Friday, almost summer

So, I can catch a bus on either side of the street to get to work.  This morning, I saw that I had missed one, so waited for the other, then realized I had missed that one as well.  I saw people across the street, so decided to go to the crosswalk and cross over.  When I finally made it to the stop, there were no longer people there.  I initially thought they'd changed their minds, and then I looked around more, behind the pillars, behind the stop, around the cars, and no one.  Ran back across the street to catch the other one.  A bus must've gone by and I just didn't see it.  Been having that happen a lot lately, I was cooking, only one home, and I had taken vegetables out of a drawer and when I went to put them back in the fridge, I opened the drawer and it was full of butter.  I closed it and opened it again.  Still butter.  Then the thought occurred to me that, "oh, maybe someone wanted to use the drawer and took my vegetables out," so I looked for them (seriously) and didn't see them anywhere else in the fridge and got slightly annoyed.  Then I remembered that I had gotten them out just now, and no one else was there.  Opened the drawer again, butter.  Then, yes, realized it was the wrong drawer, and was relieved that I had not gone into some parallel universe.  I think I might be losing my mind.

Went to go see "The Price" by Arthur Miller last night at ACT.  The first act was kinda' slow, second, much more interesting.  The truth kept getting more twisted with each telling of what happened that I wasn't really sure where things were at the end, and have no idea really why the brother, Walter, bothered to show up, except perhaps to assuage guilt or clear the air.  I'm not sure what was resolved in the end, but perhaps that's just life, all of us see what happened in our own light, through our own filters...is there an ultimate truth or resolution?  Maybe not.  In the end, we have the stories we tell ourselves and each other to make sense of our lives and justify our choices.  And all of us see the same story from a different point of view...perhaps they are all true, though not the same.  (Then there is the dissatisfaction of who we've become, what we've done with our lives, how we no longer hear each other, how we feel we have failed and the fear we can never be more than we are which keeps us paralyzed in our unhappiness, in the places we feel stuck.  Same themes as with "Riches," that was all ringing familiar to me as well.)

Always waiting for the moment where we will let ourselves "live" and then waking up and realizing we've been holding our breath for our whole lives, and our lives are more than halfway over.  Whatta ya do?