Drabblings of a Modern-Day Heroine

Wow, I feel like it's been a very long time since I've written anything. So much has happened over the past few weeks, I didn't have any time to write. Life has been crazy hectic.

But best to start at the beginning, I suppose.

About a week and a half ago, I went to All-State Camp/rehearsal for A Midsummer Night's Dream, which I'll be performing in January with kids from all around the state. I was extremely nervous about it--mainly because I was the youngest one there by a couple of years and felt I had something to prove.

It turned out to be amazing. Everyone in the cast was so wonderful and so talented. People I had pegged for jerks turned out not to be! (Sure, there were a few people who were slightly weird/obnoxious, but that's theatre for you...)

Anyway, it went really well, and I'm pretty depressed now that camp's over. I have to wait a whole month until I see those people again.

But the real reason I decided to write today is because I had the oddest dream ever. In it, I was in a dining room having dinner with all the kids at All-State camp when my friend Abby announced that she was pregnant. (Jake--the straight love of my life--and Kurtis--the gay love of my life--were inexplicably the same person in this dream and the father of Abby's baby: we'll call them/him Jurtis.)

Well, even though Abby had just gotten pregnant that day, later that night she gave birth to her baby, but no one really seemed to care about her except for me. Not even Jurtis cared. So Abby was upset and sent to this room where pregnant women/mothers were allowed and cried with her baby in her arms. Meanwhile, I went back up to the dining room and witnessed Jurtis and another friend Christina making out.

Now, what you must understand is that both Jake and Kurtis have significant others. (It's debatable how long Jake's relationship is going to last, but as of now...) So then of course I was furious when Jurtis proceeded to call his girlfriend/boyfriend and tell him/her that he was with his girlfriend (Christina). The dream ended with me being annoyed with everyone for something or other.

Confused yet? I know I am. It gets better, though.

When I got back to real life a couple days ago, I told my mother about my dream; she analyzed it for me. Oh my goodness, the things I learned about myself from that!

First off, birth and pregnancy in dreams indicate that another part of you is being born or that you're subconsciously discovering it. Also, people in your dreams are really just parts of yourself. So once you figure out what someone represents to you, you've really won half the battle.

The highly amusing thing? To me, Abby represents all things sexual.

Which, actually, makes sense with what is going on in my life right now: I've just gotten home from living with a bunch of boys who, quite frankly, I would not mind dating. At all. In fact, I would welcome it. I just find it funny that my body and mind decided NOW to discover that boys are perhaps more than just nuisances who need to fall off the face of the earth.

The part I can't decide on is being frustrated at Christina. To me, Christina represents a lot of things: theatre, of course, but she also represents shallowness. Don't get me wrong, I love her, but she can be a real--pardon my French--bitch, sometimes. Nearly this entire week, she more and more often found ways of ignoring me so that she could demand people's attention.

Anyway, I guess I'll have more time to think about this later. Now, I need sleep.
Until next time. :)

                                                                              

Hey, all! So, I'm officially back from my adventure abroad, and I'm equipped with many stories to tell! I kept a journal while I was overseas, so I'll be posting from it here, along with probably some pictures.

So, first off was the plane and London. I'll post two entries today:

(Background info: We were told not to sleep the night before our plane so we could sleep on the plane, which turned out to be a bad thing because I slept for maybe twenty minutes.)

June 1, 2008
On the flight to London

William Shakespeare once said that life is full of meetings and partings, which I agree whole-heartedly with. However, he forgot to say that life is also full of beginnings and endings--journeys and pit-stops. Just when something seems to be going completely wrong, it can suddenly turn into something wonderful. Sometimes what you think is going to ruin your life can help you out in ways that you never imagined.

I don't know what my point is, really, and sometimes I wonder if I actually have a point at all; all I know is that I am an extremely fortunate girl. Not every teenage girl in the world gets a chance to go abroad when she's my age. I think I tend to take things like this for granted, at times. I don't want to anymore. Each morning, I want to wake up and thank God that I'm just still here.

On a plane, thousands of feet in the air, it is here I have come to think about what is means to just be yourself. And, as obvious as this sounds, being yourself is something different for each person. I guess I'm an idealist and an optimist, too, because I've been thinking lately about how beautiful the world could be if we all just lived happily and loved each other unconditionally. It's a big jump from our world now, but I want to help it get their.

But back to being yourself. In a thrilling way, I realize that the concept is frightening in its truest sense. To be yourself is to let the world see every gross and disgusting part of you--the weaknesses, the strengths, and the parts that, well, ain't so pretty, so to speak. But if we could just try, for a while, to be nothing but ourselves, and to love ourselves for who we are, maybe the world would be a better place. Maybe the reason we can't accept and love other people is because we can't even love ourselves.

On a lighter note, I am absolutely in love with James McAvoy. He is allowed to show up on my doorstep and propose any time he likes, and I will willingly accept. When I find a man like him, I'll know my life has ended.

Until then, sleep calls...

-Isabella


Wow. Obsessed, much? Yep. I was really on a James-high, though (I get those frequently) because I had just watched Penelope which stars Christina Ricci and James McAvoy. I love that man. It upsets me that he's already gone and gotten himself married.

Anyway, we arrived in London dead tired and met our tour guide David, who I will talk more about later...


June 2, 2008
In the hotel in London, nearly dead from exhaustion

When I woke up today (or rather, I never really went to sleep), I knew it was not going to be a great day After having little to no sleep on the flight to London, I walked off the plane with both a head-and stomach-ache. Needless to say, traipsing through Europe is not a pleasant experience when one's stomach begs for food and comfort the entire time. At the airport, we met our tour guide, David, who seems nice enough and has the cynical British sense of humor that most Americans can't quite understand.

We then got on a bus to head to the hotel. During the middle of the bus ride, Grace turned around and gasped. It took several minutes before I could get anything that made sense out of her. Eventually, she managed to claim that she had seen her "future husband" Robert Pattinson walking down the street. *Insert shaking of head.* Frankly, I wouldn't doubt that she had seen him.

After dropping our bags off at the hotel, we went to the center of the West End, where we were given free time to roam the city. I ended up walking with Molly, Katie, Julia, and Audrey. They all insisted on going shopping, which we did (though I wanted to go to a museum or maybe Westminster Abbey). Nothing was purchased except for food, and I got nothing out of the experience. I mean, why go to Europe if all you want to do is shop? It's so stupid--sometimes, I hate teenage girls.

OK, rant over. There were a few good things about today. London is an amazing city, and the more I see of it, the more I feel I could live here comfortably. It's got a haphazard feel to it--the streets aren't as safe as in America, which I kind of like. Overall, however, it was not the greatest day of my life. Tomorrow, I hope, will be better. I wish we could stay in London forever!

-Isabella


Yeah, that was definitely not my favorite day. Unfortunately, throughout the entire trip there were girls who wanted to do nothing but shop. And not just for souvenirs but for things like clothes and shoes--sometimes at stores that are in America too! Why--why, why, why are we sooo materialistic?

OK, more later. For now, I'll leave you with my favorite picture of London (which is actually Windsor Castle, just outside of London).
                  

I've been thinking lately about why some people's lives suck, and why others' can appear to be absolutely perfect. In my life, I've rarely been in want of anything--I've always had a roof over my head and big dreams that I believe could take me to Mars if I wished. Yet, other people worry and fret and don't have enough food or money or a roof over their heads. They live not in the blissful world that I have always inhabited.

Not to say that I don't have problems. I do. The number of walls I run into on a daily basis is probably illegal. And I can't seem to manage to eat an entire fruit cup without spilling it all over myself. (Yes, at my birth, my god-faeries gave me the gift of grace. Look how well I've used it!)

But those problems somehow just don't measure up to the ones that other people have.

Thinking about it, though, I guess that how good your life is has nothing to do with where you live or what you achieve. It's really about perspective. If you think positively, that's how your life's going to be. If your a pessimist or a cynic, well, life might be pretty sucky sometimes. I guess that's what life really is about. It's about finding the good in everything. Because evil comes from good, just as hates comes from love. If there were no good, there would, essentially, be no bad either. So I guess that's kinda about perspective, too.

My point really is that in life there are good things and bad things and you can't blame it all on someone/thing else. You can't blame it on yourself either. You just have to take it because "what must be shall be"  and everything happens for a reason.That doesn't mean you give up hope every time you find a  bump in the road.

So when you're car breaks down on the side of the highway and you're stuck in the middle of God-Doesn't-Even-Know-Where-I-Am-Land, be thankful that you're not in the middle of the road...

...when your baseball team loses a huge, uber-important game, remember that there are, in fact, other games, and that you did live through it...

...and when you're drooling over Ben Barnes fighting William Moseley as you watch Prince Caspian, wondering why the hell they're so damn attractive and soooooo unreachable, remember that if you knew them, you would probably quickly find them to be jerks and instead you can fantasize about how charming they must be.


Here's a little advice for the day: Listen to those Glad commercials--don't get mad, get glad! It's much healthier (and probably less expensive, too).

Today at school, we had Founder's Day, which, well, is very self-explanatory, I think. It's a day that we celebrate the founding of our high school.  It was filled with fun activities -- relay races, tug-of-war -- educational workshops (having to do with our careers), and food.

Ask any girl at my school, and she will say that the food is the most important part.

I have often wondered why that is. How, in a world where people are so oriented on how skinny you are, have I found a school where no one seems to care how much you eat -- a school where it's rather common to be able to "out-eat" every boy on the planet. And I've come to realize that it probably is that way because I go to an all-girl's school.

Many of the girls that are in my class find it annoying that there is an insane lack of boys at our school, and I will admit that even I, the biggest feminist on the planet, get a little wacky when boys show up in the halls. But I also know that I would never have school any other way.

There is something so...special about going to an all-girl's school. It's a completely different experience from a co-ed school. Going to an all-girl's school is a bit like going to boarding school.  It becomes a second home to you in ways it couldn't if the opposite gender happened to be there as well.  Men may talk all they want about the "brotherhood," but I must say that I'm sure the sisterhood has much more to offer. What it means to be a girl has changed dramatically over the years, but the basics still remain very much the same. To be a girl is to have friends who have your heart more than any man could, to sigh over the boys who capture our hearts yet yearn for an independence that we know no man can ever give us -- it is to share silly secrets with our friends at light night sleepovers, to sneak out at night when we think our parents are asleep, to stay up till 4 in the morning dreaming our lives away.

To be a girl in the truest sense is, essentially, to be yourself.

Which we don't seem to be able to do when boys show up. It seems that with boys we feel compelled to put on airs and be forever pleasing. When we are alone, however, in our classroom or in our gym, we are free to be whatever we want. Which, usually, is simply us.

And that is why I love going to an all-girl's school.

Every so often, usually every couple of months, I will begin writing in huge quantities - as in non-stop, creative juices flowing, stay up till three in the morning sort of quantities. And then, suddenly, I won't be able to write at all. Nope, nada, zlich, nothing, false.

Now is most definitely one of those times.

Over spring break, I wrote practically constantly, but the last couple days of my break, I found that I could barely bring myself to write more than one or two sentences. It isn't that I get Writer's Block, I usually know exactly what I want to say in these cases, but it's as if I get a sudden and fleeting case of writer's ADD. I know that I want to write, but I just can't seem to focus on the story at hand. I wonder if all writer's feel that sometimes, or if it's just a reoccurring thing in me.

Huh.

In other business, I am leaving to travel abroad in exactly 62 days. The last time I traveled out of the country, it was to little old Paris (pronounced Pair-ee, if you'd be so kind), and I was so young I don't think I fully appreciated it. This time though, I play on pulling an Amy March and drawing everything I see. (Of course, I also plan on pulling a Jo and coming back having achieved no refinement what-so-ever.) My time spent abroad will be spent well, and I can't wait to start traveling!

You know, I often wish I had something particularly thrilling to talk about, but my life is so ordinarily nice, that keeping a journal/blog often seems...rather useless. I guess it's why I long so much for an adventure. I might make me seem a little more important.

Has there ever been a time that you're so full that you have no choice but to sit down and cry? It doesn't have to be a sad full - it can be a happy full, too. Or it can be that there are just too many emotions going on at once. But, no matter why your full, the only choice is to cry.

That's how I feel right now. Dear lord, I have no idea what I'm going to do when all this is over! I don't believe I've ever known people who have made me so happy in my life. Theater kids are definitely somehow...not better exactly, but there's no other word...than regular kids are. Maybe it's because generally kids who do theater don't take life as completely seriously as regular kids do. All I know is that I never want Little Women to end. If it could just go on and on, I wouldn't mind that it's a lot of work -  because it doesn't feel like work. It's not like school, which I enjoy even though it's so draining. Rehearsal always energizes me - and I never want it to end.

I don't want to have to go back to my normal schedule. I wish I could forever be sisters with Maria, Christina, and Olivia. I wish that we all could find the time in our lives to go out and do things on the weekends even after this is over. I wish it could go on forever.

It's not just the people I enjoy either. It's being on that stage. When I'm up there, I just feel so alive that I want to laugh and shout and cry all at once. I've always been under the impression that I was supposed to be an actor, but the pull to that life is strongest when I'm up there fighting with Jo or giggling with Beth or playfully punching Laurie. I want that life to go on and on. I want to always be at home on the stage.

Life is crazy hectic. I really just need a moment to breathe....

Right now, as I'm about to start hell week for the production of LITTLE WOMEN that I'm in, I am super tired and rather stressed. I absolutely love the musical and rehearsal and the cast and crew, but trying to juggle school and rehearsal on top of all the other stuff I do can be, well, stressful. On various occasions I've probably made my friends and family want to strangle me for going absolutely crazy without warning.

Alas, the worries of a sixteen-year-old girl.

Fortunately, we're into run-throughs now and I feel fairly confident about the way it's going. We finally got Alex and my's love duet blocked yesterday and ran it today. Unfortunately, that meant I had to kiss Alex, something I was not looking forward to, but it was not nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. Certainly wet and rather awkward but...not bad.

Anyway, I'm so tired I think I might collapse...(yet for some reason I'm now going to watch Becoming Jane instead of sleeping. Then again, it does have James McAvoy, my lover and husband, in it...)

An exhausted,
Bella

So I was at the mall today with too of my best friends, and our mall has this really stupid rule that, if you're under 17 you have to be accompanied by an adult, so we had to take my mother with us. Well, that was all right, because I'm really close to my mum. We were walking around the mall and my friends and I decided to stop for a cookie. My mother stopped and waited for us about 50 feet away. While she was waiting, some stupid kitty cop came up to her and started telling her off for letting us go so far away from her.

My mother proceeded to use her "angry voice," which makes even me cower...She explain that she was simply waiting for us to buy our cookies and then we were going to be on our way.

"But you don't understand, ma'am," the cop told her. "I'm just trying to explain to you that they have to be supervised."

"I am supervising them," Mum heatedly replied. "They're fifty feet away, right where I can see them."

Needless to say, my mother was super pissed when he finally left her alone.

That cop was just such an a**, as Mum later put it. I'm sixteen! Must I always have parental guidance everywhere I go? She could see us, what could we possibly have done wrong? I hate that idiotic rule. It was created mainly because teenagers were causing trouble and getting into fights. It makes my blood boil to think that I am being punished for a crime I did not commit. There has to be some way for the responsible among us to be left alone!

It really pisses me off, too.




On another note that has absolutely nothing to do with the Mall Rule, the book A Great and Terrible Beauty is set to become a movie some time soon, though it may not be for a couple of years now. I have dreamt and dreamt for years about the movie and, admittedly, quite a lot about being Gemma. My mother recently agreed to get me an agent sometime this year - called it our "year-long project" - but suddenly people who have absolutely no idea what their talking about have decided that only British people will be in the films.

I'd like to point out exactly why they could possibly ever consider casting Americans in this film:

1. It was, in fact, a book written by an American so she, unlike JK Rowling, will probably not have reservations against using Americans, even if she has very little to do with the casting.

2. There are many movies that are produced/directed by people from various countries that have Americans as leads. Examples: Lord of the Rings had Sean Austin and Elijah Wood as two of the very main characters; Finding Neverland starred Johnny Depp (though I tend to forget he's American) and was directed by someone German; and Becoming Jane starred Anne Hathaway, which was directed by Julian Jarrold (correct me if he's actually American, but I don't believe he is).

3. British people are put into American films all the time, and no one ever mentions anything! Whys should it be so different the other way around?

4. The English accent in 1895 was much different than the one today, so no matter what the person's nationality, she would still have to learn the accent because it's different.

I just hate the fact that it becomes an obstacle. Whoever is right for the part, regardless of nationality, should. It shouldn't be anything less.

As one of my favorite (BRITISH) actors James McAvoy says:

“I think you find the right actor - you don’t find the right accent...”