Of course the highlight of the evening was the opportunity to touch Brian Berendts ass. Upon sitting on the still-tacky set piece, poor Brian put some sort of envelope down so he wouldn't stick to the floor. When he came down from his perch, he had a barcode stuck to the seat of his pants. Lucky girl, I was the one who spent minutes trying to pull the damn thing off. Although the view was pretty nice. See for yourself.
Afterwards a select few of us headed to Mary's again. People kept buying me beers, and who was I to swat them away? Had such a wonderful time getting to know some people who I hadn't had the opportunity to until now. Had many beers and then drove home, when I proceeded to drunk email while eating cocoa puffs in my underwear.
Have spent a lot of time lately thinking. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. I mean big things. Questioning the big decisions in my life. I'm nearly 30. It's not that I thought I would be a certain place by now or anything. I'm quite happy with my career and the majority of things in my life. I think when it becomes spring I always begin to wonder "what if..." and I can never tell where that's going to lead me. I become nostalgic for things way in my past. Those nights of sitting on the roof of my dorm, getting high and drinking Boone's and having those conversations with people that mattered. I've been corresponding with a friend about my post regarding "small talk". Doesn't it seem that when you get older, this is the only kind of conversation we seem to have with one another? Why is that? Are we afraid to get close to people? Because in actuality, this is what I so desperately crave. I spend my days teaching, being with people who I never really talk to. By the time I get home, Rob is asleep or too tired to talk about what happened during the day. So I'm left with this aching need to just talk to someone. For someone to understand me. I realize the fact that I can be a hard pill to swallow sometimes. I'm an Irish Liberal with a temper. I love to talk about politics and questioning religion. I talk too much. So maybe that's it.
Maybe Ally Sheedy was right when her character Alison says in The Breakfast Club "When you grow up, your heart dies". We stop making connections with people. We become the old lady with cats who lives in that really smelly house down the street.
No more Mary's on Thursday for a while. I think too much when I drink. Damn the alcohol and it's depressant side effects!
2 comments:
darling, it's because we always seem to meet and talk to people in snippets that are in situations related to something else - 2 minutes at rehearsal, 1 minute at a restarant, 2 minutes at the grocery store, 3 minutes at the family reunion, 2 minutes in a loud bar, 2 minutes at some work function. All conversations anymore have become "small talk". Seriously, when was the last time you sat on your roof with 1 person and got high on seeds and buds and drunk on boones? or the "early adult version": sitting on your porch/deck getting high on slightly better weed and drinking $6 merlot from trader joe's? everything in life anymore is a bullet point: tv news, text messages, internet - we don't take the time to connect. honestly, i get irritated when someone calls and says, "how ya doing?" i find myself struggling not to say to them, "what's your point, i'm busy" - i'm just a guilty as the rest of the planet - it's difficult. people (republicans/parents/presidents/idiots) think we are missing church and it's traditional values...- they couldn't be more incorrect. how about we take 45-60 minutes once a week to just sit on the porch and connect with one person, or spend 45-60 minutes once a week doing something nice or helpful for someone else. skip church and all the fucking hypocrites your sitting next to(that are going to flip you the bird anyway in the mad dash to get out of the parking lot) and go connect with someone. if it has to involve a plant, then skip the cannibus, hops, barley and grapes and take someone a cup of coffee this sunday morning.
Allison, I'm having one of those cathartic days today. First, Mark forwarded an email to me from my AMDA roommate, Danielle Matrow, who was my best friend in my New York days. I've missed her, but I never realized how much until I heard from her after all these years. All these memories and emotions just flooded me all of a sudden, and I realized that I've had ALL my emotions tied up in that particular period of my life. Seriously, ever since I failed myself in New York, I've basically been an automaton...just running without emotion or reason. Hearing from Danielle and then reading your blog directly after...it's like divine synchronicity. All these nights came back...sitting on the roof of our shitty residence hotel/dorms in NYC, smoking some bud and having deep conversations about our futures and our destinies, of being on Broadway and taking the world by storm...sadly just the pipe dreams of wide-eyed youths. It all seems like the blurry dreams of a completely different person. I haven't found that connection with anyone since then. And I'm most definitely at a crossroads where I either have to find that person within myself again, or suppress him and march into the dreary realm of failed ambitions and forgotten dreams. I'm crying today. Something that hardly ever happens anymore. It feels great.
Post a Comment