I’m having a “Doesn’t anyone out there even see me?” kind of morning.
Date: February 1, 2014
Days Spent on Project: 350
Location: Apartment, Washington Heights, NYC
Person I would have sent it to: Rachel M.
Rachel was a costume designer the year below me at the Yale School of Drama. She came to New Haven from the west coast. Why do I think it was Portland? Is that right?
I’ll always remember Rachel for her intense, wild curly hair. She had a personality to match, in a good way of course, making sure everyone knew who she was and making sure she knew everyone. (I need to be more like that.) She’s still working in design; based again on the West Coast, she still does theater and has started to work in film. A movie she did recently got all sorts of buzz and press- Short Term 12, I think it’s called?
Rachel, my second year when I was designing my first production of Hedda Gabler, was assigned to assist me. Is there anything to say about that pairing? I’ll have to talk about that experience, and that show later… on another Crane.
Music I listened to while sewing: I’ve got The Chill Out Playlist strumming along in the background. Oof, I need that reminder this morning because I’m…
Thoughts/Feelings behind the block: … so not calm or feeling good right now. I didn’t sleep at all last night.
What was it THIS time, you might ask, rolling your eyes?
I feel alone. I feel like I’m in a vacuum. I feel like I’m banging against a door that won’t open for me. I feel like I’m being taken advantage of. I feel like I should be better than this. I feel desperate. I feel confused. I feel lost.
I do not, necessarily, feel angry.
I feel like I could walk away from my apartment with my dog, and the world wouldn’t notice.
I feel like it was decided somewhere at some time by some group of people that I wasn’t needed or wanted or good enough.
I feel like I am good enough.
I feel unattractive and also desperate for attention. I feel like I’m attractive enough to get attention, so I must have done something wrong.
I feel like I just want friends. I feel like I want these 1000 Cranes to like me, to acknowledge me, but I expect people to roll their eyes at this “craft project” I’m doing/spending money on/passing time with.
I feel that people can sense I’m unhappy right now, and that’s why no one wants to be a part of my life. I get that! I do! At four in the morning, I almost called 311 just to talk to an Operator about life in general. It’s ridiculous, right?
I’m being ridiculous, right?
Despite not having slept well, I’ll get myself to the gym to run off more of this anxiety. I’ll get to the grocery too.
Day in, day out.