Fall Back

Maybe I should start writing in here more often. I think that because today was a hard day. I cried! I cried for the second time this year, which is indicative that I have totally lost my soul. Those two things were:
1. the doctor who told me ACK you might maybe have cancer, go to these 8 million doctors!
2. Chapter 4 in my Theatre Management book.

Grad school is not supposed to make you want to quit your chosen profession. Today at 1:30pm I did. I just read those sentences about how hard it is and cried. Then I wiped my tears, opened the book, read another sentence and cried again. This went on for some time.

After that subsided I got that atrocious sinking feeling that comes in the fall that makes me want to move home, work in some small non-profit and have a healthy, steady boyfriend.

I get homesick for weird things: colored leaves, lazy Sundays with coffee and omelets and the NFL, Saturday nights with wine and lots of sex, blankets, books, my dog.

OK, not like that ever happened to me while I was living in DC, but it's that reflective thing, that reflective time of year when I just want my life to be a little easy and really comfy.

Right now life is really hard and it's wearing stilettos.

Coming and Going

Last week I found out that one of my best friends from college is moving to the city in two weeks. This occurred in true Alli friend fashion, via voice mail message about two weeks ago. "Alli, I'm in the City. Just looked at a place. I might move in three weeks."

Done.

I love my nutcase friends.

We're already doing some networking for her.

Tonight I found out that one of my "friends" (a make-out buddy from a while back) is moving OUT of the City, which reminds me of a Sex and the City episode when Samantha says something along the lines of (or verbatim), "I always wonder why people leave New York. I mean, where do they go?!"

In this instance the "friend" is moving to Los Angeles. LOS ANGELES. After I fell out of my chair and wiped a tear I made a bar suggestion. And a restaurant suggestion. And then I felt another soul die.

I spent Sunday night with another friend of mine who is in town. "Move here," I said. "No job. Otherwise I would," he replied.

Now, I realize I am an insane person who tends to move thousands of miles at the drop of a hat with no guarantee of income, and I guess only a sane person would move to New York with a promise of a job and income. Rationally, I try to think.

But it happened to be one of those glorious New York nights where you meet at some bar, have a drink too many too early, stumble into a sex shop, read the Times on a street corner, then find $2 dumplings and eat them in a random park with newfound friends on a 70 something degree night before going to a bar where you play skee-ball, take a cab home, pass out and wake up the next morning, brew a pot of coffee, sit on your stoop and read the New Yorker.

Hello, perfection, my name is Alli.

I've tried to be a good girl lately and step back and not demand that people articulate exactly what they want. Sometimes it takes a while to figure that out. But when you live the circumstances listed above HOW CAN YOU SAY NO?!

This is the greatest city in the world. Hands. Down.

This is the place where people move in no time. Or perhaps they leave in no time. But the latter, those people are the real insane ones.

Life is Like a Rollercoaster, Baby, Baby

My growing frustration with the American "Health Care System" grew exponentially this week after I sat half-naked in a doctor's office and got passed frantic prescriptions for painkillers and referrals to see other doctors - all for a mysterious something that could range from a minor infection to cancer. Three doctors and nearly a month later and we should all be able to, um, at least figure out what is wrong.

So, while gripping these various scribbles on papers I found myself saying things like, "She is my HALF aunt, HALF," bitingly in response to, "It runs in the family, you know," and turning down vicodin in fear of spending the next month of my life in a total haze.

I made it about 5 minutes down the street before I called my mom. She said hello and I cried. I'm not really sure why. It's not really a big deal, but there I was sobbing on 34th and Park Ave, crying for the first time since probably December.

Apparently I have not lost my soul. This is great news! This is FANTASTIC news!

What this means is that the recent vacation was a success. I regained the ability to be scared, so feel, to express it, to want someone here to take care of me and tell me everything was going to be OK. Old habits are hard to shake, however, as I've generally kept my mouth shut and found quite a few awfully cute things at H&M that I just had to have... in addition to a Redskins ticket... and health insurance.

In times like these I think often of those who have it worse off than me. I am so incredibly lucky it almost makes me vomit. Life is hard, sure, but if I lived like a the majority of planet earth does... man, I just don't know.

On a completely unrelated note: tomorrow I have orientation. !!! I have my spiral notebooks and pens and really hope that some part of this semester involves sitting in a library scoping out hot, super-smart men. I mean, man/boys. Soul, this is what we call excited.

CUTEST!

There is the cutest little kitten in my bodega! His leg is the size of my index finger. Everyone should know.

Years Ago, too

I haven't spent this much time in DC since the summer of 2005, which I now refer to as "That Summer." This bit of time off has been good for the soul revival - not only for the reasons listed in the previous post, but also has provided some time for reflection. (notice this post is written in PARAGRAPH FORM rather than list form. Hey, I used to call myself a writer, remember?!)

I spent the last week at the beach, which I don't think I have done for that length of time since college. Most of the kids in my group of family friends were there two years ago - That Summer - and were back this time around, and brought friends with girlfriends and friends who recommended good books, and wore anti-Yankees t-shirts, and pro-Redskins T-shirts (written in Hebrew). I had a long talk with my 17 year old god brother at the end of a walkway, toes in the sand, "talking about life, straight" as he called it. And sometime since That Summer and now my entire life has changed (ok, a solid 85%), and these once little people have turned into those I would have considered peers.

So the only way to conclude a week like that (additions: Klosterman cover-to-cover, picking crabs, corona and Jack Johnson on the beach, canasta, 9-11 hours of sleep a day) is to make the epic drive to Nissan Pavilion and attend a Dave Matthews concert. And though the songs we odd, and the energy was off, some things will never change. A boy, tall, starts the talk and mentions he is a Yankees fan, loves New York City. Season tickets to the Redskins since the 1960's. Arms wrapped around me, attempted kisses. But not this time. That Summer, sure. Romantic kisses to DMB Ballads with friend of years is the DC-metro recipe for summer love, but this time there is none of that. "I'm going to grad school at Columbia," I said. Out of my league, he replied. And yes, most likely. Nice to meet you, anyway.

Where once upon a time, That Summer, there was a lot of confusion and loss and 85% of life coming to a screeching halt ready to turn in run in a separate direction, there is still something to be said for a hot, humid, DC night - singing the songs of 1997 and drinking beer in parking lots with strangers to reminisce about years ago, and recognize that though some things may stick, quite often the rest is out of your league.

Baby Steps to Soul Revival

It is possible that during the month of August I could feasibly have a large part of my soul back. During this last week unemployment (save for a whole two days of teching and opening a show) has allowed me to do a few other additional things that are good for soul revival (in addition to the trip to Chi-town and reading a whole book like I USED TO DO ALL THE TIME):

1. 5 minute naps here and there
2. gym!
3. reading 1/2 of the New Yorker
4. 10 hours of sleep in one night
5. staying in bed BECAUSE I COULD

I look forward to the following:
1. playing with dogs
2. the beach
3. reading several more books cover to cover
4. more gym
5. seeing old friends
6. perhaps writing something that is not in list form
7. going to an art museum or 5
8. perhaps walking the island of Manhattan or doing some sort of other photography-enhanced New York adventure.
9. dinners with loved ones
10. Movies. In theatres.


They say it takes exactly 1/2 the amount of time you were in a relationship to get over it, post-breakup. According to this philosophy I should be job scar free by mid-January. Sadly it is mid-January when my re-hashed Redskins scars start to harden and I stare down the barrel of another NFC East tragedy, shaking my head in bewilderment as to why I let myself do this every year for over one QUARTER OF A CENTURY. Let's hope August can clear things up faster. I don't think I can take that much pain at once.

I No Longer Work in a Broadway Press Office

Which means I get to do things that people who have souls do: like visit other cities. And today, wait for it...I finished a book I started less than 48 hours ago!

Oooo baby it hurts so good.

Things that Totally Rule

1. This week's episode of Big Love
2. Dulce de Leche ice cream (light!)
3. country air
4. napping in the middle of the afternoon, on grass
5. Days off
6. sleep
7. running into strangers in odd places and striking up a conversation
8. having aforementioned strangers turn into money-making ventures
9. upcoming weeks with Golden Retrievers
10. planning the month of August