Where There Were Trees

Let's not get into all the details. Irrelevant at this point.

My mother sent me a Halloween-style care package. I received it today. So festive and exciting. Who knew they made chocolate covered Peeps? Seriously! Heaven in my mouth. Delicioso.

I miss watching Food Network every night before I go to bed. I feel like maybe I am a little less culinarily adventurous or even creative because of my lack of Ina. Less classy at least. Ina is class.

I have this cut on my right hand, and it has continued to hurt since Saturday morning when I noticed it. Go away, mean cut. Just go away.

I watched "Sunday in the Park with George" this morning. The song "Children and Art" never fails to shock me. I always somehow forget what that song has to say, but when I listen to it again, it all comes back to me. Children and art- that's all we leave behind. Perhaps we should form both of them with love and tender care from the heart.

There's a particular tragedy- perhaps you can put your finger on it- that comes to mind whenever I listen to that song and reflect on that idea. Children and art. CHILDREN and art.

Hypocrisy

I feel like such a complete and utter hypocrite.

"Memphis" was without a doubt one of the worst musicals I have ever seen on a Broadway stage, BUT somehow (and by somehow, I mean by my own incessant), Montego Glover's big act one ultra-predictable power ballad "Colored Woman" has made it to my Top 25 Most Played playlist on my iPod.

I guess it's my own special affinity for a good ole power ballad. I mean, come on. Who doesn't get that little tingly feeling in their body when the first few words of "And I'm Telling You" are sung? I should clarify that I am in no way placing "Colored Woman" on the same level as "And I Am Telling You." Heck no. Nor could I even begin to place Montego Glover, with her strident belt and nothing else, on the same level as many of the infamous Effie White through the years. JHud, anyone? Jennifer Holliday, anyone? I just... like it. I suppose that's nothing to be ashamed of. There's maybe out one salvageable song in the score- a "Walking in Memphis" rip-off finale that I, because I left during intermission, wasn't able to see performed.

Oh, well. It happens.

True Glamour

Nothing today came as a surprise. It seems written in the stars that today would be a struggle for me. And oh, was it ever!

Irrelevant though... to linger on. What is... is. Beautiful.

What is to come, what is lingering in the days ahead- now, there's the wonder in it all!

I'm in New York. I'm living my dream. My personal "glamorous life." My, how unglamorous it feels sometimes! But glamorous it is. Let's revel in the glamour once again! Shall we?

Soft as Thunder

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jjBpXXnKIs

Daphne Rubin-Vega's stunning rendition of "I Dream a Dream."

It's proof that the genius in the performance of a song does not always lie in the vocal prowess. Stunning.

Now

I know I won't look back and say "All of this was easy."

Tell Me It Doesn't Make You Stop

The Wounded Angel by Hugo Simberg.

The subject of much thought, much contemplation and even much worry through my life.

I will turn in a 7-paged essay, of which I am honestly proud, on Tuesday that centers around this very painting- more specifically, the eyes of the boy in the brown coat.

Funny, isn't it?

Happy Family

Marin Mazzie, Jason Daniely and I.

Second Time

It was a Broadway dream. I saw a show for a second time, and that second time was a completely new experience- a much more impacting, even more beautiful one. It was "Next to Normal." But this time, I wasn't marveling at the electricity radiating from every pore of Alice Ripley's presence. I was feeling.

Thank you, Marin Mazzie. Thank you, Jason Daniely. Thank you to a remarkable cast. Thank you.

Guess what I get to do tomorrow night? Yes, that's right. I'm seeing it again. A third time. Impact me!

Peace

We do it all to keep from unraveling.

We smile. We breathe. We interact.

It's all to keep our ball of yarn from falling apart- speeding across the floor in a line of straightened chaos. It's death by oneself. It's a natural fate.

Instead, we humans do something else. We do everything else.

And we do it all to keep from unraveling.

Remember September

It seems as though September never happened. Well, did it?

I didn't feel like I was so far from home, though- I suppose- I am realizing that now. September was rejuvenating for me, good for me in many ways.

I guess I was, to steal from some famous song in some long-running musical, a tender and callow fellow.

I'll go on trying to remember September and simultaneously looking ahead at October, November, December drawing near.

Last fall, I lived in lyrics penned by Taylor Swift- a dark place for such cheery melodic tunefulness. I have to keep myself from returning to them again.

I can feel it happening. My God.

Oddity

It seems quite odd that my last post was about my unrivaled anticipation for "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown."

Saw it. Bleh.