself around the tendons of my hand I manage to stay awake until the break, and the rest of the lecture.

Sense Memory #7: The feel of the Styrofoam egg carton is smooth as I pull it from the refrigerator. I start to open it before it's barely out of the door and something snags on the door. Before I realize it eggs are falling out and I'm hearing little crinkle and splat sounds as half a dozen eggs hit the floor. I manage to catch one but the rest are on the floor in a puddle near my feet, with a little of the mess slimily on the side of my bare feet. I almost laugh because I recall starting to read a story where a husband came into the kitchen to find his pregnant wife crying amid a mess of eggs on the floor. It kind of reminds me of what it would be like to be in that place, and how I'm not.



Personal Discovery #1: I'm nervous up here, and the first time I start to screw up. I feel embarrassed, but not like I want to crawl into a hole and die. The audience doesn't seem mocking as I start again, which I'm thankful for. A little shakily, I starte who I am and what I'm doing again, and then start again. Although a little shakily, I make it through this time and the audience claps enthusiastically. I hadn't really realized it as I was doing it, but I'm told I was fidgeting and wringing my hands. I feel a little embarrased about it but I agree to do it again and to keep a thought out for that. I walk in again, state who I am and what I'm doing, and then do it again. I try to keep a thought out for where my hands are but I notice a few times that I'm actually clinching them and stop myself. Again, the audience claps and I'm thankful that none are laughing. Maybe this isn't so bad after all.

Personal Discovery #2: She stands up there and begins. Although I have trouble believing she is whom she's portraying, I have to give her credit for continuing on as an interruption forms at the back of the small classroom. A cell phone vibrates and another girl gets up and walks out. Even as that is happening she continues on without missing a beat. Her focus must be tremendous and certainly inspiring.

Personal Discovery #3: It's time for my monologue again but I've completely blanked out on the last half of it. It takes me a few antagonizing moments to start recalling it but finally I'm ready. I start off just t rying to think the words of it in the right order and get going. Once it gets to the difficult part it feels surreal. I can hear myself giving the monologue even as I start to add deep emotions to its colors. It doesn't feel like I'm the one giving the monologue though, more like someone else has taken over my motor controls and is doing it. I simply take a back seat and let it fold out, watching like any other observer to the performance, except I see it as it happens internally.

Current Mood: blank blank
Current Music: "The First Cuts The Deepest" by Sheryl Crow

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Comments
From: darthen Date: May 7th, 2004 06:47 am (UTC) (Link)
Hmmmm... Interesting...
zimzat From: zimzat Date: May 7th, 2004 07:31 am (UTC) (Link)
They are, aren't they? A number of them seem to center around companionship.
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