A Day

What I need (and what I want... odd that, for once, they're the same thing) is a day alone in Central Parl. I think Friday might just be that day. I hope the weather permits.

I've decided to rid myself of Facebook for a little while. It's not that I have anything against Facebook; I think it's a remarkable networking tool and an all-around wonderful thing to have at my disposal. However, it is undeniably true that I, over the past few months, have become truly addicted. I have more free time than I ever had in high school (not complaining, mind you), therefore I spend exponentially greater amounts of time on Facebook. I take stalking to a new level. I delve/ dive/ rip/ roar into people's lives, and they never even know it. It's time for a little break.

Separation anxiety is inevitable.

I have brutally fiery emotions. They're always there, always active. I cannot stop feeling. Ever.

I'd rather feel too much than feel nothing at all.

Let's hope a day in Central Park will ease all this paranoia, this worry, this personal hostility, this fluid from my current place and drift me back into a happier, calmer state. I think it's just the medicine I need- a cure even Tylenol PM cannot provide.

Excitement

Well, I, for one, am thoroughly excited. "Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark." It's going to be historically awful or historically awesome. I can't wait to be there for history regardless.

Little Flame

I have got to somehow refocus my life on the things that I should be focusing on. Somehow, over the last few weeks, things have become muddled and astray. Let's get them back together. I came here with a purpose. Remember it, remember it.

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.