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.