Ended up passing up an audition (second one, actually) opportunity. It was sides, too, so if I'd had something I could've used a headshot, I would've done it. The other thing was since my computer died, and I somehow lost the back-up, I only managed to find an old resume, in an email, that needed updating. So, at least that's done now. I actually prefer sides for auditioning vs. a monologue, especially for new work; it gives you a sense of the material, and it lets them see you in context of the show that's being cast. My mom is paying for my TPS membership for the upcoming year (Christmas present), so I can see the audition listings again (I still see a few, but not many.) Headshots are just such a big chunk of change (and women usually have the additional cost of hair and make-up, on top of the photographer cost), I mean, you can take 8 weeks of theatre or dance classes for the same amount of money which would help your actual performance (not to mention eat, pay rent); but alas, you don't get the part without jumping through the hoops, and headshots are part of that. Pay to play.
I'll figure it out. I took the past year off, for the most part (I did a workshop, a monologue in a performance, and the video shoot) from acting to travel, and get better (health), and pay bills. Also, there have been a lot of singing commitments, but that's mostly over for a while. It's in my thoughts again, I want to get back to it.
I'm trying to reorganize my living space, only got to one small corner, but it's an improvement. I realized I've been living like I'm waiting for the next crisis and that even if I'm only here for one more day, it should still feel like a home. It hasn't, but at least I understand why. I've been crouched at the door ready to run out at a moment's notice for a long, long time, probably most of my life. Time to figure out how to turn the hyper-alert setting down, and breathe. Stay. Live.
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Tuesday, December 5, 2017
Tuesday
For the record, I'm not mad. Just learning to value myself more than someone else, or the approval of someone else. Trying to figure out who I want to be right now, and where I want my life to go. What makes me myself, not anyone else.
Through no one else's fault, I've found that I tend to put everyone else first, and have been holding my breath so often on my own life, waiting for the right time, for something (relationship, job, weight to get carried by those responsible for it, ???) to happen before I live. And I want to stop doing that, it never arrives, I always find I'm waiting, and years pass by. (I'm not waiting for happiness, I already have that, I'm waiting for purpose, and what I contribute to the world. Where I fit in in the greater scheme of life.) It's not all the time, but it's too much of the time. A message buried so deep and ingrained in everything I do, that it's almost imperceptible, yet driving everything, every choice I make. I'm just suddenly very aware of it. I'm more aware of the time passing, that there are fewer years of life ahead of me than behind me, and what do I do with them?
Yeah, that's where I'm at.
Through no one else's fault, I've found that I tend to put everyone else first, and have been holding my breath so often on my own life, waiting for the right time, for something (relationship, job, weight to get carried by those responsible for it, ???) to happen before I live. And I want to stop doing that, it never arrives, I always find I'm waiting, and years pass by. (I'm not waiting for happiness, I already have that, I'm waiting for purpose, and what I contribute to the world. Where I fit in in the greater scheme of life.) It's not all the time, but it's too much of the time. A message buried so deep and ingrained in everything I do, that it's almost imperceptible, yet driving everything, every choice I make. I'm just suddenly very aware of it. I'm more aware of the time passing, that there are fewer years of life ahead of me than behind me, and what do I do with them?
Yeah, that's where I'm at.
Saturday, December 2, 2017
Later
After writing all that, I returned the book I wasn't enjoying, without finishing it. Why torture myself (and it was)? No good reason at all.
And I know those two points seemed contradictory, but in the first, it was about how pure someone has to be in order for us to accept the good work(s) they do/did. The chance to do better when we realize our errors: space for change, for grace. In the latter, open communication, even of doubt, to say you're walking away for a while, forever, to not be left fumbling in the dark by myself, would suffice.
Off to another gig.
(Sat around almost four hours for eight minutes of performance. Wish we'd gotten fed something besides carrot sticks and Cheetos.)
(Sat around almost four hours for eight minutes of performance. Wish we'd gotten fed something besides carrot sticks and Cheetos.)
Rainy Saturday
Went over to the market in the pouring rain to make holiday swag. Was much busier than I expected it to be, and while I was enjoying the atmosphere, the cheerful crowds, the music, etc., my hands were freezing and my jacket was soaked, so I grabbed some greens and wire, and walked briskly home. Now it's sitting on the porch drying off, and my clothes are in the wash. I want to add magnolia branches, but that will require putting shoes back on, so hasn't happened yet. It's really wet out. And chilly.
Was scrolling through email yesterday and a picture came up of a woman that looked familiar, but for some reason I couldn't place her. Later, I went to this artist talk (one that I thought would be interesting but which surprised me by leaving me super conflicted) and the same woman walked in late and sat behind me. We met 17 years ago (I figured out who she was, and when I thought about it, it makes sense she was in the photo, not sure why I didn't make the connection initially. I think she once sat on the board of the organization.) It's been years since we've crossed paths. We had an interesting friendship, love-hate at times. I didn't end up saying anything, wasn't sure if she remembered me, and I was feeling unsettled and wanted to get out of the room (not because of her, but something that happened during the talk.) People are complicated, we are never gonna find 100% "purity", so we have to live with the good someone has done in the world, even while accepting that they weren't necessarily perfect enough. We throw the baby out with the bathwater too often. We have to figure out how much uncertainty we can accept. The heroes and heroines don't always come easily recognizable on a white horse, but could still offer what is needed at the right time.
And to add to yesterday. I'm fine with me. I like my own company, I'm not looking for anyone to save me or complete me. I'm enough. I would love to have other company, people to share life, time, friendship, whatever, in a mutual respecting, loving way. Life is fleeting. Why would any of us spend what time and energy we have on a life and relationships that aren't fulfilling? What do we gain from that? How does it make our own lives, or the world a better place? If it can't be that, if we aren't reaching each other in mutual ways, if we don't enjoy one another's company, what's the point? (If you don't enjoy my company, you're under no obligation to be with me.) Until that time, I'm good with me. (There's a better existence than merely being tolerated or humored or kept on a long leash until something more promising comes along, not what's wanted in the end, but better than being alone, it's insulting really... and again, what's the point?)
Was scrolling through email yesterday and a picture came up of a woman that looked familiar, but for some reason I couldn't place her. Later, I went to this artist talk (one that I thought would be interesting but which surprised me by leaving me super conflicted) and the same woman walked in late and sat behind me. We met 17 years ago (I figured out who she was, and when I thought about it, it makes sense she was in the photo, not sure why I didn't make the connection initially. I think she once sat on the board of the organization.) It's been years since we've crossed paths. We had an interesting friendship, love-hate at times. I didn't end up saying anything, wasn't sure if she remembered me, and I was feeling unsettled and wanted to get out of the room (not because of her, but something that happened during the talk.) People are complicated, we are never gonna find 100% "purity", so we have to live with the good someone has done in the world, even while accepting that they weren't necessarily perfect enough. We throw the baby out with the bathwater too often. We have to figure out how much uncertainty we can accept. The heroes and heroines don't always come easily recognizable on a white horse, but could still offer what is needed at the right time.
And to add to yesterday. I'm fine with me. I like my own company, I'm not looking for anyone to save me or complete me. I'm enough. I would love to have other company, people to share life, time, friendship, whatever, in a mutual respecting, loving way. Life is fleeting. Why would any of us spend what time and energy we have on a life and relationships that aren't fulfilling? What do we gain from that? How does it make our own lives, or the world a better place? If it can't be that, if we aren't reaching each other in mutual ways, if we don't enjoy one another's company, what's the point? (If you don't enjoy my company, you're under no obligation to be with me.) Until that time, I'm good with me. (There's a better existence than merely being tolerated or humored or kept on a long leash until something more promising comes along, not what's wanted in the end, but better than being alone, it's insulting really... and again, what's the point?)
Friday, December 1, 2017
New month
Chilly and breezy to begin December. I'm trying to find moments to finish the books whenever I can, one is due sooner than I'd realized, and I'm not particularly enjoying it, but feel some sort of need to complete it, so it's one less thing undone. I like the subject matter (Do animals have feelings?) though not convinced by the writing. If I didn't believe it already, I wouldn't be sold, even if the stories themselves are interesting. Ditto the "Hidden Life of Trees;" I've heard much of this info elsewhere, and the writing style is not my cup of tea (jumps around, a little folksy for me), however, I'm glad it was written and that people are reading it, anything that helps people broaden their view of the world, our place in it, and helps to see that life has it's own worth apart from our ability to exploit it, is good a good thing. I'm preferring the other tree book (actually, more about ecosystems), even if the reality is depressing, the writing is solid. (I love the self-help book.)
My arm feels much better. I hope that lasts for a while.
Still feeling in limbo. (Or back in it, been that kinda' a year. There is no center, no certainty here. Things ending, not beginning yet. Saturn return, a 28-year cycle...is it real? I don't know. Did I suddenly find myself reviewing life events (more harassment, sexism memories coming up again, because of the news cycle), relationships (yeah, that's plural) from 27-29 years ago: yes, almost to the day. Bringing up a lot of memories to process, and what I want in life, trust issues, communication, love, boundaries, affection, touch, space (both allowing space in a life, and outside of one to be an individual), conversation, friendship, respect, choosing each other, seeing people for who they are now, and not just who they were then, who I wanted to be, who I wanted to see them as...we remain ourselves, I suppose, but 28 years of life is a lot, and everyone changes.) Trying to find peace in it, figure out what I'm learning about myself, my own reactions. That's good. For the moment, I'll learn as much as I can, but there are other ways to grow, so I'm not gonna stay here (limbo) forever. I can't do that anymore.
"We must let go of the life we have planned so as to accept the one that is waiting for us." - Joseph Campbell
My arm feels much better. I hope that lasts for a while.
Still feeling in limbo. (Or back in it, been that kinda' a year. There is no center, no certainty here. Things ending, not beginning yet. Saturn return, a 28-year cycle...is it real? I don't know. Did I suddenly find myself reviewing life events (more harassment, sexism memories coming up again, because of the news cycle), relationships (yeah, that's plural) from 27-29 years ago: yes, almost to the day. Bringing up a lot of memories to process, and what I want in life, trust issues, communication, love, boundaries, affection, touch, space (both allowing space in a life, and outside of one to be an individual), conversation, friendship, respect, choosing each other, seeing people for who they are now, and not just who they were then, who I wanted to be, who I wanted to see them as...we remain ourselves, I suppose, but 28 years of life is a lot, and everyone changes.) Trying to find peace in it, figure out what I'm learning about myself, my own reactions. That's good. For the moment, I'll learn as much as I can, but there are other ways to grow, so I'm not gonna stay here (limbo) forever. I can't do that anymore.
"We must let go of the life we have planned so as to accept the one that is waiting for us." - Joseph Campbell
Mid-week
I went Downtown to pay a bill, then stayed to check out the gingerbread houses across from the Sheraton. Not ready to head home, I wandered the streets, window shopping, decoration watching.
I passed a photography class learning to pan their cameras on the holiday carousel. I admired the zebras, choose that horse as my favorite. Kids climbed the playground structures in the dark.
Further along, the Sequoia decorated at 4th and Virginia/Olive...is it lonely with no other trees to offer support, surrounded by cement and exhaust all day? Still, it remains festively lit up against the night sky. Perhaps oblivious to the traffic passing by.
I wanted to read. In a bar. So, I walked and walked through town, like Goldilocks, looking for just the right atmosphere, not too crowded, not too dark, not too fancy...but at 7 pm mid-week, in the Downtown core, not to be found.
I found myself once again in my old haunt, Belltown, near the old Freehold space, now for lease. Wandering up to a new place, unsure if it was actually open or not, and after standing outside trying to assess for a few moments, I pushed the door inward and entered. The bartender was just re-appearing behind the bar, I asked if it was open, it was. I looked for a table with enough light to read.
She brought me a bowl of Marcona almonds with my drink, after I asked if there was any food. I was trying to finish what I had, but then she brought me more, and I wondered if it would be wrong to put them in a container to take with me, so as not to waste them (I didn't.) It was a lot of almonds. I stayed for almost two hours, reading, and sometimes watching the customers replace each other as the evening passed, almost always choosing the same seats at the bar, so that three seats were used over and over, while the rest remained empty. I read a quarter of the book.
Cops on the street. Five squad cars for three people. We (the people on the street) watched until it resolved (some people recording it, just in case.) Further along, people lined up on the sidewalk waiting to get into a show; I waded my way through the crowd.
The flame burned behind the bus shelter, the one holding it oblivious to anyone that might be watching. Unsure what that was, but my bus pulled up to the curb just then. Home was quick. I found some clarity.
I woke up early. Wrote, showered. Reheated yesterday's coffee in the microwave and drank it, then left the house. I arrived at work a full 1/2 hour early.
I passed a photography class learning to pan their cameras on the holiday carousel. I admired the zebras, choose that horse as my favorite. Kids climbed the playground structures in the dark.
Further along, the Sequoia decorated at 4th and Virginia/Olive...is it lonely with no other trees to offer support, surrounded by cement and exhaust all day? Still, it remains festively lit up against the night sky. Perhaps oblivious to the traffic passing by.
I wanted to read. In a bar. So, I walked and walked through town, like Goldilocks, looking for just the right atmosphere, not too crowded, not too dark, not too fancy...but at 7 pm mid-week, in the Downtown core, not to be found.
I found myself once again in my old haunt, Belltown, near the old Freehold space, now for lease. Wandering up to a new place, unsure if it was actually open or not, and after standing outside trying to assess for a few moments, I pushed the door inward and entered. The bartender was just re-appearing behind the bar, I asked if it was open, it was. I looked for a table with enough light to read.
She brought me a bowl of Marcona almonds with my drink, after I asked if there was any food. I was trying to finish what I had, but then she brought me more, and I wondered if it would be wrong to put them in a container to take with me, so as not to waste them (I didn't.) It was a lot of almonds. I stayed for almost two hours, reading, and sometimes watching the customers replace each other as the evening passed, almost always choosing the same seats at the bar, so that three seats were used over and over, while the rest remained empty. I read a quarter of the book.
Cops on the street. Five squad cars for three people. We (the people on the street) watched until it resolved (some people recording it, just in case.) Further along, people lined up on the sidewalk waiting to get into a show; I waded my way through the crowd.
The flame burned behind the bus shelter, the one holding it oblivious to anyone that might be watching. Unsure what that was, but my bus pulled up to the curb just then. Home was quick. I found some clarity.
I woke up early. Wrote, showered. Reheated yesterday's coffee in the microwave and drank it, then left the house. I arrived at work a full 1/2 hour early.
Tuesday, November 28, 2017
Back to it
Back to the sobering reality of every-day life: everyone is dressed in practical black, ready for business. I've been feeling like I had too many days off, just feel like I won't remember how to come back; doesn't really make sense, but how I've been feeling. I don't tend to feel this way after vacations, I think not having a schedule of any kind threw me off. Guess I like a little bit of structure in my life.
In five days, the view to the sky has opened up more, like returning to some place I haven't quite been before, having to become reacquainted.
Earlier, I got a bit of a sucker punch. I later realized in might have in part been my own fault: my stress levels have been high, have been inundated with emails, and might not have responded the most important time, after responding to a request five or six times (over multiple sources of input) over the past few months...I lacked the attention span to read to the bottom of a longish email. Been happening a lot. I might have missed out regardless, but my lack of response didn't help. Sigh. (I can't keep track anymore, four months was a long time to follow a spec over multiple threads on multiple media. It was regarding a job lead.)
Feeling unsettled, in general. Not sure what it is I could do to change that. And I don't know where I want to be. I need to focus on something, but I feel like I'm being batted at from all sides, and maybe that's a distraction so that I don't end up doing anything at all, trying to get a clear view to see what's what. What to trust. Who to trust. Wanting to believe words, but not seeing clearly what lies behind them. And I'm all in for altruism, but it has been at the expense of helping everyone else move forward without my moving forward, and I think I need to find a better balance.
And then the moments of serenity and unexpected connection, for which I'm grateful for before sliding back into chaos.
A friend of mine passed along a book on the Spanish Civil War to me, because of Catalonia; he'd just read it for a book group. And I'm also reading two books about trees ("The Songs of Trees," by David George Haskell, and "The Hidden Life of TREES," by Peter Wohlleben), a book about animals also by Wohlleben, and a Co-Dependency book. The long-form writing actually helps with my attention span, so I get some break from my high-keyed state.
I should just get through every thing I possibly can do, probably cut back on the caffeine. (And take a another media fast: Humanity, you're leaving me heartbroken.)
In five days, the view to the sky has opened up more, like returning to some place I haven't quite been before, having to become reacquainted.
Earlier, I got a bit of a sucker punch. I later realized in might have in part been my own fault: my stress levels have been high, have been inundated with emails, and might not have responded the most important time, after responding to a request five or six times (over multiple sources of input) over the past few months...I lacked the attention span to read to the bottom of a longish email. Been happening a lot. I might have missed out regardless, but my lack of response didn't help. Sigh. (I can't keep track anymore, four months was a long time to follow a spec over multiple threads on multiple media. It was regarding a job lead.)
Feeling unsettled, in general. Not sure what it is I could do to change that. And I don't know where I want to be. I need to focus on something, but I feel like I'm being batted at from all sides, and maybe that's a distraction so that I don't end up doing anything at all, trying to get a clear view to see what's what. What to trust. Who to trust. Wanting to believe words, but not seeing clearly what lies behind them. And I'm all in for altruism, but it has been at the expense of helping everyone else move forward without my moving forward, and I think I need to find a better balance.
And then the moments of serenity and unexpected connection, for which I'm grateful for before sliding back into chaos.
A friend of mine passed along a book on the Spanish Civil War to me, because of Catalonia; he'd just read it for a book group. And I'm also reading two books about trees ("The Songs of Trees," by David George Haskell, and "The Hidden Life of TREES," by Peter Wohlleben), a book about animals also by Wohlleben, and a Co-Dependency book. The long-form writing actually helps with my attention span, so I get some break from my high-keyed state.
I should just get through every thing I possibly can do, probably cut back on the caffeine. (And take a another media fast: Humanity, you're leaving me heartbroken.)
Thursday, November 23, 2017
On Thanksgiving
When I was caught in the torrential rain, I was/am thankful that my destination kept me sheltered from the storms. Thankful for the electricity and heating. Thankful for a stove and the ability to easily prepare food for myself. Thankful for my job. Thankful for the cheerful messages written on the coffee cups this morning, by people who had to work this morning instead of being home. Thankful for the choirs that I sing in, for the community, the music, and experiences being a part of them has brought into my life. Thankful for the daily proximity to nature. Thankful for my garden, for the creatures that live there, for the chance to get my hands in the dirt. Thankful for my education, and the twisted path that has taken. Thankful for art in my life. Thankful for music. For music and stillness and touch when words are not enough. Thankful for my family, and my childhood friends. Thankful for all the people in my life, for those who have offered unconditional love, and for those who have offered challenges; the first because they believed in me and gave me courage, and helped me to love myself, and the latter because they helped me to grow and be a better version of myself. I'm thankful for the privilege to travel, and for the community that has come into my life from that. I'm thankful for the rain, and sunlight, and snow. Thankful for the seasons, and the migrations of birds. Thankful for trees and water and sky. Thankful for all the strangers (and friends) that have taken me in, for shelter, for celebrations, for support. Thankful for all the friends i have now. I'm thankful for 2nd, 3rd, 4th chances, thankful for the effort. And I'm thankful for being alive now, in this moment in time.
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Maybe it's the prednisone
I just had this random memory pop up from my sophomore year of high school. I guess the recent passing of Malcolm Young of AC/DC made me think of the song "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" which made me think of my friend's little brother who really liked the song. And then I remembered doing something stupid one afternoon after coming home from school which resulted in my cutting my arm open in three places, and since no one was home at my house, somehow going to the neighbor's across the street with my arms bleeding. It was just my classmate, and her younger brother and his friends (one of whom was my other friend's brother) home at the time. They let me in, and I think it was my classmate who took care of me. But the junior high boys were standing around me, probably a little bit of "Carrie" fascination going on, but I think they were also generally concerned. Someone got ahold of one of my parents, or someone, because I had to go to the hospital and get stitches. And I got yelled at for the dumb thing that I did (even if I had a good reason for doing it, it was admittedly the wrong choice: I broke something, that then cut me.) My family's first reaction at the time tended toward yelling, "Why did you do that?" rather than asking how I was. Maybe that was a stress reaction. I imagine they cared on some level, I suppose they had a hard time showing that in a way I could understand. (Now I would say we had different love languages. And I understand why I got yelled at, I deserved it, but I also needed the spoken or demonstrated concern for my well being, in a way I could see.)
Anyway, I had just walked into the bathroom when I remembered this, and burst out crying for some reason, my face was soaked. And I had to stay in there until I stopped and could wipe it with my hands, since I didn't have a towel with me, and I didn't want to freak out my housemate as a sobbing mess. It was the memory of the junior high kids giving a damn, but even more so, I had friend, and we'd been friends since we were three years old, and I was over at her house a lot, but her father pretty much kept to himself; I don't think in all those years he'd even said a full sentence to me. He checked up on me that evening to make sure I was okay. Yeah, that thought of his concern is still making me cry. He passed away some years ago.
The next day, I went to school with bandages on my arms. After PE, one of my friends made a half-assed rumor/joke that I'd tried to commit suicide. The other girls chided me, not in an unkind way, "Liz, why you wanna' kill yourself." I may have been depressed in 10th grade, but I wasn't suicidal. Just did dumb shit at times.
And I'm fine, I was having a pretty good day today. Not sure why I'm remembering that.
Anyway, I had just walked into the bathroom when I remembered this, and burst out crying for some reason, my face was soaked. And I had to stay in there until I stopped and could wipe it with my hands, since I didn't have a towel with me, and I didn't want to freak out my housemate as a sobbing mess. It was the memory of the junior high kids giving a damn, but even more so, I had friend, and we'd been friends since we were three years old, and I was over at her house a lot, but her father pretty much kept to himself; I don't think in all those years he'd even said a full sentence to me. He checked up on me that evening to make sure I was okay. Yeah, that thought of his concern is still making me cry. He passed away some years ago.
The next day, I went to school with bandages on my arms. After PE, one of my friends made a half-assed rumor/joke that I'd tried to commit suicide. The other girls chided me, not in an unkind way, "Liz, why you wanna' kill yourself." I may have been depressed in 10th grade, but I wasn't suicidal. Just did dumb shit at times.
And I'm fine, I was having a pretty good day today. Not sure why I'm remembering that.
Day off
Another decadent weekday off. Made a list of things I should do at some point, but there is a beauty in the idea that I don't have to accomplish any of them today. I thought earlier that I would anyway, but it's already after 3 pm, and I've added stuff to the list, just so that I can check them off. It's funny too, how usually it's just one or two things that are important to get done, but I'll pad the list out with "Take Vitamins," "Go for Walk," which I will then proceed to do, just so I can feel like I did something, when what I really need to do is "Make Phone Call," or "Send Email Reply." I waited too long to get around to "Do Laundry," but snuck in between someone else's...didn't realize he was actually home. It's all figured out now.
Ducked into the library just as it was starting to rain again, got a walk in between showers. The clouds are moving swiftly, so the rain doesn't last all that long. Thumbed through cookbooks while I waited for it to pass, then went and ate comfort food (i.e., Mexican...actually, second time today.) And was blinded by the sunlight glaring off of the wet pavement as I finally made my way back home. It was balmy, almost 70 degrees this afternoon, which is ridiculous for late November.
I need to make something for a Thanksgiving dinner I'm going to. Said I'd make cranberry sauce and a pie, might make a cauliflower thing, too, but kinda' depends on how bad the weather is, and what buses are running tomorrow. It's supposed to rain.
Out of my window I can see a bunch of white birds circling the sky, when they catch the sun, they glow like glittering lights against the dark clouds, slowly drifting to the east, until they are out of sight.
Went to a play last night, a PWYC night at Seattle Rep. It was sold out when I got there, but they still sold me a Standing Room Only ticket, said it was the last one. I got to sit in the end. It was "The Humans" by Stephen Karam, basically centered around a family's Thanksgiving dinner, dysfunctional, but relatable in that dysfunction (which was obvious in the laughter, tears, and at least one time, shout, from the audience.) About the choices we make to survive, to get by, to cope, and how a single decision can drastically, and in this case irreversibly, destroy the future you had planned for. The more I reflect on it, the more I like it. The casting was outstanding as well. It was wonderful, and really sad.
When the play got out, the rain was just dumping down. It rained so hard that Mercer St. pretty much flooded from Warren Ave N to 5th Ave. 5th and Mercer was a lake. I ducked into the QFC (grocery store) to grab a sandwich, and on my way back out, three clerks were standing under the awning outside, watching the SUVs throw up walls of water as they drove through the intersection. Surprisingly, was not flooded at the bottom of the hill, but my clothing was all still wet this afternoon, hence, the laundry.
I'm gonna check the laundry, and get some writing in.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Ducked into the library just as it was starting to rain again, got a walk in between showers. The clouds are moving swiftly, so the rain doesn't last all that long. Thumbed through cookbooks while I waited for it to pass, then went and ate comfort food (i.e., Mexican...actually, second time today.) And was blinded by the sunlight glaring off of the wet pavement as I finally made my way back home. It was balmy, almost 70 degrees this afternoon, which is ridiculous for late November.
I need to make something for a Thanksgiving dinner I'm going to. Said I'd make cranberry sauce and a pie, might make a cauliflower thing, too, but kinda' depends on how bad the weather is, and what buses are running tomorrow. It's supposed to rain.
Out of my window I can see a bunch of white birds circling the sky, when they catch the sun, they glow like glittering lights against the dark clouds, slowly drifting to the east, until they are out of sight.
Went to a play last night, a PWYC night at Seattle Rep. It was sold out when I got there, but they still sold me a Standing Room Only ticket, said it was the last one. I got to sit in the end. It was "The Humans" by Stephen Karam, basically centered around a family's Thanksgiving dinner, dysfunctional, but relatable in that dysfunction (which was obvious in the laughter, tears, and at least one time, shout, from the audience.) About the choices we make to survive, to get by, to cope, and how a single decision can drastically, and in this case irreversibly, destroy the future you had planned for. The more I reflect on it, the more I like it. The casting was outstanding as well. It was wonderful, and really sad.
When the play got out, the rain was just dumping down. It rained so hard that Mercer St. pretty much flooded from Warren Ave N to 5th Ave. 5th and Mercer was a lake. I ducked into the QFC (grocery store) to grab a sandwich, and on my way back out, three clerks were standing under the awning outside, watching the SUVs throw up walls of water as they drove through the intersection. Surprisingly, was not flooded at the bottom of the hill, but my clothing was all still wet this afternoon, hence, the laundry.
I'm gonna check the laundry, and get some writing in.
Happy Thanksgiving!
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