she always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day...

~Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

I think I've been avoiding blogging so as to avoid a negative ramble which doesn't help anyone. But maybe it will help to write some of it out.

I have been spending the days in a ceaseless cycle of 'what do I want to do with myself now?'. The answer is usually an indifferent sigh as I reach for a book or peruse the many films in my apartment. I've discovered that you can relish reading for pleasure much more when your liesure time is a little less abundant. Not that I'm not grateful for the free time I have. I really hope that when I one day have a job or when I return to school I can look back on this time without the negative feelings which constantly lurk beneath my complacent surface.

I would feel fine, even if I am embracing the lazy side of life a little too much, if I didn't feel like I was disappointing my mom. But she's just been so generous, so supportive, and so faithful in my ability to find a job that, after a month of being home, I find it ridiculous that I am still failing in the main thing I am trying to do here in Provo. In fact, I have quite often felt like I was disappointing someone for the past few months. Mainly, Susan Howe-- my teacher in London--, and maybe various directors, in addition to my mom. This doesn't seem normal. I think something isn't going quite right in my life right now, though I'm not sure what it is or how to fix it.

Whenever Beth walks through the door, exhausted from her busy and meaningful life of work and rehearsal, I pounce on her, demanding to know what happened during her day, keeping her talking as long as possible. Is this to avoid smothering in my own thoughts, which I experience 80% of my waking hours? Or to live vicariously through her fulfilling life which incorporates the perfect balance of duty and recreation? If I happen to get my sister Lindsay, (or anyone for that matter,) on the phone, I keep her talking as long as possible too, though this is a little more difficult--when talking with Lindsay, I am usually the one spurring conversation or loquaciously going on and on about minor things which I can tell she's only half listening to.

But I've done it again. This has indeed turned negative and if you are reading this you are either pitying me or are disgusted by me.

To turn to more cheerful thoughts, I went to B&N last night, my favorite store in the world, to get the new Harry Potter. I kind of made Beth go with me, thinking that if I showed up at 12:30 a lot of the crowd would have scurried off by then to devour the new chapters immediately. But there was still plenty of people, and I could sense Beth's regret as we pulled into our parking spot. I, on the other hand, couldn't have been happier. If I could have gotten someone to go with me, I would have gone to the party which had been going on until the clock struck twelve. I loved being surrounded by all of the Harry Potter enthusiasm. Many were dressed up, and I loved the frenzied atmosphere, so many people just waiting and itching for this book, another opportunity to delve into the world of witches and wizards. A world where, although we all know more dear friends are going to suffer and die before the end of this series, everything will turn out alright. One of the strongest attractions to this world, for me, is their powerful ability to use the magical powers within them for good and bad; to heal and create, as well as to fight the forces which are threatening their happiness. It's something tangible, they can whip out their wands and cast a spell. Bad things are going on, and Harry actually has the power and opportunity to fight against it, using not only his magical powers, but one of his greatest weapons: love. I love returning to this world each and every time. I don't think I can describe the comforting feeling that I always get as I imagine Harry and his friends returning to Hogwarts, but I love it, and I yearn to be going with them to Hogwarts. It's pretty amazing that Rowling could inspire this longing for a fictional school in me, but it's strong. Although the students are constantly complaining about their homework, I know that I would find it so fascinating! I million times better than the general education I have endured. True, imagining taking Charms or Transfiguration gives me the same thrill that I get when I think about taking many theatre classes, so I guess I'm lucky. But if such a place as Hogwarts truly existed. I do believe that I may choose it over acting (how shocking-- the acting gods are going to curse me now.) History of Magic is so much better than American History! Harry and company don't have to take anything which compares to math and chemistry (the chemistry classes I experienced were nothing near Potions, if that that's what you're thinking). True, nobody seems to talk much about film, theatre, or literature int he Harry Potter world, and I would miss that. But, if I could live in any book world, it would be the Harry Potter world-- as long as I could be a witch.

If I could live in any TV world, it would be the Gilmore Girl world-- as long as I could practice their witty repartee and endless culturally referential knowledge. As long as I could, like them, be human and make mistakes but end up not only happy but beloved by an entire town of quirky people. What would I give to live in Stars Hollow (I could even take a bus to NYC whenever I desired) and participate in their varied and entertaining festivals. Neither of the Gilmore Girls go long without a boyfriend, and their relationship with each other is to be envied. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my mom and wouldn't really exchange her, but how great would it be to have a stylish, smart mom and best girlfriend wrapped up in one beautiful package? Not to mention the filthy rich grandparents who fawn over their only grandchild and provide her with a great job or travel opportunities whenever needed.

But alas, I don't live in a fictional world. I just hope that one day kind of soon, I will have a week where things truly do seem to be going right. When, as I smile and tell everyone how great I am, I actually mean every bit of it. I mean it now, but that's because I'm comparing myself to the large amount of people in the world who are living in much more difficult conditions than my blessed self. I would like to mean it when I am comparing myself to the average American college girl. But then again, as I place those sentences together referring to so many people who are not nearly as fortunate as the average American college girl, I've got to admit that I am pretty damn lucky. And I'm grateful for it.