and i don’t mind that mental image. it’s quite glamorous. i have  sleeping pill going through my system right now and its giving my body a very heavy buyt gauzey pleasant feeling. it’s confusing but i’m enjoying it. sometime i like to feel out of sorts.  noy yht ekind where you feel like you’ve been put in ablender but when you just feel floatey andweb-like dissintegrating into the mist night wind. woo woo woo. i wiush the mental images that build themsleves in my mind could be recorded they’re so beautiful, if anyone can get tuiiny enough to crawl in and is in the mood for excavvating then come on in. i’m sure you’ll find some treasures. but beware of many a cursed chest. thei ked pierce ya blind man. floating limbs. dripping. words. song singin not powerful enough need to scream need to explode need everyonie to knowe my power know please i’m beggin you let me show you what i can do and praise me craze me go wild for me love mei can be too mucy but i can never get enough, someone get me.

i wish my mama weeza were still alive. i like her more than my aunt nanny.

i hate that i need CONSTANT. reassurance. oooooooooogh i really hate that about myslef. but there’s no stopping it. i don’t know how to fix myself. but some fixin needs ot be done. i feel like i’m going insane. who wants to stop my brain from melting?

but i’m really not sure if its the life i want to lead anymore. god i wanna cry right now that scares me so much. i’m so tired. i havent had a single. break. i want a break. i NEED a break. if this is my career, i’m never gonna get a break. it make sme feel so out of touch with reality. i cant find anything real right now. im longing for so much and i dont know what and i cnat find it. i’m an impossible eprson. i am bever satisifed, never fully pleased. always discontent. even when things seem perfect and i’m loving almost everyhtign about it theres always somethign that i cant explain. i cant balance things much longer. i feel so so so very fake. i really dislike myself most of the time. i really dont know what to do right now. obviously at this moment i need to go to sleep? but what then? what about wheni wake up? when i grow up? when i have to support myslef? i really dont know what to do right now. im doubting everyhtign i’ve worked towards high school. and i have no plan b. fuck.

This moment all revolved around a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I had a miserable, suicidal thought provoking time at grease practice and when i got home at midnight all i wanted to soothe my sould was a good heartwarmin’ pb&j. but i always fear the owrst, so while i’m heading towards the bread drawer, i think, “watch. we’re not gonna have any bread. we never have any bread when i want a pb&j.” but then we did. but as i untiwisted the scurvy, scarlett twisty tie i thought, “wacth. i’m not really that lucky, this bread is going to be molded.” but it wasn;t. .. it wasn;t even stale! and then the suspense built while i reached towrds the cabinet that hold s the peanut butter, and as i peered in, i though my life was over. there was no peanut butter. but i didnt give up all hope yet. “no, there must be peanut butter! this can;t be happening! does god really hate me that much!?” but turns out he doesn;t. he must really love me cause i found three jars of peanut butter in my kitchen. but then i thought i had gotten my hopes up for nothing, cause i examined every lid to every jar in the side door of my fridge, and identified none of them to be of jelly. but then, there it was. the squeezable tube. filled so regally with purple jam. ah. and then, oh then, THE BEST part of all. the three jars of peanut butter i found were all brand new. i chose the largest jar of jif, and proceeded to be awe-struck. i gingerly tore away the seal and there it was. like freshly laid snow, like the first trimmed lawn of a summer, like a smooth baby’s ass; an untouched jar of peanut butter. that first slice was the most satidfying part of my day.

but then i started thinking why do people love that first slice? what is sos satisfying about tkaing somethign so perfect, and destroying? why do we love to corrupt things? is it to make us feel better about ourselves? since we’re not perfect, we can;t let anyhting else remain that way? we have to tkae our imperfections, even if they seem as harmless as a butter knife, and completely mutilate the once pure object before us?

i’ll admit, i have my times where i find myself thoroughly enjoyinh corrupting annoyingly perfect people. like girls who don’t cuss, being as salor-like as i can around them. or well i can;t think of any other examples right now cause i’m fucking exhausted form goddamn grease rehearsal where i like to shock young greenies by dancing like a stripper. but i don’t want to hurt anybody.

“oh, i’m gonna be wounded, oh i’m gonna be your wound. oh, i’m gonna bruise you, oh, i’m gonna be your bruise.”

i really don’t want to hurt anybody.

p.s. i’m glad that three days of into the woods rehearsal has already helped me grow so much that i got this much insight out of making a pb&j. and i already say “p.s” like my director. god, i’m a lil obsessive. oooooooooh so much more i wanna write about but know i must wash off this whorish stage make-up i have on and go to sleep. p.s. i just facebook stalked my new roommate and am TERRIFIED. i love my sister, my best friend sarah, matthew, my old best friend anna, people from into the woods, and that is IT. i fear i might be growing bitter……..

there is so much i want to write about but  i simply do not have the time to document it all right now.

almost a perfect day besides the excessive amount of grease and the excessive lack of matthew. how do i miss you so much?

i’m so busy. i adore/despise it.

I saw an amazing play, and thought of you.

I saw a beautiful night sky, and thought of you.

There was one more specific thing i saw that i now cannot remember, but i thought of you.

I saw everything,

and thought of you.

and of course,

saw a lightning bug, and thought of you.

Dear Ella,My Queen of Scat,

Could you please find the time and energy to raise yourself from the dead and come teach me your ways? Or build me a time machine and we’ll take a road trip back to the 40s and rule the stage together. Our deep throaty vocals, and every so often a surprise of our spontaneous soprano notes, will lull every buzzed, suave man that we can merely see the silhouette of. You will teach me how to be a woman. I will teach you how to be young and alive again. You will teach me how to put every person in  their chairs into the most elated trance they will ever experience. I will sit and observe. I will try to be like you. It will never happen, but when i break out into a rhythmic melody of THE most deligthful scat anyone has ever heard, i will say i learned that from THE queen of scat. Oh please just come back from the dead.

Perfection summed up into 4:35 seconds.

Tonight i had a discussion with the girl who has become my very best made friend in the whole entire world, sarah jankowski. i say best “made” friend, because my sister’s my favorite person in the world but by birth. anyhow, we were discussing how we are glad that we have found each other because there aren’t really many people like us. sometimes it is a pain these minds we have because we overstretch them across boundaries that are not ready to be crossed yet and we see more than anyone else can and we can’t make them see what we can. and although we have what can be extrmeley painful at times we are glad that we have this becuase we love our lifes. our humiliating, difficult, impossible, beautiful lives. i would rater deal the aches and pains with this contortionist of a brain that i have to be able to see everything the way that we do. i love you sarah, and do not know where i would be without you!

sarah:”i hate when people say it’s taken my whole life to get ot where i am now!”

angie: “I know like what the hell else would it take? like maybe a car or two? or a bus?”

pahahahah. i love us best.