This entry was originally written as an assignment for a Playwrighting class that incidentally, I failed miserably at. The assignment, however, I found very interesting.
Part of the assignment was to define our main character using some basic questions. The character was clearly based on me, but the “Where I am now” question was answered, by the character, in a way that perfectly described my first apartment in Philadelphia after I graduated college. The assignment was written in March of 1987. I moved into the apartment in September of 1993. I had no recollection of the assignment and found it, only later, in my parent’s house. Not relevant to this entry but an interesting tidbit I thought. In the sense that sometimes we get where we wanted to go without really knowing that we’ve done it.
The other part of the assignment was to define ourselves using the same basic questions. That is the text included below.
Who am I?
I am an 18-year-old woman, born New Year’s Eve 1969. A strong-willed, often downright stubborn person, yet insecure about who I am and why I exist. Too many times I ask myself these questions far too seriously and push myself over the edge. I live in the grey area of life but seem to always want everything else to be black and white. I love security but follow an unsure future.
What time is it?
It is 1130pm, March 14th 1988. It is time for me to get to work. It is time for my roommate to go to bed. It is time for another vacation. It is time for me to mail my voter registration and proclaim myself as an adult to the U.S. Government.
Where am I?
I am in the United States – a wonderful country I am told. It sounds like I am in two states at once: Indiana, Pennsylvania. And it is snowing. Again. I am sitting here behind my recently cleaned but once again rather cluttered desk in my dorm (oops, I mean “residence hall”) room on the 6th floor of Shafer Hall. I am 6 stories above some people on the sidewalk who are oblivious to the fact that I am watching them and can hear everything they say.
What surrounds me?
My typewriter, my stereo, a stack of magazines, mostly Rolling Stone’s that I have yet to read. My bed, my roommate, some food, many small stuffed animals, and pictures and posters of all sorts of things and people, to include a poster of myself.
Current circumstances?
I have recently returned from a much-needed Spring Break, and I think I may have my head on a little straighter than before. I just came inside from the snow and I am still a little wet. My roommate is in bed, sick. I plan on trundling downstairs to see my lower neighbors pretty soon. I played pool tonight and saw a good friend who is in from Syracuse. Mid-semester has passed and I haven’t done anything yet.
What is my relationship?
To my typewriter: it is my friend and companion when times get rough.
To my stereo: it has brought me more comfort and peace than many can imagine.
To my roommate: just that. Roommates. Formerly enemies, now grudging acquaintances, started as friends, or friendly enough.
To my stuffed animals: they are my shoulder to cry on when no other is available and something besides myself to wrap around me when I sleep.
To the pictures: not so much the pictures as the people in them. A few inspire me because I know they believe in me. A few inspire me because I know they don’t believe in me. A few pictures are of places in a much easier and happier time. And the ones of myself remind me of my dreams. The other posters exist mainly to cover up the institutional-green walls that make this room look like a cell without bars.
What do I want?
Everything, eventually. I want to be successful. I want to be happy. I want to be rich. I want to be beautiful. Most of all, I want to be sure of what I want. For now however, I want to get by. To survive. As simple as that sounds, sometimes it isn’t so easy. I want to learn all the I can and be able to use it. I guess that’s why I’m here.
What’s in my way?
A lot of people who are better than I am. A lack of funds. But in truth, the only real thing in my way is me. My attitude. My little voices inside when they tell me I’m going to fail. My attitude towards work (I’m somewhat lazy). I think too much. I want to take my brain out of my head and wash it. Wash off all of the shit that keeps running through it and bogging me down.
What do I do to get what I want?
I write, I pray, I play pool. I look for ways to stop thinking so much – to clear my mind. I go to college – to learn. I eavesdrop on conversations. I listen to people who have been where I am. I use the experience they’ve had and the things they’ve learned and apply them to my own life. I practice. I play the piano with my eyes closed so I can forget that there might be someone outside the door laughing. I use my imagination to create circumstances that may never occur. And I write them down. I exercise…some. I look at myself in the mirror a lot so I can identify my shortcomings and so I can realize my talents and advantages and accentuate them. Sometimes I cry and remember that it’s okay to lean on people. But mostly I try to stand on my own two feet and remember where I’m going and do my best to get there.
