Ireland

I've been on the website for the Presbyterian Church of Ireland all afternoon, looking at the websites of various congregations. The idea of just hopping off to Ireland used to fill me with this freeing, independent and adventurous sort of feeling. But now it's not all that far away, and it suddenly feels TOO free. There are so many options... and variables. It's the variables that get me. I mean it's still so exciting to me that it's POSSIBLE, but it's just so.... big. I'm the one responsible for getting it done, and that kind of scares me. Of course, it scares me even more that I might NOT get it done.

So I guess I'd better get back to the websites.

And he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning.

I'm getting old. It's 10:45 and I'm dead tired - not only that, but over the year I've basically had constant back/neck pain... and this month my legs have been hurting all the time. I'm falling apart.

Oh well. It's all temporary, right?

My whole family was here tonight - well, all the Muellers, anyway. It was lovely. I guess they've all been about for the past week or so, but I've been house-sitting every evening, so I haven't really had a chance to enjoy it. We had omelettes and watched "To Kill a Mockingbird", and of course I cried throughout... and it made me think of how much I want to read that book again (I've read it twice - but oh. A third time is definitely in order.), and how much I want to name one of my sons Atticus. Seeing as how that's not the best-sounding name, however, I'll concede to letting it slide to middle-name position. But it's definitely coming into the family somewhere.

I've spent two or three days doing pretty much nothing. Which has been nice, but to be honest, I'm not a very patient lazy person anymore. I forgot how to relax over this semester, and I haven't really been able to get that back. I still have lazy days - but instead of being peaceful about it, I nag myself grudgingly until I can't take it anymore. It's annoying. In any case, that all has to stop soon. This will be a busy busy month. We leave for Prague in just under a month. AGH. I just realized that. We don't even have a full month. Good heavens.

Well. It'll all work out.

[I've also gotten much more.... 'eh' about things. In case you couldn't tell. Which, I suppose, is a good thing, or at least it seems to help me feel at peace with the craziness of things.]

I haven't cut a magazine in a long time. I'm going to go remedy that.

My feet are on the ground, but all the words I say are coming out like cloud.

I went to sleep a bit after 2, and woke up at 7. I have to pick up - my... employer (I hate not using names, but I feel that it's in everybody's best interest) - in about twenty minutes and take her to the bus station. I'm so tired. But I had to wake up at 7 so that I could get everything done for the pets for the day. Then I ended up having some extra time, so I've been sitting here drinking this heinous coffee. As if Folgers wasn't bad enough, they don't have a scoop for the grounds so I've been guessing on the amount to put in the pot. I'm usually a good guesser, but not this time. If it's possible to have too much of a good thing, it is a near sin to have too much of a bad thing. Well - I don't know about a sin. But too much Folgers isn't good for anybody.

Yesterday was a lovely day. I went to the harbor for a few hours with Laura and Amelia - got a nice sunburn that is turning into a nice toasty tan - and we sat around for a long while with our respective coffees, like the good old days. Then I came home, picked up Kate, and we went to Barnes&Noble, where we stayed for a few hours and eventually Jon and Megan met us there. I bought almost $70 worth of books - God bless the people who give B&N gift cards. [Now the shelf in my room is pleasantly and perfectly full. Well, not perfectly. I will always be up for adopting more books. I love books. I love their covers and the way they feel in my hands. I love the physical book itself almost as much as I love the words on its pages.] Kate and I then went to Target to pick up some things, and came home just in time for dinner with everybody. We then watched Robin Hood with Russell Crowe. Not amazing, but enjoyable. I think anything would be an enjoyable watch with that crowd.

I had this incredibly bizarre dream the night before last. I was with my family, friends, and everyone that I know, at a famous theater company's production of Hamlet. Except that it was at my church and with The Dining Room set still up. It was really good, but everyone in the audience was being incredibly rude, and kept striking up conversations with each other at full volume - while the actors were speaking. The latter kept stopping and glaring, and occasionally Hamlet would come down and tell people, with his very intense, Gerard-Butler-esque stare, to be quiet - he was speaking. I was frantically telling people to shut up the whole time, but nobody listened. I felt very responsible. This continued for a long while. Then, at the end of the play, everyone died in various fashions - but no subtle death would do for our Gerard-Butler-Hamlet. I guess they were going for the metaphoric message of Hamlet "going on ahead of us", because as he was delivering his last words to Horatio, he mounted a unicycle. (Yes. A unicycle.) He rode it backwards, very slowly, down the aisle and then out the sanctuary door. And instead of saying "The rest is silence" and dying like a normal Hamlet, Unicycle Man paused, looked about, and said passionately, "To everybody!" At which Jon, Kate and I all looked at each other and said in homage to The Dining Room, "To all of us!". We clapped; we cheered wildly; and Hamlet disappeared out the door. I don't know that he came back in. There was a second part of the dream, in which (after the play had ended) I was standing in the church kitchen with a friend of mine. I was looking through the cupboards for cups so that we might have something to drink, and I asked him if he'd like water or tomato soup. "Oh! Tomato soup would be great," he said. And I thought, "Damn it. Now I have to make tomato soup."

I'd love to hear some interpretation of THAT dream...

Fear.

I'm sitting here at the house in my sleeping bag on top of the bed in the master bedroom, and the fat ghost cat keeps stalking back and forth from the door to the opposite wall. Every once in a while he walks into the blinds that run alongside the glass door on the other side of the room, which terrifies me because I didn't realize he was there in the first place. But aside from that, I'm getting used to being in this house. It's actually very comfortable, and (aside from the smelly dog) very clean. Also, no more run-ins with crazy neighbor-lady. I forget if I mentioned it, but after the events of yesterday, I left a note for her on the doorstep when I left - telling her (in my near-perfected, heavily-practiced, polite-yet-firm tone) that I was following instructions exactly and everything was under control, but if I had questions, I would not hesitate to call. Haven't heard a peep since. Still, every time I come back to the house after a few hours of being away, I have to mentally prepare myself and get over the inane fear that there will be a note waiting for me on the kitchen counter.

I keep thinking about yesterday's visit to Ami, my grandmother. Jon, Kate and I all went over and sat with her for quite a while, just talking about life and television and things like that. She's getting very forgetful these days, and moody - she also doesn't leave her room anymore. For a long time after Papa died, she was incredibly and obviously heartbroken, and she acted like it. Now, though, it's almost like she's forgotten the reason that she's upset. And I know that's not the case, because whenever anything relating to Papa is brought up, she begins to cry. But that's the best way I can describe it - her sadness, her moods, don't seem to match with the sadness and moods that she felt in the month (even the year) following his death. She gets cranky now, and very short with everybody; and then immediately turns around and acts like everything is fine. She also cries over things that seem to have no relevance. I know that everything she does is a reaction to him not being there... but it just feels disconnected. We can be talking about the most random thing, and if there is a silence or a lull in conversation, her eyes start to water and I can see that she's thinking about him. Sometimes she'll not say anything, and just sit there trying not to cry. That's when she's having one of her hard days. If she's got a better handle on herself, she'll look at me and pat my hand, and say, "Tell me something good." And then I have to think of something positive, and it gets hard sometimes.

Yesterday she started telling us about a story she heard on the news, about a woman who would drug her 3 year old so that the child would sleep, and then the woman would go out dancing without the bother - and one night she gave her daughter too much, and she died. Ami talked for a while about how horrific people could be, and then got back to the story - but now it had switched to a mother who had drowned her 3 year old, and buried her in the woods. Same characters, just different deaths. An hour or so later, while Kate and I were handing out fliers, Kate told me that those "cases" Ami had been talking about were episodes from Law and Order.

I have a very short memory when it comes to people sometimes. For example, when Dad shaved off his mustache (which he has had for longer than I've been alive), it took me a while to get used to it... but after two weeks or so, I began to forget when he had even looked like with it. In one way, it's good that I can adjust that quickly to changes. But I do wish I had better memories of Ami and Papa when they were younger and healthier. I envy my siblings and my parents for that. I'd like to be able to think back and remember people in their best days, but my memory just doesn't work that way.

And then, in the midst of all of this, I am afraid. Not because I'm incredibly caring and worried about other people - I mean I do worry for them, but I don't know that that's the reason I'm really afraid. In all honesty, what scares me the most is when I see Ami in her dark room, with the muffled sounds that are always coming from the radio by her bedside, with the pill bottles and box of tissues nearby, and I think - that could be me. I'm afraid of getting old and sick; of losing the people I love; of not "working" the way I used to; of being confined to a bed and not even allowing the blinds to be open because I will get a headache. Of being trapped because I'm afraid. How strange - I'm afraid of being afraid. I guess that makes sense, though. It's like being afraid to close your eyes in a dark room. You're not afraid of your eyes being closed... you're afraid of fearing that something will sneak up on you while you're not looking.

I know I need to go over there more often. But I'm selfish. I'm not good at handling these kinds of things.

Oh. My.

Mondays are generally accepted to be pretty sucky, but this one takes the cake. After an incredibly stressful morning at work, an emotionally tolling visit to my grandmother's and a moral dilemma about another issue, I decided to write over at the house where I'm house-sitting. Finally, I thought. Some peace and quiet.

Wrong.

Turns out, the owners of this house gave an extra key to the old lady who lives across the street - in case of an emergency, I imagine, or in case I should call her and ask for her help. I actually had some encounters with her yesterday... not personally, though. No no. She came over at around 10 in the morning, while I was away at church - after I had come by at 7 AM to let the dog, who is finicky and sleeps inside, out. She found the dog in the yard and assumed that I had left him out all night, and left me an angry little note telling me that that was not the way it was done. I couldn't remember which house was hers, so I couldn't go over and talk with her - so I left her a note on the counter, explaining the situation. I assumed that if she had come in once, she'd probably do it again later in the week sometime. Again, wrong.

That brings us to today. I left this morning at around 7, worked, and did all the above mentioned things. I came over here at about 4, and when I stepped into the house, I found another note from dear old neighbor lady. This time it was a full page, letting me know what I had been doing wrong and asking me if I had done this and that or had made sure of this, and if I knew about that. "Let me know your schedule so I don't have to keep coming over and checking on things." That was the last straw. First of all, I am a perfectly competent ADULT. I do not need old women coming by and "checking on things". Secondly, why was I hired to be here if a key was given to the psychotic, nosy old neighbor? These things don't make sense to me. I paced around for a minute, trying to think of how best to handle the situation. I didn't know which house was hers so I couldn't go over and give her a piece of my mind - probably better, anyway. Then I noticed that she had left her number. I got my phone.

Grouch: Hello?
Me: Hi! This is Laura, I'm house-sitting across the street.
Grouch: Oh? Yes...
Me: Well... I just wanted to let you know my schedule so that you don't have to keep coming over. (I decided to go with the friendly approach, so as to disarm the beast.)
Grouch: (Not disarmed; instead, mildly passive-aggressive.) Oh. Yes. That WOULD be good.
Me: (Gives her the details of when I'm here, when I've BEEN here, and all the times I have come by to check on the pets when I've NOT been here.)
Grouch: Are you there now?
Me: I am.
Grouch: Where is your car?
Me: It's a little red honda. Across the street - I had to park down a ways, actually.
Grouch: I don't see it.
Me: Well - it's there...
Grouch: (Angrily patronizing) Now Laura, be upfront with me. I am willing to work with you, but you need to be honest. You're not across the street, are you?
Me: I - what? Alright. I'm stepping outside right now. Do you see me?
Grouch: Let me go look... I'm way out back.

[Ok, hell's bells, woman. You accused me of lying, of not being here, you claimed that my car did not exist, and you weren't even LOOKING OUT THE FREAKING WINDOW?!]

At this point the woman opened her door, and said, "Oh, hello." We both had doors that we didn't want to leave open behind us, so we stood on our front porches, talking to each other on the telephone from across the street. I assured her that I really was doing my job and following their instructions. I kept from telling her that she could go do something very unpleasant. I was polite. I was affable, yet firm.

Grouch: I just want to make sure that the pets are taken care of.
Me: I want that, too.
Grouch: Well, goodbye.
Me: Goodbye.

Seriously. Is this woman for real? I can NOT deal with another embodiment of the woman I work for. One is stressful enough. I am not about to put up with two. If this neighbor comes over again.... well.... arg. Let's just hope she doesn't... for both our sakes.

I got one foot on the platform, the other foot's on the train.

One thing I have learned for sure in my eighteen years: there's no such thing as being prepared for a Monday. I'm thinking about driving (aka, my job) tomorrow morning, and about how I'll pretty much be in a very unsafe mental-position to do so. Then I'm thinking about last Monday - and how I was pretty much dead after Mile High Pines, and was thinking the same thing at the time. The week before that, I was just beginning the recovery-road after The Dining Room and graduation. That was two weeks ago, can you believe that? Two weeks ago I was done with the play, and I had already graduated. How ridiculous, that time goes that fast when you don't want it to. I have this month, this precious month of freedom, before I go to Prague. Not that Prague is an unpleasant thing to look forward to - I'm very excited about it, in fact - it's just that, the nearer Prague gets, the less time I have to relax. Especially once it's here. Because then I'm gone, and then I come home, and go to school the next day. And probably begin looking for a job that week or the next. Then it's one rough semester. But AGH. One week at a time, Laura. All I mean is that the time certainly has gone fast lately.

I'm house-sitting right now. I should be sleeping, but I'm a little afraid of turning out the friendly light of this computer screen. Not that I'm afraid of being alone, or anything... though I do think it's natural to feel a little strange when you're alone in an unfamiliar house, on a different end of town with pets who don't know you and leave their crap on the carpet when you've upset them. I wish animals didn't do that. I'm dead tired though, so I probably will go to sleep soon. We watched True Grit tonight, and I fell asleep during the middle section. From Emmett and Moon's cabin-scene all the way to the "You've earned your spurs, sure enough" scene. Which breaks my heart - I love that scene. The interaction between Mattie and LaBouef is fantastic and heart-wrenching. Something about the eye contact. Especially when she says, "Have I held you back?" Ah. So good. Freaking fourteen year olds... being all talented and famous.

Oh, my legs hurt. I'm falling apart. We had a garage sale yesterday that lasted for ages, and I'm sore all over. My legs have been hurting for a few weeks, though. It's getting old. For as long as I can remember, I get bad cramps in my shins every once in a while. When I was little, it would get so bad that I would often cry in public places because I couldn't take the pain anymore. Now I just take painkillers.... but sometimes even that doesn't do it. Sometimes they hurt so badly that it makes me feel sick - you know when you get a pain so bad that you feel nauseous? Last night I woke up for a split second in the middle of the night with this searing pain shooting up both legs from my feet. I don't know what that was, but the feeling hasn't really left all day. I should get that looked into.

Ugh, I have a lot of work to do tomorrow. I drive, and then Kate and I are handing out fliers all over a neighborhood for a lady we know, who is trying to start a business. I did it for her once, a month or two ago... it's in an old-folks retirement center, which apparently has strict "no soliciting" laws, and I was alone when I did it last time. Took me two days to hand out two hundred. It was hot and I got a sore back from bending over to slip the fliers under two hundred doormats. Actually, I probably did about 50 or 100 before I realized that if it hurt MY back to bend over, I ought to consider the fact that old people probably couldn't bend over that much, either... so I started putting them in the door knobs. Once I got accosted by a man and his dog, who demanded to know if I had a license to do that kind of thing. And then there was the house that had a motion-activated water-spray bottle by their front door... which escaped my notice the first time. That was not a friendly house.

The pets here are odd. There's a lovable golden retriever who is so big that he looks like a polar bear... and then there's this fat white cat named Max, who doesn't wear a collar of any kind. The only reason that this matters to me is that I'm used to my cat, who wears a small bell on the collar around her neck. She wears it because she is insane, and if we didn't hear her coming, we could never know when she was trying to sneak up and murder someone. Max, however, has no such warning signal. He's not a vicious cat, by a long shot, but it's startling how quickly he just appears somewhere, slipping into the room in his white fatness like an overweight ghost. Right now he's on a chest at the end of the bed I'm in, lying next to my jeans and just staring at them suspiciously. If it were Suki, I'd sneak up on her and do something to startle her... but Max has given me no cause for that kind of behavior. Aside from leaving a trail of diarrhea on the carpet by the door.

I'm going to bed now. Or at least going to read, or something. On the way to this house, I have to drive over some train tracks, and last night I had a dream that a train came just as I was making the turn. The conductor honked the horn at me several times, but there was oncoming traffic and I couldn't move the car. So I was stuck on the tracks, watching as the train came closer and closer - and then for a long time all I could see was the blinding headlight, until it got so close and so big that it wasn't a headlight anymore. It became the brightness around me that made it seem like it was daytime. I was distracted with this when the train hit me, and I woke up.

I've been having lots of stressful dreams lately. Strange how that works. Two weeks ago, when I really WAS stressed, I didn't have any dreams. Now that life is normal, my dreams make me afraid to sleep at times. Oh well... I'll have to take my chances. I need more sleep than I've been getting. Or more caffeine and painkillers. Whichever. haha, "Pills, pills! All kinds of pills!"

...That's it. I'm going to bed...

mrkaslerkfffffrrrg.

I just woke up an hour before I needed to. Why on earth I got it that confused is beyond me... now I'm even MORE tired than I would be, and I just got out of the shower so I can't go back to sleep... This is why you figure out the time you need to wake up BEFORE you're so tired that you can't think straight. Darnit. I need coffee. Badly.

Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can.
Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

We don't need no education.

But the ceremonies are nice.



Amelia and I performed a song I wrote a while back, called "Side by Side".



My favorite people and best friends.

Seriously - is there a better looking family? :) I am so blessed to have them all.

We live on front porches and swing life away.

I'm still rebelling at this laptop... the connection goes out after a minute or two, and the keyboard is obnoxious. But there are some benefits to using it - the first being that it has a webcam, which means that I can record and post videos of my songs. Crummy quality, but still, it's something. The other benefit is that I can sit in my bed at 1 in the morning and listen to music and write without bothering anyone downstairs. Although, the sketchy internet connection is doing its best to ruin that part. Oh well. I don't want to go off on a rant again, and I don't know how much consciousness I've got left, so I'll get to updates now.

Let's see.... hm. Maybe I ought to work backwards.

I slept until nearly 1 today. I guess I needed to catch up after MHP, and I didn't have the chance to yesterday, seeing as how I had to work at 9. I didn't do much today... mostly did some work on my room, made some cards, organized some shelves, finished some financial aid stuff (the one useful thing I did today, paha) and.... yeah. Pretty much that, and making pancakes. I felt kind of out of it all day. That tends to happen when I sleep in... I've got to work out a normal schedule for myself. And write lists. I was going to try to take a vacation from lists and schedules, but without lists I don't get anything done, and without schedules I sleep all day. SO. I'm going to have to start doing that. I haven't really been doing anything major, but somehow it feels like I've been busy nonstop. I don't know how that is... but it's good, I guess. As I said last night, I need to feel busy - it's good for me. In fact, one major thing came to my realization today: I'm afraid of having nothing to do. It's shocking how little time things take to do sometimes... and once you've done all that you need to do, what do you do? I think that's why I procrastinate. I would rather have things hanging over my head (potential energy, if you will) and then cram to do it all at the end (kinetic energy?) than get it all done and be left with an empty, bored feeling of "What now?". I don't really know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, or if it even really matters... but I was thinking about it today.

As I mentioned, I got back from Mile High Pines (the Christian camp where we go for a weekend a year to help paint and rake and do random maintenance jobs. Also the camp that I worked at for a month two summers ago.) on Sunday. It was an interesting dynamic this year, for sure. I've been going since I was about thirteen or fourteen, and in those days I was one of the younger crowd - this year, however, none of my friends went, and I was one of three people above the age of seventeen. I was also the oldest girl by a long shot, and Mr. Sanchez (our principle, of sorts) pretty much declared me the girl's leader and counselor. So I was in charge of all of them, in charge of giving devotions in the mornings, and keeping things running. It was kind of exhausting, but I actually feel like I was more useful this year than I've ever been. I wasn't distracted with friends or anything like that, so basically all that I COULD do was be helpful and concentrate on being a good leader and example. And really, isn't that what being on a service trip (or mission trip, or whatever you want to call it) is all about?

I graduated from high school on the 5th. Sometime I'll post pictures, maybe, cause Beth got some good ones. I don't have them on this computer though.. grumble grumble. ahem. It was a good ceremony, though a bit long - actually, it was just a good DAY. A little overwhelming at times... I don't know how people survive weddings. All those guests.... agh! When Amelia and I drove up to our after-party (we were a bit late, due to some unforseen circumstances which led to me needing to go home for painkillers..... namely, a certain low-hanging branch in a parking lot.) - anyway, when we drove up to the party at around 6:00, I got this sudden feeling of panic when I saw all the people who were there waiting for us. For a few minutes I was trying to figure out how I was going to talk to every one of them.... but I quickly gave up that notion. I went inside several times for short trips, but spent the majority of the time outside with my friends. That way I could catch people on their way in or out, and it's much less stressful outside, as a general rule. Something about being in a crowded room is so much worse than a crowded lawn.... the way the noise echoes, or something. I don't know. Anyway - aside from those random moments of "agh!", it was a lovely evening. I wish it had lasted longer, really. It's so nice to be around people who are smiling proudly at you and telling you they love you. I think it would be good for everyone to have a graduation about once a year. We'd all be much happier.

Just over 12 hours before the graduation began, The Dining Room came to an end. It's been over a week and I still find myself thinking about it - not about the things I need to do for it, I mean, because it's not far enough from my memory to assume that it's not over yet. But every once in a while someone will say something that makes me think of a line from it, or a subtle line mix-up that only we cast-members backstage noticed, or the pistol handled butter-knife that Amelia used in the Aunt Harriet scene, which is now back in our silverware drawer, like any other normal knife would be. I look over our cast photos about once a day or two, and then I look at the pictures from the play, and I think, wow. That's weird. I directed a play. What makes me sad is that it already feels so removed. Sort of like the feeling I get when I think about Hawaii. The heavy warmth in the air, the feeling of stepping out of the ocean and feeling perfectly and contentedly dry, the smell of kona coffee and how it somehow tasted like chocolate, waking up and seeing bright blue walls and white curtains and hearing the AC already on at seven in the morning. I don't even like hot weather, but somehow Hawaii made it permissible and perfect. It's all so fresh in my memory, but at the same time, it feels like we never went there. I guess it just seems like such an odd thing for my family to do that I've begun to assume it never happened. Like the play. How would I ever direct a play? I never coordinate things. I can feed off of existing energy, but I never create it. But I did! It's bizarre, and I'm not really conveying the feeling properly, I know... it's late and I'm tired. Not to mention the feeling is complex and maybe I couldn't even convey it properly if I were wide awake. But it's just strange to me to think about all of those rehearsals, all those nights of worrying that it wouldn't be good enough... and then thinking about all of my friends and family, sitting there in the same room and giving 100% attention to the ending monologue in the play. I can still feel the reverent silence as I said that that perfect party might almost be worth the cost - then the cast filtering in and their voices rising as lines from previous scenes overlapped and filled the room - then the immediate silence as I raised the glass and said, "To all of us". On opening night, I heard my mom gasp a small "oh!" just as the lights cut. And then I knew we had done it.

Oh, that's a good feeling.

Well. It's 1:30 now and I work in the morning. I'm sure there are other things to update about, but those are the big things, so far as I can think right now. I'll try and be better at writing more regularly, so that I can keep my mind a little more organized. Goodnight, moon.

Maybe I should just let it be, and maybe it will all come back to me.

It's been so long since I've written in here that I feel a bit paralyzed. I've been putting off writing an update-post for a few reasons... partly because I haven't really had the time to do it properly, but mostly because doing it properly would take a LOT of time. Somehow those seem like two individual reasons to me.

I'm falling asleep as I write. A few minutes ago I was downstairs with Mom and Kate, who were watching Hawaii 5-0, and I fell asleep within two minutes of the episode ending. Also, I'm on Dad's laptop, because after a year or so of a hard-fought battle over my computer, it seems that he has won. He's been slowly pushing me off, claiming my computer as his own bit by bit, and now I never have a chance to use it. This doesn't sound very bad, I know - but it's MY computer. All of my files are on it. My stories are on it. My music is on it. EVERYTHING that I have done since the age of eight is on it, and now I can't write stories or start any big projects on it because I never know when I'll get to use it next. Dad can claim it simply because it's on a desk, in a room where the light is better. Now he sits there and listens to sermons all day. He has a computer at his office for that, and he has this laptop for that - but no. My computer is no longer mine.

Hm. See, this is why I haven't been blogging... whenever I have the time, I'm too tired and crabby. I need sleep - I got back from Mile High Pines last night and you know, I haven't really had a chance to catch up from LAST week... actually from the semester... but that's alright. I've come to realize that I'd go crazy if I were to suddenly start to relax. I've been wound up so tight that if the top stopped spinning now, I'd probably fly off somewhere and crash. So busy is good. Busy is what I need. Most of the time. Right now, however, what I need is sleep. My stupid cat is licking my windowpane. Ugh... why does she do this?

Goodnight.

Well hello there.

Someday I'll write an update on the past MONTH.... which has been insane. I lost 5 pounds this week, quite unintentionally. I just haven't been here to eat. But all that's for another day.... for right now, I will say that opening night for The Dining Room was last night, and it was amazing. I was expecting it to go relatively well - that is to say, I was expecting that our family and friends would like it. But I actually feel honestly proud of it as a production. I am proud of the cast and proud of myself, and that's a good feeling.

Now off to print more programs for tonight and tomorrow.

And maybe eat lunch. Maybe not. I don't know what food tastes like these days. I also don't know how it feels to sleep for more than 5 hours.

Oh but it's glorious.