I like to act, sing, cook, admire beards (read: reblog pictures of scantily clad hairy men), and occasionally try to dance, and create. Ridiculousness is always welcomed.
I am in my second year of a Drama and Education double degree program at the University of Alberta and will (eventually) be getting my MFA in Theatre Voice Pedagogy from the same place. I'm also gay, for what it's worth. This blog is a little glimpse into my hopefully interesting life.
Bonus points if you have chest hair and/or a beard, or if you look like, sing like, or are Dan Mangan. Enjoy!
I have been spending so much time outside this past week so I feel good and am starting to get all sunny (maybe a bit too much).
My body is also starting to lose its winder poundage, thankfully. So I’m all like, sexy and whatnot. Obviously. But my scruff looks weird cause you can’t see the blond hairs on my cheeks. It’s there, I swear!
I find myself very angry that I am the eternal youngling, and I will always be the youngest. Youngest in my family (on both sides with over 10 cousins on both), youngest of my friends, youngest of the people I live with.. I’ve always been the youngest.
And yet, I hate being around younger people than I, or occasionally even people the same age. They just all seem so trivial, that nothing and everything is important that the same time. I find it horrible unattractive. And then I wonder - am I like that? Am I this contrived, this.. awful to be around? Does my life seem as if it’s going nowhere, or that I’m just not ‘cool’?
And I love people who are older because they have experience over me, and I can really learn things from them and maybe I can teach them a thing or two because I’m really not that young! I’m 19 but I can be 21, or 23, or 25, or 27!
I love people who are older because they seem to have their lives together, even if they really aren’t. But at least they have been living that way long enough to at least make it seem like everything is okay. That everything’s cool.
And I feel as if I’ll be 20 in August and eeeevvverrything will change. Well dressed bearded men will come flocking to me in their gravity pope shoes and I don’t have to worry that my ex boyfriend broke up with someone for me and now is back with that someone even though he’s a jackass and I’ll never be alone for the rest of my life.
And so, I guess I just wait and try to make the best of it. Wait until I’m 21/23/25/27(<— ideal age, 27) and at least I won’t be 19. I love my spirit, my enthusiasm. I really do and I really wish that I could appreciate someone who appreciates that. But no one seems to do so, and I am left only appreciating myself.