Sunday, February 27, 2005

Cupcakes

Do I start from the beginning or write the beginning last?
Why is this always a problem for me? I only have a little while to type. Spending the last hour sitting in Mad Hatter while strangers keep giving you looks because your eyeliner is slowly dripping down your face is kind of trying. I'm not tired, I'm just ... just... I just need to talk. Okay.. so now i sound like the bitchy teenager right? The one who's sentimental and cries at everything, who's life is so rough and no one understands. Well that's who I am, so read on if you care. Actually my life isn't rough, My life is actually far from it. As we were walking inside tonight me and my dad were standing at the gate outside our house. "But I can't be an artist," I persisted "My life isn't rough, I don't suffer." My dad looks at me as he swings the gate open. "No, you suffer because you're an artist. That's the difference."


I guess I'm writing the beginning last.

What can I say about this, about me sitting here night after night. Its eleven, I want to sleep soon but I don't want to leave. Jeramie just called me. I wish I could talk but for some reason it's not worth the effort right now of my mom coming in to get mad. We're driving back from the indian restaurant today and she turns to me, "I like how you wrote on your blog that "My mom told me to go to bed an hour ago." The minute she says this fear plummets through me. I don't think about what I write, is this a weakness in my character? I haven't thought until about five hours ago that my mom was reading this. Sounds bad doesn't it. I don't care, honestly I think it's nice she spends a few moments here once in awhile. I just wrote a different ending to that sentence but had to erase it because it sounded cynical. I don't mean it in a cynical way. But mom, I just want you to know I don't want to think about what I write. Yes i'm publishing this for the entire world to see but i'm not going to think about it, okay? So please read it, I love that. Just mom, unless your praising me can we not discuss what's said here. We can, the small things but not really. Just for you, anyone else well kids that is please feel free but mom, can this be on boundary we don't cross? At least you read it, compared to dad who preaches and lets me talk about it but doesn't read it. I don't think he means it in a bad way he just doesn't want to because its my space. Or he doesn't have time, either one honestly i'm fine with. Mom, I guess it's okay you read it too. Parents, god dammit. This is a broad subject isn't it. I'm to tired to talk about that now.

This is reminding me of the guy on the shins message board. He had his live journal, he was the reason I started my blog honestly. I haven't been there forever. Times change don't they. Well he reminded me of Matt, which now freaks me out a little. But in a good way I think.

I'm starting with tonight. I saw Adams play. Wow my hair is really really soft. Hang Town Fry, google it you'll find a fair amount. Time flies by doesn't it. I swear it was 10:40 a few seconds ago... but its 11:38. Adams play, well we go today to talk to him about squeezing us in, Me and my dad I mean. Well Adams there and it was after the afternoon performance. He was really happy to see us I think. Well he said he could squeeze us in. We came back at around seven to the theater. It's really gorgeous. Really beautiful. It was in the cooking class room, we all sat down and waited. I ended up sitting the farthest to the left in the front row. Ryan was there, we talked at the drink table and he dropped his sugar packet in to his iced tea. The play was really good. It was really well written, amazingly directed, amazingly acted,captivating,artful,suspenseful, but it wasn't just that. Maybe someone wants to fight me on this one but he writes like me. Adam's play sounds like me, just talking, not the character, no the play the play itself talked. Adam didn't direct it i know that but, it was directed in the way that I would have directed. Half way through I started to cry. It was sad yes, but also because of this of what everything turns in to in life. What has happened? I reached for my water glass and drank a few gulps fighting back the small trickle of tears. I couldn't explain why I was crying. Afterwards while the food is being served I turn around to talk with my dad like we do after everything. As we keep glancing in Adams direction and he was the artist there. And he did such a good job of being the artist. Of being that, or writing this. Can I explain? Maybe not. I'm so tired and not really wanting to talk right now but I am because i'm to tired to write in my journal and sometimes this is the only way to remember. After the play I go to talk to the little group of teachers in the corner, Rachel,Leon,David,Renee. All of my favorite ones, all of them sitting looking up at me. They all enjoyed the play and I asked Rachel if she enjoyed the food, hers was the only plate not completely empty. She looks up at me in the perfect Rachel way says, "I tried it! The eggs were good." Isn't that interesting? The perfect Rachel. Renee looks up at me, "So, Monday I have scheduled a meeting with you and Carrie for Monday afternoon." I stared, "Oh really?" All the teachers are nodding there heads. So Mia, who I talked to when? Thursday has told every other teacher in the about how I was thinking of leaving. All of them want me to stay and to watch them all smiling and having everything else, I don't know Its nice to see people care. My dad and I turned to Adam to tell him it was great. There was no falce ness in our voices. It wasn't because Adam was Adam it was because we thought it was really well done. I asked him about the recipe then my dad left, because he knew he had to. I followed him realizing I didn't have much else to say. Adam seemed to content and as I was leaving he made a point to put the person he was talking to on hold. He looks around and says, "See you monday." I can't even explain how perfect that line was. I don't even want to try, you wont get it. When I went downstairs in the building I did a small little skip. In the parking lot I don't know. Maybe i'll keep the emotional part to myself. The part where we went to Mad Hatter and we talked. I wasn't crying because of what you think, Its because everything fell quickly right then. okay i'm making an ass out of myself. I have to go before I reveal something I don't want to. Can you wait until tomorrow? i can my friends, I can.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

your dad is the colest dad ive ever heard of for saying that. i agree with him.thats all i have to say ttyl.i have to go to bed too :) have sweet dreams

12:56 AM  

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