Holiday

Well. It's been a while.

Once again I'm simply writing to avoid homework I really should be doing but who's counting? I have so much to say and not enough time to say it all, but I do have one thing I need to get off my chest.

I saw American Idiot on Broadway this weekend. Wow, Heidi, out of all things you could have written about since the last blog post, including but not limited to a trip to London and a boyfriend, you choose that?

There's a reason. A very big reason.

I still remember the first time my dad played me "American Idiot." My mother was not happy with him (because of the dirty words and I was only in third grade at the time), but I was hooked. That driving, power-chord-punk sound started my heart pounding and made me want to smash guitars up on stage. I grew up with American Idiot in my ears.

Green Day inspired me to pick up the electric guitar. I didn't do so until my freshman year of high school, but when I picked up my jet black Ibanez at Guitar Center I brought home a book of tab along with it. Green Day's American Idiot.

I went through a bad time my sophomore year of high school. I didn't know who I was, what I wanted. I was being pulled in a million different directions by a million different people and I was scared. Depressed. I folded into myself, and I couldn't find the energy to enjoy the things I liked because I was too worried about pleasing everyone else.

Enter 21st Century Breakdown.

"21 Guns." The first time I heard it, I didn't cry. Then I listened to the lyrics. That song, that album, pulled me back into myself because it reminded me that I needed to stop fighting for the things that didn't matter. The things that weren't making me happy. That standing up for myself wasn't being bitchy or rude. And that pushing the poison out of my life wasn't quitting or giving up. It was doing right by me. I was getting better.

Junior year: the first time I ever sang and played guitar onstage in front of an audience. My dream since I was younger. The song? "Boulevard of Broken Dreams."  

"Good Riddance" was played at my senior year graduation. It's the only song that can make me cry every time I hear it. And it made me cry before I associated it with my graduation.

Green Day is one of those bands that has always been there. They hold the award for the most songs by a single band on my MP3 player, and when people ask me what my favorite bands are Green Day almost always comes up first. Sometimes I'll forget about them, but whether it's a song on the radio, a quoted lyric, or a song on shuffle, Green Day always comes back.

A band that is so ingrained in our culture that even if you've never listened to them intentionally  you've heard at least five of their songs. Everybody knows their name. Billie Joe's voice is unmistakable.

Fast-forward to ten years after I first heard the famous "rock-opera" concept album, I watch the story of St. Jimmy, Whasername, and the Jesus of Suburbia come to life before my eyes. And suddenly I understand.

This album is for me. Not me specifically (duh), but kids my age. The disillusioned youth of America, the 20-somethings who think we're invincible and all-knowing when in reality we die from drugs and accidents and dumb decisions and crippling debt and heartbreak. We think we know everything, but we're lost. We grew up in a world of violence and prejudice.

Green Day gave us something to believe in, and something to fight for. 

Whether we believe in our country, our God, our city, our town, our town, our home, our friends, our family, ourselves, it's okay. Believe in all of it; believe in none of it. Just believe in something. Because that is how you live. Not survive. Live.

American Idiot saw a world of kids growing up to survive. That album reminded us--reminded me--to grow up to live. Thanks to American Idiot, I am fighting for what I love and what makes me happy. And I am fighting for a better world, and I am no longer afraid to stand up and say what I believe that should be. No should be afraid to.

I know Green Day will never hear this, but I just want to say thanks anyway. Thank you, Green Day, for saving me more than once. For helping me understand what I want and what I'm fighting for. As a third grader, for helping me find my voice in music. As a high school kid, for helping me find myself. As a college student, for helping me find my voice not only as an individual but also as a member of this country and this world.

I don't want to be an American idiot, or a St. Jimmy or a Whatsername. I am not the waiting, but a rebel, and the last of the American girls. I will travel the world all my life, but do not forget to await my homecoming. And no matter how many times I walk that lonely road, I will always come back because I believe in the Jesus of Suburbia. Rage and Love. 

It's Okay to Let Go

So I've totally been meaning to write something about summer and the first week of sophomore year, but things have been so crazy that this is the first time I actually had the time to sit down and write about it.

Well, I suppose I could've written something earlier this week when I was watching A Very Potter Musical on Youtube.......

Don't judge me. It was beautiful and I couldn't stop watching it and then just when I thought Harry Potter could never hurt me again it did. Freakin' Voldemort.

ANYWAY as I'm sure you noticed from my last blog post, the beginning of this summer kicked ass. And, to my immense delight, it only got better. In July I participated in my first best-friend road trip to the Bunbury Music Festival in Cincinnati. Not only did I have great fun spending time with my friends and seeing some amazing bands (cough cough twentyonepilots), I had so much fun volunteering. I met some awesome people, including this guy named Jake who likes Whose Line as much as I do and can quote it even better than I can. Who knew? But most importantly this experience was so real, so novel to me that it really took me by surprise how much fun I had. I obviously knew I would, but Bunbury was completely different than what I'd expected, it surprised me in ways I didn't know it could. I become good friends with people I'd known for only a few hours, and I even still talk to some of them. It's most definitely something that I will remember and cherish for a long time.

August wasn't anything special compared to June or July, but it wasn't bad or anything. I did have to get my wisdom teeth out, which was not fun, but I survived. I hung out with my high school friends before we all left, and as much as I love my friends here at school I miss them a lot. Thank God for Facebook and Skype. 

School again! Sophomore year! The transition this time was much easier, I'm sure considering since I've done it once before. I love my classes this semester, I'm meeting even more new awesome people, I have a job, and I'm staying busy so I don't get depressed like I did last semester. It was going super well until today.

I have cabin fever again. The exact same thing happened last year at about this time, maybe a bit later. That feeling that I wanna do something, get out and go somewhere, be anywhere than where I am right now. And I don't believe for one second it's because I'm unhappy where I am; I'm not. I love it here, and I truly cannot imagine being anywhere else. I think it's just the prospect of college, the idea that I'm on my own and that I have the potential to do anything and go anywhere that ignites my sense of adventure. I know I should be focusing on my education and having fun in the now, but my mind continues to wander into the future. What job will I have? Where will I live? Who will I love? Will I even find love? Will I have kids? Will they be safe? What will the world be like?

Sadly, the list goes on. It's not even worry that causes these questions to constantly plague my mind. It's curiosity. Maybe it's my deep, humanistic desire to abolish the unknown. I don't know. But it's really annoying sometimes. And yet, I have a feeling that this cabin fever will occur every year until I graduate. Oh well, I suppose. I wish I could stop it, but nothing works.

This post has passed the point of being waaaay too long. So here's a song from AVPM that I'm absolutely in love with, featuring the beautiful Joe Walker.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1VfpFM1Gr8&list=SPC76BE906C9D83A3A&index=13

And Who Says Nothing Cool Happens in Ohio.

So in the past week, I've seen three celebrities and met two of them.

What?

This is coming form the girl who always complains about a lack of adventure, that nothing cool ever happens in my sleepy hometown. Which I guess is still true, since I didn't actually see these three guys in my hometown exactly. It was all in Ohio, however, which is still pretty impressive, considering nothing ever happens in Ohio either.

Both sightings were honestly a combination of pure luck and expert creeping skills. Emphasis on the creeping skills.

The first sighting was last Monday, when my friend and I were loitering around the set of Captain America. They're filming in Cleveland, not far from where I live, so I've been down to the various filming locations in the past few weeks. But this time we got really lucky; one of the crew members we were chatting with informed us that Chris Evans himself was in the building. Hoping to get a glimpse of him, we waited around for 45 minutes or so across the street. We weren't disappointed.

He came out of the building with his girlfriend Minka Kelly, the chick who plays Autumn in 500 Days of Summer. They got into a car, heading off to a different location. To the surprise of the 15 or so people that had been waiting with us across the street, the car stopped alongside our side of the street and Chris opened the door to give a few autographs.

Unfortunately he only had time for a few, and we were unable to get close enough to get one. I did get an awesome picture of him with my friend's phone, and we were literally about 5 feet away from him. I heard his voice and everything. Needless to say, my friend and I were freaking out.

Thus ended sighting #1. #2 was just as exciting, maybe even more so because I actually met these next two guys.

Remember my past blog post about Whose Line is it Anyway? and seeing the Colin and Brad show later this year? Well the day finally came. On Saturday, we headed over to Lakeside Chautauqua to see their Two-Man Show, a show I'd been excited about since January.

I've never laughed so hard in my life. Their show was about two hours long, and I seriously laughed the entire time. I know people always use that phrase flippantly, but at the end of the show I realized I'd been smiling the entire time due to the fact that my cheeks felt like they'd been stretched out like Silly Putty.

They played great games, including attempts at Spanish accents (which eventually turned into Russian) during Moving Bodies; hamsters that eat their own poo during an audience-aided Fill-In; a fart-filled Sound Effects; a Sherlock Holmes inspired Kick It in which Colin made Brad rap for almost 2 minutes straight; and the dangerous but hilarious Mousetrap Game in which Brad had stolen Colin's world famous granola recipe. That night was the hardest I've laughed in...well, longer than I can remember. And it was so nice to just let loose for a while. The rest of the audience was laughing as hard as we were, so I obviously wasn't the only one who found them absolutely fucking hilarious.

Anyway, after the show we asked if they were going to come out for autographs. We were informed they were not, since they had a early plane to catch in Cleveland. Undeterred, my friend Rachel and I creepily waited outside the backstage area, watching the door we figured they'd come out of eventually. About a half an hour later, we were about to give up, when a long white limo pulled up beside us. Rachel and I started freaking out, and not 10 seconds later out they came.

We all introduced ourselves and asked if we could have a picture with them. They were both super sweet and actually a lot taller than I thought they'd be. Brad PUT HIS ARM AROUND ME and now I have photo evidence of this night which makes me happier than Tiny Tim at Christmastime. We chatted with them for a bit, but the conversation that took the cake was when my mom decided it would be a good idea to inform Colin that I watched Whose Line online all the time (she thankfully didn't mention the fact that I've obsessively seen every episode). He looked kind of surprised and quipped, "Give her a book!"

I almost peed myself because I almost always have my nose in a book; it's rare to find a time when I'm not reading at least one book. Obviously he didn't know this so he didn't find it as funny as I did, but it was one of my favorite moments of that night. Laughing, I managed to reassure him that I do read and not all my time is spent on Youtube.

We said goodbye and that they were fantastic one more time, and then we parted ways. As they drove away in their fancy limo I reflected on the fact that I had met not one but two celebrities in the same week, and I had seen not two but three also in the same week, and I thought that maybe living in Ohio isn't so bad after all. For now, at least :) 

The Beginning in the End

Freshman year. Done. I can't believe it. I've only been home for a few days and it still feels like this is just another break, that I'll be going back on Monday for classes next week. It still hasn't hit me that it's summer.

As excited as I am for summer and friends and cookouts and bonfires and real food and nice showers and privacy and movies and Cedar Point and adventure, there are a lot of things I'll miss about this year. I made some amazing friends at school, people who are at once similar to me but different at the same time. I met fellow Whovians, people who shared my sense of humor (and people who didn't but liked me anyway), people who loved deeply and others who hid their feelings, people who lived in farmhouses in the middle of nowhere and people who called a big city their home, single people, students my age who were already married and had kids, actors, scientists, drunkards and geeks, kids who still play Magic and watch Netflix all day. And you know what? I'm friends with all of them. And you wanna know another thing? That's okay. I can be friends with all of them.

I know everyone laughs at the cliched versions of high school portrayed in movies like High School Musical and Mean Girls, but to be honest, they're really accurate in one respect. If you tried to be different, step out of your skin and the label the rest of your classmates placed on you, you were an outcast. Not necessarily a social outcast, because I sure wasn't. I had lots of friends. And I loved most of them. Still do. But no one associated me with one group of people. Even the group of people everyone else associated me with didn't always include me. I wasn't invited to all of the parties, all the dinners, the gatherings they had. I was standing on the edge of a huge Venn diagram, where I could touch all the edges of the circles but never step inside them.

So I guess at the beginning of this year I was a bit lost. I knew college was a time to reinvent yourself, but who did I want to become? The theater kid? The writer? The friend? The adventurer? The smarty pants? The goody-two-shoes? The bad girl? I had so many options, yet none appealed to me in the way I'd hoped.

But then I began to meet people. People from various walks of life. And as the people become more and more diverse, I began to realize that I was looking for the exact same thing I had tried to escape in high school: a label. I was looking to others to define me when I should've been discovering my own definition. My friends allowed me to be my weird and crazy self, and they accepted me for it. As a result, it is much easier for me to be my weird and crazy self around people I don't know, which is probably why I still don't have a boyfriend. But I trust that I will find someone someday. If Liz Lemon can find her perfect man, then so can I.

Sorry I keep going back to all this "labels" shit. I bet you're thinking to yourself, "Jesus, Heidi! Build a bridge and get over this already. You've made like 4 blog posts about it. Haven't you figured yourself out yet?"

Believe me, I ask myself this question all the time. And the answer is a definitive one. No, I have not figured myself out. Not even close. One of the greatest ironies in this world is that the person we think we know best is actually the hardest to figure out. We should know ourselves better than anyone else; after all, I'm constantly in my own head. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot always determine why I do the things I do. It's eye-opening to understand how little you actually know about yourself, or that your perception of yourself mostly comes from how other people see you.

This is why you should take psychology classes ladies and gents. 

All in all this year was fantastic. There were many ups and downs, probably more downs than I would've liked, but that's life. And with every passing day, I realize how much mine seems to resemble a late-night  sitcom.

Not Two and Half Men, however. More like the Big Bang Theory. But with dorky girls and way more Doctor Who references. 

It's Always a Good Time

Happiness update: leveled up Tuesday night, when I manned up and asked for something I wanted. It wasn't hard, the risk for me is basically zero, and still I was afraid to be assertive. I really have to stop that.

I was chatting with Sara the other day and we were talking about high school. She was the "band nerd" in high school, and she was telling me how weird it was to not be one in college. How she felt almost lost or naked without the label. When she asked me what I was, at first I couldn't give her a straight answer. I was never really "in" one specific group all four years; I was one of those weird kids who tried to balance sports and theater, but never felt completely tied to either one. I had friends in multiple circles, in multiple walks of life.

It had never bothered me before. Why was it bothering me now?

I guess that for all my bravado, for all my talk about knowing who I was and being secure with myself, I'm still confused. Still unsure of who I am. In high school, I eventually identified my myself as a "theater kid". But I still never felt like I truly belonged with those kids. I absolutely love theater and always will, but I was constantly comparing myself to others, measuring my worth and talent in comparison with theirs. With someone who's completely different than me. Who has different talents, a different personalty.

Looking back, I realize how stupid that was. And now, here I am doing it all over again. Thinking that just because we have an amazing theater program means I could never compare to these kids who are majoring in something I see as a hobby.

You know what? Fuck that. Fuck that way of thinking. Who says I can't take a chance and try out for a play or a musical? I do. I am my own worst enemy, my own roadblock, and my worst critic. I am stopping myself from doing something I love, and that is totally messed up.

But now I say fuck labels. I can be whatever the hell I want, be the person I want to be, because it will make me happy. I know I've said this before; I thought I was over all this and my insecurities my senior year of high school. But you know what? Things change in college. More things than I expected honestly. I'm still the same basic person I've always been, but I've grown so much in a year even I can't believe it sometimes.

I am me.

I just started laughing because that sounds like the world's worst name for a superhero or something. Like, if you were about to be killed by a villain and the door busts in there's this guy standing there and the villain asks, "Who are you?" in awe and the guy looks the villain dead in the eye and intones, "I am Me."

I think it's time to go outside.

Thinking About Things I Shouldn't Be Thinking About

Call me Brittney Spears because oops I did it again. I'm thinking about life and the future, and absolutely freaking the hell out about it.

Last night I went to this PR mixer our PRSSA held at a local restaurant. It was like speed-internshipping; we went around to different tables and talked to PR representatives from different companies around Columbus about how they got their jobs, what kinds of internships they had in college, what they look for in an intern, etc. Basic stuff. They also asked us about ourselves and what we're thinking about pursuing. I was really enjoying myself, really telling these people about myself and where my passions lie, because I honestly have no idea what I want to do with my PR major. And I'm okay with that. But one woman said something to me last night that got to me more than I'd like to admit.

I was telling her about my love for music, books, movies, and the theater. My biggest problem is trying to mesh some of my hobbies together with my future job, and I understand that it may not work out that way. I really do. I'm not naive; I know my perfect job does not exist, or it may take a little longer for me to find out what I want to do. But I was telling her the hopes and dreams that are closest to my heart, the dreams I don't tell anyone else because I am afraid of what they will say, because I felt comfortable in this environment. The other professionals all told me that they had maybe never heard of a job like I was describing, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. They had all encouraged me to keep my mind open and to not give up my search for a job that will satisfy and stimulate my needs.

So I described myself to this woman and told her my problems, my deepest fears. She looked me in the eye and told me that I would never be able to find a job like the one I was describing, so I may as well give up now and forgot about finding a job that I enjoy.

I was a little stunned. I didn't know what to say. I understand that from her perspective, she thought she was being honest and saving me heartbreak and wasted time later on. She thought she was doing me a favor, telling me what I can and cannot do before I had a chance to figure it out for myself. While I appreciate her honesty, I also feel sorry for her. She doesn't know of every PR-like job in the world; the field is so broad there's probably thousands she's never even heard of. The fact that she has such a myopic view of the field, that she can't imagine different jobs besides the ones she has experienced personally, tells me that she's not the person I need to be listening to.

And yet, last night, laying in my bed, I couldn't get her words out of my mind. No matter how I tried, that horrible feeling that she could be right continued to haunt me. What if I never found the right job for me? What if I never amount to anything? What if I just fail at life and never accomplish anything?

Well I have a message for you way-too-heaavily-makeuped-lady. I will find an awesome job someday. It may not be the exact one I'm imagining now; it might even be something completely different, something I haven't even thought about yet. That's the great thing about PR. I probably will end up doing so many different jobs in my lifetime that there will never be a dull moment, and (hopefully) no instances where I feel stuck in a rut. There's so much more to the world, and I feel sorry that makeup lady doesn't see that. I see the world for all it's opportunities and possibilities, and my goal is to never lose my curiosity for discovering new things and places and adventures the world has to offer.

I feel that I am in the right place. I may not know exactly where I fit in to this world is yet, but they say half of life's the journey right? I am not lost, just on a rather foggy part of the path that becomes clearer with every passing day.

A Little Disappointment Never Hurt Anyone...Right?

Today I got some rather disappointing news. All spring break I had been excited to start this acting class I had signed up for. Some of the older theater majors at school needed some actors for a directing class they are taking, so I decided to give it a shot. I memorized a monologue, auditioned in front of about 15 directors, and I got cast! I love the stage, but being me, I was really nervous to audition. I didn't exactly have the best time with directors in high school; I knew I could act, but I never got a lot of positive reinforcement from my directors. Everywhere I turned, someone was telling me I just wasn't good enough.

Finally, by my senior year, I decided that I didn't need their blessing to know I was good enough. So I pretended I didn't care. But the truth is, I was still acting. Of course I wanted them to care. Of course I wanted them to believe I was good. I never got that satisfaction, but I thought that maybe, because Krystal, a junior musical theater major, had chosen me to be in her scene, that I was good enough. And I would show myself and my directors back home that I can amount to something in acting. That I am good enough.

Then Krystal got a part in the international tour of Dream Girls last Monday (I mean wow. Just wow. That is so incredible I can't even. Wow.). It's such an amazing opportunity for her, and I am so happy she got the part. But I didn't realize that she would be on a leave of absence the rest of the year, and as the email informed me she would not be able to direct our scene (obviously).

At first I just shrugged it off. Eh, whatever. Shit happens right? But then I started thinking, and all these feelings from the last few years began to bubble to the surface. Things I haven't felt since I looked at the Fame cast list and found my name in the chorus. Then, embarrassingly, the tears came. Totally unheeded. Those tears welled up and I felt a deep, incredible sadness overwhelm me.

Because I want to act. I didn't realize until now, but it's honestly killing me. I have no acting outlet, less frequent opportunities to get myself out there than I did in high school. And I look at my best friend, who is friends with all the drama kids at her school, and they put on funny plays and she's the stage manager and they break into the theater at night to play scenes from a hat and why can't I have friends like that and have drama friends that don't just party and smoke weed I mean is that really too much to ask???

Sorry. I'm so frustrated because I thought this was my chance. If I believed in signs, I was sure this was one, telling me to go for it, follow this dream no matter how crazy it appeared because it's something I love. And you don't give up on something you love.

So dear readers, I'm not giving up on this. There's no way in hell I'm giving up. Because did I give up after four years? No. I'm still upset, and I might be for a few days. I was really looking forward to this. But I'm not going to throw in the towel after all this time. By casting me, Krystal told me she believed in me. It's time for me to start believing in me too.