March 5, 2002

It's funny how little things set your mind to work. I was driving home from Norfolk this evening (a very normal thing for me to do) and noticed for the first time the red Mardi Gras beads that are now hanging from my rear view mirror. I mean, I knew they were there - I stuck them there last night when Anthony returned them to me, I just hadn't really thought about it before. In addition to being illegal (random things are not allowed hanging from your mirror, but that doesn't stop any number of fuzzy dice...) they sent me on an odd little excursion right down memory lane.

These particular Mardi Gras beads I did not earn in the traditional manner, nor, in fact, did I acquire them on Fat Tuesday, but rather the following day on Ash Wednesday. I don't even remember getting them, to be honest. I was asleep on the couch at school, as this was during the 3-4 hours of sleep period before Blues in the Night went up and I was zonked. Katie apparently (so my sources tell me) came up and put the beads around my head and left, so when I woke up (after an odd dream in which all of the people who had arrived at the couch at that time were at the couch. When I woke, I wasn't entirely sure that I had in fact woken, but there were a few people at the couch in my dream who wouldn't be likely to be there in reality, so that helped) I had red beads. I saved them because it was a high point in what was otherwise a pretty emotionally stunting day. (It would have been my four year anniversary with James. I was still pretty broken up about the whole thing then, so it hit me pretty hard.) Somehow they ended up on the floor in the back of my car, which is not so odd - lots of things end up there. They would probably have languished there until the next time I cleaned (ha) my car, except that Anthony picked them up and wore them into the Taphouse last night, returning them to me when we left.

Anyhow, the memories were not actually about these beads but about the silver set I had last year. Last year I got them the day before Fat Tuesday, as opposed to the day after, oddly enough. We were running a show or something at VSC, which prevented my seeing the CNU production of A Little Night Music, so my friend Alison and I went over to see their Monday night dress rehearsal, which was atrocious. Adam was running around with gold and silver Mardi Gras beads and I did earn these in the traditional manner. I was quite pleased with them and I wound them around the rear view mirror of the car. I was at that time driving James' Sundance, for reasons which I'm sure seemed sensible at the time, but which only seem selfish to me now, so for a few weeks they hung there and entertained me mightily. Then one night James and I got in a fight, the origin of which I couldn't tell you (though I imagine he could if you are really curious - he remembers that sort of shit), but it somehow ended with him ripping down the beads and me shoveling all of my stuff out of his car and declaring that I would never drive his car again. I'm not really sure why that occurred to me this evening, or why I have devoted all this space to it, but it seems significant. I did love James, indeed, I still do in many ways, but we just weren't right for each other. It's taken me a long time to realize that. We could have made it work, but it just would have been a constant battle and I think the sacrifices wouldn't have been worth it, really. Both of us can be happier on our own than we could together. Together the two of us were less than the sum of our parts.

That was darker than I had anticipated. Especially considering that I am in a pretty damn good mood. It's funny, I used to write these lighthearted entries while crying and now I smile through these more gloomy entries. Well they aren't really gloomy, I suppose, when they end in balance. What's funny about the beads is that I remembered the story of the silver beads as though it happened several years ago and I was quite surprised to find that it was only a year ago. What a profound difference a year can make in one's life. There's a line about that in one of the songs in Blues. I reflect on it most nights.

Mikey said a very smart thing about us theatre kids the other day, and while I am increasingly less a theatre "kid", it applies quite well to me. We all operate really well in chaos mode, something I have discussed about myself before. Mikey said that, "We are at our most productive when we have no idea what is going on." It's so true. My new friend Chris (this increasing plurality of friends' names is aggravating. Two Jessicas, several Sarahs, a number of Chriss, too many Beths, multiple Al(l)isons - it's just absurd) asked me the other day what it is that I like about theatre, and the crazy hectic nature of the thing is one of my favorite aspects. You are always under deadline, always working feverishly towards some goal which is due entirely too soon. At the same time, you are never doing the same thing - every show is so different from the last - and you don't have time to get bored. It's perfect for me. Add to that the way that all of your varied experiences and everything you have ever learned can come in handy, it just makes me so immensely content. I don't think anything less hectic could, really.