ideas! ideas! ideas! and PMS.

had the worst day at improv last night.

just couldn't get out of my head.

the worst part of it? my PMS/period is over, so there's no scapegoat.

(and i'm sure you wanted to know that. seriously, though. as much as women hate PMS and Mother Nature's unfailing drive to torment women and remind them of their womanhood and the real purpose of their unused, spinster eggs, PMS is always a great excuse for unabashedly serving people their just desserts.

but don't openly assume that we're PMSing, either.

that's about the only thing about women that i've come to fully understand and respect.)

that and my PMS might be going by a different name now.

and, until "PMS" grows a pair [ovaries, cojones - whichever you prefer] and finally decides to confront me (or, at least, take it), i'm just going to have to accept too-large quantities of chocolate as a regular part of my diet, Alanis, Janis, Patti, Joni, and other angry/moody/loud women as the current soundtrack for my life, and considering writing a sequel to Poor Poor Jimmie.

however, i digress.

the main point of this post is to outline new resolutions i've made for myself.

it's not exhaustive:

1. tell that one person that i'm sorry i panicked and backed out so randomly and quietly. start over. maybe by groveling.

2. be more unapologetic about my antics and [less weird] neuroses.

3. no more self-deprecation [unless it's in the service of comedy].

4. stop thinking so much. seriously. it's annoying.

5. be more frugal. that poster of Chunk doing the Truffle Shuffle really wasn't all that necessary.

6. okay. maybe it was.

7. i'm laughing just thinking about it.

8. stop thinking about PMS and don't let him get to you. definitely not worth it.

9. write, write, write. but don't try so hard.

10. be proactive.

it's already shaping up to be a really great year, i think.

plenty of stuff to keep me busy and happy.

and making money's always nice.

and new friends.

new interests.

newer and healthier habits.

good stuff.

feeling inspired.

oh-so inspired.

proof?

here are some story ideas i've been coming up with.

(but don't steal them. don't forget that i'm currently in a permanent state of PMS.):

1. shy, awkward girl meets equally shy, awkward boy.

go out on first shy, awkward outing.

bond in ways that would make Jack and Rose jealous.

(like my dad, i only like that movie for the special effects.)

but, to no fault of their own, they're both gay.

haha, God - nice one.

so they're gaybies together; both trying to find their niches in this big, gay world.

one les-bro, one fruit-fly.

but always mistaken for a couple.

they help each other out in finding a date to a big, gay prom (or something of the sort) and hilarity ensues.

their names might sound something like Lyle and Nicky.

(still to be decided.)

2. protagonist comes out as trans F to M in college, after finally escaping that conservative, rural town and the rule of his equally conservative and somewhat backward parents.

they excommunicate him for several years, during his transition period.

in the meantime, he struggles as a starving artist/performer type.

when he returns home to prep for his dad's final days, at the urge of his mother - who might be suffering from some degenerative disease or other and needs his help as both of his older, more successful sisters are far too overwhelmed to do so - after a 4 year silence, he's forced to confront the skeletons in his closet.

one night, inundated by the prospects of facing all of those skeletons at once, he goes out to a bar by himself.

there, he runs into another skeleton: his childhood best friend and secret love of his life, who he promised himself he'd never speak to or think about again.

as he's changed his name and, obviously, his appearance, his ex-best friend - who's attempting to escape her friends' belligerence - doesn't recognize him.

at a loss for words at her sudden appearance, but eager, nonetheless, to somehow be close to her, he sits and listens as she explains to him that she feels like she's known him before, but is also currently participating in a personal social experiment where she attempts to build significant relationships through beliefs and behaviors rather than personal histories.

she's inexplicably drawn to him and asks if they can meet again.

he considers telling her the complete truth - about how they really already knew one another - but, when he finally opens his mouth to do so, she cuts him off and reminds him of her social experiment.

he doesn't resist.

they meet, and keep meeting.

fall in love.

they never have sex - especially after one particularly painful and awkward near-sexual encounter in her apartment.

she somehow learns the truth (still have to figure this part out) and panics.

i still need to work out the ending.

as depressing as this one sounds, i've already jotted down a number of really potentially hilarious scenes that can balance it out.

namely, through the protagonist's mother.

3. this one's an idea for a TV show, inspired by the Tim Fite song, "Big Mistake."

the protagonist, a young-ish woman who was recently involved in a drunk driving accident, isn't dead.

but isn't completely alive, either.

she's in the in-between. a coma.

but she's not "inactive."

instead, her "spirit" (or something or other) is put into another body.

she's inserted into a different life where she has full access to her family, loved ones, and "enemies/acquaintances" - but they can't recognize her.

instead, she befriends others who are like herself, as they all manage to find one another in the in-between.

their task?

to correct (or at least acknowledge) the one big mistake they made in their lives thus far, so they can come to.

but if they fail - because there is an antagonist (who else, besides Death himself/herself?) who is hell-bent (wordplay!) on foiling their plans - they "move on."

a comedy.

and that's all i've got for now, but i really think it's more than enough.

gotta get to working.

also, any feedback would be great! anywho.

this is an odd and sudden way to end a blog.

(90 some odd) days of summer: holy jeebus. wtf was i thinking?

i'm petty.

and immature.

and self-absorbed and chock full of self-pity.

clearly.

sometimes i wonder if these are irreversible.

i can hear myself say ridiculous, less-than-kosher things during regular conversation and immediately feel the oftentimes negative juju that emanates from my unfortunate listeners.

i can't even use certain words properly.

like kosher.

sometimes i can stop myself before anything truly harmful can dribble out of my impulsive pie-hole that all too often goes unchecked.

other times, i'm forced to make due with the bull shit that manages to escape and profusely apologize to my listeners (and myself, inwardly) for the things i unintentionally force them to listen to.

when i tell stories, i sound something like a broken record player.

always the same ones, over and over again.

i hear myself tell them, beg myself to stop, but end up spewing out less-than-favorable comments and jokes and stories anyhow.

it's hopeless, really.

and i'm not the cute kind of neurotic, where i wear too fluffy slippers as everyday shoes, or brush my teeth 1o times before meeting someone, or take pictures of random leaves in the street.

i'm the kind that doesn't get properly angry at appropriate times so that i can manage it well and deal with whatever's going on.

instead, i bottle up the feelings i get from deserving moments and blow up for the most random, small events that should and would normally go unnoticed by any really sane person.

but i'm learning.

and i think this past summer (which, as of today, is officially over) was a really great time to recuperate and process all of the new things i've experienced, thought, felt, and witnessed.

turning 20, which, really, apart from finally putting an end to the teen years and, theoretically, all of that angst and self-absorption, doesn't do much besides getting you thinking.

any average teenager (or, at least, any teenager like myself) managed to sit through a good 6 or 7 years of her life wallowing in self-pity.

"Wahhh, I'm petty and immature. Wahhhh."

but we don't really do anything about it.

we were as annoying as we were masochistic.

there's something so alluring about suffering when you're that age. especially for our generation, where people actually compete over how much emotional baggage they carry, and, therefore, how much more of "life" they've seen.

how much more "real" and "hard" and "interesting" they are.

it isn't really until you hit that 20 mark that you look back and think, "holy Jeebus, wtf was i thinking?"

holy Jeebus.

wtf was i thinking?

it's about flippin' time, too, that i come around.

i mean, i'd be lying if i said that this summer didn't sting a little bit, with all of that new knowledge.

i'd hate to think that i'd lost a friend in the process, but, at the same time, i wonder if it was really worth it?

so dependent, was i, on the openness of other people that i did everything i could to cling to every friendship i ever made.

and one slipped through the cracks.

i blamed myself for it - that is, my pettiness and immaturity - and resolved to mend the broken ties and start over.

i told myself that i understood why this person wanted to "un-friend" me and remove me from their life altogether.

how worthwhile am i, really?

worthy?

valuable?

the fact that i seemed so expendable, because of all of my vices and flaws, really made sense to me.

but in the process of being unceremoniously booted out of someone's life i managed to meet and make some new friends.

the kind of friends i thanked my lucky stars for.

i couldn't believe that they'd want to spend even just a few minutes with me, day in and day out.

after all, i was petty and immature and overly self-deprecating and altogether, indubitably, irritating.

but they put up with me, and i was too grateful (particularly after that previous close friendship seemed to be on the rocks) to question my all too rare good fortune.

and i turned 20.

and got to thinking.

somehow, these new people - one or two, or several in particular - seemed to see something valuable and worthwhile in me.

at least, enough to actually wanna hang out with me and [drunkenly] tell me that i'm his best friend.

maybe, i thought, incredulously, there's just a little inkling of something to me.

and, for the first time in my life, i resolved to find out exactly what it could be.

i was inspired, i suppose (sappily enough), to finally go about and find and do the things i've always been afraid to try.

i signed up for an improv class (which extended to 2 additional improv classes) and found, surprisingly enough, that i didn't just enjoy it, but i might actually want to pursue it.

i applied for leadership positions in organizations that really mean a lot to me.

i started writing more and, more than that, letting other people read and critique my work.

i came up with so many ideas for stories and projects.

i started telling more painful stories and talking about darker aspects of myself that, before this wave of inspiration found me, went untapped and buried way deep down.

all in all, i was finally and completely opening up to people.

because maybe, just maybe, these parts of myself were worthy of an audience.

and if not, they'd reject me.

but they didn't.

and i found that my experiment - which i fully expected to fail - was a success.

and i loved my new friends and new community and overall new life.

the improbable goals that i set for myself, though still a reach, at least seem worth a shot.

but even when i found all of this happiness, there was still a piece of me that felt slightly hurt.

i still couldn't get over the possible loss of a friend.

so i revisited the events that led our friendship astray, as i was finally armed with the insight and self-worth that would undoubtedly let me see things a little clearer.

and i found that the severe guilt that i'd experienced for a prolonged period of time - and that i did everything my power to remedy, to no real reciprocation because, clearly, i was the only one at fault - had changed.

i didn't feel completely guilty about everything that happened.

it was just hurt.

like coming out of a bad break-up and finally seeing all of the harsh reality that was so obscured by what i thought was real love.

and this isn't to say that i doubt that he and i were close and really cared for each other.

i still care about him very much - wholly and sincerely.

but what hurts was how easily he was willing to remove me from his life after something of a really petty issue.

at least, an issue that seems very petty now, after being the one thing that managed to absolutely consume all of my thoughts and worries.

another source of self-doubt and self-deprecation.

the ease with which he clicked that tiny "delete" button on facebook was a death sentence in his eyes.

i wasn't worthy.

the only way i can interpret this action, following just one email message explaining the first time he did this (because, yes, he did it twice) is that i was the expendable friend.

i revolved around him.

served his needs.

and failed him.

so he got rid of me.

because it was just that easy.

because i had no other value.

and if you're reading this, and you know who you are, i'm done apologizing for what happened because, honestly, i don't think i ever really needed to feel guilty about it in the first place.

what i will apologize for is how quickly this friendship seemed to fall apart because, again, i still care about you very much, and i wish that we can fix things and start over.

but i'm not going to compromise my own self-worth for it.

it has to go both ways.

i'm not saying that things could ever go back to the way they were, as we seem to be pretty different people now, but i'd hate to go on feeling that anxiety that hits me every time you walk into a room.

it's unfortunate that an untrue rumor was the one needle that broke the camel's back, or however that saying goes.

and it's unfortunate that, rather than coming to me to talk about it, you chose to, yet again, remove me from your life because you think that i'm unworthy.

but i really hope that things change for the better because, really, i finally feel like i have.

that is, changed for the better.

a 90 day vacation hardly seems like sufficient time to make big changes, but, at this point, nothing really surprises me anymore.

i'm so grateful those heinous teenage years that were so chock full of self-absorption and untended angst and self-pity are over with and i can finally identify these problems with myself and my relationships and mend them as best i can.

if there's one thing i want to promise myself for the coming school year, it's that i make more of an effort to be unapologetic.

just be pure, unadulterated Vickie.

scary.

i don't know who i should feel more sorry for (my friends, or unsuspecting strangers), but i'm okay with making mistakes and learning from them now.

it was a good summer.

and i'm happy.