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Alanis Morissette "Precious Illusions" |
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Oh God, what a relief it is to finally say greetings to y'alls, it's DJ time. I just spent fucking hours writing a should've-been-quick essay on anorexia that became the most daunting, tedious process ever because the structure of the essay had to be so rigid and un-stylistic...it was basically the opposite of me. We can all agree that I am a man of impeccable style, correct? The Aimee Mann shirt says it all, no? I hear the gay population scoffing at me, limp wrists pointing evil fingers my way. Screw y'all, I got an email from Diabolique (www.houseofdiabolique.com of course) over the weekend, so suck it.
So alright, because of the amount of crap I've just put myself through (in the meantime skipping dinner just to get the paper done...me hungry now [sad face]), I'm way excited to be here. The weekend was a really good time overall...anytime I get to go home and bring some hip hop flava back into Lemont is a positive experience. Kinga, her mom, and I drove home on Friday evening, stopping along the way for Dairy Queen and Wendy's fries...just to kickstart what was destined to be a completely healthy weekend. I got dropped off at my house where only my brother Greg was...and guys, his voice is lower. Greg is my house's resident Peter Pan; it is his job not to grow up. Gotta love change. Anyway, upon arriving at home, I danced in my bedroom for like twenty seconds because I got to have a real bed for two nights in a row...what a luxury! Then it came time to make out with my car because we hadn't seen each other in so long...so off me and Laser went to Target to buy some new headphones. Target was the same beautiful thing it always was...now that's something that should remain the same, you know? For kicks I drove down PT's street too. We haven't talked in so long because he's...mysteriously...NEVER online! I'm pretty sure he forgot it's our anniversary...(sobbing)...and I thought he wanted commitment.
Alrighty, so after picking up some swanky earphones from Target, I got a phone call from my brother Mark asking to join him at Chili's for the cast party of the LHS play 1984. I planned on hanging out with my family that night, but since none of them were home besides Greg, I deemed it alright to go. Me and Laser blasted some crunk-ass Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie the whole way there, the way we strutted together once upon a time. I arrived at Chili's after re-acquainting myself with the not-at-all-ridiculous way you have to maneuver to get into the Chili's parking lot. I saw Mark there, with full white-boy afropuff (halfway between Albert Einstein and Justin Timberlake circa 2000) along with many of the old drama homies. I said hi to them, and then approached Rachel Fields all makeup-ed out from the play. So nice to see her, especially because I keep in contact so much with her, and I don't feel behooved to CATCH UP ON EVERYTHING with her because we're already caught up. Stephanie Pachl was also in attendance, and that was good, because she's stellar at participating in bitchy conversations and making pointed remarks about people. And near Lemont on a Friday night, what better shit is there to do than to bitch? Sigh. Anyway, Rachel, Stephanie, and I got a booth and began our descent into uncontrollably funny conversation. Rachel pulled out a few signature riotous-laugh movements, including the infamous "my neck hurts when I laugh and I can't stop laughing" move. Eventually, after I had OD'ed on salsa and chips, I was on the verge of throwing up numerous times (my signature move! How endearing!) during my own uproarious laughter. A couple times I mentally pulled out of the conversation because the gravity of being back in Lemont with all of Lemont's issues was hitting me, but other than that I had a great time kicking off the weekend with those folks. My brother Mark chilled at our table too, equipped with a razor-sharp impression of Mr. Conoset that had Rachel smacking her head into the wall with delight. When we departed from Chili's (after greeting Mrs. J, birdlike as ever, and Mr. Nees, who talked to me about my MyLemont.com posts), we went to Dominick's out of desperation. Toilet paper was bought because Stephanie and Mark and probably Rachel and almost Louis wanted to TP someone's house... alas I aborted the mission because of tiredness. I still had Rachel and Stephanie over to chat at my house, and the best part about that conversation had to be my brother Greg contributing to the conversation from like...yards away across the room. Rachel had a dead-on impression of a fellow classmate of hers, and I just about died (literally, I fell off my chair and into the garbage can). So congratulations to me there. They went home soon after, but I wanted to talk to Rachel on the phone, so later that night I chatted with her for an hour about my issues and her issues and how we both said in some fashion, "God, I know intellectually this doesn't make sense, but my impulses tell me differently". It was an involved conversation, basically the essence of my favorite parts of Lemont life.
The next day I had a date with Wayne the Barber. You guys... my hair was uncouth. It was animalistic. I belonged in the fucking Jungle Book. Wayne even commented: "I've NEVER seen your hair this long." With each swift, sweet sway of that buzzer, I finally felt liberated from the hair that was essentially taking over my face, Spyware-style. Left Wayne's feeling like it was summertime and I was my own Madonna in my chevy of love. Off I went to drive aimlessly through my subdivision booming any of my favorite songs that I could think of and singing along with them completely-in-tune. Before long, I drove to Rachel's just to see what she was up to, and it was unanimously decided that a trip to Panera was in order (even though, apparently, someone found something in their food at Panera and now everyone in Lemont fears Panera? Whatever, suckers, I'll eat all your broccoli-cheese soup fucking FOR you). Let's see, Rachel and I ate there and did our usual three hour chat. I thanked her for talking with me on the phone the other day, and so basically we got to talking from there. We left Panera, and outside we were confused to see ambulances and fire trucks and other shit that Lemont uses for getting kitties out of trees all parked in front of Walmart...there was smoke coming out of the place. I take it there was a fire of some sort, I dunno, I was too badass to stick around. Rachel also hung out at my house for a little while, but I needed time to myself before my big night out with Eric, Sarah, and Kinga.
Nothing compares to meeting up with a group of old friends all reconvening after months at college. Sarah picked me up at 4:45 with Kinga in tow, and then we went to el famous Eric "Puppy Bastard" Forst's house. Right from there the fun began, and the various exchanges of personal stories and old times was off and running. We went to T.G.I. Fridays, a place that has really cleaned up its act from the times where it sported Big Top colors. Eric and I revelled in our chicken-and-honey-mustard...naturally afterwards I felt sick and about to throw up (Almost Throw Up Count so far- #2...more to come!). After that adventure, we partied on down to LHS where the big reason for our visit was goin' down- the play. We met Mrs. J and Mr. Nees again (though Eric and Sarah were re-meeting them for the first time) and we even said hi to the folks backstage. Strange being back there...for one, I felt like I was going to throw up again (bringing the count to three) and two...there simply exists a different dynamic in drama now. It's not the same as it once was, but what did I expect. It's evolved, so good for that. I admired the cast and their mechanic-style garb, it was comparable to what I had to wear in The Monkey's Paw way back during freshman year. We didn't stick around back there long though...eventually we had to go and seat ourselves down in the audience. The show was iffy, mainly because I don't see why on earth anyone would try to adapt 1984 into a play. Also, I realize watching this play that high school productions can almost only function as individual showcases for the performers onstage...because there's such a clear distinction between who onstage has better motivation and understanding of what they're doing and who doesn't. Favorite piece of wardrobe: Rachel's "Kill Bill" sash... She should wear that thing around the Witkowski center and see if anyone picks fights with her. The set was really unique, I thought...almost avant-garde. It was something you'd see in a 1981 music video. "Big Brother Killed The Radio Star", kind of. Next time around, the LHSers are doing Brighton Beach Memoirs, and the only way I can rationalize that is Mrs. J gets wet when she spites me and does the play I bargained for after I graduate.
Post-play, Eric and I went into our little compulsive rating of each of the performers. One thing is clear: we love Sean Driscoll. He was the first performer to walk onstage, and after glancing at Eric, it was pretty apparent that both our hearts were aflutter. We stole Rachel after the show, dropped Kinga off at home, and drove out to Starbucks for a split second so that Sarah could officially proclaim her princessosity. Then, after an invite from Ramski, we booked it to the cast party at his house. It's weird going to a cast party when it's for a cast you're not in... and also when it's a cast party where there exists a cabinet full of...soap bottles. An omen? We were too scared to find out. Shortly thereafter (and after time #4 of feeling like I was really going to puke if I had to stand any longer), Eric, Rachel, Sarah (who soon left for Candice's house) and I all drove around Lemont in nostalgia mode. Sarah dropped us off at Eric's house and he drove Rachel and I back to LHS. We sat on the hill by the baseball fields and talked about how things have changed and whatnot. You could actually see some of the stars that were out...which kinda set the mellow mood. It was like being in one big Norah Jones video. We talked more about our favorite performances from the past four years, and really, one of my favorite performances has to be Ryan Porter in Arsenic and Old Lace. He should stick to crazy shit like that. Looking back, I loved Eric in The King and I, loved Monica in Witness for the Prosecution, loved Rachel in Witness for the Prosecution, loved Catie in The Beverly Hillbillies, loved Mike Sherry and Kimmie in Up the Down Staircase, loved Joe Ramski in Frankenstein 1930, Ryan Porter in Arsenic and Old Lace, Matt Solarski in Arsenic and Old Lace, and definitely loved Jeff Dolecek in The Odd Couple. And anyone involved in Illuminating the Future With A Blowtorch probably deserved 48 Tonies.
We ended up at Eric's house, chilling in his basement, just he, myself, and Rachel. Conversation was simple and still funny, and before long Mike Sherry joined us. Thank God he is still a Best Buy badass. I don't know what I would've done if he suddenly became a sellout Sam Goody arsehole or something. The evening tapered out, and then Sherry drove me home. Wonderful evening. And no throw up.
Sunday I went to church and my mommy drove me back to Iowa along with Kinga. Kinga wasn't feeling so hot, so my mom and I chatted about all of our favorite things: each other, her take on liturgy, my take on cool people, psychological disorders, and plays of the past. When we arrived in Iowa, we celebrated our tightness with some Starbucks. Mom investigated my dorm too, and she got a good look at the beautiful array of Todd's clothes, homework, and condoms that he had artistically strewn about the floor. Inspiring, really. And then bam, here I am, way back into Iowa life.
The transition back into Iowa life after I get back from Lemont is pretty shitty, actually. I don't have the hugely strong friendship base that I do at home while I'm at Iowa. I have my cool cats (like Maggie, who just did a little photo shoot with me...expect evidence later), but you know...home is home, I guess. Two more weeks and I'll be back in the Lemont saddle again for turkey time...so in the meanwhile, I should grab this Iowa place by the horns. Or sleep. That one really does seem more logical, doesn't it. Alright, even though I've already typed frantically for an hour or so, I really came to the journal because earlier today I was in dire need of outlet and communication with the outside world. Maybe it was part of the transition back to Iowa, or maybe it was part of my all-around inside-head thinking I do that occasionally makes me feel disconnected...but I was really having a hard time. First of all, I was already exhausted at the thought of having to do the fucking psych paper (because I'd attempted so much resarch last week only to find that there were like, zero case studies done on anorexia this year. Apparently it's gone out of style). Secondly... I was just upset in general because of homesickness and because I got to thinking about sexual orientation and how shitty the stigma of "being gay" can be occasionally. Not to mention my scattershot dream of actually committing to someone cool and meeting the person who will...I don't know...validate every dream I've ever had about what a relationship can be. It's not exactly a great feeling to think that it will take somebody I haven't met before to "save me". Uggh, what do I need to be saved from again? From my times of being wound up in my head and thinking I'm always going to feel restless and confused and bitter about sexuality? From being uncomfortable with sexual identity? From...feeling unlovable? Help me out here? Most importantly, I think it's the sexual identity... I have a hard time being "sans partner" and still being able to own up to my gayness without feeling stigmatized. Because if I'm in a relationship, it's like...who the fuck cares, I'm in it with this guy, and he knows what's up, so who cares if the societal perception (not actual practice) of gayness sometimes makes me uncomfortable? Without a partner however, I'm left to my defenses and left to just having the "label" of gayness. It's tricky like that.
"Coming out" wasn't a terribly arduous process (though the circumstances surrounding it were work enough), and it's had mostly good consequences, but one thing I lack now is the... same sexual identity I had before that time. Before then, I could be gay and do gay things without having the hovering cloud over my head that says "YOU'RE DIFFERENT BECAUSE YOU'RE LIKE THIS." I could be sexually involved and do it without pretense, because I didn't feel gay when I participated. I felt like myself. If it hasn't occurred to you by this time, "feeling gay" and "feeling like Louis" aren't necessarily a part of each other. There's a wanting to cling to what I knew before last November, the circumstances and people I knew before (hell, I did reinstate the PT shit this summer, didn't I?) all for the sake of being able to be gay and not feel gay...or stigmatized, I should say. That's the one string that keeps me tied to how I was over a year ago...that feeling of comfort and safety, the feeling that straight people have in their sexualities (by most accounts, I mean). I think the stigma of gayness comes complete with notions of...being overly caricaturized, being judgmental, jaded, distant...and most notably, weak. I associate open gayness with some form of weakness...like an attempt to sort of declare your difference or your minority status as a means of overcompensating for your insecurity. It's hell sometimes, thinking I do that. I love being Louis, and a lot of the time I don't love being this thing that was never a huge part of how people regarded me before. At Iowa on my floor, my room is readily called "the gay room" by some of the males. Even Todd says it. Then again, that kid has no handle on himself, and anything he says about himself is meant to have some self-promoting effect. That might work if he weren't a dumbass. Anyway, it's funny that I'm writing all of this right after I write my paper on anorexia, because my feelings towards shifting my sexual identity from "blissfully ignorant" to "self-realized" is absolutely similar to this one woman's shift from "anorexic and helpless" to "realized and ready to change". In both situations, the person consciously wants to overcome their boundaries, the thing that impedes their progress (e.g. my discomfort in owning up label-wise to my sexuality and this other woman and her inability to really push for self-change, despite her articulate, very knowing perception of herself and why she does the things she does). The thing that stops progress is the SAME thing in both cases. Because of all the physical and emotional effort expended into our first stages (my blissfully-ignorant-and-loving-it gayness, her anorexia), the moving on into the second stage seems like a step OUT of our identities instead of a step into them. Without feeling blissfully ignorant about the sexuality, I don't feel like myself, I feel like less than what I once was... and with this other woman, she's spent so much time in her own distorted vision of reality that really owning up to and becoming better (something she intellectually WANTS to do) seems like a departure from who she is. She identifies the anorexia as her entire lifestyle; without that lifestyle, she feels lifeless. Like nothing's there. She needs to function on that plateau. And if progression's going to happen, she'll now have to trust someone else, something that goes against her entire way of thinking and living. Where I'm lucky is that my "crisis" isn't my entire identity, it's simply my sexual identity. My progression seems daunting because it means going against everything I've identified as standard, accomodating parts of relationships/sexual "flings" (e.g. secretiveness, ignorance). To depart from that means departing from basically everything I know regarding good sexual relationships. Besides the aspect of friendship. However, I'm certainly not saying that my level of crisis is at all on the same plane as this other woman... absolutely not, as a matter of fact. I'm simply saying that there are parallels in these two (and probably all) shifts in identity...from one set of self-constructed beliefs regarding oneself in relation to a concept like sexuality or life itself to another. From self-constructed to intellectually-constructed, I suppose. And here's where we get to a song that's become special to me. By an artist who is unparalleled in her ability to tackle issues like this with a unique panache and quirky sense of articulation. I'm talking about "Precious Illusions" by Alanis Morissette.
I generally do not get this candid when talking about songs that mean a lot to me, aside from "Vogue" or "Milkshake"...those two must be shared. I feel uncomfortable declaring how much I'm...you know...ALL ABOUT a certain song, because describing it too much can trivialize my liking of it, but for this entry I really wanted to talk about this song. A little bit of irony: this song is off the worst Alanis disc. Go figure. Anyway, the struggle in losing the innocent, blissful former ways of an identity are detailed here in poignant tone. So many lyrics ring a bell...the searching for someone to validate one's illusions, the wanting someone to save oneself (meaning me, I guess) from insecurity and helplessness in one's innate state. The conflict in the lyrics between intellectual knowledge and the self-constructed "precious illusions" is front and center. I don't say things like this often about other writers: she's taken the words right out of my mouth.
"You'll rescue me, right?
in the exact same way they never did.
I'll be happy right?
when your healing powers kick in
you'll complete me, right?
then my life can finally begin.
I'll be worthy, right?
Only when you realize the gem I am."
I love the blatant stating of her preconceived, once-thought-to-be-protocol notions...these ideas that a potential mate will "complete" her, that he'll serve her through being what she wants him to be. It's so good...and fucking true. It's exactly what I did in attempting to... lasso up Phil. It was a wanting to find someone to fill voids, to make that person more than the sum of their parts. A way to finally accept every part of myself...through connecting with someone else. The song gets better:
"But this won't work now the way it once did
and I won't keep it up even though I would love to
once I know who I'm not then I'll know who I am
but I know I won't keep on playing the victim."
So much is happening there that I love. There's the conscious recognition that she can't go on believing in those old things, that she must grow up finally, and depart from innocence without departing from herself. And the last line there is killer. Throughout one's own identity-shift (mine anyway), there's a feeling of being victimized, feeling burned by the past, feeling helpless in the transition, like it's so daunting and so hard and so isolating...but it doesn't have to be that way at all. As a matter of fact, it can be the opposite. It can be exciting... a springboard into the mindset that will probably provide you with the most genuine happiness you'll ever know. During my once-usual talks with Mrs. Hamburger, she said to me, regarding my problems, "It's the loss of innocence that's hard." I never considered how right she was until recently, and now that line is fucking creed to me. Not the band, the concept. Anyhoo...Alanis keeps on pumping out the truth:
"These precious illusions in my head
did not let me down when I was defenseless
and parting with them is like
parting with invisible best friends."
This chorus is beautiful to me. She conveys (lyrically and in her wonderful, flowing voice) the joy, the trauma, the fear, and the exciting possibility in the process of losing one's illusions and becoming self-owned. I love that she views her old illusions with love...because as a grown adult, it's easy to be embarrassed by those illusions or to cast them off as unimportant things of the past...but Alanis views them as things that are necessary in her evolution, things that point her in the right direction. At this point I'm still very much figuring out my illusions, but I can feel myself transitioning and becoming more able to see things the way they should be, from the fully-formed identity I'm learning to attain. The word "precious" has a few connotations to it...there's an innocence and unfettered nature to things that are precious, and that's beautiful, really, but there's also a problem with the word "precious." It stands for things that are breakable, overly delicate and overly minded...things with too much stock put into them. I don't think there's a better word to encompass everything that those "illusions" are about. More, more, more:
"This ring will help me yet
as will you knight in shining armor.
this pill will help me yet
as will these boys gone through like water."
Oh man, and THEN she hits on the concept of sorting through potential mates with some scattershot hope of finding peace through having them believe what you want them to believe. Love that. That's something I feel I've learned by this point...that you can't do that and feel actually happy about it. Her emphasis of the importance she formerly placed on material objects of status (e.g. a ring) is key as well. The "pill" is a heavier notation, a statement that through her illusion-losing, she herself has been lost to the point where she needs an outside chemical (sleeping pill, prescription pill... pilly pill) to tame her inner conflict and helplessness. Besides another chorus with similar lyrics and another verse in the same style as an earlier verse, there's a bridge to this song which brings Alanis' proclamations to an emotional height:
"I've spent... so long
firmly looking outside me
I've spent... so much
time living in surivival mode."
The "survival mode" thing is dead-on. In the same vein as the feeling "victimized," I personally find myself feeling at odds with my impulses, my former notions, my former friends, and the lacking of knowledge in attempting to gain the right knowledge. It's such a battle, it's absolutely survival mode. Grasping to what I can, trusting my drive and basic instincts, learning to be empowered when on my own, when feeling alone in my struggle, alone in recapturing and relearning a better version of the essence of connected relationships. I felt (feel, rather) that I was thrown into my survival mode, seeing as I was kind of forced out of my innocence by circumstances beyond my control. In that sense, I don't know if I'm alike or unalike others. Knowing that Alanis (apparently) grapples with similar relationship struggles that I do makes me think there's a much more universal aspect to what I'm feeling, as in not just something that people with different sexualities deal with. That's great to know actually. Strange thing is that, really, you can't go through this transition stage without going through a few relationships first. I don't know if I like that certain relationships have to be disposed because of self-progression and better understanding of what relationships are about...but I guess realistically, if one person in a relationship is learning what's what, then the other person probably is too.
Anyway, that's a song I love. It applies to me now, and actually, I bet it's going to apply to me for a long time. God forbid that identity formation is a lifelong process and that no one's perfect, and somewhere in my head there will always be shadows of those precious illusions that worked so well at one point. Everyone evolves differently, and nobody evolves all at once... so I guess I can look forward to feelin' that song for a long time. It's songs like that that remind me how great it is to be able to communicate en masse, because you can pull off things like that where people catch your drift, feel connected to you artistically, and feel more assured and safe in their similar trials and tribulations. I looooove Alanis. And the song has a very good video too, I recommend it. (If you want to see it, go to alanis.com and check in the video section)
And Maggie and I are renting horror movies this weekend. We're gonna get the whack-ass ones that Bravo recommended...and there'll be candy and popcorn and everything, what more could I ask for. Anyway, it's 3:20 AM, I've gotta be up at 8:30, so thanks for reading along, everyone. It's great to know that during my times of jealousy, insecurity, frustration, and exhaustion, I always have this journal and y'all to help me transcend and recall how great it is to be able to reach out. Love you guys oh so much, let's keep the connectedness rockin' (and rollin').
Xoxo, everyone,
Louis.
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