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Went to the theatre tonight for Dean's show. Lesley was ushering. I had a pang while I was there, a bad one. I don't know what caused it. I guess it shouldn't worry me that much. I guess once you've loved somebody for six years, (or any length of time, for that matter,) it'd be highly unusual not to have a pang every once in a while, regardless of how "over it" you generally feel most of the time. Trying to analyze these things too much only gets one into trouble, so that's all I'm gonna say.
"You Can't Take It With You" is a marvelous play, by the way. If you've never seen it, I would recommend it if you ever get the chance. It makes you feel good and makes you think about how you _should_ live your life rather than the way the average person actually does. Good theatre should have exactly that effect, I believe.
On Tuesday I audition for the play Dean is directing. Note to self: read the play before Tuesday.
Tomorrow Meghan the Elf Maiden comes to help me haul stuff to the new house. I am glad Meghan will be there to make this bearable because nothing makes a warm, soapy enema sound fun by comparison like moving. I took some stuff over yesterday, not very much; but already the apartment looks emptier and less like someone actually lives here. I think that's the only part I really hate about moving, watching the life you've built disintigrate around you until one day it looks not only like you were never there, but like you are no longer welcome there. Because you aren't. Sure, your life has been reconstituted in a new location which is very happy to see you and glad to have you there, but that doesn't make the goodbyes any less awkward. I sometimes wonder if places can't be jealous when they're left for another just like people can. It always seens like whatever home I leave never understands. I sometimes am not sure I do either.
"You Can't Take It With You" is a marvelous play, by the way. If you've never seen it, I would recommend it if you ever get the chance. It makes you feel good and makes you think about how you _should_ live your life rather than the way the average person actually does. Good theatre should have exactly that effect, I believe.
On Tuesday I audition for the play Dean is directing. Note to self: read the play before Tuesday.
Tomorrow Meghan the Elf Maiden comes to help me haul stuff to the new house. I am glad Meghan will be there to make this bearable because nothing makes a warm, soapy enema sound fun by comparison like moving. I took some stuff over yesterday, not very much; but already the apartment looks emptier and less like someone actually lives here. I think that's the only part I really hate about moving, watching the life you've built disintigrate around you until one day it looks not only like you were never there, but like you are no longer welcome there. Because you aren't. Sure, your life has been reconstituted in a new location which is very happy to see you and glad to have you there, but that doesn't make the goodbyes any less awkward. I sometimes wonder if places can't be jealous when they're left for another just like people can. It always seens like whatever home I leave never understands. I sometimes am not sure I do either.
