END MENSTRUATION TALK!

One result of this fatigue, I think, is a feeling that I’m still asleep. As such, all of the dreams that I’ve had over the past few nights and forgotten upon waking, have been rushing back to me all day. And they’re all sort of stupid.

In one, my friend Courtney had just had a fight with her husband, who in reality is still just her fiancée. (They’re getting married in August.) She sat down to write him a really nasty letter, and I dissuaded her from doing so, knowing somehow that it would just draw the argument out further, and not create the bridge of understanding that she was hoping it would. Courtney agreed, she and her husband made up, and for some reason, I was very sad.

Analyze away. I think it’s pretty obvious the few neuroses that are covered in that one.

In another (way funner) dream, I was riding on a winged black horse with a Chinese lifeguard who looked a lot like Yoga celebrity, Rodney Yee. We were in a big swimming pool one minute, and the next I was holding on to the hoof of the Pegasus with Lifeguard boy smiling and encouraging me. He was totally in love with me.

Last night, I dreamed that I had parked my bike too close to the train tracks, and the train came by and sent it skittering across a strange network of metal across from the platform. I went down to talk to the CTA authorities about retrieving it, because it looked like it was still in one piece, but before they could take care of things, I realized I was asleep. I said, “Oh, never mind. Don’t worry about it, this is just a dream. Thanks for your help.” And then I woke up.

Sarah is another one of my brilliant but tragically faraway friends, one of my oldest and dearest. We’ve known each other since middle school, and despite enormous disparities between our social circles and interests, have always been good friends. It’s not unusual for me to be thinking about Sarah, and for her to immediately call; and it’s not unlikely for her to dream about me when my life is particularly intense, even if we haven’t spoken in a few months.

She’s been trying to get in touch with me for the last few days, which is apparently a difficult feat despite the fact that I swear that I have no life. Yesterday she left me a voicemail saying “Hi, Kelly, it’s Sarah. Still trying to get ahold of you, because, um, I’ve been having weird dreams about you lately and just wanted to see if you were OK.”

Well, yeah, I am. I’m actually doing pretty fucking good. My near-normal, no-diet approach to eating has resulted in a much calmer demeanor and better outlook, and miraculously, I’ve gone down a whole belt-loop and my underwear, when I’m wearing any, fits waaaaaay better. So, my belly and ass are shrinking. The weather is beautiful and I’ve been biking a lot, I’ve been riding waves of joy and anticipation about the very real possibility of going to grad school in a new and exciting place, or staying in Chicago and adding a new and exciting element to my life. I’m feeling hopeful about stuff that I didn’t even realize were making me despondent. So, yes, Sarah, I’m doing OK.

I’m hoping her dreams don’t involve some fatal illness which starts with leaden fatigue. Pssshhh, they won’t. They won’t. But her tone on my voicemail led me to believe that a love-smitten Rodney Yee isn’t making any guest appearances, either.

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN!!!!

On the grad school front …

I’m looking at Drama Therapy MA programs in North America, of which there are a whopping THREE. One in New York, one in San Fransisco, and one in Montreal. None in Chicago, which makes me sad.

Because no one knows what the hell Drama Therapy is, here’s a snippet from one of the university’s websites:

Drama therapy integrates the methods of drama and theatre with those of psychotherapy to facilitate personal change. Engaging in therapy with diverse populations, drama therapists assist clients in attaining goals which may include personal and emotional growth, ego development and psychological integration, behavioral change, the development of social skills, and improvement in quality of life.

Okay, so that doesn’t really answer any questions someone might have. How about these class description:

Theater Lab--Drama Therapy and Social Change (2 units)

The transformative power of drama therapy in the social context and of the role of the drama therapist as an agent of social change. Four approaches to the use of drama and social issues are examined: the Acts of Reconciliation Project, socio-drama, the Theater of the Oppressed, and World Work. This course focuses on how change occurs in groups, organizations, societies, and nations.

Additional courses include: Therapeutic Communication, Human Development and the Family, Group Dynamics Using Creative Arts Therapies, Psychopathology, Professional Ethics and Family Law, Theories of Individual and Family Therapy, Family Dynamics and Therapy, Research Methodology, Cross-Cultural Counseling, Psychopharmacology, Psychological Assessment, Child Therapy, Human Sexuality, and Alcohol and Chemical Dependency

OH, MY GOD! I DON’T KNOW, EITHER, BUT DOESN’T IT SOUND AWESOME???? This shit is so up my alley, I feel almost violated. Taking the two most heathenish and nebulous academic subjects, Theatre and Psychology (mostly Jungian), and combining them into one profession! It’s MADE for me! I know I just made it sound very fluffy, but please take my word for it that it’s a legitimate course of study.

I may just pursue a Masters in Psychology with a concentration in Creative Arts Therapy, because when the time comes, I may not want to move. BUT OH, MY GOD, THE FARAWAY PROGRAMS ALL SOUND SO PERFECT! THE ELECTIVES EVEN INCLUDE MASK-WORK AND PUPPETRY! PUPPETS AND CULTURAL COUNSELING IN A SINGLE ACADEMIC PROGRAM COULD ONLY MEAN ONE THING … PUPPETS FOR PEACE!

I don’t know. I think I’d love it, and I’d be really good at it.

As far as the faraway cities are concerned, it certainly wouldn’t be a tragedy to have to move again, and my inner hobo would be ecstatic. I have a generous handful of close friends already living in New York, and we could all commiserate about our poverty and laugh hysterically over nothing and always make each other feel better. Together, we'd be way too goofy to let ourselves fall prey to the anti-bourgeousie Grad Student Ennui.

I could feel at home in that city’s worming streets, where all of the buildings vie for attention, pushing their ways through the cracks or overpowering the underdogs, in effort to make it to the front of the chorus line.

I’ve been in love with the concept of living in San Fransisco since I was tiny, even though I’ve never been there. It seems like a very “Kelly” city from what I’ve heard, and friends who have been there can attest to that. I’m not exactly sure what that means, other than that it involves a fruity open-mindedness and creativity, as well as a poetic terrain that has an unpredictable appeal to the eyes. I hear Montreal is similar in that respect, with a European flair.

But I love Chicago. Chicago is a gruff old man whose way of saying “I love you” is slipping a shot of whiskey into your hot cocoa in the mornings. Chicago is not fond of the in-between; there are some days when the entire city smells like rotting fish-guts, and others when the downtown chocolate factory emits a blanket of aroma that makes every street smell like fresh brownies. The buildings are independent and well-spaced, creating a confident skyscape of united autonomy. There is so much to do here that is affordable and fascinating, I love my friends, I love my apartment, and other than school and a feeling that I should pack as much adventure into my years as humanly possible, there’s every reason for me to stay.

Other than the few months I’ve lived in Vermont, I’ve never lived in an environment that I felt completely complimented my personality, and I wonder what it’s like. It might be inspiring, but it might be too cushy, like refusing to eat anything but the squishy tops of blueberry muffins.

We’ll see. I’m excited.

And exhausted.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

One-Armed Paper Hanger Earns her Wings - 07.29.05

Sugar & Lemon - 07.28.05

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BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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