Rain, lots of rain

Suddenly feel very free.  Had my coaching session earlier.  Did not get "up on it's feet" but we did cut both monologues to under 50 seconds with a good thru-line for both and emotional changes.  There is a similarity between them because on a continuum of drama to comedy, they both are closer to a center line.  Will have to make the women distinct enough, they have different backgrounds and points of view.  I'll keep looking, but I like these two women.  She (the coach) talked about how they are different and also said something interesting about how we all have to teach other people how to love us, which is as much true for life as it is for these characters, and perhaps that's why these "love" stories are written over and over again, and why we keep watching them.

I also feel excited, like I know that I want to find a way to continue to do this, two to three times a week for the foreseeable future.  And that requires finding a way to keep my expenses down, and a way to make more money than I do now.  And having any sort of certainty frightens me, as if just saying it will jinx it.  (Talked to a couple of the housemates about the possibility of leasing the house and also have started looking at ads of what other housing is available.  Not sure what I will do.)  And then I found a great monologue in the collection I wasn't very hot on, and a play I want to stage.  I have time, but will start looking into how to make that happen.

It was pouring after the coaching.  I went downstairs and had lunch, hoping it would let up.  Staring out the window at the rain, thinking of falling asleep in the sun and wondering what changed after that point.  Unwanted thoughts.  Writing.  The waitress came by and complimented my handwriting.  Brought coffee.  Still the rain fell.  It was time to leave.  Walking to the bus, the first person I encountered, red-rimmed eyes, always breaking my heart and I'm left feeling ineffectual.  The second, brushing his teeth, beer in the other hand.  The third filing her nails, slightly out of the rain.  Publicly private moments because that's what the option is right now.

The bus is packed, smelling of Windex.  It gives me a headache.  It inches along northbound in heavy traffic.  Home again and I need to sing more.  I think I have enough songs, but I've been assured that I will forget when the time comes to sing them.  Hopefully, I have enough buried in my memory that something will come out automatically, lord knows I have enough song lyrics occupying my brain.  Hopefully, I have the willpower to force them out "on voice."  There are only seven mirrors left to go.  I imagine we will all be done with ours by Thursday.

Are we half-way through now?  I've lost track of time.