Slightly disturbed that I immediately identified with the one who wielded all of the power in the play. My empathy has swung more in the other direction now. First impressions aren't always correct, we bring so much of our societal views into it, our own baggage. Robin told a related joke, something to the effect of an older fish passing by two younger fish and saying, "How's the water today, boys?" and the younger fish answering, "Fine," but later after he swims off, one says to the other, "What's water?" The idea I take from it is that we are so immersed in the way things are, we aren't aware of it. That "John" is so wrapped up in his privilege he can't see it. That if he were to experience for one moment what everyone else (not of that same privilege) experiences on a daily basis, it would be newsworthy. He doesn't "get" the struggle that "Caroline" faces daily, against which, if she stops fighting, she sinks. And now she's fighting not for herself, but to reform the system; she's starting with him. (In the first act, she says again and again, "I did what I was told." But it didn't make any difference. She is trying to do what she's been told, but gets patronized. When she tries to explain herself, she gets written off as "angry." He labels her and stops listening. The system wasn't set up for her.)
The ending and the reason I was told it was written, make it ambiguous, still. But I have to make a choice none-the-less. The person I was talking to said that the first time he saw the play, he took a woman and she hated it. They later saw a different performance and she liked it. He said he didn't think it was Mamet's intention to necessarily make "Caroline" the villain, but that was the director of the first performance they saw's choice. The second director made a different choice. And you can do that, because there is some ambiguity. You think it's one way, and then, no, it's going in the other direction.
So, if there were a song...originally I was thinking Pat Benatar, either "Heatbreaker" or "Treat Me Right." Then I thought, Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman," or then Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive." Probably will go with Reddy for "You can bend but never break me, 'cos it only serves to make me, more determined to achieve my final goal. And I come back even stronger, not a novice any longer, 'cos you've deepened the conviction in my soul." The sparring partners we have in life make us grow, make us stronger...hopefully, both of us are transformed in the process. (The weak dig into their position deeper, the strong transform.) She came in the room to get help with a class, and ended up finding a purpose (even if she eventually pushes it too far.)
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Monday, March 10, 2014
Monday
Volunteered at the general auditions this morning. It's energizing. Didn't want to leave. (Met people. Got to watch a few auditions after the first break. Now have a much better sense of: what to wear, how to introduce yourself, how to transition.) Just gotta say though, that if you're gonna be a no show, can't be good karma. Maybe less of an issue on a union day than on the non-union days, but there is a loonnnggg wait list of people that woulda' liked that spot. Just sayin'. I want this life.
Just saw on my calendar that I was supposed to go to some (cryptic) performance over the weekend, that I missed. It was on my work calendar. "Cryptic" because I wrote down very little except the time and the venue. I'll have to look it up. I suspect it had to do with women's voices, as Saturday was International Women's Day. I need to keep track of my life better.
Just met someone who knew Mamet (knows?) Gave me a little more insight into the play. Also from class last night, much of what I've been thinking about her: yes...and (all of those are/could be true.) I like her more now. Seeing her as someone on a type of crusade for change, and not just out to destroy him. She's trying to "school" him in this scene, to get him to wake up and change. Doesn't explain the assault accusation nor the ending, but I'm all over the place on the ending, could mean a lot of things. Who is "the group?" What would I (the actor) fight for? What do I want? What is my moment before? Still unsure of how to prepare to enter. He asked me to show up. I was advised by others not to. I think he knows about the assault charge. (But I find out over the course of this act that he does not.) I walk in with a list of demands, and also I want to explain to him where he has erred. I'm trying to save him.
Started reading the play, again, on the bus. Had more insights, but couldn't find my pen. Looked out the window and there was a massive, flattened rainbow to the north, lying across the top of a hill. Water running. Rain drops hanging off of every tree branch like tiny sparkling stars. Clouds parting and falling back to the horizons, sunlight breaking through and bathing it all in a blinding white light. The clouds have now retaken the sky. I believe it will rain.
Just saw on my calendar that I was supposed to go to some (cryptic) performance over the weekend, that I missed. It was on my work calendar. "Cryptic" because I wrote down very little except the time and the venue. I'll have to look it up. I suspect it had to do with women's voices, as Saturday was International Women's Day. I need to keep track of my life better.
Just met someone who knew Mamet (knows?) Gave me a little more insight into the play. Also from class last night, much of what I've been thinking about her: yes...and (all of those are/could be true.) I like her more now. Seeing her as someone on a type of crusade for change, and not just out to destroy him. She's trying to "school" him in this scene, to get him to wake up and change. Doesn't explain the assault accusation nor the ending, but I'm all over the place on the ending, could mean a lot of things. Who is "the group?" What would I (the actor) fight for? What do I want? What is my moment before? Still unsure of how to prepare to enter. He asked me to show up. I was advised by others not to. I think he knows about the assault charge. (But I find out over the course of this act that he does not.) I walk in with a list of demands, and also I want to explain to him where he has erred. I'm trying to save him.
Started reading the play, again, on the bus. Had more insights, but couldn't find my pen. Looked out the window and there was a massive, flattened rainbow to the north, lying across the top of a hill. Water running. Rain drops hanging off of every tree branch like tiny sparkling stars. Clouds parting and falling back to the horizons, sunlight breaking through and bathing it all in a blinding white light. The clouds have now retaken the sky. I believe it will rain.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Rain
Didn't end up beating the rain. It's been pouring non-stop for hours. Just got home from sitting in a neighborhood bar (neighborhood coffee shop lost it's lease) and drinking coffee, re-reading the script. I've changed my mind: now think that at the end her eyes are opened and she realizes that they'v have both been destroyed, that she was a mere player for someone else's cause "the Group." She never had the power, she was only a pawn. I still don't know what the action is, but I'm beginning to have empathy for her.
Now, blasting the Clash and trying to part with things to make moving easier. Moving is liberating. It will be liberating, I just worry about paying a higher rent, how I'm gonna do that. I sorta' looked around last month, need to get more serious. Still need to do my empathy exercise for class...break.
Overwhelmed with objects, papers, books, clothing. Ugh. Evening falls with one clear bird song to welcome the dark of night. So bright and loud I can hear it through the closed windows, over the pounding of the rain. And I just remembered that I need to cook the peas, which are a pretty brown color. I hope they cook fast. Switched to Built to Spill. I hate moving. The process of it. Even if the outcome is better in the long run. Need to let go. Again, "let go or be dragged." Ugh. Memories don't live in objects. Love doesn't live in objects. Knowledge doesn't live in objects. Anything you have is somewhere inside of you. "Let go or be dragged." (Over-cooked the peas, apparently, they cooked quite fast. Noted.)
Now, blasting the Clash and trying to part with things to make moving easier. Moving is liberating. It will be liberating, I just worry about paying a higher rent, how I'm gonna do that. I sorta' looked around last month, need to get more serious. Still need to do my empathy exercise for class...break.
Overwhelmed with objects, papers, books, clothing. Ugh. Evening falls with one clear bird song to welcome the dark of night. So bright and loud I can hear it through the closed windows, over the pounding of the rain. And I just remembered that I need to cook the peas, which are a pretty brown color. I hope they cook fast. Switched to Built to Spill. I hate moving. The process of it. Even if the outcome is better in the long run. Need to let go. Again, "let go or be dragged." Ugh. Memories don't live in objects. Love doesn't live in objects. Knowledge doesn't live in objects. Anything you have is somewhere inside of you. "Let go or be dragged." (Over-cooked the peas, apparently, they cooked quite fast. Noted.)
Weird head space
Searching for what to do with "dried green field peas" wondering if they are the same as "pigeon peas," starting to think, no, but related? Ate pigeon peas as a kid, in rice dishes mostly (Puerto Rican.) Finally getting the rice dust to flush out of my eye (from airborne dust at a performance, beautiful, that I went to last night.) Got it there at the standing ovation (dust got to a good height), and then there was another 10 minutes or so of one dancer raking the rice in a circular pattern. Meditative. And then back outside into the noise of a building Friday night. The performance was Cloud Gate Dance Theatre of Taiwan, Songs of the Wanderers. Originally performed in 1994, a mixture of Buddhist story/eastern and Georgian chant/western, and 90 minutes of falling rice, or maybe 80. One performer stands unmoving, at the front corner of the stage under a stream of pouring rice the entire time (until the raking part.) It affected me the same way the throat singers did; I see them as similar, even though one was very active dance and the other musicians sitting in chairs: both spiritual in nature. This one was a journey to search for enlightenment, which at it's core is universal. Even if you don't adhere to a religious belief or practice, underneath the striving for the surface stuff, you are searching at some point. For meaning. For God. For depth. For purpose. For love.
I went to the talk before the performance, and the speaker spoke briefly about how the choreographer doesn't like to tell you what the show's about, because he likes movement for movement's sake and even in a performance like this one, he wants each audience member to have their own interpretation. Yes. But still we have a sense of where this piece came from (kids playing in a sandbox in New York, Georgian chants, Siddhartha, etc.) and some backbone to the story. I'm re-looking at my thoughts on that (that statement certainly stood out for me, and I'm going to an audience engagement workshop next weekend and they asked a similar question they want us to answer before the conference.) Again, I don't want it spelled out for me (that also would get in the way of engagement; I wouldn't need to bring my own imagination to the performance), but I do want an entry point. I want to know how to enter your world. I want you to want me there to experience it because you created it to share with an audience and not just to perform it for the ticket price without any back and forth of experience or conversation (with my imagination.) Yeah, you need to get paid, but that can't really be the main reason you choose to do art (also, doesn't pay well, overall, you would make more money doing something else, and probably be happier, if that was the main reason. So, if you take that off the top, you want to share something with someone. So, bring them into that.)
Need to get out and take clothes to H&M before the rainstorm's back, and get back into my character. I was doing some writing as her before the performance last night, and I was starting to get an inkling of where she was coming from. Can't articulate it yet, and it's a little disturbing to go into that head space. But I need to have an action before tomorrow. Have the text down most of the time now, meeting w/scene partner 2x before class, so hoping to flesh something out before class. In a weird head space, need to get out into the world. Ciao.
I went to the talk before the performance, and the speaker spoke briefly about how the choreographer doesn't like to tell you what the show's about, because he likes movement for movement's sake and even in a performance like this one, he wants each audience member to have their own interpretation. Yes. But still we have a sense of where this piece came from (kids playing in a sandbox in New York, Georgian chants, Siddhartha, etc.) and some backbone to the story. I'm re-looking at my thoughts on that (that statement certainly stood out for me, and I'm going to an audience engagement workshop next weekend and they asked a similar question they want us to answer before the conference.) Again, I don't want it spelled out for me (that also would get in the way of engagement; I wouldn't need to bring my own imagination to the performance), but I do want an entry point. I want to know how to enter your world. I want you to want me there to experience it because you created it to share with an audience and not just to perform it for the ticket price without any back and forth of experience or conversation (with my imagination.) Yeah, you need to get paid, but that can't really be the main reason you choose to do art (also, doesn't pay well, overall, you would make more money doing something else, and probably be happier, if that was the main reason. So, if you take that off the top, you want to share something with someone. So, bring them into that.)
Need to get out and take clothes to H&M before the rainstorm's back, and get back into my character. I was doing some writing as her before the performance last night, and I was starting to get an inkling of where she was coming from. Can't articulate it yet, and it's a little disturbing to go into that head space. But I need to have an action before tomorrow. Have the text down most of the time now, meeting w/scene partner 2x before class, so hoping to flesh something out before class. In a weird head space, need to get out into the world. Ciao.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
A tough nut to crack
Haven't cracked this character yet. There's something about sexism and power, and she claims a false power: destroying someone else isn't an authentic power, it's only bringing someone else down to your level of lack. She finds out in this scene that he doesn't know of her latest accusation to destroy him, but when he gets the phone call and tells him to take it and stays to watch what happens (this happens right after our scene ends.) And yet continues to make demands. Also can't tell if she's actually smart and playing dumb in order to entrap him, by writing down everything he says...and he tells her too much, or ? She got into the school. At times I feel she's trying to dumb everything down, but she's cagey, with a huge chip on her shoulder, taking every word and action out to the extreme meaning, using it to turn the tables and punish him. Crying wolf...oh, then there's the very end of the play: maybe she's punishing him for not finding her worthy of seduction. That's a thought. We have less than two weeks 'til we present these.
Just had the most ridiculous, fortuitous timing on a work project that had a bunch of moving targets: every part fell into place right as the previous part was ending. Weird and wonderful. That was just...wow. (It seemed like it was too complicated and then just fell into place in a way that couldn't have been planned out: space, painting, movers, meetings, furniture assembly and moving, cleaning...)
Finally home at a decent hour...at least I got to the laundry. (And first page of dialogue memorized.)
For some reason, just remembered how much I liked the movie "Jesus of Montreal." I was telling someone they should see it and almost started crying. The unexpected (in his case, the role) changing your life.
Just had the most ridiculous, fortuitous timing on a work project that had a bunch of moving targets: every part fell into place right as the previous part was ending. Weird and wonderful. That was just...wow. (It seemed like it was too complicated and then just fell into place in a way that couldn't have been planned out: space, painting, movers, meetings, furniture assembly and moving, cleaning...)
Finally home at a decent hour...at least I got to the laundry. (And first page of dialogue memorized.)
For some reason, just remembered how much I liked the movie "Jesus of Montreal." I was telling someone they should see it and almost started crying. The unexpected (in his case, the role) changing your life.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Characters
On first read through, there's nothing likable about "Carol" at all. And in a weird way, it's refreshing; I like having to really dig into her to find empathy for her. She might be the first character I've come across that I don't have any (none) empathy for; none of the: well, she did this because of such and such...and she must have, but I don't care to hear it. Yet. It's my job to find it. To justify her actions. Is she leading or following when she sets out to destroy him? (Granted, he's not a likable character either.) What would lead you to just annihilate someone else?
As far as Spoon Rivers go, I guess it went better than I was thinking it might (for me.) Better than Sunday. The whole set up was cool: a "congregation" of sorts, each member getting up to speak their truth in front of the group and sitting down again. My biggest regret is that I didn't sing my whole song, which had meaning for me, for my character (Frankie Goes to Hollywood, The Power of Love.) I followed other people's examples instead of my impulse, not wanting to stick out, to "show off" (ah, not wanting to "take up too much space"...got it) which it really wouldn't have been, the words meant something and I needed to say/sing them to him. I need to do what's right for me as opposed to following. The two people after me sang entire songs, which I appreciated. I appreciated that they did what they had set out to do, what they needed to do. (And everyone else probably did too...I just need to do what's right for me, and not be intimidated if what's right for someone else is different. I don't have to be them. It's okay to stick out.) I did force myself to keep the accent, good or bad, whatever, I often chicken out.
It's raining hard again. The drain outside the basement is backed-up, the basement will flood, and the ants are streaming in to get out of the water. (I didn't bail it because I needed to catch a bus. The landlord never did fix the gutters on the roof, and so they pour excess water into the basement drain.) Almost 60 degrees.
As far as Spoon Rivers go, I guess it went better than I was thinking it might (for me.) Better than Sunday. The whole set up was cool: a "congregation" of sorts, each member getting up to speak their truth in front of the group and sitting down again. My biggest regret is that I didn't sing my whole song, which had meaning for me, for my character (Frankie Goes to Hollywood, The Power of Love.) I followed other people's examples instead of my impulse, not wanting to stick out, to "show off" (ah, not wanting to "take up too much space"...got it) which it really wouldn't have been, the words meant something and I needed to say/sing them to him. I need to do what's right for me as opposed to following. The two people after me sang entire songs, which I appreciated. I appreciated that they did what they had set out to do, what they needed to do. (And everyone else probably did too...I just need to do what's right for me, and not be intimidated if what's right for someone else is different. I don't have to be them. It's okay to stick out.) I did force myself to keep the accent, good or bad, whatever, I often chicken out.
It's raining hard again. The drain outside the basement is backed-up, the basement will flood, and the ants are streaming in to get out of the water. (I didn't bail it because I needed to catch a bus. The landlord never did fix the gutters on the roof, and so they pour excess water into the basement drain.) Almost 60 degrees.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Another day, another storm
Working on the Oleanna scene, my poor scene partner barely gets a word in edgewise, of four pages of text, a good 2 1/2 are my character just going off (he has one small paragraph and I have six) and then there is actual back-and-forth dialogue, where we continually cut each other off. (I've usually gotten the one-word replies to someone else's diatribe, now I get the diatribes. It's a lot to memorize. One of the things I was inspired to do after the 14/48 Festival was to memorize my text faster, those actors were getting their text and blocking down in mere hours.) I need to read the play, I actually found part of the script online, but the characters interrupt each other so much I didn't get a sense of what they were talking about. It seems on the surface that one is destroying the other's life, or perhaps they both are. There are implied accusations, but I need to know what those are. And they take a long time to say what they mean to say.
I think I've figured out more about Emily Sparks, at least I hope so, those are finished tonight. I'm not always able to communicate outwardly what I know inside. I think I'll change my song as well, it's a love song, but perhaps I want my love to save him in the end. If I didn't, why would I feel the need to speak to him? (And a star will shine brighter and shoot across the sky in answer, all in my imagination since I don't get to actually speak to him. Only search through the darkness of the night, in hopes that he can hear me, that I always loved him.) Then we have only two more classes (one is only a work through w/scene partner) before we have to present the scenes. We've only got four more classes, counting tonight. This quarter has flown.
Oh, total clashing of personalities, points of view. Yes, I have to read the whole thing, she has a secret, I need to find it.
Rain, rain and more rain. I want to eat my own food. I have food in the house, but no time to cook it...just not home at all this week, barely enough for time to sleep. I need to learn to ask for what I need or want...boundaries? I need someone to cook for me. (Even my writing sounds like I'm running on only caffeine...that's true so far today.)
Ooh. There is such a thing as "slang" flash cards...very distracting.
I think I've figured out more about Emily Sparks, at least I hope so, those are finished tonight. I'm not always able to communicate outwardly what I know inside. I think I'll change my song as well, it's a love song, but perhaps I want my love to save him in the end. If I didn't, why would I feel the need to speak to him? (And a star will shine brighter and shoot across the sky in answer, all in my imagination since I don't get to actually speak to him. Only search through the darkness of the night, in hopes that he can hear me, that I always loved him.) Then we have only two more classes (one is only a work through w/scene partner) before we have to present the scenes. We've only got four more classes, counting tonight. This quarter has flown.
Oh, total clashing of personalities, points of view. Yes, I have to read the whole thing, she has a secret, I need to find it.
Rain, rain and more rain. I want to eat my own food. I have food in the house, but no time to cook it...just not home at all this week, barely enough for time to sleep. I need to learn to ask for what I need or want...boundaries? I need someone to cook for me. (Even my writing sounds like I'm running on only caffeine...that's true so far today.)
Ooh. There is such a thing as "slang" flash cards...very distracting.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Centered but pissed
What would "winning" a war in Crimea even look like? (War, as opposed to a peaceful resolution, withdrawal.) It's just the latest fire, a symptom of a larger issue, where he changed the laws to give himself unlimited power: there is no scheduled sunset on his reign.
Other life. Was talked into staying for the whole concert with the carrot of a ride to meet my partner. That was actually nice, and it was dumping rain, but I paid for food, and didn't have a chance to eat so that I could rush to meet my partner (it's true, I was about 15 minutes late, but I said I might be.) Anyway, he wasn't there. I was so pissed I didn't try to find him (he was hanging out with someone else, but he had an appointment with me.) I should have, but I felt like staying in the self-righteous anger. And now I don't get to actually look at him when I do my piece, which is tough, because I have no cues to go off of (so, how do I know if my voice reaches him?) And I read too fast, and I wasn't connected, but I did go first...she said it showed I wasn't prepared, which is true enough, I'm not sure I understood what exactly "being prepared" meant. Last chance is Tuesday. He does get to look at me though. I need to get more specific on why I need to say this to him. I have two images of him: the child, and the person being kicked outta' town, I need to flesh out the intervening years, if only to understand why he says what he says to me. We got partnered again for final scenes. That's one way to work shit out. (Oleanna, David Mamet.) I generally like working with him, I suppose I just needed to be pissed off tonight, but I don't get to stay that way. I don't like being stood up. (Or being addressed by the wrong name, or "you." I know I'm being petty.) Still, if it's true we have to teach others how to love us, we also have to teach others how to treat us. Just a thought, I put up with being last and receiving crumbs as if it's a feast...and it's really not. Obviously, this is about more in my life than my scene partner standing me up, and the latter is only a big deal in the context of everything else.)
Good things about today? I made a lovely vegetable tray for the Finnish event; we sang Tuljak relatively slow and so got most of the syllables in-and everything was translated(!) in the program; I was really centered in my body when we did "grid work" (a group exercise, set to music, where you move as if on a grid, and interact with one another...and work up a sweat), like really grounded and really free, in a way I have not been this year; being in class makes me forget everything else...that's always a good thing.
Other life. Was talked into staying for the whole concert with the carrot of a ride to meet my partner. That was actually nice, and it was dumping rain, but I paid for food, and didn't have a chance to eat so that I could rush to meet my partner (it's true, I was about 15 minutes late, but I said I might be.) Anyway, he wasn't there. I was so pissed I didn't try to find him (he was hanging out with someone else, but he had an appointment with me.) I should have, but I felt like staying in the self-righteous anger. And now I don't get to actually look at him when I do my piece, which is tough, because I have no cues to go off of (so, how do I know if my voice reaches him?) And I read too fast, and I wasn't connected, but I did go first...she said it showed I wasn't prepared, which is true enough, I'm not sure I understood what exactly "being prepared" meant. Last chance is Tuesday. He does get to look at me though. I need to get more specific on why I need to say this to him. I have two images of him: the child, and the person being kicked outta' town, I need to flesh out the intervening years, if only to understand why he says what he says to me. We got partnered again for final scenes. That's one way to work shit out. (Oleanna, David Mamet.) I generally like working with him, I suppose I just needed to be pissed off tonight, but I don't get to stay that way. I don't like being stood up. (Or being addressed by the wrong name, or "you." I know I'm being petty.) Still, if it's true we have to teach others how to love us, we also have to teach others how to treat us. Just a thought, I put up with being last and receiving crumbs as if it's a feast...and it's really not. Obviously, this is about more in my life than my scene partner standing me up, and the latter is only a big deal in the context of everything else.)
Good things about today? I made a lovely vegetable tray for the Finnish event; we sang Tuljak relatively slow and so got most of the syllables in-and everything was translated(!) in the program; I was really centered in my body when we did "grid work" (a group exercise, set to music, where you move as if on a grid, and interact with one another...and work up a sweat), like really grounded and really free, in a way I have not been this year; being in class makes me forget everything else...that's always a good thing.
Ugly
News seems to get worse everyday. Government destabilized and neighboring army invades to seize resources, under the guise of protecting people speaking the same language who were under no threat from anyone. Sanctions seem meaningless, and wishy-washy. So sick of war, people forced out of their homes and into overcrowded refugee camps to slowly starve, attacked and raped or killed when they venture out for food or water or fuel. This is no life. Limbo that drags on with no end in sight or a glimmer of hope to ever return home. Maybe there will be relocation if you are lucky, and always carrying the longing in your soul for a home you can never return to. There have been liberations where lives have improved (WWII), but I can't think of any countries in my lifetime that are better off for wars fought on them, there are some that are functioning again, but so many are only limping, in tatters, full of mistrust of the "other" whomever that may be. I don't know what needs to be done, what can be done. The aggression needs to be addressed. I just don't see who has the moral grounds to address it at this point. So many governments currently guilty of the same actions to seize resources...(look at the maps over the past 200 years and see who occupied what country, what the official language is.)
Still if help is being asked, someone needs to step up and answer, regardless of the hypocrisy. In the end, the lives of actual people being at stake should take precedence over any past action. None of us have clean hands; this is not the time to tie them behind our backs in shame.
Still if help is being asked, someone needs to step up and answer, regardless of the hypocrisy. In the end, the lives of actual people being at stake should take precedence over any past action. None of us have clean hands; this is not the time to tie them behind our backs in shame.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
No Snow, Yet
As oft repeated, "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain." I was thinking that, and then it was the next heading in the book I'm reading. My disgust over biased reporting grows and grows. Who can you trust? Being informed citizens is an important pillar of democracy, and it's hard to be informed when you are being fed someone else's agenda, and we're bombarded from all sides. Picked up the Beauvoir book today, quite the tome. Got my haircut this morning, it looks healthier, but more conservative than I like. I wanted it for headshots...maybe if I wear eye make-up...Stopped in at a wine tasting, got a little tipsy as the pours were generous and there were seven of them (and I hadn't gotten around to eating yet.) Surprisingly, I liked the Cab-I don't, usually- it was more rounded than what I've had before, but bought a white because I mostly just wanted it to make risotto, and it was less expensive. A man was visiting from Japan, and somehow I ended up in that party and so they shared this Japanese chocolate with me. Wonderful. The most luscious milk-chocolate I've ever tasted.
Finally saw the record-wanting ex again today, it's been since Christmas Eve, but he was in a truck waving at me in an intersection, so not the best time to tell him to come get his records. I hope I see him again, before I have to move.
The local news station has rain in the forecast, the University weather lists 80% chance of snow, I'll hope for the latter. It's chilly out. I'm lazily watching a movie now because it's due tomorrow. I also have a concert (tomorrow) that I didn't know about until yesterday and I told my scene partner I'd meet him at 4:30 to go over text, since we have to be off-book for class later on. I guess I'll sing the first half of the concert, I can't stay the whole time, the venue isn't the easiest to get to class from by bus. I really need to write these things down somewhere.
Been having vivid dreams; they leave me happy. Then I wake up and imagine the worst case outcome, (would work for class), and then a neutral one. Then all day, I don't know what I think or feel. Need to stop driving myself nuts. Patience. There's nothing I can do. Nothing I should do.
Finally saw the record-wanting ex again today, it's been since Christmas Eve, but he was in a truck waving at me in an intersection, so not the best time to tell him to come get his records. I hope I see him again, before I have to move.
The local news station has rain in the forecast, the University weather lists 80% chance of snow, I'll hope for the latter. It's chilly out. I'm lazily watching a movie now because it's due tomorrow. I also have a concert (tomorrow) that I didn't know about until yesterday and I told my scene partner I'd meet him at 4:30 to go over text, since we have to be off-book for class later on. I guess I'll sing the first half of the concert, I can't stay the whole time, the venue isn't the easiest to get to class from by bus. I really need to write these things down somewhere.
Been having vivid dreams; they leave me happy. Then I wake up and imagine the worst case outcome, (would work for class), and then a neutral one. Then all day, I don't know what I think or feel. Need to stop driving myself nuts. Patience. There's nothing I can do. Nothing I should do.
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