Yesterday I wrote a poem people are really appreciating. That makes me very happy. Proud, and very happy. This morning I am awake earlier than usual (lately) and that makes me very happy. Today I am making a music video and acting as if I am not nervous. I am. Very. Today the sun is rising, about to rise, and it is 6:20 and Samuel is nine years old. NINE years old. It was nine years ago I heard the words, “its a big baby, its a boy” and I was rendered speechless. A boy. A boy.
How have I changed in these nine years?
So much.
Is this normal? Do some people stay routinely the same, year after year, or do other people break rules left and right and backward and forward? What do people do, silly souls? Other than me, I mean.
This weekend is closing for both Hamletmachine and R and G are dead. The former makes me wistful, the latter makes me wish I had been in the audience all this time. I love guildenstern’s words. So beautiful. So earnest.
I will also miss some of the dressing room goofyness.
Julia is worried/concerned constantly about Jeremy. I am not. He is just him. I need to find out if Coryn really said what Julia said she said.
The most significant thing, though – yesterday – was the painting experience at Mercy Hospital. My day was sliced up and I got little accomplished but that painting experience was phenomenal. I never imagined I would sit in a room with a nun reading a poem by Hafiz. How cool is that? A Catholic reading the words of a Sufi Mystic! I have to have another meeting with God and ask him, “Is Catholicism still my thing?” Is it?
I am not sure, I am just not sure. I will wait and see and wonder and hope and pray and dialogue with myself. Kathie is about to cry because Ken is annoying her. So what else is new. He loves annoying people, like he annoyed me right out of whatever it was we had here.
So yesterday: poem and painting. It was like I wrote the poem and knew it was a hit. I painted and I knew what I felt was incredible and I gained a new relationship with one of the colors. Next Wednesday I am going back. (I can’t wait!)
So I have three hundred more words and nothing left to say. AHHH! I need a prompt and I don’t want to be distracted.
Tangible soul, receive. Tangible soul, receive. Tangible soul, receive. Tangible soul, receive.
We only have two ibuprofens left, Katherine reports. (We need to stop eating them like candy!)
The sun is still on the other side of the houses.
Maren texted me yesterday – they are excited to be here. I need to get their space prepared. I hope they are happy here and not too hot.
I type.
I type. Tangible soul: in May, making things right. Making things right. Studying strengths and minimizing weaknesses. Focusing on what is good. I need to get a desk that is the right height because this makes my arms hurt, this type writer.
I need to read my psalm. I have more to write about after I have processed something.
Yesterday I painted with teal. She called it turquoise. I didn’t want to change colors. When I took over Joyce’s painting I used that color, don’t even know what it was, but when I smeared it with water, it became so soft and beautiful. Like a sand, almost. A creamy, warm, textured sand.
Yesterday David left a message. He said it was a happy message and then, he was silent. That was so cool. Loved it.
So I used a lot of water and I wrecked a paint brush. I hear Samuel waking up.
I have one hundred words left. I heard Ken say HAPPY BIRTHDAY Samuel!
I right SO a lot on first drafts.
I can get to 750 words. I can get to 750 words. I can keep my streak. I can write and be a better writer and learn from my words.
Dear Harvey rehearsal went well. It was great fun. I am not sure how well I will do with the late nights, it is as if I get to Thursday and I am really done with it! After next week I will be back to single rehearsals, though… so it will be easier, beter, more favorable. And guess what? 750 words it is and I am happy.
THANK YOU!
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